John’s brow creased. “I never thought you were. Neither will Rodney, once he snaps out of his funk about having to leave the Shields behind.”
“I suspected something of that nature.” Her quick smile faded. “It’s just that this is an incredibly difficult issue on which to take a stance. As usual, it’s all shades of gray, which is something that Rodney has never been very good at dealing with.” She gave a soft sigh, resting her elbows on the table. “I seem to spend a lot of time lately second-guessing my decisions, wondering if some small difference might have led to a better result. You have to admit that this expedition can’t exactly be called a smashing success at the moment.”
“Based on the original mission parameters, I’d agree with that. But here’s the thing.” John fixed a serious gaze on her. “The mission was designed in another galaxy, before anyone had the first clue what we’d find out here. No one back on Earth could have predicted the choices we’d have to make, and the really tough ones tend to fall on you more than anyone else. So you can’t try to hold any of this up to Earth standards. They don’t apply.”
Elizabeth was mildly surprised by how much sence that viewpoint made. Then again, she’d immersed herself in all things Ancient for months leading up to the expedition, which might have given her a false expectation of familiarity. John, by contrast, had joined them much later and viewed every last detail as foreign. Reality probably lay somewhere in between. “I guess we are making up our own rules, to a certain extent. Still, there are times when I worry about overstepping our bounds, and I hate feeling like I’m working without a net.” For a moment, her thoughts turned to Simon. Safe, gentle Simon. He’d always provided that support. If—when they found a way to get back to Earth, well, the prospect of seeing Simon again was something to hold on to. Meanwhile—“If I make a wrong move, will you tell me?”
His eyes flared wide for a moment, as if the trust inherent in that question had startled him. “Elizabeth, if I think you’re making a wrong move, you’ll know it.” He offered a wry smile that concealed far more than it showed. “I try not to act like a caricature of my service record, but the fact remains that I’m not known for unquestioning obedience.”
She knew that, of course, having seen his file back in Antarctica, and having received a warning from General O’Neill and a sharper one from Colonel Sumner about what it meant to take on an officer with that kind of reputation. At the time, she had dismissed their concerns. As O’Neill himself had demonstrated on countless occasions, independent thinking was not necessarily an undesirable trait in an officer. She hadn’t found any cause to revisit the issue thus far.
“Anyway, you’re doing fine,” he continued, dispelling the brief unsettledness. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re right about what we should and shouldn’t do regarding the Dalerans. Kesun’s not being completely honest with us, at least when it comes to who can access the Enclave.”
When he elaborated, she nodded. “Okay, that helps me. I’m fairly confident in this one. In my experience, sudden, forced cultural changes generally leave a vacuum that makes things far worse before they can get better.”
“Mine, too.” John’s response was unassuming, but once again, it was what he didn’t say that spoke louder.
“You must have seen a lot in places like Afghanistan.”
“Enough to know that, to mess around with issues of faith, we’d need an airtight plan for the fallout. And I’ve yet to run across any of those.”
Elizabeth replied with a contemplative smile. “True enough. Thank you, John.”
“Any time. Feel better, all right?” He moved toward the door, but glanced back with a glint of humor in his eye. “I’ll ask the mess hall sergeants if they’ve got any chicken soup.”
It had been a terrifying yet wondrous dream. No. More than that, for Lisera could never have envisioned such things as she had beheld this past day. She had flown as high as a bird until the Citadel appeared as nothing more than a patch in a blanket of many patterns across the land. Then the sky above had swiftly grown dark, as if night had fallen, and she had looked down upon Dalera and seen it as she saw the twin worlds that crossed the sky at night. She was in the heavens, on her way to a land that many, including her mother, had held as nothing more than a child’s tale, a myth. Home of the Ancestors, home of Dalera; Atlantis!
When the ring of magic appeared, she had gasped and looked upon it in awe. Parts of it had glowed the same color as the Shields. She’d cried out in amazement when water shot through the ring, and Aiden had clasped her hand. Plunging into the bright, rippling pool, the glowing tunnel beyond had dazzled her. Then abruptly, it was over, and they were inside a beautiful and light-filled room.
So much to see, so many smiling people, welcoming her to Atlantis! She was nothing, just a girl of no consequence, and yet she was made to feel as important as a Chosen. After she had been taken to a smaller room where people were dressed in white cloaks, Aiden had left her with the promise that he would later return.
Someone had given her yet more medicine. This time, the needle remained in her arm and a strange, transparent rope connected it to an equally transparent bag of water. They told her that the water would make her better. A great tiredness had overcome her, and she had slept.
When Lisera awoke, her leg was encased in a thin white rock. Oddly, the worst of her hunger and thirst had gone. More, she felt clean, and was garbed in a soft robe. Time passed. She met each new visitor with a hopeful smile. Aiden would come soon. He had promised.
One such visitor had brought a platter of marvelous tasting foods. So much food! Biting back tears of gratitude, she had eaten every last crumb. Then night had fallen, and she had slept for a time. But the strangeness and comfort of such a wonderful bed could not be wasted on sleep. Her time here would be short. A night, perhaps two, was all she would be allowed on this world in the heavens.
Sitting in the darkness, running her hands across cloth of such quality, breathing in air tainted only with a sweet, salty tang, Lisera’s happiness slowly receded. She could walk, they assured her, but what they called a cast must remain upon her leg for fifty days. Once back in Dalera, like so many others who had lost all, she would still have to fend for herself. With her pace slowed, she would not be able to outrun the Wraith. This left her with no other option. She must remain in the Citadel rather than return to living off the land. The images of what Balzar had done to her mother, the foul smell of his breath and the gleam in his eyes, returned to haunt her, and she began to cry.
Soft footfalls came from behind her. Turning, she looked into the darkness. “Aiden?” A light appeared by her bed, and with it came more disappointment. It was the one called Dr Beckett.
“Hello, lassie. What’s this? Tears?”
Sniffing and rubbing a hand across her cheeks, Lisera said, “I am sorry to have woken you.”
His smile was kind, as were his eyes. “Hardly. I was just examining your blood work. Hadn’t eaten in a wee while, had you?”
Unbidden, her tears fell in full measure. Perhaps it was the gentle manner in which he spoke, or his kindness, but she was reminded of her brother, and all that she had lost.
“Are you in any pain?” Dr Beckett asked, examining the bag of healing water.
She shook her head.
Sighing softly, he pulled a white cloth from a nearby box and handed it to her. It was obviously intended for her to blow her nose, but the material felt too precious to spoil. Unwilling to offend, she reluctantly used it.
“There are different kinds of pain, Lisera, some of them no medicine can cure,” he continued.
Lisera looked into his eyes, and saw in them a faraway sadness. “You have lost those you loved to the Wraith?”