“Selfish? Didn’t we just agree that it wasn’t a good idea to go interfering with people’s beliefs?”
Less certain now, she said, “Helping is not interfering.”
“Depends on your point of view. Rodney thinks he’s helping.”
“I’ve read some of those reports, too,” Ford put in. “Any Ascended who helped anyone on the lower plane, or whatever it’s called, got themselves banished.”
Sheppard grimaced. “Harsh. Isn’t that what happened with that guy from SG-1? You know — archeologist, glasses, briefly dead for a while?” He shifted self-consciously at Ford’s look of disbelief. “What?”
“Dr Jackson,” the Lieutenant supplied with a smile. “I thought you said you’d read some of SG-1’s reports.”
“The military reports, sure. You ever try reading Jackson’s? My book is faster going. Anyway, he managed to get himself demoted to human form for helping.”
“As Dalera was banished for loving a human.” Teyla frowned. “It seems that even amongst themselves the Ancestors did not always agree.”
The Major nodded. “I’d buy that explanation. They could easily have had a wide range of beliefs and conflicting opinions, just as we do.”
His radio signaled then, and Ford picked it up from the bench and tossed it to him. “Sheppard.” Listening for a moment, he nodded. “All right, we’re on our way.” Turning to them he explained, “Beckett wants us in the infirmary. Something about Lisera.”
Gathering her belongings, Teyla followed the two officers out of the room. She was not sure how well she concealed her feelings, but this conversation had unnerved her in a way she could not quite name.
Chapter Eight
“Lisera thinks of herself and her entire family, as barbarians,” explained Carson Beckett. His voice held a mixture of sadness and anger. “She’s utterly convinced that she’s somehow responsible for the Wraith attacks.”
Aiden stared at him. “How?” He didn’t have lot of faith in Beckett’s analysis of the situation. The doctor might be some sort of super-smart biologist, but he was generally too busy blabbing about what he didn’t know or why something wasn’t his fault to pay a lot of attention to what was going on around him. “We’re the ones who woke the Wraith.”
Together with the Major, Teyla and McKay, Aiden was standing with Beckett in the room next to where Lisera was resting. Through the glass door, he could see Dr Weir sitting on the bed, holding her hand. Aiden had planned on visiting Lisera earlier in the evening, but by the time they’d finished debriefing and getting something to eat, he’d been due for his scheduled workout with Teyla.
Leaning toward the Major, McKay wrinkled his nose theatrically. Sheppard shot him an odd look. “What?”
“Nothing.” McKay’s expression said otherwise.
“Many of those boats you saw were not used for fishing,” Beckett continued, “but to explore distant towns that, while now deserted, were once inhabited by people that the Chosen also viewed as barbarians. The crews would scavenge items they could sell in the markets. Things more advanced than they themselves could create.”
“How could this be possible?” Teyla frowned. “What they call Wraithcraft causes the Shields to glow, alerting the Chosen.”
“Yes, but the products of technology wouldn’t necessarily do so,” McKay said. “It would account for those quality steel axes everyone was carrying around. Most of that stuff was cast, not wrought, and you can’t get that kind of temperature in a blacksmith’s wood-burning forge.” He inched toward Aiden and sniffed experimentally.
Teyla sucked in a deep breath. “It would also explain the many fine goods in the markets.”
“Without warriors patrolling outside the Citadel, no one’s policing their laws.” The Major looked thoughtful.
“The apothecary told us that with the Chosen no longer operating the transports as they once did, many now cart goods into the city across the bridges.” Teyla’s frown deepened.
Nodding in understanding, the Major added, “Contraband has probably been finding its way into the markets for decades.”
“And Lisera’s family,” said Carson, “was involved in the transport of such goods. When the Wraith first put in an appearance, those dealing in Wraithcraft were blamed for having attracted their attentions.”
McKay’s face screwed up. “What is that smell?”
Slowly turning to face him, Sheppard replied, “The result of working out, Rodney, something apparently unfamiliar to you.”
“I would be most pleased if you would care to join us next time.” Teyla’s smile was more predatory than anticipatory. Aiden winced. If McKay ever took her up on the offer, the only thing that would be getting a workout was his backside — as it hit the floor.
Glancing at her sharply, McKay remarked, “What a shock. My assessment was, oh, let’s see, completely accurate. Their idealistic aboriginal culture is—”
“Rodney,” interrupted the Major. “Let’s hear what Lisera has to say before jumping to any conclusions.”
Beckett shook his head. “She became quite distraught, so I gave her a sedative. I have no doubt she’s told Elizabeth the rest of it.” His eyebrows lowered into a deep frown. “Things a girl wouldn’t want to share with a man, if you get my drift. Bloody monarchists by the sounds of it. Sitting in their high and mighty palace, extorting payment for protecting people from the Wraith, but doing naught else while the city turns into a squalid den of murderers and thieves.”
Aiden followed Beckett into the room. On the bed, Lisera was curled up as much as the plaster cast would allow, arms wrapped around herself. When he saw the tear stains on her cheeks, he smiled reassuringly. Despite the sedative, she glanced fearfully at the others. McKay’s lips did that thing that Aiden supposed was meant to be a smile but came off like a bad case of indigestion.
Dr Weir stood from the bed. “Get some rest now, Lisera. We’ll talk again in the morning.”
“As I said,” McKay continued. There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his smirk this time. “Me. Right. So it was, and so it ever shall be.”
“Let’s take this discussion elsewhere.” Dr Weir’s warning glance was directed at McKay.
“I’ll be along in a few minutes,” Beckett said. “I want to check the results of Lisera’s blood work.”
Lisera’s eyelids began to droop. “Aiden?”
Leaning down, he took her hand. “I’ll bring you some breakfast.”
“Do you promise?”
“Sure. Haven’t broken my word yet, have I?”
Aiden didn’t fail to notice Dr Weir’s concerned look as the five of them went to the briefing room. Neither did he fail to notice McKay’s smugness, and Teyla’s troubled expression.
When the ornate doors closed behind them, Dr Weir took a seat, rested her elbows on the table and briefly ran her hands across her face. Her eyes were red and puffy and her voice sounded thick with a cold. “What did you say was the name of the chief?”
“Balzar.” Sheppard pulled a chair out and sat down. “Why?”
“He threatened to tell the Chosen that Lisera’s family brought the Wraith upon them by trading in Wraithcraft.”
“Yes, we got that,” McKay said impatiently.
Taking a deep breath, Dr Weir added, “What you didn’t get was what Balzar demanded of her mother, and then Lisera, in return for saying nothing and allowing them to enter the transport to the Citadel.”
A swift silence fell over the room. No one needed her to explain further.
“What?” McKay was incredulous. Unfolding his arms, he sat forward in indignation and blurted, “She’s just a kid!”
The look in Teyla’s eyes was nothing short of murderous. Not that Aiden was feeling any less inclined to rip Balzar limb from limb, but even he was surprised at her vehemence when she spat, “Such creatures as Balzar are not fit to be called human. They do not feed from hunger, as the Wraith do, but gorge themselves on fear.”
Well, at least McKay and Teyla had found something on which they could agree.