Stargate Atlantis: The Chosen (Stargate Atlantis) Read online

  The joy that lit Lisera’s delicate features was indescribable. The young woman turned shining eyes to Lieutenant Ford. “You have saved me once more,” she whispered.

  Taken aback, the Lieutenant could only offer an embarrassed smile. “I don’t know about that,” he began, but Sheppard and Kesun were already discussing specifics.

  “If our doctor—our healer—can treat Lisera easily, we’ll return with her in two days,” the Major explained. “In the event that she requires more time, we’ll report back to you.”

  In response, the Chosen gave a small bow. Teyla noted that he faced Major Sheppard directly, not acknowledging McKay.

  Having seen the return of the rest of the team, many of the villagers milled about in the vicinity of the transport. “Guess these folks could use a ride home,” Ford said. He went to pick up Lisera, but Yann had already done so.

  “Yeah. What’s a few hundred hitchhikers?” The Major opened the doors with a swipe of his hand across the touchpad, and the villagers shuffled into the transport. “Rodney, you want to take this group or the next?”

  “What am I, a bus driver now?” Dr McKay muttered, stepping into the transport.

  While they waited, Teyla noticed that the villagers Kesun had transported into the Sanctuary Hall were pressing payment into his hand. That left her to wonder about the eventual fate of those, like Lisera, who had nothing to give. Would they be left outside the Citadel when the Wraith sought a full harvest from this world?

  Teyla waited for the transport to fill once more before stepping in behind Sheppard. When they emerged into the same inn that they’d left hours earlier, the villagers streamed out of the building with murmured and somewhat begrudging thanks. The Major, however, lingered until everyone had left. With a quick glance around the inn to make certain that no one was observing him, he returned to the transport and bent to examine the panel inside.

  “What is it?” she inquired, watching from the door.

  “Aha. Found it,” Sheppard replied. “Teyla, would you step back in here a minute?”

  When she did so, he touched a second, cunningly concealed panel, and a row of three colored buttons appeared. Pressing the first caused the doors of a larger wall panel within the transport to slide back, revealing the same style of map and grid of lights as seen inside the transports on Atlantis.

  “That’s interesting. Unless you’ve suddenly acquired the ATA gene, Kesun wasn’t being entirely honest about who could and who couldn’t access the Enclave. It’s just about knowing where to look. Okay—” Giving her a quick grin, the Major closed the panel again and gestured for her to step outside with him. “Try closing the transport doors.”

  She did as he asked, but the exterior panel remained unresponsive to her touch. “It appears that in this, at least, he spoke true. Only a Chosen may operate the transport.”

  “There you are,” McKay called impatiently from the entrance of the inn. “Do you think we could leave now?” Teyla watched as McKay followed Sheppard’s gaze in the direction of the bar. The air of tension between the two men was made even more apparent when the scientist grumbled, “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about having one for the road.”

  “Nah. This isn’t the time to test any kind of bottle-to-throttle rule.” The Major smiled longingly. “Can’t blame a guy for wishing, though.”

  The humor in his voice did little to mollify Dr McKay, who was evidently impatient to return to Atlantis.

  Just outside the inn, Yann, with Lieutenant Ford and the innkeeper’s assistance, was fashioning a makeshift stretcher. Once Lisera was on the stretcher, they made their way out into the square and then down the path that led out of town. “So what’s your grand plan?” McKay took rapid steps to keep pace with the Major’s long strides. “Bring the girl back here with a neatly packaged plaster cast, pat everyone on the head and say ‘good luck’ ?”

  “I didn’t think you much cared,” Sheppard replied mildly, glancing down at the Shield that Dr McKay was clutching.

  Rolling his eyes in frustration, McKay retorted, “The question of ‘caring’ is superfluous—this is about the principle of the situation. They need the gene therapy, and I’m not going to waste any more time trying to convince you because you already know that I’m right.”

  “I also know that they refused the gene therapy, so let’s not treat this like a foregone conclusion, okay?” The Major offered him a tight smile.

  “Of course they refused it! They’re the almighty Chosen.” McKay threw a disgruntled hand in the air. “They can’t stand the idea of their happy hierarchy being imploded, when that’s exactly what needs to happen, because it’s disenfranchising the vast majority of the population.”

  Dismayed by his attitude, Teyla now understood what had provoked Kesun’s barely civil farewell. In her travels, she’d learned that each society viewed the Wraith through whatever lens their culture provided them. The Dalerans’ belief in a divine influence to protect them from attack was no doubt more comprehensible than Dr McKay’s curt lectures on electromagnetic field theory. “Have you made any attempt to take their view?” she asked, prompting McKay to look back at her. “Kesun is working within his own knowledge and experience, just as you work within yours. You should not fault him because the two are not the same.”

  “And he’s a realist,” Sheppard added, not slowing his pace. “I didn’t get the feeling he’d sacrifice his people just to keep a grip on power.”

  “Oh, no? It sure felt like that to me.” McKay’s foot caught on on a root and he stumbled. He leveled a muted curse at the offending tree. At that moment Teyla realized that the scientist always seemed at odds with whatever world he inhabited. Every misfortune that he encountered was always due to the shortcomings of others, be they objects or people. “Kesun may be the most visible of the Chosen,” McKay finished, “but what about the rest of those old relics?”

  “They have had many centuries to develop their understanding of the Wraith,” Teyla said. “Such things do not immediately change based on the claims of a few strangers.”

  “There’s a typically provincial mindset,” McKay muttered. “A little perspective adjustment didn’t hurt the Athosians any, did it?”

  A wave of molten anger flowed through her veins. How dare he? She’d known him to condescend before but never like this.

  Before she could respond, the Major spun around, halting their motion. “That’s enough,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “Nobody’s all-knowing. Least of all us.” That last part was uttered with a hard stare at McKay. “Let’s just get home and work things out there.”

  Still simmering with resentment, Teyla held her tongue, even as the scientist blithely continued. “And if you really think the Chosen’s viewpoint is worth saving, you might want to ask them why nothing changed after the plague hit them, and only them, so hard. Do they really expect to be able to maintain their status now that they’re down to about twenty?”

  So few? That did come as a surprise to Teyla. Recalling the display in the puddle jumper, she now realized that no more than twenty EM fields had been scattered about the Citadel.

  Beside her, Yann fumbled the stretcher and ceased walking. Teyla saw a look of fear cross his eyes and was about to castigate McKay for his unchecked words when the merchant blurted, “Wraithcraft!”

  She followed his gaze to where the puddle jumper had suddenly appeared. Remembering her first encounter with the vessel, Teyla smiled in understanding. “Ancient craft,” she corrected, walking down into the shallow gully. “This is how we traveled to Dalera from Atlantis.”

  McKay’s reaction was less docile. “Uh oh.” He yanked the glowing Shield from his belt. “These must’ve deactivated the jumper’s cloak.”

  Sheppard pulled his own Shield free, and the two men shoved them into Teyla’s hands. The Shields, cool to the touch, went obligingly black, and the jumper vanished from sight again until the Major deactivated the cloaking device.

  “Truly wondrous,
” Yann murmured, eyes wide with unashamed awe. He and Ford maneuvered Lisera inside and onto a bench, while Sheppard slid into the pilot’s seat and laid a hand on the control panel. The answering hum of power and array of lights to which they’d become accustomed never came.

  “Already used up your allotment of brain power for the day?” McKay guessed.

  The Major shot him a dirty look. “If yours is so limitless, you try it.”

  McKay shrugged and put his hand down on the controls. No response. Lines of concentration appeared on his brow. “If this is what it looks like, I’m about to reach unprecedented levels of frustration,” he commented brusquely. “It’s possible that even though they’re currently unpowered, the capacitors in the Shields are still having some residual effect based on proximity.”

  Comprehending, Teyla kept her hold on the Shields and, indicating that Yann should follow, stepped out of the jumper. The craft promptly came to life. Even from outside, she could see McKay’s eyes blaze. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Calm down, would you?” Sheppard told him.

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather fume for a moment, thanks very much! There were two and only two leads on this backwater planet. One was Dalera’s supposed research on neural interfaces, which I’ll never be able to even locate, let alone study properly, without powered equipment. The other is the Shields, and if we can’t even take one of them back for research, this excursion just went from marginally pointless to completely pointless!” Lips compressed in anger, he stood and stormed out of the jumper.

  Some nasty corner of Teyla’s mind was starting to wish that Dr McKay would show up for one of her training sessions in the gym. She would not injure him, but she would make him think twice about dismissing everything that didn’t fit his point of view.

  Joining them outside, Sheppard said, “I’m not all that wild about the idea myself, Rodney, but seeing as we don’t have a whole lot of choices, we’re going to have to leave the Shields behind.”

  With an exasperated sigh, Rodney thrust his Shield at Yann—who promptly stepped back, a look of shock on his face.

  “Is it not forbidden for any but the Chosen to touch the Shields?” Teyla pointed out. Fully aware that she herself was currently holding them, she still felt the need to remind McKay of the culture he seemed to be giving thought to deconstructing.

  “It’s not one of Dalera’s laws.” McKay’s fists curled in frustration. “Just another one of those guidelines that’s so helpful in marginalizing commoners.”

  Sheppard looked thoughtful. “Well, Kesun did imply that when Lisera returned, he could probably rescind that particular ruling.”

  Along with the revelation that the Chosen were few in number, his words left Teyla in no doubt about what discussions must have taken place in the Enclave.

  “Perhaps you can hide the Shields.” Yann pointed to the outcrop of rocks on the edge of the gully. “I will tell no one of them.”

  Although she sensed no overt deception, she nevertheless felt that something was amiss. Hesitating a moment, Teyla walked to the rocks and found a suitable crevice. She hid the Shields within and carefully covered the opening with a thorn-covered sod.

  “In two days’ time, I shall return to this place,” Yann continued.

  “We’ll see you then,” Sheppard replied with a smile that failed to mask the uncertainty in his eyes. It was apparent that he, too, was not comfortable with the situation. But to return to Atlantis, it seemed that they must indeed leave the Shields behind, and it would be both foolish and wasteful to simply cast them aside.

  Yann moved away from the jumper, while Teyla and the others went back inside and took their seats. The hatch slowly rose and locked into place with a metallic clang. When the jumper ascended, Lisera’s eyes widened and her hand scrabbled for Ford’s sleeve. The Lieutenant looked embarrassed, but gave her a reassuring smile, closing his fingers around the girl’s.

  “It is beyond futile to drag me along on these outings to provide solutions to problems, and then refuse to accept the only practical solution because it offends your moral sensibilities.” McKay sullenly stared out at the sky, which quickly darkened to the speckled blackness of space. “I can’t believe you’d be willing to condemn those people to death just to avoid stepping on a few toes.”

  Teyla’s anger flared again, but the remark seemed to be directed at the Major, who responded without delay. “And I can’t believe you think that’s all this is. Didn’t we already learn the hard way that, once a society has its mind made up about something, it’s damn near impossible to change anything? Weren’t the Hoffans pretty much a case in point on that subject?”

  There was a brief pause, and Teyla recalled the Hoffans’ single-minded willingness to sacrifice half their people in order to protect the remainder against the Wraith. McKay, however, wasn’t dissuaded. “This is not even remotely close to the same thing,” he replied dismissively. “The Hoffans took a vote, for Pete’s sake. If the Dalerans had a fraction of those same democratic rights, this would be different. But it’s not, and you can’t tell me that they’re exercising their own free will to rely on the Chosen when they’ve been fed a bunch of crap about what makes them Chosen in the first place.”

  “Quit putting words in my mouth,” Sheppard said tightly. “I’m no more satisfied with this setup than you are. But if you’re going to insist on dismantling their entire religion, could you at least keep your voice down about it?”

  “Oh, as if the concept of gene therapy could have made any sense to Yann or anyone else. It’s so far beyond their scientific understanding, assuming there is such a thing as science on their planet—”

  Teyla had heard enough. She allowed a short bark of derisive laughter to escape, causing both men to turn in her direction. “There is a word your people use,” she said. “I have forgotten it, but it means a person who criticizes others for the very traits that he or she displays.”

  Sheppard’s gaze shifted cautiously toward McKay. “Hypocrite,” he told her.

  “Yes.” She faced the scientist with no mask for her contempt. “You, Doctor, are demonstrating yourself to be the worst kind of hypocrite.”

  “Me?” McKay’s eyes bulged. “I was perfectly happy to leave these people alone until the Major here decided to play hero. Yet the moment I suggest a way to help, you dismiss it because it undermines their privileged class!”

  “Because your ‘help’ is shortsighted and shows no respect for them. You say you want to end the elitism of the Chosen, but you look down on them simply because they do not see their world through the same eyes that you do. How is your elitism any better than theirs?”

  “Hey! Excuse me for not displaying the politically correct level of deference to their belief system, but it’s those beliefs that are going to destroy them!”

  Teyla heard his indignant tone and understood that she would get no further. His arrogance was well entrenched. She held few remaining illusions about the fallibility of her human companions, but every reminder held a fresh pinprick of sadness. They were not the Ancestors, to be sure. “How fortunate for you,” she replied with icy civility, “that your perspective is the only one required to explain the universe.”

  A painful silence fell in the cabin of the jumper. McKay’s eyes narrowed but he turned to face forward without comment, while Sheppard looked surprised by her use of sarcasm. Teyla glanced back at Lisera, but the Lieutenant had been speaking quietly to the girl, and she seemed too enthralled by her surroundings to have noticed the disagreement.

  When the Stargate appeared, Sheppard pressed the coordinates on the DHD and the ‘gate obediently activated. “Atlantis, Jumper One reporting in.”

  Dr Weir’s voice answered within seconds. “This is Atlantis. How was your trip, Major?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual. The drinks were overpriced and the lines were too long for the rides.” A typical response from the Major, but it sounded forced. “We’re coming in with one extra passenger.
A local needs a broken leg set. Think Dr Beckett can spare a few minutes?”

  “We’ll give him a heads-up. Can I assume from this that you’re planning on returning to the planet?”

  Sheppard’s gaze swept over his brooding teammates. “We do intend to go back. What we do once we’re there is still up for debate.”

  “All right. Come on home.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Historically,” John finished, “during an attack, in order to maximize coverage of the EM fields until everyone made it in from outlying settlements, some Chosen manned the transports while the others spread out with the warriors around the villages.”

  “Sounds like an effective system,” Elizabeth said, dabbing her nose with a tissue. Carson had given her something to fight the worst effects of the head cold, but the medication hadn’t dulled the gritty sensation at the back of her eyes and throat.

  “Oh, absolutely,” scoffed Rodney. “As long as no one’s bothered by the fine print that forbids any use of technology.”

  Elizabeth regarded him without speaking for a moment. It was difficult to determine what had their chief scientist more riled up: the fact that they’d found nothing on the planet that would aid them, or the existence of this theocratic culture.

  If the mission had been merely unsuccessful, that would have been one thing. The tension radiating from the members of her flagship team, however, made it clear that there were other issues to be confronted. When she’d seen them in the jumper bay upon their return, John had been the only one to meet her gaze. Ford had been busy with their injured ward, while Teyla and Rodney had avoided looking at her or each other. There was a distinct frost over the group, and Elizabeth was troubled by the idea that she couldn’t yet understand it, much less resolve it.

  Aloud, however, she simply said, “While I can see your point, Rodney, I think it’s best under circumstances like these to consider our primary mandate.”

  “Oh? And which one would that be? The need to acquire the technology to save Earth from the Goa’uld? Locate ZPMs in order to reestablish contact with Earth? Or, and this is my personal favorite, find some way to defend ourselves from the all-but-inevitable Wraith attack?”