"Yeah, about that." Elizabeth's first-contact guidelines, which John had promptly nicknamed Diplomacy for Dummies, didn't really recommend peppering their savior with questions right off the bat, but they were on a tight schedule. Besides, he was pretty damned curious about this whole setup. "Why did you risk getting caught in the storm to help us? And how is it that your clothes weren't"-his skin still felt a sunburn-like tingle in places, and he stuck a finger through a newly-formed hole in his sleeve-"damaged?"
"We are less susceptible." Shira turned to Carson next. Unselfconscious, she kneeled and dusted off a few reddish grains from his boots. Before he could object, she had already shifted her attention to John. "Having lived with it for so many generations, we have become tolerant to it. Our children are more at risk, and we do still require some protection. The outer garments you see here"-finishing her task, she looked across at the rows of cloaks- "and many of our possessions are made from plants and animal hides that readily endure the storms. However, our skin will withstand much more than that of any off-worlder."
"I'm a doctor." Carson tentatively reached out a hand. "A healer and scientist. Would you mind if I-?"
With an understanding smile, Shira held out her bare arm for him to examine. Now that John thought about it, her olive skin did look a little tougher than the average human's. It didn't noticeably affect her overall appearance, however.
As Beckett studied her arm, Ronon's gaze fixed on the wide, intricate bracelet that she wore. "I've seen that before," he said when John shot him a quizzical look. "Not that exact one, but jewelry like it. I've heard about these people."
Rodney, who was still patting himself down for red dust, spun toward him. "Is there some legitimate reason that prevented you from mentioning that fact earlier?"
The Satedan shrugged, unmoved by the other man's indignation. "I never said I knew the name or the 'gate address. I just remember hearing some tales. A planet with dangerous storms, people returning either badly scarred or not at all. With the sand, it makes sense"
"Yes, hindsight is terribly accurate that way, isn't it?"
"Give him a break, Rodney. He couldn't have known." John turned back to Shira. "Anyway, we're-"
"I know who you are." She looked unspeakably pleased. "Your ship tells me that the Ancestors have at last returned to Atlantis!"
Well, that was a curveball. Sort of
"You saw us arrive?" Rodney spluttered. "And didn't think to warn us sooner?"
"We're not the Ancestors," John hurried to say, tossing him a warning look. Hadn't McKay read the chapter on Not Pissing Off the Indigenous Population? "We traveled to Atlantis as explorers, but the city was destroyed by the Wraith." The lie came more easily each time he repeated it. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but if a lie might keep his expedition alive, that was all he needed to know.
Shira's face clouded, and her smile faltered. "Oh! Such a tragedy." She led them across the atrium. "We have extensive records of Atlantis here. Although many of us have lived in hope that the Ancestors would one day return, an equal number believe their home had indeed been lost to the Wraith."
"The Wraith can be kind of infuriating that way."
"Still, you must be of Ancestor blood." She opened a door at the far end of the room and stepped through into a wide corridor whose walls were covered in more colorful designs. "Only they could operate the ships."
Despite being relatively isolated, these people had a surprisingly decent grasp of all things Ancient. Hopefully that meant finding Atlas's machine wouldn't be too difficult. "We're descendants of the Ancestors, more or less," John answered. The slight pressure change that popped his ears signaled that they'd just gone through a huge airlock of sorts. "Some of us call them Ancients, and we're trying to learn more about them."
Nodding sagely, Shira closed the door behind them. "To answer your question," she told Rodney, "I was collecting salt from the great pans when I heard the 'gate. I climbed the nearest dune in time to see you arrive and assumed you would make for the village. Instead you went to the cliffs. I hurried to you when I realized what would happen."
"You might think about posting warnings," Rodney griped, already examining a row of Ancient lettering on the nearest wall.
"We have, many times, but the shifting sands soon carry them away." A few paces along the corridor, Shira opened another door, this one with distinctive Ancient patterns etched on its smooth surface, and held out a welcoming hand to her visitors. "This is my home."
It was similar to the atrium, except that it had a definite lived-in feel, like an old-fashioned country kitchen. The walls were lined with shelves and copper pots and pans, and on the floor sat baskets of vegetables and grains. A long stone table stood in the middle of the room. Stacked at the far end were a collection of platters, one with a small paring knife and fruit scraps carelessly falling off the edge. Strewn elsewhere on the table were a collection of books and writing implements and mugs half-filled with water.
With an embarrassed shrug, Shira moved to clear the table. "I was not expecting guests. Please, sit, and I will bring you refreshments."
Spotting the imminent objection in Rodney's stance, John shot the scientist a warning glare. The urgency of their mission notwithstanding, in his experience, making friends with people generally got you a lot further than barging in and demanding things.
Shira began collecting the books when a bunch of small children darted in from an adjoining room. Giggling, two pushed between Rodney's legs, making him jump. "Where did they come from?" he demanded.
"Two are mine." Shira sent a scolding look at the oldest child and motioned to the dishes. She then handed the boy what were undoubtedly his schoolbooks and added, "The others are from the village."
Rodney glanced through the doorway. "These buildings are interconnected?"
"The entire community is joined. Were it not so, we would be shut inside our homes more often than we are free. The storms are frequent, and their length cannot be predicted."
"Then by all means, let's see the rest of the village." Rodney was starting to look edgy, and it couldn't solely be due to his focus on locating the exogenesis machine. When John cast a puzzled glance in his direction, the scientist said defensively, "Do I need to start a list of all the things that are bugging me right now`? Acid sand, enclosed spaces ...kids..."
"Tetchy," Beckett said under his breath.
John shook his head and gave Shira a smile. "We'd love a tour, if it's not too much trouble."
"Of course, I understand." Facing her children, she gently admonished them, "Finish your work before play. And do not leave scraps of food lying around. I'll be back in a few minutes"
The entire structure of the village bore a definite similarity to the layout of Atlantis. The attached dwellings resembled mediumsized apartments connected by wide hallways. These periodically opened out into larger communal areas, some of which, if the cloaks on pegs were any indication, led outside. The levels didn't stack neatly on top of each other, but instead were offset, depending on how far into the cliff they extended. John still couldn't tell if the light originated from the `ceilings,' but it seemed the most likely explanation, even though most of the walls were made of the same type of stone as the cliff face.
For the inhabitants, life appeared to be going on as normal, in spite of the sandstorm raging outside. People milled around, talking to each other and corralling energetic children. Several markets were doing a brisk business, and an appealing array of smells wafted from a noisy line of food stalls. The whole place had a bazaar-type feel to it, something that Teyla would have appreciated.
For a moment, John's thoughts turned to his absent teammate. He hoped she was doing okay in that monster of a storm back home.
No one paid the visitors any mind except to proffer courteous smiles, and everyone looked reasonably attired, healthy and content.
"Dress aside, they're a bit like the Athosians, aren't they?" Beckett remarked. "Lovely folk."
Ronon seemed to share the sentiment. Although he still showed the perennial air of alertness that John appreciated, the Satedan definitely seemed to be loosening up a little.
"The Elders govern the village," Shira explained as they walked. "They will be most interested to meet you."
"So status is based on age?" John asked.
"Oh, no-the people choose who shall serve on the council. They are called Elders simply because children are not permitted to govern, although of course we seek the thoughts of all before important decisions are made."
Rodney reacted with surprise. "That sounds remarkably... civilized."
Nothing was wrong here-and that felt wrong. So far Polrusso was shaping up to be the most well-adjusted society they'd yet encountered, complete with dirty dishes and kids shirking homework. No abuse of power, no conflict of beliefs, no apparent servitude. John felt a little unsettled by all this normalcy, which was a sure sign that he had a really weird job.
As if on cue, the sound of muffled sobbing reached him, and he stopped to glance into the open doorway of another chamber. A distraught woman was sitting on a bench by the door, knees drawn up to her chest, rocking back and forth. As she wept, two other women comforted her.
When John looked to Shira for an explanation, her face was grave. "She lost her daughter a short time ago," she told them. "The child was barely old enough to walk."
"Poor lass," murmured Beckett.
Immediately John felt like a jerk for looking so hard for a flaw in this place. No matter how peaceful things looked here, accidents could still happen. Children could still die, and life could still be unjust. That was a universal constant.
"This is the council chamber." Shira led them through another open doorway. Inside, at a conference table of distinctly Ancient design, sat a group of four men and three women engaged in an animated discussion about something that sounded like crop rotation. They looked up at the team's arrival.
An eighth man with curly red hair and one badly pockmarked cheek entered from a nearby room. He was carrying a metal tray with an earthenware jug and collection of cups. "Ah! Shira," he declared, looking curiously at the newcomers.
"I bid you greeting, Elders," Shira said. "These travelers carry the blood of the Ancestors. They have seen Atlantis and can operate its vessels, having arrived here in one such ship!"
With obvious interest, the Elders quickly stood and came around the table while John introduced himself and his team.
"I am Vene, leader of the council," said the redhead, smiling broadly. "The heirs of the Ancestors are most welcome among us. Please"-he placed the tray on the table, ducked back into the other room and returned with additional cups-"please, this is wonderful! You must join us for tea"
"We appreciate that," John replied, shooting Rodney a preemptive glare. Ten minutes over tea could save them hours of searching, and there wasn't much else they could do while the storm continued outside.
"If you will excuse me," said Shira, "I should return to my children. No doubt they have already forgotten my instructions to finish their schoolwork."
Vene set down the mugs and grasped her hands. "I thank you for bringing the travelers here."
"So do we," John added, matching the Elder's sincerity. "Very much."
Bowing her head briefly in response, Shira stepped back from the group and left the room.
"It sounds like your people know a lot about the Ancestors." John wasn't sure where to begin. He glanced around the walls of the chamber, noting that they were decorated just as colorfully as the rest of the village. The semi-abstract jumble of blues and greens appeared to depict a rainforest environment that stood in sharp contrast with the desert world outside.
While Vend ground a few tea leaves into the bottom of each cup, another Elder held out a five-legged chair for Carson. "Most off-worlders find our dry air enervating. Sit and tell us of your travels"
Carson looked pleased at the prospect. "Thank you," he replied, easing off his pack. "I wouldn't mind a cup of tea."
"Yes, and I wouldn't mind knowing how you get your water," McKay added, making a beeline for the bookshelves along one wall.
"Give them a chance to at least say hello, Rodney," John rebuked, tossing an apologetic smile at Vene while he removed his own pack.
"That's perfectly all right, Colonel," the Elder replied, pouring the beverage. The lack of servants or even aides was, to John's mind, singularly refreshing. "We understand what it is to be curious, a quality we encourage in our children. It is only by asking questions that one can gain knowledge."
Meanwhile a second Elder had lifted a large binder from a bookshelf behind her, and began filing away the papers on the table. The documents were written in Ancient, and the diagrams confirmed John's first impression that the Elders had been talking about agriculture. It made a pleasant change from meeting leaders in the midst of devising battle plans, defensive strategies, or tactics to subjugate an unhappy populace.
"Our people have always kept careful histories," Vend continued. "It is our obligation to those who have gone before and those who will follow us. When the Ancestors were here, they contributed to our histories as well."
"So you know that they were working on a project to transform the climate of this planet," Rodney said, ever direct.
John winced, wondering if these people even knew about the terraforming process, but Vend replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "We have little understanding of the mechanisms they used, but the Ancestors did explain what was to occur. One day, water would flow like sands and fall from a sky turned white with billowing moisture. The abyss below"-he nodded in what presumably was the direction of the cliff-"would be filled to the brim with oceans, and life would thrive within, while the land would become a beautiful place where plants could grow and creatures roam."
Rodney removed his pack in order to retrieve his notebook, and sat down at the table. He began scribbling notes as the Elder talked.
With a wistful smile, Vene handed Carson a cup. "I have been off-world-not often, but I have seen such things as this. As have you, no doubt"
The doctor smiled and took a sip of his tea. "This really is quite good." His eyebrows lifted approvingly. "Thank you."
Ronon, who had remained standing, accepted a cup from another Elder and downed the contents in a few gulps, while Rodney, prudent as always when it came to matters involving his personal wellbeing, elected to wait until the brew had cooled.
"You don't know the specifics," John said. "But are there any records detailing what you do know?" He, too, took a cautious sip of tea and was surprised at its sweet, fruity flavor.
In response, Vene moved to one of the many shelves lining the walls. He contemplated the array ofbooks for a long moment before selecting a slim volume. Placing it on the table before Rodney, he sat down and explained, "It is a children's schoolbook. We can show you books and documents with more detailed accounts, of course, but I think you will find this offers the most concise explanation."
Rodney looked dubious at first, but when Vend leaned across, opened the first page, and pointed to a diagram, the scientist was immediately engrossed. "Okay, this makes sense," he said absently, turning the pages with care. "As expected, in the first stage the atmosphere was created from elements in the planet's crust. Then hundreds of technicians were brought in to assist in the second stage, the robotic mining of preexistent smaller canyons to produce hydrogen and oxygen molecules-thus, water. Experience suggested that the best way to store all the water was in the vast landmasses, where chemical leaching ensured rapid salination, until the final stage when it would be released to form oceans."
"But that hasn't happened," Ronon pointed out.
Before Rodney could get started on his usual rant about obvious statements being the root of all evil, the female Elder who'd spoken earlier answered. "Our histories tell us that after the process had begun, two Ancestors, Atlas and Ea, came with a team to Polrusso to test a new method of faster transformat
ion. The device they brought was called an exogenesis machine"
Hope flared in Rodney's eyes. "And you've just said the magic words." He pushed the book aside.
Just once, John wished Rodney would be a little less free with information. While these people seemed a decent bunch, he saw no reason to lay all of their cards on the table.
Vend's reply held only resigned acceptance. "We have believed for some time now that their research altered the original process."
The hope in Rodney's eyes shifted into incipient panic, and John understood why. If Atlas had triggered his second machine after all, odds were that it was beyond recovery. Like the one on Atlantis.
"Whether it was deliberate or not," Vend continued, "such an action of theirs can be the only explanation for why conditions such as the caustic red sand granules still exist. The Ancestors' records are very clear about the time span of the process. Based on the terraforming procedures used on other planets, Polrusso should have been completed generations ago."
"You've known that for years, and yet you've remained here, waiting all this time for a better world that might never come?" Carson asked.
With a small smile, Vend said, "Our world is our own; it is what we have known all our lives. As difficult a place as it may seem to you, it is not so bleak in our eyes. Still, we would like to see the process completed, so that our children may live on the planet of which our forebears dreamed."
Maybe they couldn't recover Atlas's machine, but with access to an original Ancient terraforming computer John felt confident that Rodney would be able to figure out something. "If we could take a look inside the building where the process was being controlled, we might be able to help your people."
Latching on to the idea, Rodney became reanimated. He turned his attention back to the book and flicked through the pages.
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