STARGATE ATLANTIS: Dead End (5 page)

“After so long!” said one of them, his voice cracking with emotion. “The portal has opened again!”

“You have come back,” came another voice, addressing Sheppard. “I knew this day would come.”

Sheppard looked at Teyla, then Ronon, then back to the newcomers. Even within the suit he was beginning to shake uncontrollably, the Jumper was wrecked, and the gate inoperable — the situation could hardly have been more desperate. There wasn’t really a whole lot of choice. “That’s right,” he said. “We’re back. And right now, we could really use some shelter.”

The man’s eyes smiled. “Come with us,” he said. “We’ll lead you to safety.” He beckoned the team to follow and turned back the way he’d come.

“Oh good job,” sniped McKay. “Make first contact with the locals and impersonate their long lost friends. There’s no way that can go wrong. After all, it’s never gotten us in trouble before.”

“Button it, Rodney, we’ve got no choice.” Sheppard peered through the snow at his team. “But stay sharp, we don’t know what we’re getting into here.”

“Oh I think we do,” McKay grumbled as he stomped after the strangers. “And it begins with a capital T.”

As the fire did its work, feeling gradually returned to Teyla’s feet.

She sat with the others in a chamber set deep underground. A healthy blaze crackled and spat in the central hearth and torches flickered against the rock walls, bathing the room in a gentle ambient light. The surroundings were simple, but clean and warm. A few tapestries hung from the walls and woven mats blunted the worst of the harsh rock floor. Many of the hangings had stylized pictures of animals and hunting scenes. The familiar images reminded Teyla of home.

Around her shoulders Teyla now wore a lavish fur cloak — a gift from their hosts. It was beautifully warm, and it had not taken long for the effects of her brief foray into the storm to abate.

It hadn’t been a long trek from the gate to their rescuers’ settlement, but they would never have stumbled across the entrance by themselves. The people of the place appeared to live deep within a series of caves and fissures, the entrance to which had been obscured by heaped snowdrifts. The team’s attempts to find shelter had in fact taken them some distance in the wrong direction — the underground dwellings were very close to the Stargate, and there’d been a painful trek back the way they’d come before being led out of the wind.

Once through the main gates of the settlement, they had been taken down a series of winding tunnels towards the main living chambers. Fur-clad children had come to gape at them as the team passed the open doorways and halls, still dressed in their snow-covered environment suits. Fires burned in the deep places, keeping the tunnels and rough-hewn chambers both warm and well-lit.

Having given them food and a place to recover, their hosts had left them alone to regain their strength. It was a courteous gesture and one Teyla appreciated. In some ways, their manner reminded her of her own people, as if a splinter group of Athosians had found itself flung across the galactic plane and isolated for many thousands of years. The thought intrigued her; there was no telling what wonders the Ancestors had performed in the days of their hegemony.

With a satisfied sigh, McKay finished the last of his second bowl of soup and sat back against the wall. “This situation is improving,” he said. “Definitely improving. I’m almost glad I came. I wonder if we can get more of this soup?”

Sheppard looked less certain. “Enough to keep you happy?” he said. “I doubt it. Any idea what happened back there?”

Rodney shook his head. “Not until I can take a proper look. And, frankly, until that storm blows over I’ve no intention of finding out.”

“The storms must lift,” said Ronon. “These people eat, they hunt. They can’t hunt in
that
.”

From outside the small chamber came the sound of footsteps.

“Remember, we
need
these guys,” whispered Sheppard. He shot McKay a hard look. “So let’s all be on our best behavior.”

Teyla turned to face the low doorway as two men and a woman entered and bowed low. Lean and hardy-looking, they were dressed from head to foot in the pale furs all their people wore. Their skin was milky and their hair dark and straight. The leader, a man, wore a brightly colored torque around his neck and, though clearly old, appeared lively and vigorous.

“Greetings, honored guests,” he said, his voice quiet and measured. “I am Aralen Gefal, Foremost of the Forgotten People. This is my daughter, Miruva, and my chief of hunters, Orand Ressalin. You are most welcome here. We have waited long for your coming.”

Sheppard inclined his head awkwardly and introduced the team. He wasn’t good at formal greetings. “We’re pretty pleased to see you too, Aralen,” he said. “You guys showed up right on time.”

Aralen smiled. “The portal to Sanctuary has not operated for ten generations. Orand witnessed the strange machine come through it some days ago, and then we knew that some work of the Ancestors would not be far behind. Some claimed we’d been abandoned, but others of us have kept the faith. We have been rewarded at last.”

Sheppard looked uncomfortable. “Well, we’re not exactly — ”

“You must be tired after your journey,” Aralen interrupted. “Please, sit. We have come to hear what your task is, here on Khost.”

“So that’s what this place is called,” said McKay, sitting down heavily on the pile of mats he’d accumulated. “Nice name. Lousy weather.”

“You are far from other worlds,” said Teyla, eager to find out more. “We are curious to learn about your people, Aralen.”

The leader of the Forgotten frowned. “Surely you know all about us? You came through the portal to Sanctuary. You must have knowledge of the Ancestors, of their plan for us.”

Teyla looked at Sheppard. These early moments were always awkward. How much did these people know of the wider galaxy? Where were their allegiances?

“Oh, you bet,” he said. “Well, kinda.” He paused. “Maybe you should fill us in on the details.”

Aralen looked surprised, but then inclined his head graciously. “Of course,” he said. “We are the Forgotten. You may think it a strange name, but it is apt. We have been alone for a long time. Some think we’ve been abandoned by the Ancestors altogether, but the wise know that cannot be so. The years have been heavy, and much has changed. The lore-keepers tell us that once Khost was green and good, our people flourished and our villages were numerous. The Ancestors walked among us then. We call this the Blessed Time.”

Orand gave a skeptical snort. “These are, of course, mere legends,” he said. “Not all of us believe them.”

“Our young people have their own ways,” Aralen said with a tolerant smile. “But the lore-keepers preserve the legends for us, and I trust their wisdom.”

McKay frowned. “This place was green once?” he said. “Wow. That’s what I call climate change. What happened?”

A shadow passed over Aralen’s face. “There was some transgression. Many speculate what it could have been. For myself, I do not claim that knowledge. But the health left this place, the snows came ever more strongly, and then they never left. Life became hard and many died. Now we are cursed by the cold at all times.”

He drew closer, his voice low.

“Khost is dying, travelers. You should be careful. If you stay here too long, you’ll die too.”

It had no name. It knew it had once had a name, but like so much else, that had been forgotten. All that remained was a list of numbers and letters. Even that was corrupt. There was so much that it couldn’t do, now. It looked down on the humans clustered below. Most were familiar. Several of them were already requisitioned, stored on the lists for processing. One was earmarked for early removal.

But the others were new. This was outside the generally accepted conditions. It might pose a threat to the Great Work.

It ran over the options. It was always so difficult to think
clearly
. It would need to confer with the others. But that would take time, make it weak. Perhaps the Great Work demanded action now.

It looked down, considering the humans.

Not yet. But it would come soon. It could feel itself weakening. There was only so long it could watch and wait without acting.

Very soon it would make a decision. Then it would come for the names on the list. They would scream, just like they always did. That had never stopped it before. Nothing could stop it. The only thing was timing.

It watched, and waited.

“What do you mean,
dying
?” said Sheppard. He didn’t like the gleam in Aralen’s eye.

“The storms get worse. Every time we have a big one, we think it will be the last. And there are other things…”

“You think the Ancestors abandoned you?” interrupted McKay. “Because that’s interesting. There was a recording we saw before we — ”

He bit his lip, looking at Sheppard. John shot him an irritated look.

Aralen shook his head. “They will never abandon us. There is the portal, the passage to Sanctuary. That knowledge is preserved among us. We know that one day we shall be gathered up in the halls of restitution, so you must know why you are such a sign of hope for us. Never in ten generations has the portal opened! Now you come. Surely, you will teach us the route to Sanctuary, and what we must do to restore the favor of the Ancestors.”

Sheppard looked awkward. “Well, perhaps we can get on to that later,” he said. “I’ve gotta be honest, it’s a bit… colder than we’re used to out there. It’ll take us time to orient ourselves.”

“Of course. I can see that you are not used to the ice. No doubt Sanctuary is more pleasant. Khost is a hard place to live.”

“And yet you survive,” said Teyla. She felt a strange and unexpected kinship with the Forgotten; the stories of her people and theirs were different, but each had survived against the odds.

The woman, Miruva, turned to her with pride in her eyes.

“We endure,” she said. “We are strong and can sustain much hardship.” She waved at the stone walls around them. “We learned the arts of carving the ice from the caves and keeping them warm. This place was once a network of dark and empty caverns, choked with snow. We have turned it into our city. This is where the remnants of our people live, harboring what we have left from the endless storms above. We make the best life we can.”

“Interesting,” mused Rodney. “A totally troglodytic lifestyle. Like the Genii, at a lower level of technology. But how do you source your fuel? And keep the air filtered?”

Aralen raised an eyebrow. “We can explain all these things, and more, in due course. But though you are most welcome here, you must understand that your presence amongst us has caused much excitement. You have come through the portal. There are some who say that you are from the Ancestors, ready to lead us to a new paradise. I am afraid that others have more superstitious beliefs, and fear your intentions. Forgive my candor, but I must tell the people something. My own belief is that you are indeed from Lantea. Is this the truth?”

Sheppard shot Teyla a quick look. “Look, I hate to break it to you,” he said, “but if you think we’re Ancients, you’re gonna be disappointed. They don’t get around much any more. You should just think of us as… travelers.”

“So you’re not from the Ancestors?” Aralen looked deflated. Orand just gave a bitter, knowing smile. “When I heard the portal had revived, I was so sure…”

“I’m sorry.” Sheppard scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Real sorry. But if we can help you, we will — and that includes fighting the Wraith.”

Aralen hardly seemed to hear him. He was crushed. Orand, however, looked curious.

“The Wraith?” he said. “What is the Wraith?”

Ronon looked up, his eyes flickering darkly. “You never heard of the Wraith?” asked the Runner.

Orand shook his head, surprised by Ronon’s vehemence. “The Foremost told you, we are alone here. There is just us, the snow, and the White Buffalo. That is all. We know nothing of your Wraith.”

“It is good that you know nothing of the Wraith,” Teyla said. “Consider that the greatest of blessings.”

There was a difficult pause, but Miruva was quick to smile again. “Clearly, we have much to learn from one another,” she said. “I am not sure why you have come, nor what your arrival means for us, but it must presage some good for us. I am glad I lived to see this day.”

“So am I,” said Teyla, seeing much in the girl’s quick, lively expression to like. It was rare to find a people the Wraith had not ravaged. Rare, and refreshing.

The old man, Aralen, roused himself. His earlier satisfied pleasure had evaporated.

“So be it,” he said, and his voice was quiet. “You are not the emissaries from the Ancestors I had hoped for. But travelers you are, and such a thing has not been known on Khost in memory. We have not forgotten our hospitality, whatever else may have been cast aside. Perhaps in time you will see that your coming is indeed part of the Ancestors’ plan after all.” Orand looked dubious, but Aralen ignored him. “Now that you have rested, may we show you more of our home? My people are anxious to meet you.”

Sheppard shrugged. “Sure, that’d be great.” As they filed out of the chamber behind Aralen, he drew close to Teyla and whispered in her ear. “This is going pretty well, don’t you think?”

“I like these people, Colonel,” she said. “Perhaps there will be something we can do to ease their plight.”

“Well, that’s a lovely idea, it really is,” hissed McKay from behind her. “But let’s remember what we’re here for; the Ancients were up to something on this planet and I’ll bet the changing climate is part of it. And if there are any more of them who think we’re messengers from the gods, then things are going to get tricky.”