Chris Wraight - Dead end

Miruva nodded. ”Most of the people are with my father. They have always trusted in the portal to Sanctuary, believing that help will come from it one day. And now your coming has given them hope.”

Teyla frowned. “We are not gods, and we are not the Ancestors. We have many troubles of our own. Our vessel is damaged, and unless we can find a way to restore power to it, there is little hope we can help you.”

Orand shrugged. “Whether or not you’re Ancestors, your coming will change things here,” he said. “We need change. We can’t keep hiding in these caves forever.”

Miruva looked uneasy at his proud words.

“We will have to see what develops,” said Teyla, heading off discussion of their role in a potential revolution. “For now, we are your guests, and we would like to hear more of your ways.”

“Of course,” Orand said. ”Do you need more to eat? I have some stew, and heruek — water flavored with berry-essence. Will you take some?”

At the prospect of food, Ronon’s mood instantly improved. “Sounds good,” he said. “You’d better tell me how you hunt, too. I’ve got my own weapons, but I’d rather use yours.”

Orand looked at the big Satedan with approval.

“I’d like that,” he said. “I can see already you’ll be a valuable addition to our hunting party. When the time comes, we’ll be sorry to see you go, Ronon.”

The Runner inclined his head at the compliment, but he couldn’t entirely share the sentiment. If McKay couldn’t fix the Jumper soon, then they’d be staying a lot longer than any of them wanted.

“I think we’ve made some progress.”

Zelenka’s head poked around the door to Weir’s office, and she turned away from the window and her silent contemplation of the Stargate. “Let me hear it,” she said, giving him her full attention.

Radek stepped into the room. He looked exhausted. “We’ve done some calculations,” he said. “There’s a power drain for every object moving through the gate network. The larger the object, the greater the drain. If we establish a wormhole but send nothing through, we’ll at least be able to start measuring the tolerances involved. It may be that the Jumper itself was the cause.”

“OK. What are the risks?”

Zelenka took a deep breath. “That we fry the Stargate on Dead End entirely,” he said. “I think it’s already been damaged. But we have to try.”

Weir let some of her frustration enter her voice. “Do we have a Plan B?”

“At this stage, no.”

“Do it,” she said, at last. “But if you start to lose control again, abort at once. We’ll take this one step at a time. I’m not losing my team on a frozen pile of rock in the middle of nowhere.”

McKay, Sheppard and Aralen walked down the long, snaking corridors. After a few minutes walking in the opposite direction to that taken by the others, the true scale of the settlement began to become apparent. Looking up at the careful engineering of the roofs and doorways, Rodney found himself more and more appreciative of their skills.

“You’ve got quite a place here, Aralen,” he said, and there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

Aralen looked pleased. Despite being told that the team weren’t Ancients, or even their servants, the Foremost seemed keen to impress them. McKay guessed he didn’t get to show visitors around very often.

“You haven’t seen the best of it yet,” Aralen said, gesturing for McKay and Sheppard to walk ahead.

The corridor continued for a few meters, after which it opened up into a vast chamber. They stepped through.

“Whoa!” Sheppard gasped. “Now that’s worth seeing!”

It was as huge as a cathedral, the roof disappearing into darkness despite the many torches set into the stone walls. Mighty pillars of living rock descended from the distant heights. Massive tapestries and decorative banners hung from the walls, each of them showing the ubiquitous hunting scenes, and all around was the sound of murmuring, which rose in volume as the two men walked in.

“My people are eager to greet you,” said Aralen.

The place was packed and when the people caught sight of the newcomers, a spontaneous cheer erupted. McKay shot a concerned glance to Sheppard.

“Did I mention I don’t like crowds?” he whispered. “What is this? Do they still think we’re Ancients or something?”

“Just nod and smile, Rodney,” Sheppard said, through clenched teeth. “When in Rome…”

Rodney rolled his eyes and gave an awkward wave to the masses, who responded with eager applause.

Aralen beamed. “This is our Hall of Meeting,” he said. “The center of our city. It was once a natural cavern, but we have fashioned it into the spiritual home of our people. The finest examples of our skill may be found here.”

Rodney looked up towards the distant ceiling, lost in shadows, noticing the tips of jagged stalactites lancing downwards from the gloom.

“Is it safe?” he asked, only half-meaning to speak aloud.

Aralen laughed. “Perfectly. We have held our gatherings here for a hundred years. This rock is as hard as iron. It is difficult to carve, but never fails us.”

Sheppard looked at the sea of expectant faces. “Looks like you’ve got a pretty good thing going here.”

Aralen’s expression faltered. “Do not be deceived, Colonel Sheppard. Life is hard, and getting harder. The White Buffalo provide all we need, but even they struggle to survive in the growing cold. We have to travel further each season to track them. It exhausts the hunters, and the returns dwindle.”

“Forgive me, but why not follow the herds?” asked McKay, remembering his first grade lessons on the plains Indians. “If they head south, you could go after them.”

Aralen shook his head. “We must stay close to the portal. I have always told the people that the Ancestors would return and deliver us from this place. That is our hope, whatever you may say about them. It is our only hope.”

Sheppard sighed. “Look, Aralen,” he said. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea. The Ancestors aren’t gonna come any time soon. They’ve… got a lot on their plate.”

“Your coming gives me confidence, Colonel John Sheppard,” he said. “I know why you tell me these things, but you will not dent my faith. This is the beginning of something new.”

Sheppard and McKay shared an uneasy silence. “Well, that’s nice,” said Rodney at last. “Really, it is. There may be things we can do to help your people. But, as you might have noticed, we’ve got a few problems of our own. The vessel we arrived in has sustained a lot of damage. If we’re going to fix it, we’ll need help. And preferably power.”

Aralen looked concerned for the first time. “I’m not sure what we can offer you. As I told you, everything we have is provided by the cave and by the White Buffalo. I don’t believe much of what we have would be of any use in repairing your vessel.”

“But there must be something else here,” McKay persisted. “Something the Ancestors left behind. A building of some sort, or a special chamber? Or maybe a glass column, that glows in a strange way? Or some kind of crystal polarization centrifuge?”

Sheppard rolled his eyes. Aralen merely frowned. “I’m sorry. We are all that is here.”

“That’s not possible,” McKay retorted, his voice rising. “There has to be something. Little blinky lights? A glowing—”

“I think the answer’s no, Rodney.” Sheppard’s tone was light, but his expression said ‘Shut the hell up’.

Grudgingly, McKay shut the hell up.

“You’ll have to forgive my friend,” said Sheppard. “He gets a little excited. We just need to know when this storm’s gonna blow over.”