Chris Wraight - Dead end

Ronon paused, taking in the implications of that.

“You know we should just get the hell outta here, right?” he said.

Sheppard nodded. “Yeah, I know. And you know that ain’t gonna happen; we can’t just leave these people in the deep freeze, not when there’s a chance to save them.”

“So I guess you’re going back to talk to Aralen?”

“Guess I am.” He stood up gingerly, feeling his battered body protest. “Anyway, how the hell are you down here too? I’m beginning to get my head round this Banshee thing, but I thought you were out hunting cows.”

Ronon gave him a sour look. “We took a wrong turn. I’ll fill you in later.”

“Can’t wait.”

“You’d better go. Don’t worry about Teyla — I’ve got her back. And we’ll get the breach secure while you’re gone.”

“Right,” said Sheppard. “Don’t let her get up too soon. And where’s Miruva? I hear she’s in charge around here.”

“I am here, Colonel Sheppard,” came a voice from further down the tunnel. Miruva came forward hesitantly, loathe to look at Teyla’s prone body.

“Will she…?” she started, and then looked at Sheppard directly.

“Oh, she’s made of strong stuff,” he said, with more conviction than he felt. “Just like you guys. But you know, if you don’t all get down here — ”

“I’ve seen the future of this planet too, Colonel Sheppard,” said Miruva. “I’ll come with you. The ice is treacherous at night, and you’ll never convince my father by yourself — he’s too stubborn and set in his ways.”

Sheppard looked doubtful. “You sure about that? It’s blowing pretty hard up there.”

“You would do no less for your father,” she said. “Nor your people. I will come with you, and that is an end to it. We can go now.”

Sheppard made to leave, then paused. A thought had just occurred. “Hey, you’ve been in the Ancestor control rooms?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll take a little detour down there first,” said Sheppard. “We can’t leave without presents, and I’m guessing there’ll be something down there that’ll make Rodney’s day.”

McKay had woken up with a sore head. He always woke up with a sore head, but this morning it was particularly bad. He’d slept badly, plagued by the sound of tremors under the settlement and troubled by dreams of Ancient crystal circuitry. After a whole, long day working on the Jumper schematics, he hadn’t been able to switch off. With a weary sigh, he realized he’d got a whole lot more work ahead of him. There wasn’t even anyone to yell at. For a minute, he found himself missing Zelenka.

He shook his head. What was getting into him? He dressed hurriedly, tried to make himself look not entirely uncivilized, and headed straight for one of the refectories. There was no one about outside his chamber. It was no different as he neared the eating areas. The settlement was entirely empty and silent.

McKay frowned. An absence of food right now, after all the work he’d done, was a bitter blow. It wasn’t that he actually looked forward to another bowl of gently congealed buffalo fat, but it was food of a kind, and his stomach was growling with all the bad-tempered expectation of a feral grizzly.

He headed back into the main network of corridors. Had the Banshees come back and stripped the whole place of life? That would really limit the culinary possibilities. Picking up his pace, he headed for the assembly rooms. Reassuringly, as he neared them, the low buzz of voices drifted up the corridor. Many voices. It sounded like the entire population had gathered there. Either they’d got there early, or he’d overslept. Badly.

The central hall was full of people. McKay shuffled over to a quiet spot near the back of the hall and made himself as comfortable as possible against the uneven rock wall. A debate was going on, and it sounded pretty impassioned.

The reason for the disturbance quickly became apparent. Sheppard was back. He was standing before Aralen and the council as he had done before. The old man looked torn between annoyance and profound relief. The reason for the latter was obvious; his daughter stood next to Sheppard, relaxed and unharmed.

McKay shook his head. He had to hand it to John, when there was a pretty girl to be rescued he had a Kirk-like knack for pulling it off. No Teyla or Ronon, though. McKay almost blurted out a demand to know where they were, but managed to keep a lid on his burning curiosity. Sheppard looked like he’d come back to deliver a sitrep, and the crowd were rapt with attention. Perhaps now they’d start getting some answers to all their questions.

Aralen stood up, face clearly marked by his conflicting emotions.

“Colonel Sheppard,” he said, voice shaking, “no one could be more grateful than I. You’ve brought my daughter back from the clutches of the Banshees. My reason for living has been restored to me.” He looked at Miruva and there was real fear in his eyes. “But it is for this very reason that I don’t understand why you’re advocating this plan. Now that we know how to retrieve our people from the clutches of these monsters, why would we willingly go back to their imprisonment?”

Sheppard sighed. “Look, I dunno what more I can tell you,” he said. “Believe me, I’ve seen prisons, and this ain’t it. It’s a paradise, Aralen.”

Aralen shook his head. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “All our records tell us that our place is here. The Ancestors will provide — they have promised.”

“The Ancestors have provided!” cried Sheppard, his frustration getting the better of him. “What are you gonna do? This place is dying. You know it’s happening, and you know you’re almost outta time.”

Aralen glared at Sheppard. A lifetime of faith in the ways of the Ancestors was being shaken. It was painful to watch.

“Colonel Sheppard speaks the truth, Father,” said Miruva. “I’ve seen this place. We could want for nothing there. Those who have been taken by the Banshees live in peace. There is food, water, and warmth. In time, we will come to understand the Ancestors’ plan. We won’t be there forever. Once we have mastered their powerful machines, we can break free and become like them ourselves.”

Aralen’s face sharpened into anger. “That is heresy!” he hissed. “We could never become like the Ancestors. They guide, and we follow. Who knows what plans of theirs we have ruined by blundering into their secret realm? And you haven’t explained one thing; if the Ancestors truly intended us to make our way to this Sanctuary, why did they hide it so well? And why do their servants, the Banshees, attack us? They are creatures of terror!”

Sheppard looked a little uncomfortable. “Hey, we don’t know everything,” he said. “There’s been a problem somewhere, that’s for sure. But you gotta trust me on this. I’ve been there.”

Aralen shook his head. “If the Ancestors had created this Sanctuary for us,” he said, “it would be perfect. If it was their creation, it would not be inhabited by Banshees. It would not lack power or—”

“Of course!” cried McKay, standing up.

All eyes turned to him, and he realized he’d spoken when he had meant to think. He coughed awkwardly and looked apologetically at Sheppard. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “But what you’re saying makes a lot of sense. The Ancients wouldn’t have left an experiment of theirs without making some provision for the future. They were clever like that. And the Banshees — they must be some kind of projected avatar of their creators. If there was something wrong with the holographic projection system — and it’s very hard to keep all the bugs out over 10,000 years — they would appear like ghosts.”