“That’s the same thing. Why show it to us again?”
“Aha,” McKay grinned. “That’s just it. It’s not the same display. Check the timestamp. This is months before.”
“And here’s another. And another.” Zelenka pulled up four replays, all of which showed a Wraith scout ship entering the 153 system and coming to an untimely — and baffling — end.
“We dragged all this data together from dozens of different places, the city sensor logs, astronomical records, even material we salvaged from Wraith ships.” Rodney tapped the screen. “Something weird is going on out there, something that can apparently swat starships out of the sky just like that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
Carter nodded slowly. “Well, I’m interested.”
“And so are the Wraith,” added Radek. He worked the controls to zoom out from the nearby stellar group to a wider zone of local space. “We’ve been picking up increased chatter between vessels in one of their clans.”
“It’s encrypted, so we can’t read it,” said McKay, “but combined with pattern matching of their ship movements and we’ve got a pretty good idea of what’s going on.”
On the screen, a single glyph detached itself from a larger fleet and followed a course toward a white dwarf star several light years distant from M9K-153. “That’s a Hive Ship,” said Carter. “They’re bringing in the bigger guns.”
John mulled it over, trying to imagine how he would have addressed the same problem. “They’ve had their nose bloodied. They wouldn’t just send in a capital ship, not if there’s a chance it’d go the same way as the scouts.”
“Yeah,” sniffed McKay. “Kaboom.”
“The Wraith are staging here,” said Carter, pointing at the dwarf star. “Waiting for something.”
“But we don’t know what,” admitted Zelenka.
John looked over at his commanding officer. “So, what do we do about it?”
Carter nodded at the screen. “We go to M9K-153 and take a look.”
“And if there are people living there? What do we tell them? Hey, how are you, nice to meet you, don’t want cause a panic but there’s a Wraith warship floating around one hyperspace jump from your front door…”
“Atlantis has had enough problems with Wraith sympathizers, Genii and Replicators…” She met his gaze. “Until you find out for sure what’s going on, this information remains classified among our personnel, Colonel.”
Sheppard blinked away the moment of memory. Carter’s orders made sense on one level; if his team had come through the gate spouting doom-laden warnings about a Wraith invasion, there was no way of knowing how the locals would react. At best they’d cause a panic, at worst they might end up burned at the stake, or something equally unpleasant. But still… He didn’t like keeping secrets. It cut against his grain.
John was aware of Teyla watching him. “How are we to proceed, Colonel?” She asked the question with careful formality.
“Same way we always do. Figure it out as we go.”
The sun had set by the time the celebration for the Returned got under way, and it seemed as if the entire population of the tree-village was packed into the central town square, along with braziers and big iron griddle troughs laden with food.
Of course, the square was actually oval in shape, and the whole idea of having naked flames burning in a place that was made almost entirely of wood did not sit well with Rodney McKay, even if the locals seemed unconcerned by it. He followed the rest of the Atlantis team into the open area, all of them in turn moving under the hawkish gaze of one of Aaren’s so-called ‘assistants’. Sheppard had told him of his encounter with the elder at the sick lodge; apparently the leaders of the settlement didn’t like the idea of outsiders — voyagers, as they insisted on calling them — wandering around unsupervised. There hadn’t been a threat, per se, but it had been clearly implied that this wasn’t the done thing. Ronon, typically, didn’t react well to that. Rodney could almost hear the Satedan bristling at any suggestion of being told what to do.
“Huh,” said Keller quietly. “A few beer coolers and this could be a tailgate party.” The whole celebration-feast-whatever-it-was had the manner of a summer barbeque to it, informal and relaxed, although McKay had to admit he wasn’t feeling any of that at all. He never liked parties. It was a deep-seated disdain for them he’d developed as a teenager; they always seemed so staged, so false, just a place to parade yourself around and mingle. Well, Rodney McKay did not do mingling. It wasn’t his thing.
“So what happens?” he asked, glancing at Teyla. “Do you think they bring out a big ‘Happy Returned Day’ cake with candles and frosting?”
She shot him a look. “I think everyone here is just happy their loved ones are back with them.”
“Oh. Yes.” He immediately felt like a heel. Way to go, McKay. Why don’t you remind her again about her people still being missing?
Aaren approached them, and with him came an imposing bald man in a long toga-like robe flanked by two more well-muscled flunkies. Like Aaren, this new arrival had an impressive number of metal bangles up his arm, but unlike him there were more hanging from a leather necklace about his throat. He was a few years Aaren’s senior and he had enough decorations on him to snap a Christmas tree. This had to be the guy in charge.
“Voyagers,” began Aaren. “Let me introduced Elder Takkol, our community leader.”
Takkol gave a shallow bow and he studied each of them in turn. The man had a square face with deep-set, searching eyes and a thin mouth. He smiled a little, but it seemed perfunctory, as if he had something better to do than to be talking to them. When he spoke, it was like he was giving a lecture. “Aaren has told me much about you and your friends, Colonel Sheppard. I welcome you to Heruun on this special day. I hope you will enjoy our hospitality.”
“I’m sure we will,” Sheppard replied. “And I hope you and I could speak later.”
Takkol hesitated; Rodney could see the man was already mentally moving on, about to dismiss them, and John’s comment caught him off-guard. “I’m sure Aaren can deal with any questions you might have.”
McKay sensed Keller shifting impatiently, her hands knitting together. She hadn’t been the same since they had returned from the sick lodge, withdrawn and quiet. Once or twice, Rodney had spotted her working on her laptop, paging through the medical database stored on the computer’s hard drive, frowning as she looked for answers that weren’t there.
Sheppard must have noticed as well. “We’d like to offer the help of Atlantis,” he continued. “With your medical problems? Consider it a gesture of goodwill from us.”
“Really?” Takkol gave Aaren a sideways look. “That is a most generous offer. I will certainly take it under consideration.” Keller opened her mouth to speak, but Takkol cut her off. “But if you will excuse me… I must circulate. It is expected of me.” The elder drifted away, giving Aaren another glance. In turn, his subordinate put on that same fake smile he’d worn before.
“There is a meal for everyone tonight, including our visitors,” he explained. “Please partake. It is our way of thanking the Aegis for its protection.”
“And for letting you have your people back?” Ronon asked, an edge of sarcasm in his words.
Aaren gave no sign of noticing. “Of course.” He wandered away, leaving the Atlanteans to their own devices.
“That was productive,” Keller deadpanned.
Ronon folded his arms. “Can we eat now?”
Sheppard nodded. “Yeah, go ahead. But mind your manners.”
“I’m the picture of politeness,” replied the Satedan.
McKay drifted after Ronon toward the food trays and watched the other man hunt and gather his way though a spread of different dishes. Rodney was more careful; after all, the ex-Runner could stomach just about anything even remotely edible, while McKay had the whole citrus thing to think about and a marked aversion toward even mildly spicy food. He could never understand the appeal of eating something that actually hurt. He got some rough flatbreads and what appeared to be cheese, and found himself at the end of the troughs where warm and savory meat-smells filled the air. A large pot caught his eye.