The captain spread open hands. “Why? What in the world? How have I offended you?”
“It is not you who have offended,” the Prince said. “But your people. We will not trade with the Travelers again. Go!” He raised his hand and at the same moment all the men around him nocked arrows to their bows, every tip rising to point at the captain’s chest.
The captain took a step back, raising his hands over his head. “I don’t understand. We’ve traded here for years. Will you at least tell me what happened?”
“One of your vessels called here and a party of men asked to stay. We saw no reason to gainsay them. We said they might remain as friends and either leave through the Ring of the Ancestors or wait for another of your ships.”
“Did they commit some crime?” the captain asked. “If so, you have my deepest apologies. But they were not even from my ship!”
“It was just before the Time of Tribute, when Queen Death’s men came to collect our Tribute, ten men and ten women from all of the Cities of Dhalo,” the Prince said. “So it has been for many lives of men. Every six years they come and we pay them Tribute, and they go away again for six years.”
Elizabeth took a breath.
“The men of your people had no part in the lottery, as they were strangers. The Tribute was chosen properly and the day awaited. When it came, what do you think happened?” The Prince’s voice was harsh with anger.
The captain said nothing.
“One of the men was the one you call Wolf. When Queen Death’s men arrived they attacked the envoys. All of them were slain. The Wolf and his men danced on their bodies. And then they went away through the gate. Do you suppose all was well?”
Elizabeth could guess what came next, and she put her hand to the window.
“Queen Death’s men returned in force, a full hive ship in orbit above our world. And they put this to us — either we would return the tribute hundredfold, or they would take every human being on this planet and level it to the ground.” His voice broke, proud as he was. “And so we paid. A thousand men and a thousand women of Dhalo, chosen by lots. Including both of my sons.” His face twisted. “There is weeping in every house. There is no man, woman or child who has not lost someone. And it is the fault of the Hunter Wolf who is of your people. Now go! Go and never return!”
The captain backed slowly up the ramp, his face white.
There was a sound behind her, and Elizabeth turned to see Dekaas watching as well. “Tribute,” she said.
He nodded. “That’s the way it’s done on many worlds. A certain number in tribute from time to time, rather than the uncertainty.”
“A devil’s bargain,” Elizabeth said.
Dekaas shook his head. “A lot of things in life are a devil’s bargain.”
There was the sound of the ramp rising. A new voice came over the comm. “Prepare for lift. We’re leaving Dhalo.”
Elizabeth looked sideways at Dekaas. “Do you really think there can be peace between humans and the Wraith?”
His face was sober. “I think there must be, or one of the other of us will be driven to extinction.”
Chapter Seven
Rodney glared at Dr. Eva Robinson across her desk. “You’re going to give me a bunch of stuff about stages of grief and giving up and moving on, right?”
Eva looked at him quizzically. “Am I?”
“Isn’t that your job?”
“To be truthful, I’m not completely sure what my job is,” Eva said. “I actually don’t have any idea whether or not it’s possible for someone to unascend. So since I don’t have any relevant information, there’s not much point in me trying to convince you one way or the other.”
Rodney blinked. “You’re different.”
“What, because I don’t offer opinions on things I know nothing about?” Eva shifted in her chair as if searching for a more comfortable position. Her leg was finally out of a cast, but she wore a support strapped on over her pants leg, and a cane propped against the corner of the desk.
“You’d be the only one,” Rodney said.
“I don’t actually know whether or not Dr. Weir could have ascended or unascended,” Eva said. “And I’m a cognitive therapist. So let’s just look at it this way — what would you do differently if you knew she was indeed alive? What concrete actions would you take?”
“I’d look for her,” Rodney said. “I mean, isn’t that obvious?”
“Aren’t you looking for her?”
“Well, yes, but…”
Eva put her head to the side. “Are there any concrete actions you would do differently? Given that you don’t know where she would be, and that Dr. Jackson has already said that his best guess is that she would be somewhere you might normally go, then what would you actually do differently if everyone believed you?”
“Not much.” Rodney frowned. “So that’s what this is about, right? That I want people to believe me?”
Eva just smiled in that annoying psychologist way.
“Of course I want people to believe me! I don’t want my friends to think I’m nuts!”
“So how do you prevent that?”
“Prove I’m right,” Rodney said.
“Suppose you can’t. Suppose this is unprovable. Suppose there will never be any way to find out if Elizabeth Weir has unascended.”
“That’s stupid. There’s nothing that’s unprovable.”
“Really? Lots of people have questions that are unprovable. Did he love me? Did I do the right thing? What would have happened if?” Eva said. “You can’t know the answers to those things. All you can do is live with the question.”
“There’s always an answer. You just don’t know it.” Rodney heard his own voice rising in anger. “There’s always someone who knows only they won’t tell you.”
“Is there?”
“I mean, a stupid question that I don’t even care about the answer, some ridiculous question like whether or not Jennifer loved me, she knows the answer and probably you do too, but you won’t tell me because of client privilege or something, but it’s not like you don’t know. You just won’t tell me.”
“But I don’t know,” Eva said. “I actually don’t have any idea about that either. Just like whether Elizabeth Weir has unascended, I don’t have enough information to have a useful opinion.” She leaned forward. “There are things in life we will never know the answers to. And there has to be a way of living with that.”
“Not for me,” Rodney said.
Settling down in his office, John opened up his laptop and began scrolling through his email. Most of the emails were either reports from the military contingent of the expedition, which he filed to deal with later, or citywide emails that informed him of the regularly scheduled movie night, solicited signatures for a petition to convert part of the northeast pier into a hockey and broomball rink now that the weather permitted, and reminded interested persons that Atlantis’s knitting circle was open to all comers.
He shook his head at the last — several of the scientists had broken out in amateurish woolen scarves since they’d arrived at their new home, and recently he’d noticed some of the airmen sporting knitted caps when they weren’t in uniform. So far the Marines seemed to be resisting, although he suspected that if they had another outbreak of really cold weather, there would be some Marines knitting away before it was over.
The last email was from Sam Carter. He hesitated for a moment before clicking to open it.
Hi, John, it read. I’m not sure I’d say I’m exactly having fun. Actually, we’ve been having some trouble with the Lucian Alliance lately, but then there’s always something. Otherwise we wouldn’t need battlecruisers. I hear it’s been a little quieter for you guys lately. You’ll have to catch me up on the news if I ever get back out there — right now I’m tied down in the Milky Way for the foreseeable future.