Part 1: Descent

"The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live."

~Flora Whittemore

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It was days like today when John knew, without a doubt, that Murphy's Law was universal. Specifically, it was the old adage "just when you thought things were simple…" that stuck in his mind. Barely through the wormhole into Atlantis' Gate Room, he immediately coughed hard, before sneezing. He wiped a dirty hand across his face, and then shook his head and brushed his TAC vest. The action produced an impressive cloud of dust.

"You do realize I'll probably develop some funky Pegasus dust allergy now, thanks to this little excursion!" Rodney was continuing a tirade that had started on the other side of the wormhole and a half a galaxy away.

John rolled his eyes and kept walking. He was annoyed too –being covered in a fine dirt and having it work its way into places better left unmentioned was enough to piss anyone off –but at that moment, he wasn't sure what was worse, the dirt or listening to Rodney go on about it for the last fifteen minutes. Apparently, thousands of light years and interstellar 'gate travel had no effect on Rodney's Snark – O – Meter. Oh yeah, Murphy is toast. He looked up as Elizabeth descended the Gate Room stairs and walked towards them, only to stop a fair distance away and arch an eyebrow at his team.

"What happened?"

John coughed again, feeling the grit all the way down into his lungs. "Just a little dust storm."

"Little?" Rodney croaked. "We were lucky to find the gate!"

"I take it the planet isn't suitable for a beta site?" Elizabeth looked on the verge of laughing, but she valiantly held her smile at bay.

John stared back at her for a minute, trying his best not to look irritated. "No." With a note of annoyance to his voice, he added, "Although, we did find something else that might be interesting. But, if you don't mind," he brushed more dust off the sleeves of his jacket, "I'd rather debrief after a shower?" John raised his brows at Elizabeth, who finally gave in to her giggles.

"I think that can be arranged," she managed. "Thirty minutes good enough?"

John stared at her a minute longer before, being infected by her contagious mirth. "Good enough." Of all the potential hazards they could've encountered on M2M-716, a dust storm was really nothing more than an inconvenience. He chuckled quietly as he led his team from the Gate room.

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"So, Colonel," Elizabeth settled back in her chair, "you mentioned something interesting? Besides, sandstorms that is?" She smiled at John, who tapped his fingers on the conference room table. His hair was still damp and more spiky than usual, but at least he was clean.

"Yeah, it's…."

"Shouldn't you be asking me that?" Rodney interrupted, his gaze glued to his laptop screen and his hands flying over the keyboard with a soft tap-tap.

"Rodney," Elizabeth turned her attention to him. "You know the rules."

"Yes, but this time…."

"No exceptions." It was John's turn to interrupt. "No laptops during debriefings… or do we have to send you to bed without dinner?"

Elizabeth sighed quietly as Rodney fixed John with a cold stare, before shutting the lid of his laptop and crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine."

Elizabeth re-directed her question at Rodney, effectively ending any further verbal sparring between the two of them. "So, what did you find?"

"Ruins," Rodney immediately answered, "if you could call them that. Ten thousand years of sandstorms have reduced practically everything to, well, practically nothing. There was however, one particularly interesting pillar left."

"Interesting? How?" Elizabeth leaned forward and folded her hands on the table.

"We could still read the writing," John answered as he stared back at Rodney's annoyed expression, meeting it with an unfazed look of his own.

"What's this 'we' thing?" Rodney replied acerbically, "I could still read it." He looked back to Elizabeth. "It was written in Ancient. Most of the words were gone, but I managed to decipher two." He smiled, looking immensely pleased with himself. "'Olot' and 'allies'. From the looks of things, they were probably in the same sentence but definitely meant to be associated to each other."

"Olot?" Elizabeth's brows furrowed before she looked first to Teyla then Ronon. Both shook their heads.

"Neither Ronon nor I have never heard of this world," Teyla confirmed.

Again, Elizabeth sat back. "Well, that's interesting to say the least. Do you think these Olotians were allies of the Ancients?"

"It's possible," Rodney answered, "and for them to be mentioned as 'allies' and not just 'protected' means they had to have been an advanced society. I'll know more if and when I find them in the Ancient database."

John swiveled his chair gently. "Doesn't it strike you odd that if there's an advanced and powerful society running around out there, we haven't heard about them before now?"

Elizabeth nodded. "They could've been destroyed by the Wraith," she surmised.

John shrugged. "Maybe. It's definitely worth a look. If we can find a gate address, at the very least we should send a MALP."

Elizabeth turned back to Rodney. "See what you can find in the database." She looked around. "Is that all?"

"Besides relentless sandstorms?" John quipped lightly. "Yeah."

Elizabeth smiled. "Very well." She stood. "Keep me apprised, Rodney."

His laptop already open again, Rodney waved vaguely at her. "Right," he muttered, clearly distracted.

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John turned away from the chow line and looked around, scanning the mess hall tables and musing over where to sit. His gaze caught on Ronon: in spite of the mid-day rush, Ronon sat alone, the only one at his corner table. John smiled slightly. He'd watched even his best officers tense around the big Satedan, and he couldn't blame them. While John had no doubt Ronon was one of the "good guys", he also knew that Ronon was lethal, and it wasn't just his gun that made him that way. Not to mention he towered over everyone and spoke to barely anyone. Then there were the scientists and civilian contingent. A dark smile flashed over John's face. Most of them practically flattened themselves against walls when they met the big man in a hallway. John's smile faded. He knew Ronon carried a lot of pain from the destruction of Sateda, but he bore it quietly. He was tough, moody, impulsive and growled a lot. No wonder most people gave him wide berth.

John's smile returned, this time respectful. The man had spent seven years running from the Wraith and lived to tell about it. No small feat. Truthfully, it was one of the biggest reasons John had pushed so hard for Ronon to be on his team. In spite of his moods, Ronon had a strong sense of honor and that carried a lot of weight with John. He knew, without a doubt that Ronon would always cover his six no matter the situation, just like the rest of his team would do, and he'd do for them. In this galaxy, that meant a hell of a lot.

John took a deep breath, plastered a relaxed and friendly look on his face, and confidently crossed the mess hall to Ronon's table. "Mind if I sit down?"

Ronon didn't look up as he took another bite of his sandwich. "Usually eat alone." His reply was muffled by food.

John set his tray down on the table and pulled out a chair, before sitting. "Pretty anti-social."

Ronon dropped his sandwich crusts and fixed John with a neutral stare. "Yep."

John arched his brows and picked up his glass of milk. "Right." He took a sip before attacking his food. "Quarters good?" he asked, around a bite of his sandwich.

Ronon grabbed the second sandwich on his tray. "Been here three months. Would've said something."

John sighed inwardly. Getting any conversation out of Ronon was like trying to bleed a turnip. "Look, I'm just trying to be friendly here."

"Don't have to." Ronon continued glowering down at his food tray.

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "No one said I had to…." This time he sighed out loud. "I wouldn't have asked you to stay on Atlantis and join my team if I didn't think you could make a life here. You help us… we help you…."

"I don't need any help."

"That's not the point…". John dropped his sandwich and tried to regain control of a conversation that wasn't at all going as planned. "Okay, why did you stay then?"

Ronon sniffed and took a drink of water. He swallowed. "To fight the Wraith."

"Fight the Wraith," John repeated his voice barely a mutter. "Can't argue with that…." his voice trailed off as Ronon looked directly at him. He squinted slightly at the big man's silence. "What?"

Ronon looked down at his tray. "Nothing."

"Don't start that," John admonished lightly and held his neutral expression as Ronon glowered at him. "I know you spent seven years alone, but…." His voice trailed off as he took a moment to collect his thoughts. "Tell me," he insisted quietly.

The impartial mask on Ronon's face cracked just slightly. Enough for John to see a hint of something, and he swore it was vulnerability. The change was so slight John almost thought he was imagining it, until Ronon finally replied.

"Maybe someday be one of you." Ronon's deep voice was quiet.

John frowned. "Someday?" He shook his head. "You already are, big guy."

It was Ronon's turn to shake his head, his expression covered by his dreadlocks swinging back and forth. He stood and grabbed his tray before looking down at John.

John stared back at him silently. Ronon's impassive mask was impressive, but John could still see hints of emotion, mostly pain, betrayed in his dark eyes.

"I'm Satedan," he said simply.

"Ronon…," John started, only to be interrupted by the citywide PA.

"Colonel Sheppard's team to the Control Room."

John grabbed his half eaten sandwich and downed the rest of his milk

"You coming?" Ronon prompted.

Standing, John grabbed his tray and joined his teammate, mentally vowing to continue this conversation later. He took a big bite of the sandwich and followed his friend. "Right behind you."

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John crested the control room stairs just behind Ronon and crossed to where Rodney, Teyla and Elizabeth waited.

"About time you two showed up," Rodney groused. "This is important, you know."

John just stared back. "So was my empty stomach. What's going on?"

"I found Olot in the database," Rodney answered.

"You mean, I did." Radek Zelenka appeared from behind Rodney and pushed his glasses up further on his nose.

"Yes, yes!" Rodney snapped, not looking back at the Czech scientist. "We did."

"Found Olot in the database," John grumbled. His hastily eaten sandwich was sitting like a rock in his stomach. "And this couldn't wait a half hour until I finished lunch?"

"As a matter of fact, no!" Rodney shot back. "At least you got lunch, I've been going non-stop since I got back from that miserable planet."

"Whose fault is that?" John countered.

Rodney glared at him. "Not mine!"

"Gentlemen." Elizabeth's soft but firm interruption stopped retorts on both their lips.

With one, last annoyed glare at John, Rodney turned back to his laptop and tapped a few keys, before pointing at the flat display hanging from the ceiling behind him.

John stared at it, trying in vain to discern some shred of information from the Ancient runes that greeted his stare. "My Ancient is a little rusty." He shot a quick glare at Rodney. "Care to enlighten me?"

"According to the database," Elizabeth interjected, "the Olotians were a highly advanced society that enjoyed a close alliance with the Lanteans. They were trading partners, allies against the Wraith, and shared knowledge and scientific discoveries equally."

"Every indication we can find points to them being just as advanced as the Ancients," Rodney added. "We're talking things like intergalactic hyperdrives. Weapons and ships more powerful than anything the Wraith had or still have." His voice rose slightly in excitement. "Zed PM power sources."

"Why didn't they help?" Ronon asked.

John glanced back at him, before gazing pointedly at Rodney. "Ronon has a point. If they were so advanced, then why didn't they come to the aid of the Lanteans when the Wraith laid siege to the city? For that matter, how could the Wraith even win the war against the combined strength of two advanced civilizations?"

Rodney snapped his fingers. "Ah, the million dollar question… or rather the two million dollar questions…. Anyway, I wondered the same thing, until I read this." Rodney tapped another set of commands on the laptop. "According to the database, the Olotians were studying Ascension and, in fact, were close to achieving it as a race. As we know from our brief encounters with ascended Ancients both here and in Milky Way, one of the cardinal rules of ascension is non-interference: ridding yourself of corporeal matters and breaking the bonds to the physical world. So maybe they'd already ascended? But that's just a theory. This, however, is not." He punched a key on his laptop and John watched as the big display changed again.

John nodded to himself. "Now, that I recognize." He smiled.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Rodney replied with a flourish, "I give you the gate address for Olot."

John turned his gaze to Elizabeth and held his smile, knowing his expression conveyed his eagerness to explore this possibility.

Elizabeth returned his smile with one of her own. She turned and nodded at one of the technicians. "Ready a MALP for off-world recon."

It wasn't long before John was standing by the control room railing, staring down at the shimmering wormhole to Olot and watching as the MALP slowly disappeared through the event horizon. He turned away and walked back to Rodney's position and looked over his shoulder. "Well?"

"It hasn't arrived yet," Rodney snapped. "In transit… receiving telemetry." He squinted at the data. "Breathable atmosphere, tolerant temperature, no sign of toxins… conditions suitable for human life."

"Good start," John muttered. He watched as the video feed flickered then settled on an image. He smiled at the green grass and blue sky that greeted his gaze. "Looks nice."

"Hmm…," Rodney responded. He squinted at the display a moment longer, before pushing back from the computer. "I see no signs of technology or civilization, at least not within range of the MALP."

Elizabeth walked around to stand beside John and looked down at the display. "Still worth checking out, wouldn't you agree, Colonel?"

John smiled. "Yep. My team will be geared up and ready in fifteen minutes."

"Excuse me?" Rodney interrupted, "some of us have had no food since early in the morning. It'd be nice to get something to eat, unless you want me collapsing from hypoglycemic shock off world. In which case, by all means, lets charge off through the gate!"

John frowned, annoyance creeping into his expression. He half considered keeping the mission deadline as was, but discarded the thought. Rodney was hard enough to manage sometimes, but with low blood sugar John knew first hand that he was the worst human in two galaxies to deal with. Besides, he didn't relish carrying McKay anywhere if he did faint. "Fine. Thirty minutes."

"Thirty? That's hardly…." Rodney started.

"Thirty minutes, McKay," John interrupted, ending the conversation.

Elizabeth nodded. "You have a go."

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The Stargate sat in a huge meadow, its graceful arch the only thing that broke the plain of grass greeting John's gaze as he emerged from the wormhole. He stopped next to the MALP and looked around, his grip on his P-90 ready, but not alarmed. "McKay?"

Rodney came up next to him. "Just as the initial MALP readings indicated. No discernable energy readings." He looked up. "I'm not entirely sure this planet is even inhabited anymore. Ten thousand years of Wraith cullings is a long time." He looked around. "That said, the Ancients thought enough of these people to cite them as friends and talk about them in the database. Even if they're not around anymore, maybe there's something left we can use."

"I believe that this world is inhabited, Dr. McKay," Teyla countered.

Rodney's shoulders sagged. "I thought you said you didn't recognize the address!" He turned back towards her, an annoyed look on his face.

Curious, John also turned and looked at Teyla, who knelt not far from the gate.

"I do not," Teyla answered, "but there are tracks here that are not ours."

John walked up to her and looked over her shoulder at the fresh, distinct footprint in the soft dirt.

"Don't think they're ten thousand years old." Ronon's expression was tinged with amusement as he gently kicked some dirt over another track with the toe of his boot.

"No kidding!" Rodney snapped. He turned around and refocused his attention on the Life Signs Detector in his hand. "We still have to find these people. I'm not picking them up on the LSD, but maybe I can boost the scanning range of the MALP.…"

"If what we've encountered in Pegasus is any indication, the Gate is an important part of their society," John interrupted. "They can't be that far away, Rodney." He arched an eyebrow at Rodney's cold stare.

"I know that!" Rodney snapped. "But unless you're hiding some psychic power, we don't know where!" Rodney opened a panel on the MALP and started tinkering. "I could just reroute the power from the backups to boost the sensor range…."

John walked west of the gate, ignoring Rodney's rambling as he scanned the ground around them. A smile formed on his face as he spotted a well-worn narrow dirt path leading away from them. "Or," he interrupted Rodney's muttering, "we could just follow this trail." He looked back as Rodney's head popped up from behind the lid of the control panel.

"Trail?" Rodney's gaze narrowed. "Oh," He sighed loudly, "yeah. We could do that…." He closed the MALP's panel and walked towards them.

John looked back out across the plain, hoping that maybe the natives could help them find what they were looking for. "Okay, I'm on point, Ronon take the six. Rodney watch that LSD and let me know if anything changes."

John followed the narrow path as it crossed the plain, relishing in the warm sunshine that bathed his face. With the rainy season on Lantea in full force, it felt good to get away from the constant dampness that seemed to shroud the city in spite of its advanced environmental controls.

"A jumper would've been easier," Rodney muttered as he followed close behind John.

John sighed quietly. "Scaring the crap out of under-developed natives before we ever meet them isn't exactly how I like to start diplomatic relationships, McKay." Since they'd started missions through the Stargate, one thing they had learned was that for many of the Pegasus natives, especially the less advanced ones, fast-flying ships that came through the Stargate meant only one thing: Wraith. He'd endured enough meet-and-greet missions where they'd spent the first hour convincing the natives they weren't going to hurt them to try and find a way that was less threatening. Besides, with the existence of Atlantis now a secret, low-profile reconnaissance seemed to be the best tactic.

"We could've used the cloak," Rodney groused.

"McKay," John rolled his eyes, "just... walk."

"Hello…," Rodney muttered, "I'm picking up life forms ahead. Dozens."

John squinted at the horizon. Barely visible against a not-so-distant tree line, he was able to make out the distinct shapes of small buildings. He smiled. "That looks promising."

"Huh," Rodney's voice was decidedly less than impressed, "looks like our village."

John continued on, as the path under his feet widened and became increasingly worn. At the edge of the village, he paused as Teyla stopped next to a small cart with several bolts of cloth stacked on it and fingered a corner of material.

"This is exceptional craftsmanship." She looked at John. "I would be very interested in trading with these people for goods such as this."

John smiled and nodded. "Might be able to arrange that." He turned and straightened slightly as a dark-haired woman in simple, rough-spun clothing stopped in her tracks and stared at them. His smile was friendly as he tried to assuage the uncertainty and fear he saw on her face. "Hi," he ventured. He lowered his gun as he watched her swallow hard.

"Hello," she said quietly.

John glanced left as Teyla walked up next to him. "We are friendly travelers." She smiled warmly. "We have come through the Ring of the Ancestors to meet your people and possibly discuss trade."

John nodded slightly in approval as the woman visibly relaxed, although her expression remained slightly confused. Long ago, he'd learned to give Teyla free rein in situations like this. She had an unswerving ability for instilling confidence in the people they met, having negotiated off-world trade agreements all of her adult life.

"I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagon. These are my companions," she waved her hand at the group, "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Ronon Dex and Dr. Rodney McKay." She nodded respectfully at the woman.

The woman, apparently putting her confusion aside, pressed her right hand to her chest, before extending it, palm up, towards Teyla. "My heart is open. I am Mashta. Come, I will take you to Brantor. He is the one you must speak with." She turned and headed towards the village.

John gestured to Teyla, who took lead behind Mashta. He fell in behind her, with Rodney following and Ronon bringing up the rear. "I don't think they get a lot of off world traders," he commented quietly to Teyla.

Teyla nodded in agreement. "Yes. I sense her hesitation, though she seems accepting."

John sighed quietly. "Yeah. Keep your eyes open though." He waited for Teyla's silent nod before he looked back, making eye contact with Ronon. He casually and subtly scratched his face just below his right eye, the unspoken code between them that meant stay sharp, and the big Satedan nodded in understanding, his hand settling on his blaster.

As they headed into the village, John looked around him. The huts were roughly constructed, their roofs tightly thatched and their walls made of straw and mud. Barely out of what he'd call the dark ages. John began to doubt these people would be of any help, and he felt a touch of sorrow. For such an advanced society to be reduced to this…. Chalk up one more civilization destroyed by the Wraith…. He sighed quietly.

"This is not promising," Rodney muttered, his words echoing what John was thinking.

John nodded slightly. "Won't hurt to talk with them," he answered.

"Mashta?" Ronon asked. "Who is Brantor?"

She glanced back at him, but continued walking. "He is our Falenum. He speaks for our village."

"Falenum?" Teyla asked.

Mashta nodded. "Yes. He guides us in the Way and keeps our feet set firmly on the Path."

"Spiritual leader," Rodney muttered and John nodded in agreement.

John tried to look as warm and unthreatening as possible to the villagers they passed as his team followed Mashta to a hut at the edge of the settlement.

She stopped at the door. "Brantor? It is Mashta. I bring visitors from the Ring."

John suppressed his surprise as, after a moment, the stout wood door opened. The man standing in the doorway couldn't have been more than forty; for some reason, John had expected someone much older. Brantor was tall, nearly the height of Ronon, but not as muscular. His angular features were neutral as he looked first at Mashta then right at John.

John found himself put a little on guard by the man, and knew his expression held hints of it, but nonetheless he smiled slightly. "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard."

"Visitors from unknown worlds never come through the Ring to us." Brantor's tone was tense.

Slightly confused, John, nonetheless, stared evenly back. His grip on his P-90 reflexively tightened, but he kept the weapon lowered.

Teyla stepped forward. "I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagon of Athos. We come to talk and possibly to trade."

"I have not heard of you."

John's gaze narrowed at Brantor's cold, unchanged attitude. Silently, he looked over at Teyla, who held onto a sincere expression. His gaze quickly switched back to Brantor. "We just want to talk with you, that's all."

"You many not know of me," Teyla continued, "but my people have a long, proud history of fair trading. I know you must take my word for that, but we have much to offer in trade," she let a light smile touch her features, "and in friendship."

John relaxed a little as, after a long moment, he saw Brantor's expression change from cold suspicion to cautious warmth. It was a start.

Brantor stepped back and duplicated the gesture Mashta had given them. "My heart is open. I am Brantor." He gestured towards them. "Come, let us talk." He looked past them to Mashta. "Please tell Nasse we have guests."

John let Teyla lead as they entered the dimly-lit hut. Smoke from the fireplace created a haze, and the air felt close, but the room had a homey feel to it. Tapestries and paintings decorated the walls.

"Come, sit." Brantor pointed to a thick stack of furs and pelts near a small fireplace.

John eased himself down, cross-legged, on the furs. Teyla sat next to him and Rodney beside her. He looked up at Ronon, who stood behind them.

"I'll stand," Ronon's deep voice was quiet.

John looked back to Brantor, searching for signs of insult, but he just nodded.

"As you wish." Brantor seated himself on another pile of furs across from John. "You must understand my caution. There are very few worlds we trade with. I have never seen someone from an unknown world come through the Ring before." He looked at Teyla. "But you seem very sincere, and clearly your people are more advanced than mine. It is possible you could help us."

Silently, John glanced at Teyla, who crossed her hands on her lap and smiled at Brantor.

"We have a great many things we can offer," she stated plainly. "Medicines, materials to construct your homes, skilled craftsmen who can bring more knowledge to your people... among other things."

"Medicines would be most welcome," Brantor answered. "Winters are harsh for my people. A great many become sick, some even die." He looked away and muttered, "That weakens the Offering." He looked back at Teyla.

Offering? John flicked his gaze to Teyla, seeing as much puzzlement in her expression as he felt.

Before he could ask, Brantor continued. "What is it you ask in return?"

"Information," Rodney broke in. "We think your ancestors were highly advanced and that knowledge…."

"Rodney," John interrupted sternly, "how about we let Teyla handle this?" He gave Rodney a firm stare, silently informing him that he wasn't leaving him an option.

Annoyance deepened in Rodney's expression for a moment. "Fine."

Teyla smiled and reacquired Brantor's attention. "We believe that your forefathers had a close association with the Ancestors. Somewhere, possibly not far from here, there may be ruins and remnants of their society. We have the means to understand and interpret their knowledge. This is something that could benefit all of us. We only ask for access to such things."

Brantor cocked his head. "Access to the Grounds of our Fathers is a small request indeed." His gaze narrowed. "These medicines, they are effective, are they not?"

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Teyla arch a brow at Brantor's subtle implication. He heard Ronon shift his weight behind them.

"Of all the…," Rodney started.

"McKay," John silenced him.

Teyla held her expression neutral. "They are, otherwise I would not be offering them to you. I would not risk the reputation of myself or my people."

Brantor sighed. "I am sorry. You are offering much, yet asking for little. Understandably, I am wary."

"Of course." Teyla smiled. "There are many in this galaxy who do not trade fairly, but I am not one of them. The information we may find could be useful for enlightenment and understanding by both our peoples."

Brantor smiled slightly. "Enlightenment is important to us all, Teyla Emmagan. You are wise to recognize this. I will, of course, trade with you for the chance of such knowledge."

"We'll share anything we learn with you," John added.

"Brantor," Teyla continued, "I would like to add one more thing. At the edge of the village is a cart with bolts of very finely woven cloth. I wish to trade for some of it for my people as well. We can discuss amounts later, if you are willing."

Brantor nodded. "The finely woven hair of the Pacta is one of our most valued items. You have an eye for quality."

"Sounds like a deal." John looked up as the door again opened and a teenage girl walked in carrying a tray holding a large carafe and several clay mugs. Her dark hair was pulled up in a tight bunch on the top of her head, and her features were fine and delicate.

"My daughter, Nasse." Brantor smiled at the girl as she knelt next to him. "Nasse, these people are here to trade with us."

John widened his smile slightly as the girl looked at him first.

She blushed and looked away from John, her gaze passing over each team member. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked up at Ronon's imposing figure, but a small smile from the Satedan reassured her. "Welcome to our home," she said quietly. Leaving the tray next to Brantor, she stood and quickly left.

"Your daughter is very pretty," John said respectfully to Brantor, who smiled back.

"Yes, and strong. I am proud of her. If the fate of the Offering passes over her, she will make some man a fine wife."

John's brows furrowed again at yet another mention of this mysterious 'Offering', but before he could ask about it, Brantor continued speaking.

"But, we are discussing trade. What, may I ask, do you hope to find in the Grounds of our Fathers?"

"It is possible," Teyla answered, "that the information we find here could help us in our war against the Wraith." Her expression turned hopeful and confident. "Something that would benefit us all."

John's gaze narrowed as Brantor sat back on his furs and stared at them for a moment, confusion clearly dominant on his face. John exchanged a puzzled look with Teyla.

"Why would you wish to war with the Wraith?" Brantor suddenly asked.

John slowly turned back towards the elder, trying to keep the incredulous feeling he had from his expression. "To stop them from killing innocent people like you," he suggested.

Brantor's demeanor was unchanged. He picked up several of the cups and handed them out to John's team. "I have never heard of people that hate the Wraith," he commented quietly. "We do not hate them, nor do we object to their presence." He shrugged and reached for the carafe.

John held out his cup, his gaze narrowing. He looked at the dark robust ale as it flowed from the carafe into his mug. "You don't hate the Wraith?" he repeated, not quite able to accept Brantor's statement.

Brantor straightened, confusion tingeing his expression. "Why would we?"

"Why?" Rodney interjected. "Oh, let me see. Could it be because they suck the life out of you whenever they get a chance?"

"McKay," John quietly reprimanded Rodney, who fell silent.

He watched as Brantor set the carafe on the floor next to them. The man's expression was tranquil and he flashed Rodney a slight, tolerant, smile. "We accept the sacrifices."

"You... accept them?" This time, it was Teyla's turn to object. The calm expression on her face cracked slightly, showing anger. "They are Wraith. They kill your people!"

Brantor's patient expression again turned confused. "Why would we object? It is far better than the alternative."

"Better?" Ronon interjected. "Easy for you to say, you've never been culled or been on a hive, waiting to die."

Inwardly, John winced, remembering that Ronon was one of the few who had been culled and lived to tell about it. He felt the big Satedan step up closer behind him, and he swallowed hard, foreboding spreading out from his gut. Something in Brantor's tone, in his words, tripped alarms in John's head.

"Oh yes, life-sucking death is so much better than a long, full life," Rodney added sharply.

"Rodney!" John snapped through clenched teeth. His gaze flicked to Teyla's shocked expression, before settling on Brantor. "What alternative are you talking about?"

Brantor blinked hard and stared intently at John. "You… do not know?"

John pursed his lips as his feeling of dread intensified. "No," he answered quietly.

Brantor's brows furrowed. "I have never met anyone who did not know.…" He folded his hands on his lap. "It has been many generations since the dark times of Namtar, but well our people know it. Passed from parent to child, we remember."

"Dark times?" Rodney questioned. "Oh, this can't be good…" his voice trailed off as a glare from John effectively silenced him.

"Go on, Brantor," John urged the man quietly.

"It is told that long ago, countless generations past, Namtar brought a great evil to our world. We were unprepared, unable to resist it or fight back. As the evil spread through our world, death followed it. None could escape, and no one survived its touch."

"Sounds like genocide," Rodney commented quietly.

"Namtar?" John questioned. He looked first at Teyla and then at Ronon, but both shook their heads.

"I am not familiar with that term," Teyla muttered.

"Me either," Ronon added.

"Sadly, the knowledge of who or what Namtar is or was has been lost to us." Brantor recaptured their attention as he continued his story. "Madness swept through those touched by this evil and, on its heels, death. Invisible to us, Namtar, the bringer of our death, stalked our people. We were powerless against it, and faced the end of our race."

Brantor paused and John glanced at Rodney. "Invisible? Some sort of disease?" he mused quietly.

"Probably," Rodney agreed. "Maybe a pandemic of some sort."

"One day," Brantor continued, "the Wraith came to us. What transpired between the queen, Eresgal, and several of our village Falenums is not known, but an agreement was reached. Eresgal promised to rid us of the disease and protect us from that which would seek our ruination… Namtar. We agreed to the Offering in return."

That word again. "Brantor," John interrupted. "What is the Offering?"

Brantor cocked his head slightly. "The Offering is a time when the Chosen Ones are taken by the Wraith."

John swallowed, his eyes widening. Brantor seemed tranquil, content even, as if the thought of Wraith cullings and his people dying was commonplace and perfectly normal.

"You willingly give your people over to the Wraith to die?" Ronon's voice was heated and John heard his hand slap to the gun at his side.

"You bastard," Rodney whispered.

"McKay," John's reprimand was light. Truthfully, he agreed, but also knew that offending these people so far from the Stargate could endanger his team.

But Brantor's expression remained tolerant. "The Offering is not to be feared, Dr. McKay. It is a time when those chosen give themselves for the preservation of our entire race. The Wraith protect us from Namtar, and as such it is their right to punish those that displease them. Perhaps this is what you have seen, and what drives your fear. But those that follow the Way and willingly give themselves over in the Offering are given swift passage to enlightenment, and spiritual oneness with those that came before us. Such a thing is to be honored, not despised."

Shock rendered John speechless, and he felt a cold cramp in his gut at the man's peaceful and accepting expression.

For the first time in several minutes, Teyla spoke. "You are surrendering your own people to a violent and painful death, Brantor. Not to something better."

Brantor was unfazed. "Death is but a doorway, Teyla Emmagan. In your eyes, I see the warmth of spiritual tranquility. I would expect you to understand that."

John pursed his lips, as Teyla looked away, the anger, pain and conflict clear in her expression. His mind raced, trying to process everything the man had told him. So many questions shot through his head, but one demanded the most attention. "Brantor, what do you know about the enemy the Wraith agreed to protect you from? Namtar?"

Brantor thought for a moment. "Only that it struck unseen. We do not know why it came to us, or how it brought us death, but after the agreement was reached, there was a great explosion in the sky. Night became day and Namtar was gone. The madness and death disappeared, and has not been seen again, nor will it be as long as we remain faithful servants to Eresgal."

"Excuse me," Rodney interrupted. "Eresgal?"

Brantor looked directly at him. "The Queen. She protects us all."

John swallowed hard and collected his thoughts. They needed to talk about this, and find out all they could about this "Namtar" and what these people's forefathers knew. He glanced at Teyla, but the Athosian woman was clearly rocked by all Brantor had told them, so he left her be. "Brantor," John looked back to the elder. "Are you still willing to allow us access to the ruins?"

Brantor smiled slightly and nodded. "Yes, for the knowledge is beyond us, but apparently not beyond you. We have great holes in our history, Lieutenant Colonel. Anything you can ascertain would be valuable to my people."

John's gaze narrowed. "Brantor, I'm going to be straight with you. We might find things out that contradict what you believe." He clenched his jaw and stared evenly at the man. It was a dangerous statement, but John felt the elder would take it in stride, and he needed to know.

Brantor shrugged. "I very much doubt that, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard." His voice held unwavering confidence.

John sighed, ignoring Rodney's snort of disbelief. "Okay," he answered neutrally, letting the matter drop. "We need to discuss this with our people, but when we come back, we'll bring the first shipment of medicines and would like to see the ruins then."

Brantor nodded. "That is acceptable. When can we expect your return?"

Hopefully tomorrow," John answered. He pushed himself to his feet, Rodney and Teyla following his lead.

Brantor stood also. "I look forward to your return. Your willingness to trade goods only for knowledge speaks highly of you."

"If it weren't for the technology…," Rodney started, his voice trailing off at John's warning look.

John nodded once to Brantor. "Hopefully tomorrow, then." He led his team out the door and stopped as Ronon closed it behind him.

"Of all the ridiculous, asinine, insane societies," Rodney muttered.

"Save it until we're out of the village," John snapped, firmly curbing his urge to wholeheartedly and vocally agree with Rodney. "Ronon, take the six. Let's go." He stalked off down the path towards the edge of the settlement, his mind reeling and anger churning in him. Part of him was shocked and disbelieving at what he'd seen and heard. Brainwashing was one thing, but this…. He sighed loudly. How could these people not have met traders that didn't agree with their beliefs? He glanced at Teyla. Her lips were set in a thin line, her jaw clenched, and she was staring straight ahead, not making eye contact with him.

John shook his head slightly as he returned his gaze forward. The Olotian beliefs were outrageous and unbelievable to him, but he couldn't imagine how Teyla, who had lost both her parents and countless numbers of her people to the Wraith, felt.

He heard Ronon's heavy footsteps behind him, and his thoughts lingered on the Satedan. He wasn't reassured by Ronon's silence: he could practically feel the big man's seething glare. Given Ronon's impulsive nature, John made a mental note to watch him closely whenever they were on Olot, and have a talk with him about the whole thing later.

Once they left the village and started across the wide plain towards the Stargate, it didn't take Rodney long to weigh in again.

"What is it with fanatics? How can they just willingly give themselves over to the Wraith?" Rodney waved his hands vigorously.

"They believe it is their salvation, Rodney," Teyla answered quietly. "For them, and for many of the peoples in this galaxy, my own included, belief and hope are sometimes all we have to sustain ourselves and go on in the shadow of the Wraith."

John stared at Teyla for a moment before he licked his lips and looked away. They had all been so busy thinking about how deplorable the Olotian "agreement" was that none of them had seen it quite like that. He'd never traveled through the Stargates in the Milky Way, but he'd read enough SGC reports to know that there were countless worlds of humans all over that galaxy who had spent generations worshipping the Goa'uld. Given the threat of the Wraith, would they have been any different? He sighed.

"If they want to give themselves to the Wraith, then let them. It's not my business," Ronon stated evenly. "As long as it's their choice, and not only Brantor's. But I'll still kill any Wraith that comes near me… and don't expect me to nod and agree with any of this."

"Ronon…," John's voice trailed off. He pursed his lips at Ronon's blunt statement, but kept walking. The Satedan had a gift for speaking plainly and seeing everything in black and white, but he had a point. You can only fight the fights you can win.… You can't save everyone.… He ground his teeth, chafing against the cold, impartial analysis. Could he really turn away and let the Wraith take advantage of these people? Harvest them like crops in a field? But did any of them have the right to turn a society's beliefs and values upside down instead?

"Yeah, well, someone has to tell them the truth," Rodney groused quietly.

John turned as Teyla stopped and stared intently at Rodney. "Do you know for sure what the truth is, Rodney? Or are you just replacing their belief with yours?"

"You can't seriously condone this… this… arrangement?" Rodney's voice was incredulous.

"I do not," Teyla replied immediately and firmly. "But who are we to tell them that they will not go on to something better when they die? To dispel their beliefs in place of ours? We have all seen ascended Ancestors, Rodney, and know it is possible. We know their ancestors were close to ascension. Who is to say some did not ascend? They are not to blame for the deaths." Her gaze narrowed. "The Wraith are." She turned and stalked towards the gate, leaving the three of them behind her.

John stared after her for a moment, before he sighed and trotted to catch up with her. He heard Ronon and Rodney walking a ways behind him as he glanced at Teyla. "Hey. You okay?"

Teyla swallowed hard, but didn't look at him. "I will be fine, Colonel. I am sorry if my comments were not appropriate."

John arched his brows. "Don't apologize. Rodney has his opinions; you're entitled to yours as well." He smiled slightly but she still wouldn't look at him.

"And you?" she asked quietly.

John winced. "I have mine too," he offered neutrally, quelling the anger within him.

Finally Teyla did look at him. Her gaze narrowed. "You agree with Rodney," she stated simply.

John sighed. "Teyla, I can't just sit by and tell the Olotians it's okay to line up for the slaughter."

"Nor can I, Colonel," Teyla answered. "But we do not have the right to tell anyone their beliefs are wrong."

John looked away. "We'll see what Elizabeth thinks." From the corner of his eye, he saw her nod slightly, but she said nothing. They walked in silence for several minutes before Teyla spoke again.

"It is curious that they have traded, but on such a limited basis." She sighed. "It has been my experience that trading peoples have a great many partners from several worlds."

John nodded. "Yeah, I wondered about that."

"I can't help but point out here that maybe there's a really good reason for that?" Rodney interjected. "A reason we're going to find out the hard way?"

John grimaced. "That thought crossed my mind too. Teyla?" He glanced at her.

Teyla shook her head. "I believe Brantor is sincere in his desire to help his people and trade honorably."

"He better be." Ronon's voice was cold.

One side of John's mouth quirked. "Your instincts are usually pretty good, Teyla."

The gate came into view and John pointed at the DHD. "Dial, Rodney, we have a lot to talk to Elizabeth about."

"With or without the solid evidence that we're not going to get screwed?" Rodney muttered as he walked up to the DHD.

John ignored him as he reached into his vest pocket for his GDO. Pulling it out, he punched in his personal IDC as he listened to the chevrons locking.

"What the...?" Rodney's fragmented question came on the heels of the gate whining and going dark.

John arched a cynical brow at Rodney. "Helps to dial the right address, McKay."

"Oh, you're hilarious," Rodney snapped. "For your information, Colonel, I did."

Suspicion crept into John's gut, along with a bit of foreboding. As annoying as it was, Rodney had a point; he never misdialed. John walked up behind Rodney and looked over his shoulder. "Do it again."

Rodney glared at him for a moment. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Dial!" John snapped, his tolerance for Rodney's behavior shortened by the alarm that was starting to build within him.

With a loud martyred sigh, Rodney turned back to the DHD and slowly input Atlantis' address, his actions exaggerated. Again, the first six chevrons lit, before the seventh remained dark and the gate disengaged.

"What the hell?" Ronon muttered.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," John answered. He looked questioningly at Rodney.

Rodney stared at him for a moment before looking down at the DHD. "I don't get it. We dialed in just fine. Of all the.…" His voice trailed off as he knelt and pulled off the cover over the DHD's control panel.

John stepped back as he pondered their situation. He couldn't help but shake the unease he still felt at Brantor and his people's beliefs. "Wonder if our newfound friends have anything to do with this?"

"You've got to be kidding?" Rodney's snappy voice was muffled by the DHD. "Them tampering with a DHD would be about as likely as a Neanderthal flying the space shuttle."

"Fixing is the hard part, McKay." John couldn't quite keep the annoyance from his own voice. "Breaking is easy."

"Well, there's no sign of blatant sabotage," Rodney answered. "Whoever did it, knew what they were doing and altered it without just mashing away at the crystals." He took a moment to stick his head out from under the DHD. "Still think our medieval friends did it?"

"Okay!" John conceded. "So who did?"

Rodney's brows furrowed as his expression turned exasperated. "You know, I'd just pluck that answer out of thin air from you, but I foolishly left my crystal ball back on Atlantis!"

John rolled his eyes. "Just... fix it!"

"Then stop asking me ridiculous questions!" Rodney's head disappeared under the DHD again.

John resisted the urge to kick one of Rodney's protruding feet, and just turned to his other team members.

Ronon shrugged. "Don't look at me."

"Perhaps it was the Wraith, to prevent the Olotians from dialing out to another world?" Teyla suggested.

"That is so not comforting!" Rodney piped in.

John's eyes rolled skywards as he arched his brows and scanned the air above. "Gotta go with McKay on that one.…" He returned his gaze to Teyla. "Still, other traders have been able to come and go, so at some level the DHD still has to work." He turned back towards Rodney. "The DHD on Atlantis can be configured to lock out certain addresses and prevent them from connecting. Could it be that?"

Pausing in his work, Rodney scooted out from under the DHD. He shook his head. "No. The Atlantis DHD is unique in a lot of ways, that one included. Normal DHDs can't be configured that way.…" His voice trailed off as his eyes widened. "Oh, no...." He practically dove back underneath the device.

John quickly walked back to him. "What?" He stared down at Rodney.

Rodney emerged again. He had connected his data pad to the DHD and now his hands flew furiously over the keypad. "That's it."

"What's it?" John struggled to quell his frustration. "McKay!"

Rodney's head snapped up. "What? Oh! Yes. The DHD can't be configured to lock out certain addresses, but the scope of worlds it can contact can be limited in other ways." He looked down at his data pad again. "Back when the SGC first started off-world missions, they determined, well, Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter determined, that the reason they had trouble dialing other gates besides Abydos was because the addresses were inaccurate due to stellar drift. Because the Earth gate didn't have a DHD, they weren't accounting for ten thousand years of stellar drift and Abydos, because of its relatively close proximity to Earth, was the only world they could dial."

"Okay," John nodded, "so what are you saying?"

"That someone, probably the Wraith, disabled the stellar drift compensation program in the DHD."

"The what?" Ronon questioned.

John nodded in agreement. "Run that by me again?"

Rodney looked up, his annoyed expression passing from Ronon to John. "DHD 101 should be a requirement for all off world teams," he snapped. "Each time a gate establishes a wormhole to another one, information is transmitted from one DHD to the other, most notably any updates to planetary coordinates. It's like one gigantic network, with each DHD updating the others, so all of them are current. It's also a safety protocol, to keep any gate travelers from ending up in the situation we're in now."

"Okay," John held up his hand. "Hold on. So you're saying that this DHD isn't updating like the others in the galaxy, and those people that are coming here to trade are from planets close enough to Olot that they're not affected by stellar drift?"

Rodney smiled and pointed at him. "Exactly. I'll bet if we were to map the coordinates of Olot's trading partners, we'd find they're all in this sector of the galaxy."

"So when we dialed in.…" John started only to be interrupted by Rodney.

"The Atlantis DHD sent update information through the wormhole, but the program on this side was disabled, so this DHD didn't update."

John shook his head. It made perfect, rational sense. "That's why the Olotians have very few trading partners and have never met anyone outside that circle."

"Or anyone that does not follow their beliefs," Teyla added. "All of these associated worlds must be under a similar arrangement with the Wraith."

"She's right." Rodney grimaced. "I'll bet all their DHDs have a similar modification. Perfect way to keep your devout worshippers isolated from other, less friendly opinions in the galaxy."

"But still have the gate to use," Ronon added.

"Right." Rodney agreed. "And since Darts are the only Wraith ships small enough to come through the gate, and they have their own DHDs, they can dial wherever they like."

"And anyone outside this circle of worlds that dialed here by chance," Teyla added, "would have been stranded with no way to return home. Their people would've never dialed back, after their disappearance."

"So even if we dialed to one of those other planets the Olotians trade with, we'd probably still be in the same situation," John concluded.

"Most likely, yes." Rodney nodded.

"Okay, so what do we do now?" John arched his brows at Rodney. "Can you make adjustments to the DHD to compensate for stellar drift?"

"Oh right! Let me just pull those calculations out of thin air!" Rodney snapped. "Luckily, I have a better idea."

John waited through a moment of silence before speaking. "And that is...?"

"Reinstate the DHD update program," Rodney stated confidently. "When we don't check in with Atlantis, Elizabeth will dial in to contact us and when she does.…"

"The DHD will update," John finished, nodding. "Sounds like a plan."

"Wait," Teyla interjected. "When Atlantis dials us, this DHD will transmit its information to the Atlantis DHD, will it not?"

John looked at her for a moment before nodding and staring at Rodney. "She has a point. Is it possible we could screw up the Atlantis DHD in the process of trying to update this one?"

"Ah," Rodney smiled at Teyla, "at least someone was paying attention. But the answer is no. Each data stream has an algorithm that stores information about the age of the data, sort of like a time stamp. Because DHDs theoretically communicate very often with each other and therefore constantly transmit updates, part of the update program checks received data against current calculations and ensures that the most accurate data is kept."

"So in other words," John concluded, "the Atlantis DHD will receive the data stream from this one, but disregard it as outdated information?"

"Exactly." Rodney scooted back under the DHD.

"How long before we are overdue?" Teyla asked quietly.

John glanced at his watch. "We're due to check in an hour from now. Probably won't be long after that before Elizabeth dials in."

"You know?" Rodney interjected from under the DHD, "it'd really suck if the Wraith decided to show up before then."

"That'd be a hell of a coincidence." John shook his head. Still, a bit of worry sharpened his senses, and he tightened his grip slightly on his P-90. It'd be just our luck…. He looked at Rodney as the doctor stood and backed away from the DHD.

"That's it." Rodney smiled confidently. "Now we just wait for Atlantis to dial in."

Predictably, it was only slightly more than an hour before the gate suddenly lit up with an incoming wormhole. John turned back from where he'd been scanning the large open field, his gaze fixing on the gate.

"I really hope that's them," Rodney commented quietly.

John glanced at Teyla and Ronon, who both held their weapons ready. He lifted his own and flipped off the safety. His intense gaze fixed on the wormhole as it flushed into existence.

"Colonel Sheppard, this is Weir, please respond."

John sighed deeply, flipped the safety back on his P-90, and lowered it. He tapped his radio earpiece. "This is Sheppard. Thanks for calling."

"John? You're overdue to check in. Is everything okay?"

He smiled slightly. "It is now. Stand by." He looked at Rodney, who was staring intently at his data pad. "McKay?"

Rodney looked up and nodded. "Transmission complete. DHD is updated." He disconnected his data pad, replaced the cover on the DHD panel, stood and brushed his hands together.

John looked back at the active gate. "Elizabeth, we had a little problem on our end, but it's resolved now. I'll give you the details when we get back."

"Understood," Elizabeth responded. "When will that be?"

John smiled. "As soon as you shut down the gate, we'll dial back. If you don't hear from us in fifteen minutes, call again."

"Copy that," Elizabeth's voice was slightly puzzled. "I'm sure the explanation will be interesting."

John's smile faded. "You have no idea," he responded quietly.

"Look forward to it. Weir out."

On the heels of her sign off, the wormhole dissolved. John nodded at Rodney. "Dial." He held his breath as the chevrons lit one by one, only to exhale as the seventh chevron locked and the gate activated. He quickly input his personal IDC before leading his team back to Atlantis.

---------------------------------------

From her place on the balcony of the control room, Elizabeth had a bird's eye view of the gate as her alpha team returned from off world. A puzzled feeling still lingered within her as she left the balcony and quickly descended the stairs into the Gate Room. She met the team halfway to the gate and nodded once at John. "Colonel. How did it go?" Her gaze narrowed slightly as a dark look flashed across John's face.

"It was interesting, to say the least," he answered neutrally.

She looked away from him, noting the somber looks on the faces of the rest of his team before returning her gaze to him. "You can tell me all about it in the briefing. Fifteen minutes?"

John nodded. "Sounds good."

Elizabeth stood motionless watching, as her team made their way to the east exit. Her mouth twitched slightly in concern as she headed for the stairs.

It didn't take Elizabeth fifteen minutes to reach the conference room, and she spent the time waiting for John's team to arrive mulling over what she'd seen on their faces. John's expression had been a cross between cynicism and anger Teyla's uncertain, Ronon's just plain angry and Rodney's expression was more dour than usual. What happened? She knew something had and judging by their demeanors, it wasn't good. Still, they had come back easily, weapons unfired, so it couldn't be all that bad, could it?

She looked up as the team came in together and found seats. Leaning forward, she folded her hands on the table and looked John in the eye. "So, tell me about Olot. Did you meet the natives?"

John sighed deeply. "Yeah, we did. They're pretty primitive, Elizabeth. Whatever technology their ancestors had, they don't."

Elizabeth nodded slightly. It wasn't unexpected, but she still had to hold back her disappointment. "Is there anything left of their advanced society?"

"Possibly," Rodney interjected. "They referred to a place, the 'Grounds of our Fathers' that seem to be ruins leftover from when they were an advanced race. They've agreed to let us explore them in exchange for medicines to help them through the winter. It's worth checking out."

"Sounds good," Elizabeth responded. "I'll have a fair trade ready for when you go back."

"Well," John sighed loudly, "there is one hitch."

Elizabeth smiled wryly. "I was wondering when you'd get to that." When her comment didn't spark a reaction from John, she immediately sobered. "What is it?" She watched him as he briefly glanced at Teyla before looking back at her. "John?"

"They're Wraith worshippers, Elizabeth," he said quietly.

Confusion swarmed through her and she shook her head in disbelief. "Worshippers?"

"They believe that those taken in what they call an 'Offering' reach spiritual enlightenment and oneness with those who came before them," Teyla answered. "Because of this, they willingly accept the cullings."

Elizabeth just stared at Teyla for a moment, before she dropped her head and sighed deeply. Why couldn't these things ever be simple? "They think if they're culled they ascend? That's… unusual," she managed, still trying to get control of her shock.

"There's more." John stated plainly.

She looked up at him. "More?"

"It seems," Rodney piped in again, "at one time they were devastated by some sort of plague. Something they called 'Namtar'. Sounded like it was some kind of pandemic." Rodney shook his head slightly. "Anyway, their forefathers made this pact with a Wraith queen they call Eresgal and she, apparently, rid them of this plague." He snorted. "They think the alternative to this pact is the death of their entire society."

"So even if they wanted to escape the cullings, they're too afraid they'd all die of this plague to do it," John explained.

"Apparently," Teyla added, "there is more than one society the Wraith have made into subservient worshippers. The Olotians spoke of trading with a few other worlds, yet they have never encountered beliefs other than their own. At the time, I believed it to be unusual, as most worlds trade with a great many partners. However, there was no reason to be alarmed. It was only a curiosity, at the most."

"Until we found out the automatic update program on the DHD had been disabled," Rodney interrupted. "Seems the Wraith, or rather a small group of them, have set up their own little worshipping society in that corner of the galaxy. My guess is the planets the Olotians trade with are all in the same sector, so they're close enough to dial each other without compensating for stellar drift."

"That's why you needed us to dial in?" Elizabeth questioned. "So the DHD would update?"

Rodney turned a cynical smile on John. "See? Someone pays attention to basic DHD mechanics." He looked at Elizabeth and nodded. "Yes."

Elizabeth sat back in her chair and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Rodney, there's no chance that you all were infected with something, is there?"

Rodney snorted. "Already thought of that. No. I'd say the chances are slim at the most. From what the village elder, Brantor, told us, this Eresgal didn't just cure them but rid them of the plague entirely. Something about 'night becoming day and wellness sweeping through'…." Rodney's voice trailed off.

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes widening at the appalled look on Rodney's face.

"McKay?" Ronon leaned towards him.

"Oh no," Rodney muttered.

"Rodney, details." John sat forward his hands flat on the conference room table.

"Madness and death. Night becoming day, and instantaneous healing of the sick." Rodney looked up, his shocked gaze passing over each of them. "Don't you get it? It was a nanovirus! It had to be. The 'night becoming day' thing was probably something similar to a thermonuclear explosion producing an EM pulse. Just like what you did last year, Colonel."

"Hold on," John raised his hand. "Are you saying this 'Namtar' is the same nanovirus that infected Atlantis last year?"

"Yes!" Rodney's tone was exasperated. "Or something similar. It has to be; it's the only logical conclusion. Mad delusions, horrifying death... sound familiar?" Rodney swallowed hard. "This means the creators of this nanovirus are… or were the same race that seemed bent on destroying the human race…. In the most painful way possible, I might add."

"Sure as hell would like to know who those guys are… or were…," John groused quietly.

Rodney's eyes flicked around the room, a surefire indication that his mind was in overdrive. "That'd explain why the Ancients had that damned thing on Atlantis in the first place. If someone was using it to wipe out human worlds, or in this case allies, they could've been studying it."

Elizabeth took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. "Rodney, we don't know anything for sure. Right now you have a theory that happens to fit the facts… and the facts are mostly from a story you heard from one of the natives. We have yet to encounter any indication of who created this nanovirus anywhere in the galaxy."

"Well, true, but Olot is on the far side of the galaxy…." Rodney scratched his head and grimaced. "We need to get into those ruins and see what we can find out."

"If Rodney is right, and this queen did destroy a nanovirus," Teyla interrupted quietly, "then these people have been living under a false belief for many generations."

Elizabeth stared for a moment at Teyla. The Athosian woman's face was a mask of controlled anger, but also to the trained eye there was a hint of hesitation present. It was almost as if she was angered by the deception, which was expected, but also hesitant to do anything about it. Elizabeth pursed her lips. That would fit. Teyla had a deep respect for the cultural diversity in her galaxy, even if she didn't fully agree with many worlds' beliefs. Elizabeth switched her gaze to John and then Ronon. The fury on both men's faces were much easier to read.

"The Wraith took advantage of the Olotian's situation to make a society of willing livestock." John's fuming voice was quiet. He looked at Elizabeth. "We can't just sit here and not do something to put a stop to this, Elizabeth."

"He's right," Ronon growled.

She sighed. She should've expected this reaction from John. He was a career soldier, but more than that, he had a strong moral compass that he judged everything by. In a lot of ways, the world was black and white for him: there was a clear wrong and a clear right. And as a man and not just a soldier, John Sheppard would never sit by and allow something like this to happen without trying to put a stop to it. It was a trait she admired and respected, but also felt the need to rein in on occasion. Right now, she wasn't sure if this was one of those times or not.

And then there's Ronon…. God knows, he'd want to act, and could she blame him? His hatred of the Wraith ran deep and strong, fueled not only by what they'd done to him personally but to his people as well.

Deep inside, her diplomatic training shouted a warning to her. Who are we to tell a society what they can and cannot believe? She clenched her jaw. Not for the first time since she'd led this expedition to Atlantis, her own diplomatic beliefs were being challenged in ways she'd never experienced on Earth. They had no right to impose their beliefs or their ways of life upon any other society; of that, Elizabeth was certain. But this wasn't just a case of people believing that women's faces should be covered, or that taking their pictures robbed them of their soul. This was blatant deception by the Wraith: a deception that had led and was still leading to the deaths of countless Olotians.

More than once in her diplomatic career, she'd brokered negotiations that were clear interventions into local cultural conduct, because what was happening was a crime against humanity. Morally, was this any different that ethnic cleansing in Yugoslavia? She'd intervened there; should she here? Could she ever look at herself in the mirror again if she turned away and did nothing? But could she live with herself if she did interfere in a culture that had apparently existed in relative stability and comfort for many years?

"Elizabeth?"

John's quiet prompt pulled her from her thoughts. She put on the strongest face she could muster and looked him square in the eyes. "Our purpose on Olot is to try and obtain whatever information and possible power sources the Olotians might have had at one time, not to effect change on their society or their beliefs." She pushed back from the table and stood, effectively heading off the argument she knew was ready to start. "You'll return to Olot tomorrow to begin research on the ruins. Take an archeologist as well. I'll speak to Carson about the supplies for the trade. That's all." She watched as Rodney, Teyla and Ronon filed from the room, their expressions ranging from uncertainty to anger.

As they left, she looked down at John, who sat unmoving, his back rigid. "Colonel?" she asked, trying to stay neutral in the face of what she knew was coming. Having worked closely with him for over a year, Elizabeth knew damn well that he wouldn't just let something like this drop. She straightened her shoulders and stared evenly back at him as he stood and crossed to the doors.

Laying his hand on one of the open doors, he muttered "Close" and the doors instantly obliged. When he turned to face her, his voice was quiet, but still holding a raw anger. "The Wraith are taking advantage of and killing people that can't defend themselves… and they've been doing that for God knows how long," he stared coldly at her for a moment, "and you're telling us to just turn our heads and pretend it's not happening?"

"John," she kept her voice even, "it's not our place to tell another society that what they believe is wrong."

"They're being slaughtered, Elizabeth!" His voice rose in volume.

"That's happening all over the galaxy," Elizabeth raised her own voice slightly to counter him. "Whether people worship the Wraith or not, they're still being culled."

John abruptly turned away and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "They're defenseless. I'm so sick and damn tired of standing by and doing nothing!" he spat.

"We can trade with them, and give them things to help make their lives better, like medicine," she reasoned. "That's doing something."

John turned back. "Right. So they're good and healthy when they're culled!" He put both hands on the table and leaned heavily on them before dropping his head. "It's not right to leave them in the dark like this," he said quietly. "They should know."

"How is that going to help them?" Even as she argued with him, she was fighting her own emotional urge to agree with him. "Shattering their society won't change anything. They'll still be culled. You know that."

He looked up. "They can fight. We can help them." Raw determination blanketed his expression.

"How?" Elizabeth shook her head. "John, we can't even defend ourselves from the Wraith, much less anyone else." She stared evenly at him, silently urging him to see her point. It was the truth. They only had one ZPM to power the shield and cloak. Right now, the only thing that stood between them and obliteration was that the Wraith believed they had destroyed themselves. If that cover was ever blown….

"We can't help them, and we can't interfere," she reasoned quietly. "You know that."

His head dropped and she could see the muscles in his cheeks twitch as he clenched his jaw tightly. "Damn it." Spinning and stalking to the doors, he slapped his hand on the doorframe and snapped, "Open!" Barely waiting for the door to crack open, he stormed from the conference room.

Elizabeth stood there, watching as he swiftly crossed the control room and disappeared down the back stairs. She sighed quietly and rubbed her eyes as her own emotions churned within her.

----------------------------------------------

John could hear the gentle lap of waves against the city, in spite of his pounding heart. Recently, thanks to Rodney's in-depth schematics of Atlantis, he'd had found a long, secluded route around the outside of the city that was perfect for a run. On nicer days, he'd switched his daily run from inside to outside, and today was one of those days. He could feel the tension, mostly brought on by a less than restful night, working out of his body. But, no matter what he did, his mind dwelled on the Olotians and he couldn't get his thoughts away from them.

"John," Elizabeth's voice was quiet. "It's not our place to tell another society that what they believe is wrong."

"The hell it isn't," John muttered to himself, his soft voice slightly breathless. Nearing the end of his run, the narrow path he'd followed widened out onto the large, smooth deck of the East Pier, and he slowed to a walk. Hands on his hips, he breathed deeply and rapidly as he crossed the pier, the brisk, ocean breeze cooling him. As he reached the edge, he stopped and looked down at the ocean far below. Devoid of a guard-rail, this wasn't the safest place to view the ocean, but that really didn't matter to him. He slowly sat down on the edge, letting his feet dangle over the side. He leaned back, his palms warmed by the sun-soaked deck plating, and stared out over the water.

They'd had their conflicts before, him and Elizabeth, and he never once liked it when they got crossways of each other. They'd been through enough that he'd developed a deep respect for her and her leadership, and he could almost always see her point. Hell, most of the time he agreed, but not now… not this time.

The warm sun on his face triggered memories of an even hotter sun….

John ducked into the field hospital and escaped the baking Afghan sun. He nodded slightly at a medic, who acknowledged and walked over to him.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"I'm looking for Captain Phelps, sergeant." John scanned the room, searching for the injured officer.

"Yes, sir. This way." The sergeant turned and crossed the small one-room medical station, and John followed. He stopped next to a bed and when John approached, he was met by the smiling face of Phelps.

"Major, good to see you, sir." Phelps looked pale but alert.

John waved a casual dismissal to the sergeant and sat down in a folding chair next to Phelps' cot. His gaze passed over the captain's heavily bandaged left leg. "How ya doin' Captain?"

Phelps shrugged. "Been better but I'll be fine, sir. They're shipping me to Kabul tomorrow, then on to Brandenburg." His smile faded slightly. "Sir, I… I don't know how to thank you…."

Memories of mortar fire and screams of pain echoed in John's head. "Don't," he cut off the captain. "Flying into hot zones and pullin' you guys out is my crew's job."

Phelps nodded. "Yes, sir. But," he smiled again. "Thanks."

John stood. "You're welcome. Take care of yourself, Captain."

"Yes, sir. You too, sir."

John was heading for the exit when a weak and wheezing cough from the back of the tent caught his attention. He turned, brows furrowing as he walked past several bunks to the back corner. His frown deepened at the sight of the slight figure of an Afghan woman who lay on the cot in front of him. Woman was a stretch, he realized, as she couldn't have been more that seventeen years old. She wheezed again, clearly struggling to breathe; as John turned to look for help, a sergeant medic hurried past him to the girl's side.

"Shoma hub ast?" he asked quickly, as he placed the end of his stethoscope on her chest and listened.

"Mariz… hastum…" she muttered, her fevered thrashes weak. "Chiy gap ast?"

John unconsciously took a pace closer to her bed as he listened to the medic continue to speak Farsi and try to calm her down. A tall colonel walked past him and directly to the girl's IV. Wasting no time, he injected a syringe of medication and stepped back as the girl relaxed into the cot, her eyes closing.

The colonel turned and met gazes with John. "Need something, Major?"

John straightened slightly. "No, sir." He pressed his lips together for a moment. "Is she going to be okay?"

The colonel looked at the girl for a moment before walking over to John. "Advanced case of tuberculosis. Her family was killed by Taliban insurgents. An SF unit found her in a bombed-out building in a small village not far from here. The Red Cross is arranging for her to be flown to Kabul tomorrow, and trying to find her a sponsor to take her to the States, but I doubt much can be done. If it'd been caught earlier…." He paused, sighing. "Damn Taliban. The women of this country have received next to no medical care. Kind of hard to diagnose and treat a patient, when you can't touch her or examine her in any way." A hardness settled around his eyes. "That's going to change."

John licked his lips and shook his head in frustration. He didn't know the girl, but somehow that didn't matter. "She's just a kid…," his voice trailed off.

"I know, Major. I have two teenage daughters. Believe me, I know."

John sighed as he slowly came back to the present. He'd seen a lot of tragedy in war, but the plight of that girl, more than just about anything save the deaths of Mitch, Dex and Holland, stood out in his mind. He dropped his head and shook it slowly. She'd ended up that way because of a cultural belief, but it was one that transcended the boundaries of humanity and decency. His mind settled on the Olotian girl, Nasse. She wasn't dying of tuberculosis, or some other disease, but was her situation any different? How far could you stretch non-interference before you had to step in, in the name of basic humanity? His moral code might not be shared by everyone, everywhere, but wasn't there some line where wrong was just plain wrong? A point where human decency outweighed cultural differences?

Again he sighed, this time deeply, as he realized that, whether or not that mythical point existed, his own standards, his code, the code that he lived by and that helped him sleep most nights, wouldn't let him accept this arrangement the Olotians had bound themselves to. No matter how "right" they thought it was, and no matter how strongly Elizabeth insisted that they not interfere, he couldn't stand by and accept it.

The familiar tension he'd carried since yesterday's trip to Olot returned to him, in spite of his vigorous exercise. Sighing, he stood and slowly headed back into the city.

-------------------------------------

The warm Olotian sun bathed his face as John emerged from the wormhole. Moving clear of the gate, he stopped and looked around, admiring the blue sky and green grass. He looked left as the rest of his team emerged.

"Oh yeah." Their archeologist, Dr. Myers, smiled. "Definitely a perk of being the head of my department: I get first dibs on going off world." She walked past John and casually looked around.

John watched her for a second and was reminded of how lucky he was to be able to go off world routinely. The vast majority of Atlantis' personnel spent their entire tours in the city, never getting the opportunity to go through the Stargate. Remember how lucky you are the next time you're facing down a bunch of Wraith…. John's smile turned cynical. "Lorne and a team of Marines brought the medical supplies through earlier, so we'll make contact with Brantor, and he can guide us to the ruins." John started down the familiar path towards the Olotian village. "I'm on point, Ronon take the six."

He pulled in a deep breath of the fresh Olotian air but inside, though, his thoughts were in turmoil, Elizabeth's orders ringing in his ears.

"Don't interfere."

His jaw clenched, pushing his lips into a thin line. He saw her point; under other circumstances, he'd agree with her. But not here, not now. These people were standing in the Wraith chow line without raising so much as a finger to defend themselves. Beliefs be damned, they had a right to know the Wraith had been deceiving them for thousands of years.

"It's hard to believe these people worship the Wraith, but I guess it's not entirely unexpected," Dr. Myers commented quietly.

John pulled himself away from his thoughts and briefly looked over his shoulder at her. "I don't know, it surprised the hell out of me," he quipped dryly.

"Well, speaking from an anthropological standpoint, it's not as rare as you think to practice sacrificial religions. The Incas did it, and so did the Mayans. Take the Ice Maiden, for example. A five hundred year old mummy found on Mount Ampato in Peru. She was killed by Inca priests to appease the gods of the mountain."

"Yeah, I think this is different," Rodney's voice was decidedly sarcastic.

"Not really," Myers countered. "The Incas sacrificed their own to supposedly keep the mountain from erupting and destroying them. The Olotians sacrifice their own to the Wraith to save themselves from some unseen destruction. It's remarkably similar."

"The Wraith are deceiving them," Teyla commented quietly.

"Granted," Myers answered, "but the impact on their society is the same."

"I still think we should tell them what's really going on," Ronon muttered.

Amen to that…, John agreed silently, but he bit back the words.

"I suggest you be close to the Gate when you do," Myers cautioned. "People that are ingrained with their religion enough to accept human sacrifice often don't take kindly to being told otherwise, whether true or not. Look at Galileo who was labeled a heretic and imprisoned for supporting the theory that the Earth revolved around the sun, not the other way around; or Medieval Europe, where they burned alchemists at the stake, believing that science angered God."

"Hear that, Rodney?" John pushed aside his frustration. "They might make a shish kabob out of you."

"Very funny. You do realize you're duty bound to rescue me in that event?" Rodney snapped back.

"Oh I don't know," John smiled slightly. "A Bar-B-Q could be fun…."

"Well, whatever the reason," Rodney interrupted insistently, "this 'Namtar' was destroyed a long time ago. These people are following a false religion, and the Wraith are using that to maintain a willing food source…. Hey!"

John stopped and turned, his gaze narrowing. Dr. Myers had stopped in her tracks, causing Rodney to nearly run into her.

"Want to warn a guy?" Rodney complained.

"What did you just say?" Myers had turned to face Rodney.

"You could warn me!" Rodney's voice rose.

Myers shook her head. "No, before that. Did you just say Namtar?"

John walked back towards them. "Doctor?"

Myers brow furrowed. "In Earth mythology, Namtar was the Mesopotamian and Sumerian god of pestilence."

"Are you saying they're the same?" John questioned. He shook his head, or it's a hell of a coincidence….

Myers shrugged. "Possibly. We know that when the Ancients returned to Earth ten thousand years ago, they wove their stories and experiences into several mythologies. The Greek myth of Atlantis and the Arthurian legends of Merlin and Morgan LaFay are just a couple of examples. It's possible this mythology first used in Sumerian society could've stemmed from the Ancients."

John thought of the Goa'uld, the Wraith, and now this Namtar. "Why doesn't any of this make me feel any better?" he muttered. He turned and headed up the trail. "Come on. We're not going to get any answers here, but we might from the ruins."

He walked briskly on down the path, confident his team would follow. His eyes flicked from one side of the trail to the other as, deep inside, his trouble alarm started making noise at him. Everything about this felt wrong, but he knew they couldn't just turn away. The potential knowledge the ancient Olotians had was worth the considerable risk to him and his team, even if he didn't like it.

At the pace he set, and in spite of Rodney's complaining about it, they made it to the village in quick time. He waved as he caught sight of Nasse escorting an elderly woman through the village.

Nasse stopped and waved back. She held tightly to the old woman's arm as John and his team approached them. "Colonel Sheppard. It is good to see you again."

John smiled back for a moment. "You too." He made eye contact with the old woman who stared at him through wrinkled, but sharp eyes.

"This is my grandmother, Nyra," Nasse continued. "Grandmother these are the off-worlders I told you about."

John inclined his head slightly, and gave the old woman a friendly smile. "Ma'am."

Nyra returned the smile and made the Olotian gesture of welcome. "My heart is open." Her smile widened. "How old are you, my boy? My granddaughter is nearly of age."

John arched his brows as he felt a blush creep up his cheeks.

"Grandmother!" Nasse scolded. "Let me take you home." She flashed an embarrassed look at John, before gently pulling her grandmother towards a nearby hut.

"Relax, child," Nyra commented as she shuffled along next to Nasse, "I am not so old that I cannot recognize a fine man when I see one."

With the typical flustered bearing of a teenage girl, Nasse's expression turned mortified as she again looked back at John. "I will return as soon as my grandmother is settled." Not waiting for an answer, she ushered the old woman into the hut.

John cleared his throat, scratching his eyebrow as he tried to ignore his hot cheeks.

"You just can't turn it off, can you?" Rodney's tone was a cross between annoyed and exasperated.

"Don't start, McKay," John warned.

"You're old enough to be her father!" Rodney added.

"Great! That makes me feel a lot better, thanks!" John glared at Rodney. He thought he heard a stifled chuckle come from the general vicinity of Ronon, and he briefly turned his glare onto the amused look on Teyla's face. His glance caught Myers who, not as close to him as his team, was doing a good job of holding a neutral face, but her eyes betrayed her suppressed amusement. "Can we talk about something else?" he demanded. He turned away, further conversation headed off by Nasse emerging from the hut. He sighed quietly at the flustered look her face still held. As she walked up to them, he tried to smile reassuringly. "The Grounds of your Fathers?" he asked gently, trying to change the subject.

Nasse nodded. "Yes. Father asked me to lead you there, for he is busy with duties here."

John stepped back and gestured down the path. "Lead the way." He followed silently behind her as she led them back down the familiar track from the Stargate, until she abruptly turned off and started across the grasslands. As his legs cut a swath through the knee length grass, he lengthened his stride until he was walking side by side with Nasse.

After a moment, she glanced at him and smiled slightly. "I am sorry about my grandmother," she said quietly, her blush returning.

John chuckled. "It's okay. What did she mean by 'coming of age?'"

"We are not allowed to bond to another until we are eighteen seasons old. I am close to that day."

John nodded slightly. "I see." He glanced back for a second at Teyla, who followed close behind, before looking back to Nasse. "Have someone in mind?" He asked quietly. His smile widened slightly as her blush deepened.

"Yes. His name is Rund. We are to bond on my eighteenth season day, although my grandmother believes he is not right for me. I disagree: I have known Rund since we were both children, and he will make a fine husband." Her smile faded slightly. "If we are spared from the fate of the Offering."

John cocked his head slightly and deepened the intensity of his expression as his smile faded. "What do you think of the Offerings, Nasse?" His brow wrinkled as she looked away, a moment of uncertainty fleeting across her face.

"They protect my people and allow those chosen to join the ancestors," she answered quietly. "It is a gift to be taken in an Offering."

John reached out and swiped a long, seed-heavy blade of grass. He stripped the end, stuck it in his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully. Her answer sounded rehearsed and, unlike her father, she didn't seem fully committed to the "good" of the Offerings. "What if you could live without the Offerings? If whether or not you gave yourselves to the Wraith made no difference in the survival of your people?" He looked sideways at her. "What would you think then?"

His eyes flicked to Teyla, her warning look catching his attention, but he shrugged it off. Non-interference be damned, this was a seventeen-year-old girl who deserved a full happy life, not the uncertainty of whether or not she'd live another day with her husband or, eventually, children. He had the deepest respect for Elizabeth and the choices she had made as expedition leader, but that warred with his own moral core that saw a situation he couldn't turn away from.

Nasse's silence recaptured his attention. He cocked his head at her uncertain expression, as she chewed briefly on her lower lip, nervousness clear on her face. "You know," John looked up at the fluffy clouds in the sky, "you can trust us with anything you say."

"Colonel…," Teyla muttered, her voice uncertain.

John flashed her a determined look, before softening his expression and looking back at Nasse. He smiled reassuringly as she glanced up at him.

"Rund and I," she said quietly, her voice full of hesitation, "we… we want to spend our lives together." Her eyes widened in panic. "But we both understand and accept that the Offerings save our people." She stared at him, apparently fearful she'd made some sort of blasphemous statement.

John clenched his jaw so hard, he thought he'd bust a tooth, before pulling in a noisy breath through his nose and turning his head away. He squeezed his eyes closed for a second, and it took everything he had not to take her by the shoulders and insist to her how wrong she was.

"I have offended you," Nasse said quietly, misinterpreting his frustration and anger.

John sighed deeply and shook his head. "No, Nasse. You haven't done anything wrong." He barely knew the girl but it didn't matter. Not now. She was innocent and young, and even if he couldn't stand there and shatter all of her beliefs, he felt an overwhelming compulsion to do something… anything to help her; and maybe help himself in the process. He lightly grabbed her upper arm and stopped, gently turning her to face him. "Listen to me," he insisted, his voice low but intense. "There is nothing wrong with you wanting to spend your life with Rund. Nothing. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."

Nasse swallowed hard and nodded shakily, her face uncertain. She pulled against his grip, and he let her go without another word.

Teyla walked up next to him as Nasse continued across the grasslands. "You are not making this easy for her, John," she ventured quietly.

"She has a right to love and want to be with her family, Teyla," John insisted quietly. "I'm not going to stand by and let her think that's wrong."

"He did the right thing," Ronon added as he walked by them.

Rodney followed Ronon and grunted quietly, "Don't look at me. I'm the first person to support anything that dispels ridiculous religious beliefs." Behind him, Myers said nothing, not even making eye contact with John.

Teyla bowed her head for a moment. "You are, as the Earth saying goes, 'toeing a very thin line' between following Elizabeth's orders… and disobeying them."

John felt a pang of guilt, but it was immediately smothered by determination. "Yes… I am," he admitted bluntly. His mouth twisted into a deeper grimace as Teyla sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Teyla, but this is something I can't let go of."

She nodded quietly and started through the grasslands, leaving him standing alone. He watched her for a moment, before he swallowed and took the six, following silently behind his team.

-------------------------------------

"There." Nasse pointed to a large grouping of scattered ruins that became visible on the horizon. "That is the Grounds of our Fathers."

John passed his team and walked next to Nasse. He glanced back at Rodney as the doctor pulled his Life Signs Detector from his vest. "McKay?"

"Scanning," Rodney responded absently. "I'm picking up a faint energy reading coming from the far side of the site." Rodney punched a couple keys. "Not sure what it is, but whatever it is, it's emitting energy… huh, that's strange."

John stopped and turned to face Rodney. "Strange?"

Rodney's face scrunched in confusion. "It's…shielded? Cloaked? That can't be right…." He punched a couple keys on the LSD.

"Why not?" Teyla asked.

Rodney's shoulders sagged. "Well, if it was cloaked, then how would I detect it?"

Teyla arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing.

"Rodney, where?" John prompted.

"Go straight for about fifty yards then left," Rodney responded.

"Nasse," Teyla said, "you do not have to accompany us if you do not wish to. I am sure we could find our way back."

"I wish to come with you," Nasse replied. "If that is all right?"

John nodded. "Sure, but walk behind me, okay?" His grip tightened on his P-90, but he kept the weapon lowered as he led his team into the ruins.

"This is very similar to Ancient design but there are differences," Myers commented absently. "There must've been a very close relationship between the ancient Olotians and the Lanteans." She smiled at the Olotian girl. "You have a heritage to be proud of, Nasse."

"Left," Rodney directed. "That should be it."

John turned left and was met with nothing. He looked back at Rodney. "McKay?"

"It is cloaked," Rodney's eyes widened. "There's only one thing that could power a cloak for thousands of years…."

"A ZPM," John answered. He looked around. "Rodney, find a way to get past that cloak."

"No, really? I thought we'd stand here and stare at nothing," Rodney snapped as he squinted at his LSD. "Just have to find the frequency… that's it." He punched another key and looked up.

John blinked as the empty air before him shimmered and a large building suddenly appeared. Behind him, Nasse gasped.

Scattered debris blocked the entrance but, despite wear and age, the building looked remarkably intact. John stepped forward and stopped in front of one of the larger pieces of rubble. He pushed on it experimentally. "Ronon, give me a hand here." He pushed again, and this time the block moved as Ronon added his strength. With the entrance partly cleared, John was able to reach out and lay his hand on the weather-worn but solid door. "McKay? Front and center." He stepped back as Rodney came up next to him.

"Right," Rodney looked around. "There has to be some sort of control panel here…." He poked around on the wall. "Ah ha." He vigorously wiped sediment from a small rectangular panel and grabbed his knife.

"Don't cut your finger off," John teased.

"Funny," Rodney snapped back, as he gently pushed the blade into the seam separating the face of the panel from the wall.

"Funny, hell," John countered. "I've seen you with weapons."

Rodney glared at him for a moment, before he gently pried the panel cover off and returned his knife to its sheath. "There. No damage, Colonel Doom and Gloom." Blowing hard on what resembled control crystals, Rodney waved his hand in front of his face as dust billowed. He squinted at the controls. "Similar," he muttered, "but there are some differences. This may take me a minute."

John nodded and stepped back. He looked around, his gaze fixing on Dr. Myers who was a short distance away examining the ruins. "Doctor," he called, "don't wander too far off."

She looked up for a moment and waved at him before returning her attention to the ruins before her.

John caught Ronon's gaze and nodded his head in the direction of the preoccupied archeologist.

Ronon's expression turned slightly annoyed, but nevertheless he walked towards the scientist. After a minute, he returned, Dr. Myers close behind him.

"Sorry." Myers flushed slightly. "There's a lot here. I got distracted."

John's smile was small. "It's okay. Just stay close, Doc."

"Think I got it here," Rodney's voice interrupted.

John looked back at Rodney, and then the door as it shuddered and moaned, before opening slightly. He arched a brow at Rodney. "McKay?"

"Just hang on a second." Rodney tapped a couple keys on his data pad, and abruptly the door opened to the halfway mark.

John reached up, flipped on the light on his P-90 and scanned what he could of the entrance. "Okay," he stepped forward, "let's have a look." As he walked into the dark room, He instantly knew it was big. He could feel a large space above him, even though he couldn't see the ceiling. He panned his light around the room as he slowly walked further into the building, Nasse close behind him.

"My ancestors built this?" she whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

John nodded and looked around. "Yep. They were pretty amazing people." He looked in the direction of Rodney. "McKay, why do you think this was cloaked?"

"Probably to keep it out of the hands of the Wraith, which is a good thing," Rodney responded, his voice echoing slightly in the large room. "If they thought it vital enough to hide it from the Wraith with a cloak, then there must be something pretty damn important in here."

"Like a ZPM," John added.

"Among other things, yes," Rodney agreed.

"Why were we able to detect it?" John panned his light around, trying to find anything but endless dark.

"The LSD," Rodney answered immediately. "It's an Ancient scanning device. Cloaking something does no good if you can't find it later. We've run into this before. The Wraith can't detect it, but Ancient devices can. That way the right people can find places like this."

"Colonel? Dr. McKay."

John turned, following the sound of Teyla's voice, who had her light zeroed in on a control panel.

"Now we're getting somewhere." Rodney quickly crossed the room and walked up to the panel. He tapped a control crystal and frowned as the device remained dark. "Huh. We know there's power here…," his voice trailed off as he knelt and scooted under the panel. "A little light please?" His muffled voice sounded annoyed.

Teyla knelt and shone her light over his shoulder.

John walked up behind them. "Can you fix it?"

"Of course," Rodney immediately shot back. True to his word, a dim glow suddenly lit up the panel, casting an eerie orange light around it.

"More over here," Ronon's voice echoed from the other side of the room.

John turned and directed his light at Ronon and Dr. Myers. "Hang on a second." He looked back as Rodney emerged from under the console, stood and again tapped a crystal. This time the console hummed slightly before a holographic schematic came up.

"Huh," Rodney squinted at the diagram for a moment before tapping another crystal.

John scrunched his eyes shut and grunted as abruptly the lights came on. He shielded his eyes for a moment before cautiously opening them to the brightness.

"Sorry, no warning," Rodney blinked hard.

"No kidding!" John groused. He flipped the light off on his P-90 and looked around. The high ceiling was covered with intricate artwork, with almost a DaVinci quality about it, and several consoles lined the outer walls, leaving a large uncluttered space in the middle. His gaze narrowed at the prominent, stenciled symbol that graced the floor, with several other smaller ones ringing it. "Isn't that…?"

"Olot's chevron," Rodney finished, "ringed by several other chevrons including," he pointed, "that one. Interesting."

John's eyes focused on the chevron Rodney indicated and nodded. With Nasse there, they wouldn't dare mention it, but the chevron in question was Atlantis' point of origin.

"We've suspected that the gate chevrons meant more in the Ancient culture than just coordinates in space to identify planets," Dr. Myers knelt and ran her hand over part of the Olot symbol. "This is solid evidence to prove that, but we still don't know exactly what else they meant." Her voice was slightly frustrated. She looked around. "Maybe we'll find a clue here." She shook her head apparently in amazement. "The more we look, the more connections to the Ancients we find."

"Hello…." Rodney's voice captured their attention.

John looked back at him. "What?"

"Interesting. I found an odd subroutine." Rodney scrutinized the schematic display again, before tapping another crystal on the console.

John's reflexes reacted before he could think, and he found himself pointing his P-90 at a man who appeared in the center of the room. He wasn't alone as he heard Ronon's weapon power up from close by.

"It's a hologram," Rodney whispered.

John slowly lowered his gun and studied the holographic image. It was of an older man, his short hair and close-trimmed beard both white with age; even as a hologram, his eyes held wisdom as he stared patiently forward. "What does it do?" John wondered aloud.

Abruptly, the hologram began speaking, fast, musical words flowing from its mouth.

John squinted. "Isn't that Ancient?" He glanced at Rodney, who nodded.

"Yes… well close. I think the dialect is a little different."

"Can you understand him?" John's gaze returned to the hologram, which continued speaking.

"Here and there. Something about… welcome?" Rodney grabbed his data pad and quickly interfaced it with the console. "I have a translation program. Never leave home without it," he quipped. "I think the dialect is close enough it should work. Stand by."

Abruptly, the hologram shimmered, before it continued speaking. "… designed to interact for the purpose of relaying information stored in this database."

"Wait." John commanded and the hologram fell silent. He was slightly disturbed as it turned and stared right at him. "Okay," he muttered, "that's just weird."

"This room's probably laced with sensors it's tapping into," Rodney commented quietly.

"Whatever." John looked directly at the hologram. "Start over. What are you?"

"I was created by the Olotians Nekbar and Moloran as a real-time interface designed to interact with the user for the purpose of relaying information stored in this database."

"Why?" Teyla asked.

The hologram turned and stared at her. "It was the hope of Nekbar and Moloran that one day their descendents would return here and seek to learn all they may have forgotten. It was believed that this interface would assist in that endeavor."

"Of course." Rodney snapped his fingers. "Nekbar and Moloran probably believed that whenever the Olotians returned, they might not have the knowledge to effectively use the database, so they created this hologram to help."

The hologram turned to Rodney. "That is correct."

"What happened to the Olotians?" John asked.

The hologram again faced him. "Only the knowledge of Nekbar and Moloran can be relayed. Anything further is beyond the scope of this interface."

"Yeah, yeah," John waved his hand. "Tell us what you know."

"Authentication is required," the hologram replied. "State your origin for verification."

Confused, John looked at Rodney. "What's that about?"

"Proper identification is required," the hologram answered. "Failure to do so will result in destruction of this database and all information contained within."

"Whoa!" John spun back to face the hologram. "We're the good guys here!"

"It's a safeguard," Rodney answered, his voice slightly panicked. "Probably designed to make sure the knowledge here didn't fall into the wrong hands… like the Wraith, for example."

"Can you override it?" John stared hard at the hologram, fighting the alarm within him. Knowledge, and probably a ZPM, at their fingertips and it was slipping away…. He glanced at Rodney, whose eyes were scanning over the console.

"No, not without hours of study, and somehow I don't think we have that long."

"State your origin," the hologram repeated. This time its voice was more demanding.

"Aw, crap. We're damned if we don't try," John muttered. He sighed, straightened and stared evenly at the hologram. "Here goes nothing. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard…," he paused, stopping himself from naming Atlantis, "Earth."

A green beam unexpectedly shot down from the ceiling and passed quickly over him.

"Sheppard!" Ronon shouted, instantly pulling his gun.

"Wait!" John raised his hand as the beam passed his waist and disappeared into the floor. "I'm okay."

"Genetic marker confirmed." the hologram replied. "Welcome Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of Atlantis."

John winced as he glanced at Nasse and her confused look.

"The Ancestral City is a myth," she muttered.

John glared at the hologram. Had it been human, maybe it would've picked up on his silent warning, but the hologram had no such discretion. "Earth," he repeated abruptly, "I was born on Earth."

"Earth is not recognized. You carry the genetic marker of the Lanteans, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of Atlantis. There is no mistake."

John closed his eyes for a moment, before exchanging worried looks with Rodney, who sighed loudly.

"Great…."

"McKay!" John cut him off. "Less is better." He shot Rodney a warning look.

"Right." Rodney's shoulders sagged in irritation as the hologram turned and faced Ronon. "Oh wonderful, we all have to be verified?"

"Easy big guy," John cautioned Ronon. "Just be honest."

Ronon stared at John for a moment, before hesitantly holstering his gun. "Specialist Ronon Dex; Sateda."

"Sateda is not recognized," the hologram replied. Abruptly the green beam passed over Ronon; his hand tightened on the grip of his gun, but he held still. "Genetic marker confirmed. Welcome Specialist Ronon Dex of Malseta."

"Malseta?" Rodney questioned.

Ronon nodded. "There were ruins on the southern continent of Sateda named Malseta."

John nodded at Nesse as she stared uncertainly at the hologram. "It's okay, just tell it who you are. It won't hurt."

Nasse bit her lip in nervousness and looked back at the hologram. "Nasse of Olot." She jumped slightly as the scanner passed over her.

The hologram placed its hand over what would be its heart and duplicated the Olotian greeting, before bowing its head to her. "Genetic marker confirmed. Welcome, Nasse of Olot, to the place of your ancestors."

John looked at Myers as the hologram turned to her. She nodded and looked directly at it. "Doctor Rachelle Myers. Earth."

"Earth is not recognized," the hologram repeated. The green scanner passed over Myers. "Genetic marker confirmed. Welcome Doctor Rachelle Myers of Terra."

"Terra." Rodney nodded in comprehension, "as in Terra Atlantus: the Ancient Outpost in Antarctica. It's an old name sometimes used to describe Earth."

"Wait," John turned and faced the hologram. "I'm from Earth… Terra, as well. I have to carry that genetic marker."

The hologram blinked at him. "Yes. That marker was detected. However, the marker of an ally takes precedence, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of Atlantis."

John winced again. "Okay, let's get something straight here. It's just Sheppard, not Sheppard of…"

"Atlantis," the hologram supplied.

John grimaced. "Yes! Not that!"

This is amazing," Rodney interjected, changing the topic. "The Ancients implanted genetic markers in all the humans of both galaxies?"

"Fascinating," Myers breathed. "Anomalous base pairs have been identified in the human genome, but they were always written off as random mutations or relics of evolution. I wonder…." Her voice trailed off.

John watched as Teyla's identification was confirmed, before the hologram turned to Rodney.

"Doctor Rodney McKay. Earth. That is, Terra." Rodney stared evenly at the hologram as the scanner passed over him.

"Priority genetic marker is abnormal, but confirmed," the hologram replied. "Welcome Dr. Rodney McKay of Atlantis."

"It's just Dr. McKay," Rodney muttered.

"Abnormal?" John smiled in mild amusement. He ignored Rodney's cold stare and turned back to the hologram. "Well, now that's over, tell us what happened to the Olotians."

"What events do you wish me to discuss?" The hologram faced John again.

"Give me a summary of everything you know." John answered.

"The Olotians were a society of technologically advanced people who enjoyed a close alliance with Lantea and several other worlds for thousands of years. They excelled in scientific endeavors, along with spiritual growth, with hopes of reaching the next plane of existence."

"Ascension." Rodney breathed. "The Olotians really were studying ascension."

"At the time this interface was created," the hologram continued, undeterred, "the Olotian society was suffering from a pandemic caused by a Namtar virus that was recognized too late to save a vast proportion of the Olotian population. With the help of the Lanteans, the Olotians had repelled the Wraith several times, but with the Lanteans embroiled in a long bitter war with the Wraith, one they did not expect to win, they were unable to render assistance to the Olotians. Decimated by the Namtar virus, the Olotians believed that the Wraith queen they called Ereshkigal, whom they had warded off several times, would learn of their weakness and attack. Fearing the end of their civilization, this database was constructed as a repository of knowledge. Knowing the Wraith would come to destroy them, Nekbar and Moloran cloaked this facility to prevent its knowledge from falling into the hands of Ereshkigal or any Wraith. The last notes programmed into this interface spoke of the arrival of the queen Ereshkigal, and culling of Olot."

John looked away as the hologram fell silent. "Double whammy. No wonder their society collapsed."

"Namtar virus," Rodney added. "There's our nanovirus."

"Ereshkigal," Myers added. "Namtar was her servant. She was the Mesopotamian goddess of death and the Underworld."

"Nice." John winced. Then he frowned. "Wait, if Namtar was her servant, then did she cause the pandemic?"

"Probably not." Myers shook her head. "Remember, we're talking thousands of years of mythology and folklore from two planets; Earth and Olot. I would imagine the truth is closer to what Brantor told you than the ancient Earth mythology."

"Eresgal," Nasse's voice shook. "Our savior…."

John scrutinized Nasse closely, noting her pale face and clearly shaken expression.

"They're probably the same." Myers sighed and threw a quick sympathetic look at Nasse. "Ereshkigal is hard to pronounce. In ten thousand years of storytelling, Eresgal seems to be a natural derivative."

John nodded absently at Myers as he continued staring at the Olotian girl. "Nasse?" He began to move towards her, and then his eyes widened and he lunged. He barely caught her as her knees buckled and she collapsed. He held her tightly, her head resting in the crook of his arm, and slowly lowered her to the ground, while the others rushed over. Abruptly, the green scanner appeared again and passed quickly over her body.

"She is in distress," the hologram commented evenly.

"Yeah, no kidding," John snapped as he pressed his fingers into her throat, finding her pulse, which was fast but even. He grabbed her hand and rubbed her knuckles vigorously. "Nasse?"

"Poor thing," Myers whispered. "To have her beliefs shaken so much, so quickly…." Her voice trailed off.

"This is indeed a problem," Teyla added as she rubbed Nasse's other hand.

"One crisis at a time," John muttered. He rubbed the girl's knuckles again. "Nasse?"

A quiet moan escaped Nasse and her eyelids fluttered, before slowly parting.

John's grip on her hand softened but lingered as he smiled down at her. "Hey. You okay?"

Nasse looked around in confusion. "What...?" her voice trailed off. She pulled her hand from John's and started to sit up, only to stop and take in a stuttering breath as her eyes slid shut.

"Whoa, easy," John put a hand behind her head, protecting it in case she fainted again. "Just take a minute, okay?" He felt her head nod against his hand. He looked up at Teyla and guessed that she had also noted the tears that escaped Nasse's closed eyes.

"What has happened?" the girl whispered.

John's lips pressed into a thin line as he searched for some answer that would mean something and maybe make her feel better. He quickly realized there were no words to comfort someone who just had her entire belief system shattered. "I'm sorry, Nasse," he said quietly. A loud gasp from Teyla grabbed his attention. John's head shot up and he stared hard at her tense expression. "What is it?"

Ronon knelt behind Teyla as she opened her eyes. "Wraith," she said quietly. "There are Wraith close by."

John sucked in a loud breath. "Damn it." He twisted and stared at Rodney, who was still fiddling with the console, while Ronon jumped to his feet and ran to the door. "McKay, get that cloak back up, now."

"What?" Rodney stared at him in confusion, apparently not knowing what was happening.

"Wraith. Cloak. Now," John repeated, his words choppy.

A look of panic flashed over Rodney's face. "Oh no.…"

Still holding Nasse, John turned his attention to the silent hologram. "Can you cloak this building?" he demanded.

The hologram stared directly at him. "That function is beyond the scope of this interface."

Adrenaline buzzed through John and he thought quickly. It's a teacher.... He pointed at Rodney. "Can you instruct him on how to do it?"

"Hold on, I don't need instruction...," Rodney started indignantly.

John glared at him. "Stow the ego, McKay." His head whipped back to the hologram. "Can you?"

"Yes." The hologram looked up and abruptly a large, complex schematic display appeared.

Rodney stared at it for a moment. "Okay, wait.... I think I see...." He knelt under the console again.

"Colonel?"

Dr. Myers' shaky voice captured John's attention. He glanced at her and gave her the best reassuring look he could muster, which wasn't much considering the situation. This was bad enough for them, but for her, a civilian who'd never been off world or faced the dangers of Pegasus before, it was something else. For a moment, he was impressed she was as calm as she was. "It's okay, Doc," he said quietly. Inwardly, he cussed. He had no doubt his team could take care of themselves, but now he had Myers and Nasse to think about. Crap.... John's gaze refocused on the entrance. "Ronon. Anything?"

Ronon's shake of the head was barely noticeable. "Not yet."

"I must go." Nasse sat up and slowly pulled her legs under herself.

John grabbed her arm, holding her in a low squat as he stared intently in her eyes. "No. It's not safe out there. You need to stay with us."

"You've got to be kidding!" Rodney stuck his head out from under the console. "Going out there is suicide!"

John glanced at Rodney. "McKay. Cloak."

Nasse pulled her arm free of John's grasp. "I must join my father." She stood and looked around. "This is...." She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "I must join my father," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. She swiftly crossed the room towards the door.

John exchanged a worried look with Teyla. Beliefs or not, he wasn't about to let Nasse stroll out into the open with Wraith around, even if that meant keeping her against her will. He looked straight at Ronon, and shook his head slightly.

Ronon nodded and stood in front of the door.

"Please," Nasse stared at Ronon, "I wish to leave."

"No." Ronon's tone was final.

"The child of Olot wishes to leave," the hologram spoke abruptly. "You must allow her."

"No way," John countered. "There's Wraith out there, it's too dangerous."

"The will of a child of Olot must be observed," the hologram answered. "Move aside."

John's gaze narrowed at the commanding tone the hologram took. He felt like he'd just been ordered to stand down, and had about as much regard for this order as he'd had for previous ones. "Not going to happen."

"Uhh, Colonel? That might not be wise.…" Rodney's voice trailed off as a beam of light shot out from the ceiling and struck the ground close to Ronon's feet, dust billowing from the impact.

Ronon flinched, but held his position. He stared daggers at the hologram as Nasse flattened herself against the wall.

"Holy crap!" Rodney jumped out from under the console, his eyes wide in shock.

For the second time that day, John found himself staring at the hologram over the top of his P-90. He took a step to his left and stood in front of a shocked Myers.

"It was never the will of the creators of this interface to harm other lives, especially those of allies, but the primary command must be observed," the hologram stated calmly.

"In other words," John's voice was cynical, "that was a warning shot."

"What is the primary command?" Teyla questioned.

"The will of all Olotians must be obeyed, above the words of others, even allies," the hologram replied.

"Great," John muttered.

"Nasse," Teyla reasoned. "You must stay with us. Please, you must trust us."

John risked a glance at the Olotian girl, who shook her head.

"I... I have seen...." Nasse pushed herself away from the wall and swallowed hard, her expression uncertain. "I do not know what to believe. I do not know you. How can I trust you?" She stared hard at John, her expression guarded. "But I trust my father." She straightened. "I wish to go."

John's brows furrowed, and he looked back at the hologram. "What happens if we say no to her leaving?"

"Any person who stands in the way of the primary command will be terminated." The hologram stared neutrally at John.

"Oh no...," Rodney's voice answered immediately. He stepped out from behind the console. "Do you realize what you're allowing her to do?" He stared accusingly at the hologram. "There are Wraith out there! Her life is in danger if she leaves here!"

The hologram stared evenly at Rodney. "The primary command must be adhered to. There are no exceptions." It looked past Rodney to Ronon. "You must allow her to leave."

Unmoving, Ronon stared coldly at it for a moment before looking to John.

John ground his teeth. "Damn it," he whispered. He'd risked his life for innocents before, and he'd willingly do it again, but this... this was suicide for him and his team. He glanced at Rodney and pointedly motioned his head at the hologram. If anyone can disable this thing, McKay can.…

Rodney stared blankly at him for a moment before realization dawned. His expression turned decidedly annoyed and he shook his head. "With a couple of hours of research? Maybe. Right now? Not a chance."

"The primary command must be obeyed," the hologram spoke. "This is your last chance to comply."

John looked at Nasse one last time, mustering as much sincerity as he could. "Nasse, don't do this."

She swallowed hard and shook her head. "Please, let me go."

John closed his eyes for a moment, before he looked at Ronon and nodded slightly.

Ronon's fists clenched, but he stepped aside, silently allowing the Olotian girl to leave.

John slowly lowered his gun and stared at the hologram. "Are there any other rules punishable by death we need to know about?" he asked the hologram sarcastically.

"Only the primary command holds such punishment," the hologram replied, unfazed by John's attitude.

"In a way, it makes sense," Rodney had returned to his position under the console. "This is an Olotian device. They'd want the orders of their people to carry the most weight."

"But death?" John answered. "Isn't that a little... excessive?"

"Apparently, not to the Olotians," Teyla replied.

"Sheppard." From his position at the door, Ronon tensed. "We're not alone."

"Aw hell." John took no more than two steps across the room before the hologram spoke again.

"It is a Wraith cruiser. This facility has been detected. Security protocols initiated."

John froze in his tracks and looked back at the hologram, black dread creeping into him. "Security protocols? Care to enlighten us on what, exactly, those are?"

"Security protocols dictate that under no circumstances is this facility to fall into enemy hands. Therefore, if discovered, this facility will auto destruct."

"Whoa!" John interrupted. "I though you said no more death rules!"

"This is a security protocol, not a command," the hologram replied.

"Oh my god...," Myers whispered.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Rodney interrupted. "You can't turn the damn cloak on, but you can destroy the facility?"

"We have to get out of here," Ronon insisted.

"Hold on," John waved at Ronon and turned to Rodney. "Can you disable this thing?"

"Of all the Mickey-Mouse, irrational rules..." Rodney muttered.

"McKay!" John snapped.

"No!" Rodney shot back. "Stop asking me to do things I need hours of research to even attempt. I don't think you realize the scope and complexity we're dealing with here!" Rodney ripped his LSD from his vest and swung turned in a circle.

"Out, everyone, now," John ordered. "We'll have to take our chances in the open."

"Wait!" Rodney shouted. "We might get something out of this."

"Like what?" John's reply was frustrated.

"Oh, I don't know, a ZedPM?" Rodney shot back. "If we can take that...."

"Then we can destroy enough here with C4 that the Wraith won't get anything useful," John finished. "Find it, McKay." He looked behind him. "Teyla, give me all the C4 you have, then you and Myers get over to the door with Ronon. If this goes south, you'll have to get out of here fast."

"John...," Teyla started

"Go" he interrupted firmly.

Teyla silently handed him her C4 and ran to the door, Myers by her side.

"Ah ha!" Rodney knelt and waved his hand over a circular tile in the floor. When nothing happened, he waved his hand again more vigorously. "Oh no, no you don't!" He shot an accusing glare at the silent hologram before he pulled his knife from his belt and pried the blade under the tile.

John jumped slightly as an arc of electricity struck Rodney's hand and sent him sprawling.

"Your interference will not be allowed, Dr. McKay of Atlantis." The hologram stated calmly.

"What?" Rodney's voice cracked, even though he appeared to be none the worse for wear. "No! No, no, no, no...."

"Security protocols dictate that I should warn you that self destruction is imminent. You are advised to leave immediately."

"That's it," John grabbed Rodney's sleeve and firmly pulled him to his feet. "We're out of here."

"But... the Zed PM...," Rodney started.

John broke into a run, forcibly pulling Rodney with him. "Somehow I don't think we have the time."

"There's a cruiser out there!" Rodney stumbled.

"Would you rather stay here?" John shouted. He looked ahead to the rest of his team. "Go! As soon as you're out the door, scatter and take cover in the ruins, but get the hell away from this building!"

Teyla pushed Myers out the door ahead of her and followed, with Ronon right behind as John and Rodney brought up the rear.

John shoved Rodney ahead of him and burst into the bright sunlight. The whine of the cruiser's engines reverberated through his chest as he broke into a dead run, pushing Rodney ahead of him. A moment of dark, cynical amusement passed through John as Rodney found a surprising burst of speed. Guess he has to be properly motivated.... John looked over his shoulder as the cruiser descended towards the facility.

Satisfied they were a safe distance from the building, John pushed Rodney behind a large piece of rubble and took cover himself. Peeking out from behind the debris, he was mildly surprised that not a single shot had been directed at any of them by the cruiser. "They didn't fire at us," he was slightly out of breath.

"No," Rodney panted, "probably more interested in that," he pointed to the building, " than us."

John stared at the building as the Wraith cruiser stationed itself right over the top of it. "If we left a defensible position and all that technology only to let it fall in the hands of the Wraith...," he started but never finished as, abruptly, the building shook and an orange beam shot straight out from the top, disintegrating the roof in the process and slicing right through the cruiser. "Down!" John shouted as he ducked behind the ruins and wrapped his arms around his head.

Even from his protected spot behind the rubble, the heat from the explosion was intense. He coughed and scrunched his eyes shut as the air around him turned as hot as a furnace and was shattered by a deafening blast. Instinctively curling into a fetal position, he tucked his head tucked to his chest while the air around him burned. As quickly as it had come, the hot air passed and coolness bathed his skin. He carefully lifted his head, shaking it and dislodging pieces of debris from his body, and poked Rodney in the arm. "Hey, you okay?"

"Is it over?" Rodney's voice was muffled by his coat sleeve.

"Yeah." John coughed again. "You all right?"

Rodney cautiously looked up, before lowering his arms and sitting up slowly. "Oh yeah," he croaked, "just peachy."

John peeked over the rubble, his eyes widening as he saw the crater where the Olotian facility used to be. His gaze traveled upwards. "Holy crap," he muttered as he failed to find the cruiser. "It's gone. The cruiser too."

"Rule one of self destruct." Rodney also coughed as he too looked over the top of the rubble. "Take your enemy with you."

John stood. "Teyla? Ronon? Myers?" he shouted, looking around. His gaze locked on Ronon first as the big Satedan emerged from behind a large chunk of debris, brushed himself off and walked towards them. John looked left and saw Myers and Teyla appearing from behind more debris. He sighed quietly as they all walked towards him. No one seemed much worse for wear, and a moment of relief passed through him although when they got closer, he saw Myers had a large gash on her forehead that was bleeding freely. "Myers? You okay?"

The archeologist wiped some blood from her brow and winced. "Hurts, but I think it looks worse than it is. Hit my head on a chunk of rubble when we dove for cover. Not one of my more graceful moves." There was a slight waver in her voice and her expression was strained, as if she was trying to be calm when inside she was terrified.

John stared at her a moment before he decided to believe her... for now. He found a small, reassuring smile. "Happens to all of us. We'll have Carson look at it as soon as we get back to Atlantis. Just sit down for a minute and rest." He glanced at his other team mates. "Everyone else okay?"

Ronon and Teyla nodded, but Rodney wasn't so quiet about it.

"Am I burned? I feel hot...."

John cocked a brow at him. "You're fine, McKay." He looked back at Teyla and tilted his head towards Myers. "Help the Doc take care of her head, but make it quick. With Wraith around, I don't like being out in the open." His grip tightened on his P-90 as he looked around uneasily. He glanced at Ronon, noticing the same disquiet in the Satedan's expression that he knew was in his. "McKay? Anything on the LSD?"

Rodney grunted. "No. Not close, anyway."

"I'd bet my best skateboard there's a hive ship in orbit," John muttered. "We need to get to the gate and get the hell out of here."

"What of the Olotians?" Teyla asked quietly.

John turned around and looked at her as she carefully bandaged Myers' head. It didn't take long before she spared a moment to meet his gaze. John's mouth pressed into a thin line. "There're only five of us, one injured. You know we can't take on a hive." He hardened his gaze slightly. "There isn't anything we can do for them now."

Teyla stared at him for a minute longer, before nodding slightly and returning her attention to Myers.

"Colonel, they're innocent...." Myers voice was still shaky.

John clenched his jaw. "I know. But there's nothing we can do. We'd never survive a firefight right now; we don't have the manpower or the ordinance. With Atlantis' existence a secret, the last thing we need is for any of us to get captured by the Wraith. We need to get out of here."

Teyla sat back as she finished the bandage and John reached down, holding his hand out to Myers. "Here," he said quietly.

Myers looked up at him and nodded, wincing slightly as she jarred her head. She took his hand and John slowly pulled her to her feet. His grip lingered as he made sure she was stable. "I'm sorry, Doc," he said quietly, but with a note of finality to it.

Myers sighed. "I understand."

John let go and turned away from the ruins. "Ronon, take point, I've got the six. Head for the gate and let's move it, but, Doc, say something if you need us to slow down."

"Oh, fine! She's allowed to ask you not to set an insane pace, but I'm a whiner for doing the same?" Rodney interjected.

John glared at Rodney, his temper shortened by the danger of the situation they found themselves in. "She's injured, you're not. Now move."

"I'll be okay, Colonel," Myers responded as she took a place behind Ronon.

John briefly glanced at Teyla and silently jerked his head towards Myers.

Teyla nodded in understanding and followed close behind the archeologist.

Ronon set a brisk pace, but John knew it wasn't nearly as fast as the ex-runner was capable of. He smiled slightly: Rodney had decided to trade snarky comments for just breathing hard as he jogged along in front of John, and he was relishing the silence.

"I've been thinking about this 'Offering'," Myers said after a few minutes. "I think the mythology has taken on an embellished form since the pact was made. Somehow, I don't think it was as cordial as it's made out to be."

John arched a brow but kept pace behind McKay. "Doctor?"

Myers sighed. "It sounds like the Olotians, like the Lanteans, fought the Wraith for many years. They were technically and spiritually advanced. Do you think they'd accept that the 'Offerings' or sacrifices would lead to spiritual enlightenment and ascension? I doubt the Olotians would've accepted the pact willingly. My guess is the Wraith destroyed the nanovirus and the mythology came later; stories embellished over the decades and centuries, probably helped along by this Ereshkigal herself."

"A willing food source is much easier to handle than unwilling one," Ronon pointed out, cynicism coloring his tone.

"Makes sense," Rodney added. "Culled severely enough over the decades, there probably was very little, if any, of the Olotian society left after a few generations."

"But enough of it to help form the mythology," Myers pointed out. "Their ancestors studied ascension. Now they believe if they are taken in an Offering, they ascend. That has to be a remnant of their society."

"So the Wraith cowed them, and then turned them into willing servants?" John shook his head, his anger rising. His thoughts lingered again on the deception the Olotians were living under, a deception Elizabeth had ordered him to ignore… to let go… just pretend wasn't there. His gaze narrowed as he watched Myers stumble hard, only kept on her feet with the assistance of a quick hand from Teyla. "Ronon," he hailed. "Hold up." He stepped around Rodney and squinted at Myers' pale face. "Doc?" he asked quietly.

Myers took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a minute. "Just have a headache, Colonel."

John scrutinized her appearance a moment longer, giving in to the suspicion within him that it was more than just a headache. He knew a concussion when he saw one, and this was at least that. "Okay, but let Teyla give you a hand. We gotta keep moving, but you say something if you need to stop and take a rest." He put a hand on her shoulder and cocked his head, making eye contact with her. "I mean it."

Myers nodded. "I will."

John glanced pointedly at Ronon, who nodded in recognition before setting off again, his pace slower.

At Myers' request, they made three brief stops before finally reaching the Stargate. By that point, Teyla had one of the archeologist's arms draped over her shoulder, and Myers was so white John was sure she'd glow in the dark. He motioned at Rodney. "Dial."

Rodney glanced briefly at Myers and nodded once, before heading to the DHD.

John smiled at Myers as he pulled out his GDO. "Home free, Doc."

"So ends my first, less-than-glamorous trip off world," Myers quipped weakly.

John's smile widened and he chucked quietly as he watched the chevrons lock, but his amusement only lasted a minute as the last chevron failed to engage and the gate went dark. He looked at Rodney, whose expression fell.

"Not again…." He knelt and pulled the access panel off the DHD.

"I thought you had this thing fixed!" John's shoulders sagged as he glared at Rodney.

"I did!" Rodney's voice cracked slightly. "The Wraith must've discovered it and disabled the program again."

"Was not the DHD updated?" Teyla asked. "Even with the program once again disabled, should it not still be able to dial Atlantis?"

"Should've," Rodney answered, "unless they reset the stellar drift calculations to protect their little fun-loving society. Fortunately, I have the Atlantis coordinate updates on my data pad just in case this happened." Rodney's voice was smug. "Just give me a few minutes… oh no…."

"Oh no, what?" John questioned as he walked towards Rodney. "McKay? Oh no, what?"

"There's something wrong here…," Rodney muttered as he continued tinkering with the DHD. He scooted back and grabbed his data pad. "Damn it," he muttered.

"McKay!" Ronon growled, beating John to the reply.

Rodney looked up. "There's some sort of security program installed to protect the system from being tampered with. I'm locked out."

"Guess the Wraith didn't like us messing with their little arrangement," John muttered. "Can you get past it?"

"Of course," Rodney answered immediately. "Well… I think so, yes. But, it's going to take time." He squinted at the display again. "There's also some sort of dampening field around the gate. It'll block any radio transmissions. Oh yeah," he sighed, "the Wraith definitely know someone besides the Olotians is on this planet."

"So, even if Elizabeth dials in, she won't be able to contact us?" John suspected he knew the answer, but asked anyway.

"Nope. The field will block all radio transmissions," Rodney confirmed. "And with the stellar drift program disabled again, the DHD won't update."

John sighed and looked around the open grasslands. He felt unnerved by how exposed they were, especially with Wraith in the area and certainly still in orbit. His mind raced for a moment, before he nodded to himself, the decision made. "Okay. It's too exposed here during the day. We'll have to wait until cover of darkness to fix the DHD. If there's a hive in orbit, then you can bet we'll eventually see darts patrolling the gate, especially after destroying that cruiser. Let's make for the Olotian village and hide out there until night. Besides," he gazed at Myers, "Doc, you look like you could use a rest. If we can't take cover in the village, then we'll make for the woods close by and hide out there until it gets dark." He checked the load on his P-90. "I'm on point. Let's go."

He led his team down the familiar path toward the Olotian village, all the while resisting the urge to grind his teeth in frustration. How the hell did we end up in this mess? He glared straight forward, his grip tight on his P-90 and his gaze alert. He may not have Teyla's gene but every fiber of his being told him the Wraith were still here… and close. The bright sunlight did nothing to comfort him; he felt painfully visible in the flat grasslands. He could see anything coming at them from a long ways away, but that didn't comfort him much and didn't make up for the disquieting thought that anything else could see them just as easily.

"Colonel!"

John whipped around, Teyla's urgent hail stopping him in his tracks. His eyes widened as he watched Myers collapse. Catching her, Teyla sat down hard but never let go.

"Aw, hell." John swore as he quickly knelt next to the scientist. "Myers?" He grabbed her wrist and sighed loudly.

"Oh, that's just great," Rodney groused. "Is she okay?"

"She is apparently more injured then we realized," Teyla commented quietly.

John nodded. "Yeah. Pulse is steady. Little fast, but steady. She's got grit, I'll give her that." A glimmer of respect flashed through him. "Next time a spot for a scientist on an off-world team comes up, she's at the top of my list."

"If we survive long enough to get back to Atlantis," Rodney grumbled.

"McKay, I know COs that get downright testy at talk like that during a mission," John shot back. He let go of Myers' wrist and looked around. "We really can't stay here…."

"I got her," Ronon crouched next to Teyla and relieved her of Myers. Slowly, he gathered the archeologist in his arms and stood.

John eyed him dubiously. "You sure you can do this, big guy?"

Ronon's expression could've been amused or irritated, John couldn't tell which, and the ex-runner's reply didn't help.

"I'm good."

John arched a brow. "Okay." He looked past Ronon. "Teyla, take the six. Let's move." He continued down the trail, his pace quick.

"This is really going from bad to worse," Rodney commented as he followed behind John.

"We're still alive," John replied absently, scanning the horizon ahead.

"Someone trapped in a Wraith cocoon is still alive, so forgive me if I find your comments less than reassuring," Rodney snapped.

John ignored Rodney's words as the Olotian village came into view. Leaving the path, he led his team across the grasslands towards the south side of the village and closer to the tree line of the nearby forest.

"Uhh… what are we doing?" Rodney questioned.

"Taking the back way in," John answered. "Just in case."

"Just in case what?" Rodney pressed.

John risked a glance back at the scientist. "Wraith." His gaze passed Rodney as he caught a glimpse of Teyla tensing.

"You were correct to be cautious, Colonel." Teyla's voice was strained. "There are Wraith in the village."

"Didn't I just say something about bad to worse?" Rodney muttered.

John crouched, waving at the rest of them to do the same. "Well, then, it's a jinx, so knock it off." He scrutinized the village for a long moment. Seeing no sign of movement in their vicinity, he looked back at his team. "Time for plan B. Head for the trees. Move out." He pushed himself to his feet and set a jogging pace as he lead his people to the tree line, all the while fighting an itch in the center of his back where he was sure he was going to get hit by a Wraith stunner. But the blast never came, and the itch faded as he crossed into the thick underbrush.

Passing a few hundred yards into the trees, he found himself standing in a small grove. P-90 ready, he slowly turned in a circle, scanning the perimeter around them, before looking back at Ronon. "Clear."

Ronon nodded once, and gently laid Myers against one of the trees. John began to turn away, but Ronon's voice stopped him. "Sheppard. She's waking up."

John headed towards him, but paused next to Teyla, who was also standing guard. "Wraith can't sense you, can they?"

Teyla shook her head. "No. I have shut out that part of my mind to avoid detection. But, unfortunately, that means I cannot sense them either."

"Great." John sighed quietly. "Guess we'll have to watch for them the old-fashioned way. Keep a sharp eye out." He smiled slightly as Teyla nodded once. He glanced at Rodney whose gaze was fixed on his LSD, and his free hand gripping his holstered nine mil. John left him be, suspecting that if he startled him right now, he'd get a bullet in the chest for his efforts. He walked up to where Myers lay and knelt opposite Ronon, who stood.

"Going to keep watch," Ronon said and walked away.

John rested an arm on his bent knee and looked down at the scientist. "How you feeling Myers?"

"Dizzy." Myers' shaky voice was quiet. "What happened?"

John let one side of his mouth turn up slightly. "You took a little nap."

The archeologist's eyes slid shut. "Oh no…."

"Hey," John interrupted, "its okay. You took a pretty hard crack on the head." He waited until she opened her eyes again before smiling. "Just try and relax and rest a little okay?" He slowly stood as Myers nodded silently and closed her eyes. He waved once, beckoning his team to him.

As they gathered around, John looked at Teyla. "Stay here with McKay and Myers. Without radios, our best bet is to get that locking program and the dampening field disabled, and dial back to Atlantis on our own." He looked up through the trees before his gaze dropped to the long shadows they cast on the ground. "Looks like sunset isn't too far away. We'll move for the gate when Ronon and I get back." He nodded his head at the injured scientist. "Keep an eye on Myers too. She needs some rest, but it's probably best that she stays conscious."

"Where are you going?" Rodney demanded.

John tensed slightly. "Ronon and I are going to do a little recon in the village."

"Are you insane? Why?" Rodney hissed.

"McKay, we've already been in contact with the Olotians. We didn't tell them much, but if they've told the Wraith anything at all about us, we need to know." He sighed. "There aren't that many people in this galaxy that have the ability to diagnose and fix DHDs the way you do. Don't you think the Wraith know that, and would be very curious as to who, exactly, was here?"

"Good point," Rodney muttered. "But why not wait until night?"

"Because," John's patience wore thin, "you might need all that time to get the DHD fixed…."

"Now, wait a minute," Rodney started to object.

"And," John cut in forcefully, "if the Wraith are there now, we're missing potentially valuable intel while we wait." He raised his hand, cutting off Rodney's objection. "We're going. That's the end of it. Maintain radio silence unless you get two clicks from me. We won't be long." John turned away with Ronon, only to be stopped by Teyla's voice.

"Be careful, both of you," she said quietly.

He flashed her a quick smile. "We will."

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