New Athos is a lovely planet, but it brings her little joy.
"Why could we not stay where we were?" One of the children looks up at her with big eyes, questioning. "I am tired of all this moving."
"Because we did not have access to a Ring," Teyla tells him. "Now, we have a whole planet to explore and a whole galaxy to travel through."
"But we had that before," says another child with unassailable practicality.
"Didn't you hear Teyla?" Another says with childish scorn. "We didn't have the whole planet - just the part that the Lanteans did not use."
The first speaker's jaw sets. "But if we live so far from the Ancestors, how will they protect us?"
Teyla looks up and away, meets the grim set of Ronon's jaw, and does not share the truth she fears: that the Ancestors do not intend to protect them at all.
--
"Although the Lantean supplies have been very helpful, we need someone to go out to the markets for seed. We do not have enough for the next planting," says Halling at the Council meeting.
"Because the Ancestors cast us out before we could complete the harvest."
Halling's frown falls upon Koria. "They did not cast us out..."
"We mince words," she tells the council, blunt in her age, sure in her right to speak. "They sent the Lanteans home, like children caught hiding in their neighbours' bedclothes. They dismissed us as less than that - would not even send a representative to meet with the Council, but told Teyla what their will should be, as though we were not worthy of standing in their presence."
Heads turn towards Teyla, but she keeps her expression studiously neutral.
She has no more faith in the Ancestors than Koria, but habit seals her lips, even if it cannot stifle the cry of her heart.
--
"You haven't heard anything?" Ronon asks as they walk through the marketplace towards the seed-sellers. He leaped at the chance to come with her, tired of the setting up of the Athosian camp and the preparation of the ground.
"From Atlantis?"
"From Sheppard and the others."
Teyla eases her way around a haggling party of seven or eight. "It has only been three weeks, Ronon. And all messages must come through Atlantis."
"And the Ancestors aren't talking to us."
"No." She contacted them once, to speak with Mr. Woolsey about the Lanteans returned to Earth. He answered her queries with politeness but the clear indication that he did not wish to prolong the conversation any further than necessary, and ended it with a request that she keep all 'non-urgent' messages for the next time Atlantis contacts Athos.
Teyla does not think that will be before the crops are full-grown.
--
Teyla can feel the minds in her head, scratching hunger that claws at her insides and makes her left palm ache. But she will not think about that now. What she thinks about is the first mind she can touch, the 'nearest' mind within her reach.
Radek spoke of 'feedback loops', Chuck of 'pinging the server', John of actions and opposing reactions.
She never questioned why she could feel the Wraith in her head; it was simply so. It was not until Michael was made that she questioned whether she could make herself felt.
Skill is beyond her, what she has is blunt force - and the advantage of surprise. Her head aches as she strikes out at that spot in her mind where the Wraith have always been. Surprise floods back into her - a sudden, shocking fear coupled with a melting of resistance.
One of the darts drops away from the others, ploughs into the ground to create a great furrow of dirt.
"Teyla!" Ronon grabs her arm but she shakes him off in spite of the pain.
Her mind is so little against the many darts sent to cull this world, but she tries and tries again until she passes out from the pain.
--
"How long have you known you could do that?" Ronon demands after the tent has cleared.
Dissembling before Ronon would be foolish. He knows what she is, even if the other Athosians - even Kanaan, who shares this gift - do not.
Bloodtainted.
"Since the attempt to humanise the Wraith from the hiveship."
"Michael."
"He was the start of it." Teyla regards him over the rim of her cup.
A weakness, she'd thought then. It was only when she watched the Wraith walk through the corridors of Atlantis that she saw the other half of the coin - Wraith male to Wraith Queen: servitude and love, fear and devotion, trust and uncertainty. Michael's actions and emotions only cemented her surety - his betrayal of the hive, the need and connection between Wraith male and Queen. Cut adrift, untrusted, unvalued, he had no allegiances, no loyalties - a Wraith truly free of the hive.
She isn't sure Ronon will understand; his hatred of the Wraith runs too deep.
Fear holds her tongue this time; he is her last and surest ally from Atlantis. She is not so sure she could keep him if he saw the pattern Teyla is beginning to see in herself.
--
The tents are up, the seeds planted, the trails marked, the river netted.
Athos will survive on this new planet, their lifestyle continuing on as it always has after cullings and change.
Yet on the way back from the hunt, a yearling buck slung over her shoulders, Teyla pauses to watch the children play with Ronon in the riverfall, learning to swim as few of their parents ever did.
A step beside her heralds someone's coming; the familier sense in her mind tells her it is Kanaan. "The children like him."
"He is fearless; much like them in many ways." Only he learned his fearlessness at the hands of the Wraith: change or die. A lesson we Athosians could stand to learn, she thinks. We are too caught up in the way things have always been, and they are no longer that way.
"Times are changing," says Kanaan.
"It is a different age." One in which Pegasus has been cast adrift, deserted by the Ancestors, separated from Earth, left to unkind mercies of the Wraith. And in this new age, Teyla's people - and all Pegasus - will have to make their own destiny.
"Do you think Ronon will stay?"
On the surface, it is a simple question. But they have never been ones for only the surface. And the answer Kanaan seeks is not something Teyla even knows herself.
no subject
"Why could we not stay where we were?" One of the children looks up at her with big eyes, questioning. "I am tired of all this moving."
"Because we did not have access to a Ring," Teyla tells him. "Now, we have a whole planet to explore and a whole galaxy to travel through."
"But we had that before," says another child with unassailable practicality.
"Didn't you hear Teyla?" Another says with childish scorn. "We didn't have the whole planet - just the part that the Lanteans did not use."
The first speaker's jaw sets. "But if we live so far from the Ancestors, how will they protect us?"
Teyla looks up and away, meets the grim set of Ronon's jaw, and does not share the truth she fears: that the Ancestors do not intend to protect them at all.
--
"Although the Lantean supplies have been very helpful, we need someone to go out to the markets for seed. We do not have enough for the next planting," says Halling at the Council meeting.
"Because the Ancestors cast us out before we could complete the harvest."
Halling's frown falls upon Koria. "They did not cast us out..."
"We mince words," she tells the council, blunt in her age, sure in her right to speak. "They sent the Lanteans home, like children caught hiding in their neighbours' bedclothes. They dismissed us as less than that - would not even send a representative to meet with the Council, but told Teyla what their will should be, as though we were not worthy of standing in their presence."
Heads turn towards Teyla, but she keeps her expression studiously neutral.
She has no more faith in the Ancestors than Koria, but habit seals her lips, even if it cannot stifle the cry of her heart.
--
"You haven't heard anything?" Ronon asks as they walk through the marketplace towards the seed-sellers. He leaped at the chance to come with her, tired of the setting up of the Athosian camp and the preparation of the ground.
"From Atlantis?"
"From Sheppard and the others."
Teyla eases her way around a haggling party of seven or eight. "It has only been three weeks, Ronon. And all messages must come through Atlantis."
"And the Ancestors aren't talking to us."
"No." She contacted them once, to speak with Mr. Woolsey about the Lanteans returned to Earth. He answered her queries with politeness but the clear indication that he did not wish to prolong the conversation any further than necessary, and ended it with a request that she keep all 'non-urgent' messages for the next time Atlantis contacts Athos.
Teyla does not think that will be before the crops are full-grown.
--
Teyla can feel the minds in her head, scratching hunger that claws at her insides and makes her left palm ache. But she will not think about that now. What she thinks about is the first mind she can touch, the 'nearest' mind within her reach.
Radek spoke of 'feedback loops', Chuck of 'pinging the server', John of actions and opposing reactions.
She never questioned why she could feel the Wraith in her head; it was simply so. It was not until Michael was made that she questioned whether she could make herself felt.
Skill is beyond her, what she has is blunt force - and the advantage of surprise. Her head aches as she strikes out at that spot in her mind where the Wraith have always been. Surprise floods back into her - a sudden, shocking fear coupled with a melting of resistance.
One of the darts drops away from the others, ploughs into the ground to create a great furrow of dirt.
"Teyla!" Ronon grabs her arm but she shakes him off in spite of the pain.
Her mind is so little against the many darts sent to cull this world, but she tries and tries again until she passes out from the pain.
--
"How long have you known you could do that?" Ronon demands after the tent has cleared.
Dissembling before Ronon would be foolish. He knows what she is, even if the other Athosians - even Kanaan, who shares this gift - do not.
Bloodtainted.
"Since the attempt to humanise the Wraith from the hiveship."
"Michael."
"He was the start of it." Teyla regards him over the rim of her cup.
A weakness, she'd thought then. It was only when she watched the Wraith walk through the corridors of Atlantis that she saw the other half of the coin - Wraith male to Wraith Queen: servitude and love, fear and devotion, trust and uncertainty. Michael's actions and emotions only cemented her surety - his betrayal of the hive, the need and connection between Wraith male and Queen. Cut adrift, untrusted, unvalued, he had no allegiances, no loyalties - a Wraith truly free of the hive.
She isn't sure Ronon will understand; his hatred of the Wraith runs too deep.
Fear holds her tongue this time; he is her last and surest ally from Atlantis. She is not so sure she could keep him if he saw the pattern Teyla is beginning to see in herself.
--
The tents are up, the seeds planted, the trails marked, the river netted.
Athos will survive on this new planet, their lifestyle continuing on as it always has after cullings and change.
Yet on the way back from the hunt, a yearling buck slung over her shoulders, Teyla pauses to watch the children play with Ronon in the riverfall, learning to swim as few of their parents ever did.
A step beside her heralds someone's coming; the familier sense in her mind tells her it is Kanaan. "The children like him."
"He is fearless; much like them in many ways." Only he learned his fearlessness at the hands of the Wraith: change or die. A lesson we Athosians could stand to learn, she thinks. We are too caught up in the way things have always been, and they are no longer that way.
"Times are changing," says Kanaan.
"It is a different age." One in which Pegasus has been cast adrift, deserted by the Ancestors, separated from Earth, left to unkind mercies of the Wraith. And in this new age, Teyla's people - and all Pegasus - will have to make their own destiny.
"Do you think Ronon will stay?"
On the surface, it is a simple question. But they have never been ones for only the surface. And the answer Kanaan seeks is not something Teyla even knows herself.
fin