They emerged from the tent into bright orange haze. The heat rose from the sands in oily waves, blurring the activity around them. People walked about in white clothes and headdresses, sandals on their feet. The man looked back at Sheppard and McKay, and down at their bare feet. "You must be fitted," he said, and walked without waiting for an answer.

"Fitted? Oh, right." Rodney stepped one bare foot off of the large, thick material that served as the floor of his tent, and yelped, pulling it back sharply. The look he sent Sheppard was panicked. "This is a fire-walk! I can't walk on this!"

"Try, Rodney." Sheppard took a step, and winced, then gritted his teeth as the heat burned his foot and clenched every muscle in his leg. He started to execute a perfect beach-hop across the sand to catch up with his guide. Rodney followed as best as he could, cursing every step.

By the time they reached the large tent surrounded by leather-looking sandals, both men felt throughly scorched. The smooth blanket that lay in the entrance to the tent provided little relief. Their guide gestured for them to sit, and signaled something to the man standing outside. He tsk'ed as he knelt down and examined the minor burns. Sheppard accepted the scrutiny, but Rodney kept yanking back. "You are not used to the heat," the guide said sympathetically. "Your feet will toughen. You should walk every morning with bare feet on the sands until you adjust. There are many here who no longer have need for such footwear."

"We'll be here that long, you think?" Sheppard hissed as a cool cloth was pressed to the sole of his right foot. He was imagining a baby leaning to crawl on the sands, the thick heat abusing new, tender skin.

"That all depends on your people," the guide remarked with a smile, and dipped the cloth, reaching for Sheppard's other foot. Another man was giving Rodney similar treatment, and he was gritting his teeth and bearing it.

Once they were cleansed, they entered the tent.

It looked like the others they had passed, no more than large, threadbare (and white, of course) pieces of material slung over thin supports. The smell reminded them of a tannery. Straps of every thickness and length hung over lines tied from one side of the tent to the other. The man that owned the place nodded and gestured rapidly, pulling down long laces and presenting them to the guide, who either nodded or shook his head, examining each one carefully before picking out two sturdy-looking straps and a pair of thick soles with holed flaps. He walked to Rodney and showed him how to thread the laces into the holes, and how to strap the sandal to his foot. It took three tries.

Sheppard was staring at his new footwear, and the sudden disorienting feeling of being flung headlong into a culture he wanted no part of really began to sink in. He was being dressed, for god's sake, just like them. On their first day. For no good reason other than the white color would help to block the harmful UV rays. Hell, he liked tans. Used to have a killer one in his early twenties, that year he spent the entire summer surfing. That heat was dry heat, and there was an ocean to cure it. At least it wasn't humid heat, the kind that made your skin melt from your bones in wet layers. This heat was just . . . alien heat. And yet he felt oddly like he was in Afghanistan or something. Which wasn't such a good thing.

"Sheppard? You okay?"

He snapped his attention to his friend. "What?"

"I said, do you need help?"

He looked down, realizing his thoughts had stopped him midway through tying his laces for several moments, and that the three men were watching him steadily.

Maybe it was all a bad dream.

"I'm fine." He managed to circle the leather around his ankle and somehow knot the sandal to his foot. Getting it back off would be a chore.

Their guide gave a satisfied nod. "You will need food, and a workers permit to be given to the Tal'Ran. You will be assigned your duties, which will start after you sleep. That gives you the full day to become accustomed to Satureen." The guide handed the tanner some paper which Sheppard assumed was money, gave a polite bow, and exited.

Well, it was obvious they would be there for the day, anyhow. Maybe by dinner he could convince the man to release them, let them return to the jumper where they could actually do some good. Sheppard hurried out after the guide, his sandals already cutting into his flesh. "Wait. If we're going to do this, we should at least be properly introduced." The man stopped, facing him expectantly. "I'm Colonel John Sheppard, and this is Dr. Rodney McKay." Rodney gave a small wave, huffing after his sprint behind the colonel, offering nothing. "And you are?"

The man smiled. "I am Brouk."

Rodney smiled. "Brook? You mean like a little running water thing?" He made a scurrying motion with his fingers. "How ironic." He caught Sheppard's glance. "Never mind."

"My title is that of overseer. I observe the workers in the field. But I doubt you will be under my jurisdiction."

"Too bad." The comment came off as an intended slight, but Sheppard was surprised to find he meant it.

Brouk smiled. "You will need to eat. Come with me. Today, you will eat like the overseers."

"How kingly of you. Thank you," Rodney quipped. He watched as Brouk walked away, and turned to Sheppard. "So, what's the plan?"

"What do you mean, what plan?"

"Surely we're not staying here?"

"You know of a way back?"

"As a matter of fact, yes! And so do you!"

"No, I mean getting out of here with our heads intact." He watched the retreating back. "He seems nice enough, but I'm pretty sure that'll change if we just take the notion to disappear." He noticed a few tall men watching them. "We should stay put for a bit, huh?"

"You're kidding."

"You got a better idea?"

"Well . . . no. Which I'm sure has to do with the fact that I've had virtually nothing to eat or drink, I"m surprised I'm still standing."

To tell the truth, Sheppard was too. But he could he that Rodney's movements were becoming increasingly sluggish, and his hands were shaking slightly. "We should fill them in on your little condition."

"Please, you make it sound like I have seizures or something."

"I'm just saying, there might be an extra bowl in it for you."

"Really?" Rodney perked. "Hope it's good, or you'll curse the day you were born."

"So what's new?" Sheppard muttered.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The food was highly spiced. "Stands to reason, being out here," Sheppard said as he gulped down an unidentifiable beverage, and coughed. "Keeps the food fresher." Too bad it did nothing for the beverage, which smelled rather like rotten gym socks.

"Ish good. Ish really, really good." Rodney wasn't breathing, because to breathe would be to sacrifice effort, and at the moment all energy was spent shoveling food in. He looked up innocently at Sheppard's rather disgusted expression. "What? The walk was long, I had a power bar last night and that was it. Never mind the humiliating fact that it was fed to me, and therefore practically thrust down my throat. So I'm hungry. So sue me." He pointedly shoved a piece of meat into this mouth.

"Where does this food come from?" Sheppard asked Brouk, who was seated beside him and eating with the manner of a connoisseur.

"We have a few trade agreements established. We provide glass and tanning. They provide fresh food."

"I haven't seen any creatures here, other than a few . . . I hope they're snakes. Where do the hides come from?"

Brouk pointed with his bread to a distant place. "They live very far off, where the greenlands used to be. Most have taken to the underground caverns, but there are a few that linger above ground. The kill is easy, but they are fewer in numbers."

"No water."

"Exactly."

"But you must be getting water from someplace, I mean, you're not completely depleted," Rodney commented around what looked like pita bread.

Brouk nodded as he swallowed. "There is a reservoir. When the rains do come, we collect what we can."

Sheppard spooned his broth. "How often is that?"

Brouk set down his bread and leaned his elbows on the table, looking each man directly in the eyes. "I will tell you. My ancestors lived on a lush and fertile planet. Something happened, and the waters left us. When the rains do come, the planet greedily laps it up, leaving little for us. It lasts a week or so, and fills the trenches. We fill the reservoir. But it doesn't last for long, and the rains are far between. Fortunately we are due for another in the upcoming weeks."

"When was the last?"

"Four cycles ago."

"Depending on how long a cycle is here, that's quite a while."

"It has been our longest drought in known memory. So we must dig, and find this water that the planet is taking from us. Persuade her to share."

"Makes me wish our little sci-fi journeys had ventured into the realm of terra-forming," Rodney muttered, and he slapped his bread onto the glass plate.

"So you see why we need your help."

"Oh, trust me, I understand fully. But I don't see why you think holding us here will make my people willing to help. This isn't how we operate."

"You don't have as much at stake."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Ever heard of the Wraith?"

"Of course."

The admission was too calm. Rodney sputtered. "Oh. Well . . .see? Okay." He implored Sheppard with his eyes.

"Do the Wraith come here?" Sheppard asked, taking over the questioning.

"The Wraith are asleep."

"Yeah." Sheppard nodded and noticed Rodney sit back in disbelief. There was no reason to fuel a possible fire on a planet as hot as this. "So what are these trenches for?"

"Channeling the water when it comes."

"And it takes that much digging?"

"The rains are heavy. Much erosion. The trenches must be fortified."

"What about these caverns? You said something about going underground."

Brouk nodded. "We have reason to believe that there is a great underground river."

Rodney nearly laughed. "Wait, wait, wait . . . underground river?"

"The rain that falls must go somewhere."

Rodney opened his mouth, then sobered. "Wait, that almost makes sense."

Their host nodded. "This vast body of water can be reached by traversing the massive underground system of caverns. Only we have been unable to find it."

Rodney sparked. "How big?"

"We believe it is larger than eight Satureen colonies."

"Okay, that's big," Sheppard replied. He had noticed the look on Rodney's face. "Your computer's running, McKay. What's up?"

There was a gleam in his eye. "If there was a way to pump this water to the surface and contain it," he said to their host rapidly, "over a few years you would be able to reestablish a normal water cycle." His finger twirled in the air as he thought out loud. "Of course the fact that you do have some sort of water cycle implies that there must be surface water somewhere, perhaps elsewhere on the planet?"

"The planet has been searched by aircraft. There is no surface water."

Rodney shook his head. "Nonono, water has to be surfacing somewhere, even if only for a brief time, maybe like a geyser." He snapped his fingers. "Surface temperatures being what they are, I bet the underground temps near the core are extraordinary. Probably causes enough pressure to push the water to the surface, like a jet fountain."

"No one has seen this," Brouk said, his brows draw together in deep thought.

"Besides, if the core temps were that hot, wouldn't it just evaporate the water?" Sheppard asked.

"Not if the water was protected. Not it if was wrapped, say, in warm rock, and not if the heat was an occasional upward release, rather than constant exposure. You'd loose some, sure, but more would be forced upwards. Again, you'd loose some as it breaks the surface, but most would evaporate into clouds. Enough clouds collecting moisture, and you get rain."

"Sound like this would have to happen several times, and be one hell of a geyser," Sheppard said.

"It would have to be on a volcanic scale to work, and quite possibly over different areas," Rodney turned to Brouk, "do you have any topographical maps of the planet?"

"I am sorry?"

"Uh, pictures, drawings of the surface features of the planet."

He nodded slowly. "I believe I can get something for you, yes."

"See?" Rodney was beaming. "We don't need Atlantis. We can solve this one on our own, and be home in time for dinner tomorrow."