3 hours earlier…
MF6-Y8G was a pleasant enough planet. It looked much like any of the other worlds they had visited; green and verdant, though tending more towards wide open plains than the heavy forestation they found on many of their trips through the stargate. They arrived to glorious sunshine and clear blue skies. The day was warm, the breeze cool and fresh, and even McKay stopped and looked up from his equipment to appreciate what was, by any standards, a beautiful summer's day.
"Oh great. D'you have any idea how high the pollen count gets on days like this?"
Sheppard regarded McKay's irritable frown with a mixture of mild disbelief and amusement, shaking his head in bemusement as he turned to Ronon.
"Teyla and I'll take point, you cover our six. Rodney!"
The scientist looked up distractedly, his attention having returned immediately to his instruments.
"We're moving out. Anything?"
McKay sighed and shoved his handheld scanner into a pocket on his tac vest in disgust. "Nothing. No energy signatures, no sign of any advanced technology."
Sheppard nodded. "Okay. Well, Teyla's people know the Tarins by reputation as good traders. With any luck, we may be able to make some new friends." He gave an unrepentant grin in response to McKay unenthusiastic scowl. "Let's go make nice with the locals."
The Stargate was set on a raised stone dias, surrounded by open grassland. There were a few clumps of trees off to the west but in every other direction, as far as the eye could see, the land was generally flat and empty; rolling plains of long grass, the soft summer breeze bending the waving stalks so that great, undulating ripples flowed across the surface of the plains. John was immediately reminded of summer holidays spent with his aunt and uncle on their ranch in the mid-West. They were good memories and, between that and the pleasant weather, he found himself smiling, his mood positive, as he and Teyla lead the team out, following a beaten dirt track that cut through the fields of swaying grass.
The sun was warm on his face as they walked, he and Teyla chatting idly about what she knew of the Tarins. She had never traded with them herself but her father had spoken of them and Halling also had heard good things of them from other trading partners. It was a beautiful day to be out walking and he found himself relaxing a little as the black fabric of his uniform t-shirt soaked up heat of the afternoon sun, the mild breeze enough to keep him pleasantly cool. Relaxed or not, his eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings as he walked, even as he laughed and chatted with Teyla. Pleasant though this world may seem, it was a new environment, unproven, unknown to them. The rolling plains of long grass, waist-high in places, were more than enough cover for anyone who wanted to sneak up on them and his grip on his P90 was firm, ready.
"Seriously, is there any good reason why we couldn't have come by jumper?" John twisted as he walked, finding McKay stomping along behind them, Ronon bringing up the rear, his pistol dangling loosely in his hand, his grip deceptively loose and casual. Sheppard knew from experience that the Satedan's seemingly relaxed pose was anything but. If trouble came, Ronon would be ready; hell, he'd probably be the first to spot it.
McKay's face was scrunched into a scowl of displeasure, his hand held up to his face to shade his eyes as he squinted against the bright sunlight. John grinned as he gave the complaining scientist a quick once-over; he wasn't sweating overmuch, wasn't even out of breath. McKay was a lot fitter than he thought he was; certainly much fitter than he had been when they'd first arrived in Pegasus. Two and a bit years of off-world missions was bound to build some muscle and increase stamina, even if you did nothing else to try and keep in shape. He'd yet to convince McKay that coffee and cake were not food groups in and of themselves.
He let Teyla be the one to explain to Rodney that the Tarins were an uncomplicated people, unused to such technology, and that arriving in a spaceship might unduly alarm them. He'd had this same discussion with the impatient physicist a hundred times over but he couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips as he listened distractedly to Rodney's tirade of displeasure – "Just because these people are backward, I don't see why I should have to endure a forced march in order to visit their backwater hamlet. We could have flown in cloaked and parked nearby…" – A mission wouldn't be a mission without Rodney complaining about something.
As they left the Stargate far behind them the landscape began to change. Rolling plains of wild grass gave way to cultivated fields neatly bordered with low hedges and what looked to be man-made irrigation ditches. John could see at least 5 different types of crop in the fields that bordered the rough track they were following and over to the East, near a cluster of study-looking buildings that appeared to be a small farm, some kind of four-legged, bovine-type animals grazed in a large pasture. It all looked very rural, very domestic. It really did remind him of Uncle Mike's ranch back on Earth – the thought brought a smile to his face as he couldn't help thinking to himself, "Guess we're not in Kansas anymore."
He could still hear McKay muttering away to himself in the background, complaining that the sun was too hot, the breeze too cold and the village too damn far away from the Stargate, and the image of the tin man popped unbidden into his head. He grinned as he walked, long strides eating up the miles. Of course, Ronon would have to be the lion – though he'd better not mention anything to the Satedan about the whole cowardly thing – and Teyla, obviously, was Dorothy. That left him as the scarecrow, needing… a brain. McKay would probably be the first to agree with that assessment, he mused, glancing over his shoulder at his team. McKay looked up and, catching him staring, favoured him with an ill-humoured glare. For a brief moment he couldn't help picturing Rodney's scowling face painted silver and with an upturned funnel on his head. He really couldn't help the grin that spread across his face and the more Rodney scowled at him, the wider it got. He turned his attention back to the front as McKay's offended "What?!" floated in the warm summer air.
They had passed by acres of cultivated land and seen in the distance several outlying groups of farm buildings before the main village came into sight. On first glance, the Tarins' village differed greatly from most of the other settlements that they had visited. Many of the inhabitants of the Pegasus galaxy were, like Teyla's people, nomadic by nature, their homes sturdy but essentially temporary, built of wood and canvas to afford easy relocation from one place to another. It was a lifestyle built of necessity, of survival. It gave them just a little bit more chance to avoid the wraith if they were not always to be found in the same place. Of course, when it came down to it, no matter where you ran, the Wraith would find you sooner or later. But any advantage, no matter how small, was something to hold onto when you lived under the constant threat of Wraith cullings.
The Tarins were obviously an agrarian society yet Sheppard's team had visited those before too – John thought with distaste of the Genii and the simple farmer-folk facade they had displayed to outsiders – yet there again the buildings, though more permanent than those of predominantly hunting communities like the Athosians, were built mostly of wood. The Tarin village, by contrast, was entirely stone built, the buildings squat and solid with thick walls. As they drew closer to the outskirts of the village, John revised that opinion. These buildings were not just solidly built, they were reinforced. There were external buttresses and heavy cornices, the walls were thick and the windows small. He found himself frowning, his grip tightening a touch on his P-90 as he wondered what kind of danger would have a community of farmers build themselves essentially a fortified town.
They were greeted warmly as they entered the village, people waving and calling greetings as they passed, a small group of children gathering excitedly around them, running ahead of them as they walked. The people were friendly, dressed in brightly coloured clothes, and the sturdily built, fortressed houses were cheerfully painted, the heavy stone construction dressed in smooth plaster and painted in warm shades. It made no sense to Sheppard and it made him nervous; the town was built as though to withstand an attack and yet the people seemed to have no expectation of danger, welcoming strangers into their midst with no apparent suspicion or concern.
He could read the same concern on Ronon's face, knew the tall warrior had seen the same signs as he in the peculiar construction of the village and had drawn similar conclusions. McKay was busy shooing away the hovering children, a look of distaste on his face, whilst Teyla, ever the ambassador, was exchanging smiles with the locals and responding tolerantly to the babble of conversation from the excited children. He noticed however that her hands stayed firmly on her P-90 even as she laughed and smiled.
"Welcome! Welcome!"
John turned sharply at the sudden cry, consciously loosening his wary grip on his P-90 as a well-dressed man in perhaps his early fifties hurried a little breathlessly towards them. He took a moment to study the man as he approached; he was of average height with a pleasant, open face, his skin, like that of most of the villagers they had seen, tanned dark as though he habitually spent much of his days outdoors. His clothing was of good quality, the fabrics rich and embroidered, and he moved with the strong stride of a man well used to physical exertion. His face was split in a wide, genuine smile and John found himself smiling in return; the man's good humour was infectious.
"Welcome to Tarin, friends!" He opened his arms wide in greeting as he reached them, bobbing his head in an odd gesture which Teyla instinctively and gracefully returned. The man's smile grew even wider, if that were possible, and John realised belatedly that the head-bob had been a form of greeting; the Tarin version of the Athosian head touching thing perhaps? He never stopped finding reasons to be grateful that he had Teyla on his team.
"You are come to trade?" Their host's face was open and expressive, every emotion displayed for all to see. John read hopefulness in his features, genuine interest and friendship. He allowed himself to relax a little.
"Yes, sir," he responded politely. "We're looking for trading partners.. and hopefully friends. My name's John Sheppard, this is Dr Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex and Teyla Emmagen."
Watching the man's face closely, John saw the flicker of reaction to Teyla's name and the man became even more animated. "Ah, forgive me, friends! In my haste to greet you I neglected to even introduce myself," the man laughed. "I am Enir, leader of the Council of Tarin. You are most welcome in our village."
He turned quickly to Teyla, his eyes alive with interest, "Forgive me, Teyla Emmagen, but would you be daughter to Tagan Emmagen, of Athos?"
Sheppard watched, bemused, as Teyla's smile showed her pleased surprise. "Why, yes! Did you know my father?"
Enir was practically beaming as regarded them. "Then you are doubly welcome, my friends. The Athosians have been known to us for many cycles as good people and fair traders. I traded with your father when I was but a young man myself, Teyla, and he spoke often of his daughter, of her strength and courage.. and yet not of her beauty." He winked theatrically and Teyla laughed easily, enjoying the older man's charm.
"You are too kind, Councillor Enir," she acknowledged with a teasing smile.
"But I forget myself! Come, come, friends – you must meet with the Council. There is much to discuss," With a wave of his arms, Enir ushered them forward, indicating a large building in the centre of the main street. Sheppard allowed Teyla and Rodney to precede him, leaving Ronon and he to bring up the rear. He noticed the Satedan had holstered his pistol but his hand still rested upon the weapon as he walked. As friendly and welcoming as Enir seemed, Sheppard too shared Ronon's continued wariness. There were things about this village that didn't make sense, things that needed explanation before John could really begin to relax his guard.
The hurriedly gathered Council members were just as eager and friendly as Erin. Sheppard and his team were offered refreshments and treated like honoured guests; the Tarins seemed to be a genuinely warm and friendly people, eager to trade and make alliances with new peoples. "So why all the fortification?" Sheppard couldn't help wondering as he sat with his team at a wide wooden table in the Council chambers.
"And what of your father, Teyla? It has been many cycles since we have traded with the Athosians.." Gilda, a motherly woman in her mid-forties, her greying hair pinned up into an elaborate arrangement at the nape of her neck, chatted warmly as she offered them cups of hot, spiced tea.
Teyla's smile was tinged with sadness as she replied, "Sadly, my father was lost to the Wraith many cycles ago." There were murmurs of sympathy from the gathered Council members, their solemn acceptance of the inevitability of the Wraith cullings a familiar feature of life in the Pegasus galaxy. With a gesture to her companions, Teyla explained, "Athos itself was destroyed by the Wraith some time ago; Colonel Sheppard and his people rescued us, provided us shelter. My people have a new home now and we continue to trade and prosper." She smiled warmly around the table.
"That is good to hear," declared another man as he sipped his tea. "We had wondered what had become of the Athosians. Your people have long been respected allies of the Tarins."
As the pleasantries and get-to-know-yous wound down into serious negotiations, Sheppard allowed his mind to wander. This kind of thing wasn't really his forte; he was happy to make nice and get to know folks but the whole negotiation bit was really much more Teyla's cup of tea than his. He let his gaze wander the room idly, instinctively picking up on details that might escape a less observant eye. The stone walls were dressed with smooth plaster on the inside too, painted in soft, earthy tones that gave the interior a warm and welcoming feel. Woven tapestries and hangings decorated the walls, making the large Council chamber seem homey, almost cosy. From what Teyla had told him, the Tarins were well known as traders and this farming community had been in existence for a long time. Yet the Council building, to John's eyes, showed signs of fairly recent construction. From the condition of the walls, the evidence of patching of the plaster here and there, the pattern of wear on the stone-flagged floor, he would guess that this building had been standing for no more than 15 to 20 years. Thinking back on it, much of the town he had seen had looked of a similar age; there had been very few buildings that showed any real sign of aging or repair. Either the Tarins were meticulous in their upkeep of every aspect of their village or something had happened 15 to 20 years ago to make them rebuild. Perhaps the same thing that had made them fortify their houses, he wondered…
His gaze wandered over his team mates; Teyla was talking animatedly with Enir and two of the other Councillors, the rest of the group listening with interest as she described the medicines and technological assistance they could provide in return for grain and fresh meat. Rodney looked utterly bored, reluctance written across his face as Teyla drew him into her conversation to explain some of the technology that could increase the Tarins' crop yield. Ronon was still and silent; he seemed relaxed but John could tell that his attention was focused entirely on the Tarin Council members, watching their every movement with a cautious eye.
One of the elder Councillors asked John a question and he found himself pulled into the negotiations, offering a little – strategically inconsequential – information about his people and their history, explaining some of the medications they could offer in trade and how they could help the Tarins. Time passed quickly and by the time he'd drunk two cups of the Tarins' spiced tea, they had hammered out the basics of a trade agreement. Everyone was happy and smiling, even Rodney, though John suspected his happiness was grounded upon the possibility of negotiations drawing to a close some time very soon, and the Tarins were pleased to have made new friends of the Lantians. It was Gilda who suggested that they take a tour of the village, see more of the community that their medicine and technology would benefit, and John's first instinct to politely decline was overruled by the significant look Teyla sent him before he could even open his mouth and by the sight of an expression of horrified reluctance on McKay's face. With a wide smile, John summoned all his charm and told Gilda that he and his team would be delighted to accept. The glare that McKay sent him across the width of the table made it all worthwhile.
The village was quite extensive, with several interconnecting streets branching off the main thoroughfare, each of them lined with more of the oddly contrasting buildings; brightly coloured, cheerful coatings on solid, fortified construction. The sun still shone warmly in a clear blue sky and Gilda was an entertaining and informative guide, taking great pride in showing them the mechanics of their farming community – the blacksmith, the grain store, even a water-powered mill – together with the infrastructure of the village. They had a small school where the village children were taught basic lettering, along with the practical crafts and skills that would assure their contribution to the village's future, and even a small building dedicated to use as an infirmary. It was a beautiful day to be out walking in the countryside and John found that, despite his initial reservations, he was enjoying himself, his thoughts wandering once again back to long, lazy summer days in Kansas.
As they finished up the tour back at the Council Hall, John was starting to feel unaccountably uncomfortable and he realised belatedly that there was a reason why he was reminded so forcibly of his Uncle's ranch. There was a certain something in the air, a kind of charge that tickled at his memory, telling him that he knew this, he recognised this. The sun was still high in the sky but he suddenly felt cold, a shiver running through him. He looked around. The crowd of Council members, villagers and children that had accompanied them on the tour were laughing and talking, Teyla in the thick of it, even Ronon smiling tolerantly. Rodney looked fed up but then, this was Rodney.. No-one else seemed to have picked up on whatever was bothering him.
He shaded his eyes to gaze up at the sky. Not a cloud in sight.. and yet..
Something seemed different to him, seemed somehow off. He pulled off his shades and looked up once again, squinting against the bright sunlight. Was he just imagining it or was there a yellowish cast to the sky? He shivered again, feeling a sudden gust of wind ruffle his hair. Now that he didn't imagine. He looked back at the laughing crowd of villagers and back at the sky. He wasn't imagining that yellow tinge either.
Absorbed in his thoughts, he drifted away from the crowd, craning his neck to stare at the sky as his steps took him out into the middle of the main street. For a moment he stood alone, gazing upwards, and then he felt a presence at his shoulder.
"Problem?" Ronon asked briefly.
Still staring upwards, John answered distractedly, his attention focused on the odd feeling that he just couldn't shake. "I dunno," he murmured. "Something's not…"
His words trailed off as, in an instant, the vague feeling coalesced sharply into recognition, into understanding. He snapped his head around to look at Ronon just as a sudden breath of wind lifted his friend's dreadlocks from his shoulders. With a growing sensation of dread lying heavy in his stomach, John turned to look at the buttresses shoring up the solid stone walls of the Council Hall and then back at the slowly darkening sky above the southern horizon. In the distance, a field of tall crops bowed and rippled as a strong wind washed across its surface.
"Sheppard?"
"Oh, no…"
Praying that he was wrong, telling himself that this was an alien planet in another galaxy and the weather systems were bound to work entirely differently here and that he was worrying needlessly, John turned on his heel and jogged urgently over to the chattering crowd, pushing through the throng, ignoring Teyla's look of concern, to pull Enir quietly to the side.
"John Sheppard. Is.. is something wrong?" The Councillor was quick to pick up on John's change in demeanour, the growing sense of urgency that made his question come out quicker and harsher than he'd intended.
"Enir, your houses, this village – why do you fortify them?"
"Fortify?" Enir was confused, as much by the sudden intensity of John's mood as by the question.
"The buttresses." John pointed at the stout sloping stanchions supporting the Council Hall. "You build your houses strong, solid, with buttresses to support the walls. Why?"
He saw understanding grow in the other man's eyes and Enir's face was grave as he replied seriously, "The roundwind."
John's heart sank into his boots.
"Roundwind? What's that?" Rodney, hovering nearby, had picked up on their conversation and his voice carried. Suddenly the crowd of people was alive with babble, some people looking fearfully about them, some voices risen high with fear, "Roundwind? Roundwind comes?", and still others rushing to tell their tales to the visitors.
"It comes in summer when the air is hot and dry," a young woman told Teyla earnestly, her eyes wide.
"It destroys everything in its path," cried a fearful voice.
"Sometimes as wide as the Council Hall and reaching up as far as the eye can see!" a child babbled excitedly.
John tuned out the chatter of voices and turned to Enir to confirm his worst fears. "We build our houses strong, John Sheppard, to withstand the roundwind."
Shit. He could feel it now, thrumming through his body like electricity. The anticipation, the charge in the air; the knowledge of the storm to come. He looked around at the village, at the brightly coloured houses and the farm-folk in their embroidered clothing, the children laughing and chattering in the street, and up at the yellow-tinged sky. He grabbed the Councillor by the shoulders. "Enir," he urged, "you have to get everyone inside."
The man's face betrayed his shock, his confusion. "What?"
"It's coming, Enir. Roundwind is coming."
"What's a roundwind?" McKay was frowning now, Teyla and Ronon sharing an uncertain look. They didn't understand; they didn't see the signs.
"Think about it, McKay!" he snapped. "We're standing in the middle of wide-open plains, nothing but grassland for miles and miles, just like in the mid-west of America. The plains breed odd weather systems, Rodney. These people build fortified houses and they live in the middle of the grasslands and the roundwind comes in the summer months… They're talking about tornadoes, McKay!"
Ronon and Teyla may not have been familiar with the word but they gathered enough from Rodney's horrified expression to realise that John's fears were not something to be taken lightly. The excited chatter of the crowd had died down as John's voice had risen and now the children were silent, unease on the villagers' faces as they turned to Enir for guidance.
The Councillor tried to reassure them, explaining to John, "We build our houses strong as a precaution, John Sheppard, but the roundwind breeds out on the plains. It is rare that one ever approaches the village.."
John shook his head stubbornly. "It's coming, Enir. You have to get your people to safety."
Enir's face was doubtful and he opened his mouth to disagree when a sudden gust of wind swept down the main street, rattling windows and whipping hair and clothes as it passed. It was gone in an instant but in that moment it seemed the sky had abruptly darkened and Enir's gaze met John's in shared realisation and horror. For a long drawn-out second, it seemed to John that time slowed down and that moment of heart-stopping fear stretched out into an eternity. Then time sped up and everything was chaos as Enir turned and bellowed at the top of his voice, "Roundwind!! Everyone to the shelters! Roundwind comes!!"
People screamed, children cried and villagers ran in panic, the crowd scattering in an instant. From behind the Council Hall a bell began to clang loudly, warning the village. Voices carried the message from street to street, "Roundwind! Roundwind comes!!" The wind picked up again, carrying the panicked voices aloft, whipping through the streets and buffeting the villagers.
Enir's richly embroidered clothes fluttered around him as he turned to Sheppard and his team. "Come. We must take shelter!!" The streets were emptying around them, villagers running in every direction, and up and down the street Sheppard could see burly young men throwing open sets of heavy wooden doors built into the foundations of buildings, beckoning to the terrified villagers who, one by one, in groups of twos and threes, began to stream between the reinforced doors, disappearing downwards and out of view. Storm shelters, he realised. They had built underground storm shelters.
"Come, John Sheppard!" Gilda was at his side, her hand on his arm urging him forward, and he and his team followed a small cluster of Councillors down the main street, heading towards the nearest shelter. The wind pushed at them as they ran, like a hot gust of breath pressing down on them. John pushed aside the fear that threatened to choke him and matched his pace to Rodney's, a hand on the scientist's shoulder pushing him along. Teyla and Ronon were a just few feet in front of him, the Satedan helping to support an elderly Councillor as the man stumbled. The light seemed to drain from the afternoon sky and John chanced a look over his shoulder to see that the sky to the south had turned black, heavy clouds swirling in the sky. The wind picked up dust from the dirt street and flung it into his face and he coughed, blinking his eyes as he turned back to the front.
The streets were almost empty now, all up down the street the last stragglers disappearing from sight, heavy doors slamming as the shelters were closed and the doors secured from the inside. The open doors to the shelter were close, the young man assigned to be guardian of that shelter beckoning them onward urgently. John heard, felt in his bones, something like a deep rumbling growl, as if an angry predator had awoken, and, unwillingly, he slowed his step and turned his head in time to see the funnel form from the gathering clouds, dropping slowly, almost elegantly, down to earth to touch ground south of the village. In an instant the lower half of the twister was lost from view as a spray of debris was kicked up into the air, the tornado tearing through crop fields as it approached the town.
"Sheppard! Come on!"
He realised with surprise that he'd stopped running, was standing in the street like a fool, mesmerised by the approaching destruction. He turned to find Rodney waiting for him, hunched against the sting of the growing wind, gesturing frantically for him to get a move on. Beyond him, Ronon and Teyla were swept along with the group of Councillors, each of them helping to support a frightened villager as they disappeared down the steps into the shelter. As John ran to follow them, a high, frightened wail whipped by on the wind and he spun around frantically, searching for the source of the sound.
There. Behind him, down by the school. A small child, standing alone in the street, tears running down her face as she looked helplessly around her. All the nearby shelter doors were all closed. Behind the child, the tornado grew in size as it chewed through field after field of crops, rapidly bearing down on the village. He didn't have time to think; he was acting on instinct, his feet moving almost before he realised he was running, sprinting back down the street towards the terrified child. The guardian of an open shelter yelled at him as he ran past, gesturing frantically for him to come in, and he thought for a moment that he heard McKay calling his name.
The street seemed to have stretched to twice its normal length and the twister rose and grew and towered over him as he ran straight towards it. The wind was howling now, dust and grit stinging his eyes and burning his skin. He could hear the low, angry rumble of the vortex as it spun inexorably towards the defenceless village. He didn't stop running as he reached the child, simply snatched her into his arms and kept moving, cradling her to his chest as he ran. He knew without looking that the shelter doors were closed and barred; there was no time to turn and run back, the beast was already upon them.
He ducked into the nearest building, instinct guiding him into a downstairs room where he skidded across the floor, flinging himself and the child into a corner, dropping to his knees to shelter her with his body as his ears popped and the pressure dropped. He pressed himself into the wall, the child keening and wailing against his chest as the door ripped open and a raging wind tore through the room. The next instant, the full force of the storm hit and he knew nothing more.
TBC...