Day One Hundred-Six

"Color me confused, but what's this got to do with anything?" Paige crosses her arms and gives John a challenging look.

Anbur is gently guiding Rodney towards the Arch, while Rodney keeps looking over his shoulder at John. He gives Rodney a quick thumbs-up. "Just watch." Anbur breaks the rules with impunity and ushers Rodney through the Arch, it flashes brightly and the bell-like gong sounds.

"Wow." Paige eyes the Arch with a quizzical look on her face.

"It's Ancient tech. Whether or not it was originally intended to be a gene detector, that's how they're using it. The ATA gene is pretty important to the Qaroptimat."

"And?"

Elizabeth answers. "Shaaziya swears that she doesn't have the gene, and yet now she lights the Arch. It's how we figured out she was pregnant to begin with."

"Interesting. You saw it?"

"John, as well. Rodney was too busy futzing with the scanner to notice."

"Very interesting. Shaaziya didn't tell me any of this. I wonder why she was so secretive."

They watch as the rest of the team enters the temple courtyard; Lorne lights the arch as brightly as Anbur and Rodney combined.

"I wouldn't know." John stands stock still for a moment, as he considers crossing under the Arch. Shaaziya wasn't the only one with a secret. If he walks through, he'll give his away; there are too many here that saw the Arch's before effect, and none that have seen the after effect. Elizabeth and Paige take their turn under the silent arch, leaving John alone outside the temple walls.

"Well, here goes nothing." John saunters through as if he doesn't care, and when the Arch nearly explodes with light and sound, his face slides into a calculatedly innocent 'Did I do that?' expression.

No one moves or speaks; the strength of the Arch's reaction effectively stuns everyone in the vicinity into stillness. The Arch has called the temple's Abnepa out, John sees them gathering at the top of the stairs; Shaaziya's standing with them. They begin their descent as Rodney recovers from the shock. "Sheppard, what the hell just happened?"

John just shrugs. "You got me, Rodney."

"I thought Carson was being particularly cryptic when he said that you were just more you, so this is what he meant..."

John turns away as his team begins babbling to one another. Anbur touches John very lightly on the shoulder. "Now I understand, Zuhair too willing to give away the nixat. This is some of your fear, yes?"

John pitches his voice low. "Yeah." He is not looking at the flagstones, not looking for evidence of the moment he changed.

"Very frightening. Too much to know."

"Yeah, that's about right."

"You accept, they believe—very good advice I give to you."

"If it was only that easy."

Zuhair reaches them, stops a few short steps away from John and then folds to his knees, holding the obeisance for a long count. Every Qaroptimat in the vicinity does likewise, including Shaaziya.

The act of deference makes John terribly uncomfortable and it's as if he can sense the wave of devotion shimmering around him. John's about to shiver out of his skin, it feels like he's covered in ants. The sensation fades to a vague itch as they stand, but he can feel the potential in the air.

John thought he'd known what Zuhair's mask was concealing on board the Daedalus, but now that it's gone, it reveals only a scary devotion. "Exspectata recipero templum hospitium, John Shepherd." Zuhair welcomes him with a low bow, but he doesn't avoid John's eyes like Shaaziya does.

"Morning." John's reluctant to say more, afraid he'll scream and rant and rave, 'What have you done to me!' but the only threat here is to his sanity.

Zuhair turns to Elizabeth, "Dr. Weir, exspectata."

Anbur steps in smoothly and deals with Zuhair, while John exchanges a dumbfounded look with Elizabeth and Rodney. He's sort of wondering when the ax is going to fall, but Zuhair's visible sincerity is hard to put aside.

"Come, we will rest. A meal will be served." Anbur lays a hand on John's back, holding it there as they walk across the broad plaza.

John misses the comforting weight of his sidearm more than ever, but he deliberately follows Zuhair. As he passes by, John watches Rodney greet Shaaziya with a furtive kiss as they hug and fall in behind John as they walk towards the temple stairs.

Zuhair leads them to his private study, bids them to sit, rest and be comfortable, and then leaves the room. As John slides into the room almost sideways, he glances at the door he'd ineffectively banged on. He feels like a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs, and he knows he has got to get a grip.

The room is nothing like he expected. It's not a large room; the walls are plain, and whitewashed and a faded, old threadbare carpet covers the floor. The windows bear the familiar filigreed shutters, filtering the sun into patterned shadows across the room. Heavy books, bound in leather, are stacked on every flat surface, and thick sheets of soft paper, pots of ink and brushes are on a table that serves as a desk.

Surprisingly, Tazim is already there. The team finds places to sit among the low sofas, chairs and tables, and there are a few large pillows on the floor for lounging. A corner of the room is screened from view, but John's pretty sure he knows what's behind it, a statue of Qaral, or probably his son, Qaralyn. He does not go look at it. John sits in a chair near Tazim and watches his team. They look as uncomfortable as he feels, though his ants-all-over feeling is now a low, ebbing pulse that throbs in time with his heartbeat.

Tazim pours a glass of tea from a battered pot of chased brass, and John recognizes it, Tazim's own from lunch yesterday. Tazim sips from the glass and then offers it to John. He takes it, grateful for the reassuring gesture as Tazim begins to pour and pass out tea for everyone. It's obvious to John that this get-together was engineered from the beginning. No one wants to break the silence, and they drink Tazim's tea in the cool, quiet morning.

They don't wait very long; soon Zuhair bustles into the room, followed by servers bearing large trays heaped with steaming food. John's itchy feeling ramps up again. Damp towels are provided for their hands as the trays are placed on the tables, and then the servers collect the towels and bow their way out of the room backwards.

John ruthlessly pushes the sensation out of his mind; he cannot live like this. Instead he concentrates on the meal. It's similar to those they'd had in N'vellesem, huge wheels of flat bread heaped with stewed meats and vegetables, and one of them is Tazim's spicy rice.

Tazim deftly tears a piece of the bread from the edge and scoops a bite with it, transporting it to his mouth without spilling so much as a drop. Anbur does the same with the second tray of stew, and Zuhair repeats it with the third and last. John gets the message, if there's going to be a betrayal, it won't be from poisoned food and drink. All of John's people are looking to him for their cue, and he tips his head towards the food, reaching for the nearest tray.

He's not so coordinated as Tazim, never got the hang of not spilling, so John holds one hand underneath to catch the drips. Everyone digs in at that point, despite the peanut butter sandwiches.

Rodney's the one that can't contain himself, "Oh god, real food. Ze'omlat kavela, thank you."

Tazim beams at Rodney's pleasure, and remarks on it.

John translates almost automatically, "He says basically, that our pleasure is his, and that is thanks enough."

"Is this what you were going on about yesterday?" Elizabeth asks.

"Yes, I could live on this. I might even consider learning how to make it."

"Whoa, McKay, you're ruining my image of you, stop!" Cadman grins at him as she pops a bite into her mouth.

Elizabeth fully breaks the ice and speaks to Zuhair, and he tentatively smiles in return. It's Shaaziya's smile, or it's rather that she has Zuhair's smile. Conversations begin to buzz in a multitude of languages, everyone intent on trying to ignore the vast hurts of the recent past.

They're still there though, in the background like the proverbial pink elephant. It's a deep, festering wound in John's soul and a single meal isn't going to engender the kind of forgiveness he'll require to absolve Zuhair of his crime. John's not sure what will be enough, or what form it might take. He can only get through each minute as it comes.

A thread of conversation pulls John out of his thoughts. "...about the students, Baariq and Dara?"

"They enjoy the same. Many in Ayse will take in viator and provide them with food, as custom."

"That means we've left Sabat out there without lunch? We should bring some of this to her." Elizabeth switches to Ancient and informs Zuhair of the quandary and he assures her that no one has been left hungry.

The servers come to remove the trays and leave in their place a small tray of the chokingly sweet allmas nuts. John passes and says "Too sweet," when Tazim eyes him.

He watches as Anbur passes them up, but Zuhair greedily snags two and eats them with the same relish as Tazim. John figures it's the equivalent of fruitcake—you like it or you don't. His team tries them out, and they're pretty evenly divided into the two groups.

The conversation goes on in fits and starts, but John's not paying attention. He's physically and emotionally exhausted and he has no desire to try and rest under this particular roof, and he's not sure that that he could rest in this place. He's horrified by the idea that Zuhair will put him in the room that he'd awakened in last time.

John stands up abruptly. "I need to go and check up on Sabat. Ze'omlat kavela, thank you for the meal, it was very nice."

Anbur fixes him with an apprising look. "I will stay, watch. They are safe."

"I was hoping that you'd say that. Look, I appreciate everything, Anbur," John's voice goes ragged and unsteady, "but I've just about had all of the healing that I can take right now."

"Just so." Anbur tips his head slightly towards the door.

Lorne gets up from his pillow on the floor. "I think I'll go with the Colonel." He bows to their hosts and thanks them with a flair that surprises John.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth asks. He can hear the uncertainty in her voice. John looks around and sees various expressions of surprise and concern.

He hates that he's so transparent; his normal Joe Cool guise is in tatters, leaving him feeling naked and defenseless. He pulls the remaining shreds together with an, "I'm fine," and leaves his team behind.

Lorne's right behind him, coming abreast as John pauses at the top of the temple stairs. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

He glances at Lorne before sliding on his sunglasses. The formality surprises John; he thought they'd gotten past it. John says, "Sure," even though he knows that Lorne's about to read him the riot act for bailing. God knows he deserves it.

"Everyone on the Daedalus was really afraid of you when you came back, because you acted like nothing had happened. They weren't sure that you were human, because if it had been them? They'd be terrified."

John's hiding behind his sunglasses, and all he says is, "Huh," as he starts down the stairs. He'd thought that he'd been reassuring, trying to behave as normally as possible; that no one wanted to see a commanding officer have a melt down, but once again he's proven wrong.

The midday sun is vicious, the flagstones of the courtyard are reflecting the light and heat and it's going to be a bitch to find a shady place to sleep. John stops short of the Qaralyn Arch. "You don't have to come with me."

"I know."

"Thanks, though."

Lorne tries out his phrase. "Ze'omlat kavela."

John bumps his shoulder. "The food is blessed?"

"You're kidding me."

"Nope." John walks under the arch, signaling to one and all that the Quaralyn has left the temple.

~*~

True to Zuhair's word, there's already a water jug and an empty plate next to Sabat as she studies in the shade of a tent. John tells her she can go now, but she declines. He shrugs and drops down onto the rug beside her. Lorne sits on her other side, and John falls asleep to the sound of lessons being recited aloud.

John drags awake in the late afternoon. Sabat is gone, but Lorne is still there, looking over a practice book. John sits up and scrubs a hand over his hair and face.

Lorne looks at him closely. "Hey. Feel better?"

"Yeah." He thinks about it for a moment. "Definitely."

Lorne tosses an MRE at him, and John catches it. "It was McKay's turn to cook."

John smiles as he tears the top off the bag and pours out the contents onto the carpet. "I wonder what we'll do when Rodney trades it all away."

"Probably say thank you."

"Yeah. Where is everyone?"

"McKay's still at the temple with Shaaziya, the rest are around here somewhere. They showed up about an hour ago."

"Why is he still there?"

"Rumor has it that he had a big row with Shaaziya, and that he'll catch up later." Lorne's knowing look adds the unsaid 'after a round of wild makeup sex.'

"I see." John's not hungry. He shoves everything back into the MRE bag and stands up. "We should start packing up."

"Anbur said we're not leaving until late, there's a send off party in the works for tonight. If we want to take a bath, he'll make the arrangements. I know I could use one."

"You didn't have to stay, you know."

Lorne gives him a wide smile. "Sure I did. Don't worry about it," he holds up a lesson book, "Sabat scrounged up the Peragro version of Dick and Jane, and she got me all the way though their alphabet."

"Cool. Check in yet?" John looks around the camp, thinking that it'll be dark soon.

"Elizabeth took care of it." Lorne is eying him carefully.

John's starting to feel seriously coddled. He briefly considers calling again anyway, but decides that it's not immediately critical. "Next time, we need to make sure that Caldwell knows that the rains are coming, and the Daedalus is sitting in a riverbed."

"Crap. What time frame are we looking at?"

"Anbur was a little vague, couple of weeks, or maybe a couple of months. I don't think there's anything they can do about it, but being prepared is better than nothing."

"Yeah, okay. I'll remember that."

John glances up at the sky. "Anyway, I guess we should find Anbur and see about that bath."

"Best idea I've heard all day."

They pick up fresh clothing, and Anbur leads them back into town, not to the temple but to a public bathhouse, and after paying a few lammincia to the attendant for the towels and soap, leaves them to their ablutions.

John's avoiding the sunset today, so they scrub clean with the pungent soft soap under an interesting, shower-like affair, and then lounge in the hot, faintly sulphuric water for what seems like hours. The day's sleep, and the bath leave John feeling almost normal again.

It's fully dark when they emerge from the bathhouse. Neither of the moons, Zieba or Aila, has shown its face, and the stars are brighter than John has ever seen them on Dominat, though they are still a dim wash of light across the sky underneath the twisting sheets of color that seem brighter than ever.

John can hear the cacophony of a party in full swing floating in from the desert, and as they pass through the gates of Ayse, John shuddering minutely with relief, the sound resolves into music and laughter.

The small mesla dung fires burn bright, blue and hot, and it seems like all of Ayse is at the camp. John thinks it's good to know that they aren't sour and standoffish all of the time.

"Looks like quite the party," Lorne remarks.

"Yeah, who knew they had it in them?"

Lorne gives his head a shake in the dim light. "Not me, sir."

John shakes his head, "Just give it a rest and call me John." He didn't feel very comfortable with the courtesies due his rank out here in the desert, not with the uncertainty roiling in his gut.

"Sure, John. Nice to meet you." Evan flashes John a wide grin that's barely visible in the dim starlight.

John chuckles, "Fair enough. Evan."

Flasks are being passed around the spectators, probably more ekal, while a large number of people are dancing among the fires. The music's provided by a handful of students on borrowed instruments, and Timmons has a harmonica cupped in his hands, doing a creditable job of catching the tune.

Anbur has Elizabeth on her feet, and he's teaching her the complicated steps to the dance in progress, but she's having a hard time keeping up. The band keeps upping the tempo and laughing when Elizabeth glares at them.

Someone's provided a number of chairs and carpets, but John just chooses a patch of sand on the outskirts to watch. Lorne sits next to him for a few minutes, until Sabat swings by and steals him away for a dance. Lorne humors her, like an uncle with a favored niece, and he shoots John a sheepish grin as she drags him off.

Cadman and Lu are doing their own thing, a perverted version of the hora and laughing about it, probably because neither of them actually know the dance. Shaaziya has Rodney doing an energetic, if somewhat graceless, version of what Anbur is trying to teach Elizabeth, and John smiles at the way Rodney's throwing himself into it.

John's not anxious to draw any attention to himself, doesn't want to ruin his relaxed glow with the creepy-crawly sensation when people worship him, because how stupid and insane is that?

If he thinks back, if this had been a regular mission with his regular team from Atlantis, he would've been in the thick of it—dancing with the pretty girls and talking with their hosts and possibly even drinking a little so as to not disappoint whoever he was trying to impress into trading or an alliance. Rodney would be the one sulking by the fire, muttering about a waste of time, or any number of his other voluminous complaints while John cajoled him into playing nice with the natives.

This feeling of wanting to hide, to avoid confrontation or engagement, is new, and he doesn't like it. He always has a bit of reserve, but generally he's a pretty outgoing guy. He resents the role that he's been thrust into and hates feeling off base and uncertain.

John eventually gets chilled from sitting so far from the fire and retrieves his jacket from the cart, fending off invitations to drink or dance. A cool wind is blowing down from the mountains, and John sits in the lee of the tent and waits for the festivities to be over.

It's late when the Ayse begin to pack up their chairs and extinguish fires, and the viator prepare to continue on their journey. Some of the townspeople wait to see them off, waving and yelling. Paige and Shaaziya are in that group, and John lets his glance slide away as Rodney gives Shaaziya a definitely not-public good bye kiss. John had completely forgotten that they were staying behind, and that lapse stings; he wonders if they'll walk back, who will escort them or if Caldwell will allow the use of precious resources to come and pick them up in a 302.

Zuhair is at the front with Anbur, Tazim and Elizabeth, so John's straggling at the end of the line, waiting for Rodney. He catches up and reassures John that Zuhair's ordered an escort for them back to the Daedalus, and as they begin their journey west, sticks close by John for the rest of the night.

There was a time, not so very long ago that John had wished for Rodney's company, and the way he could fill the silence. He knows that he's the one that pulled away, forcing the distance between them, telling himself that Rodney needed the time with Shaaziya during the first rush of passion. He feels a little betrayed by Rodney abandoning him for his one true love, and now that she's not here, John's the fall back, and it's irrational, but it pisses him off.

John's hasn't completely divorced himself from reality; he can hear that Rodney's sick and aching with worry, but he just doesn't want to hear about it right now, so he doesn't answer except in grunts and the occasional 'uh-huh'.

Ayse is at the edge of the mountains, and to the west there are tall, rocky canyons that seem to grow straight up out of the sand. They thread their way through red arroyos turned black by the shadows cast by Aila's pale light.

The cart engine suddenly whines down and goes silent as they are squeezing through a narrow spot one at a time.

John and his team stand on either end of the cart, and Rodney climbs over the back to kneel down in front of it, pulling the housing off and poking around, checking connections with a tiny flashlight. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" He stands up and gives a tire a vicious kick.

"Didn't plan on traveling at night?"

"No, I did, but the batteries are dead, because the charger shorted out. This should've been good for at least ten hours!"

"Can you fix it?"

"In the dark, without tools or spare parts?"

"Right." John picks up the handle and pulls, but it takes all of them, pushing and shoving and pulling, to heave the heavy cart out of the narrow passage.

It's one thing to carry a pack and walk, but John simply couldn't see dragging the cart for another hour or two, much less ten or fourteen days. "Sorry, Rodney, we're going to have to do this the old fashioned way."

"No, I'm sorry that it didn't work better."

"Good idea, though." John glances up and sees that the rest of the viator is pulling away. "Cadman, take a quick hike up front, tell Elizabeth we have a problem."

Cadman's already off at a quick jog. "You got it, sir."

"We'll leave it here, pack up every thing we can and leave the rest. We can pick it up on the way back, or have Caldwell send someone out for it." John starts to unpack the cart as he orders Timmons, "Drag those mesla over here."

Timmons brings the mesla, while Lu pitches in with John and Rodney, sorting their stuff into 'gotta have' and 'maybe' piles. Cadman returns with Anbur and Elizabeth.

"Ah, I see." Anbur calls out instructions to Basim and Muaz to bring more mesla and begins to pack in the extra stuff.

It only takes an hour to rearrange and redistribute their belongings, and drag the cart to a wider spot in the trail. The absence of the electric motor's low hum is shocking; John hadn't realized that it was that noisy.

The high canyon walls whisper their passage, breathy echoes bouncing back and forth as they slowly thread their way through, until it's finally too dark to see.

Both Aila and Zieba have set for the night, and the aurora's light doesn't quite reach down into the bottom, so they stop in the shadows of the high canyon walls. They huddle together with the mesla for warmth and wait for morning.

 

Day One Hundred-Seven

The lowland canyons at the edge of the desert give way to broad, rock-strewn paths in the foothills of the mountains.

John is still riding the wave of his freak-out in Ayse. He didn't want this; he didn't ask to be the Quaralyn. His somber mood leaves him taciturn and short, and Rodney tries several conversational gambits in an effort to draw John out, but John doesn't take the bait.

By midday, Rodney is tired of John's failure to communicate, so he's at the front with Elizabeth. She's in full diplomatic mode, wisely using the time with Zuhair to forge a mutually beneficial relationship. Tazim's fascinated with Elizabeth, and her short-sleeved shirt.

Behind him, Sabat is doing her best to flirt with Evan, who is doing his best to be charming and yet still keep her at arm's length without hurting her feelings.

Cadman, Lu and Timmons are taking pictures and horsing around with each other and the kids, who obviously idolize them. John can hear them cracking jokes and joshing each other. The students are still absolutely thrilled to be out on the road, and the endless walking hasn't yet put a dent in their boundless energy.

After a short rest stop, John ends up near the center of the viator, behind Rodney and Evan.

"I would guess that Sabat is only a year or two younger than Shaaziya."

Lorne gives Rodney a disgusted look, "McKay, you are such a cradle robber!"

McKay reddens. "Shaaziya is over twenty, that's what she told me."

"Whatever lets you sleep at night-oh, wait. Right," Lorne snickers.

John can see Rodney's neck flush with embarrassment as he insists, "Even if you recalculate her age into Earth years, she's still an adult at the age of consent. Besides, she was afraid I thought she was too old."

"Huh. Recalculate the years? I musta missed that memo, how do you figure that?"

"The satellite—using sensor array, we calculated the sidereal year. It's just two hundred sixty point two sixty five days..." Rodney trails off into explaining the formula, and John tunes it out.

God, even Rodney was starting to acclimatize and had formed a relationship. John looks to the front of their convoy as they head into a bend in the trail; Elizabeth is up front, doing her best to schmooze with Zuhair and fend off Tazim's admittedly charming advances.

He looks back, and Cadman, Lu and Timmons are coaxing the mesla along, chatting with the kids who have attached themselves to the Marines. In fact, everyone is occupied in conversation. Except him.

John just pulls into himself a little more, trudging along with his head down.

 

Day One Hundred-Eight

The narrow trail begins to wind upwards, and John notes that the hard climb has cut down on the conversation; no one has extra breath to waste on talking. They walk steadily with few breaks, until darkness falls. The narrow path opens up on a small meadow spotted with tiny purple flowers and a shallow brook running through it. The air is sweet with the scent of flowers, and the mesla grumble and snatch at the tough, grayish grass, shaking their heads at the clouds of vicious insects that swarm around them and sting their noses.

The bugs seem to be mostly attracted to the mesla, though everyone is slapping and swearing at the sharp bites when they are attacked. Anbur decides they'll stop for the night, and when John gives Anbur a dubious look, reassures him that the insects will disappear after dark.

John gets out his jacket and yanks the collar up close around his neck, even though it's still too warm.

They've got a bit of room to spread out, and John throws himself into helping set up camp for the evening, raising the tents with their odd, folding tent poles, and refilling canteens and water barrels from the tiny trickle of a stream. The mesla are relieved of their burdens and staked out a good distance from the camp, and there is the clatter and clink of pans and glass as fires are started, and a meal is assembled.

Elizabeth tosses in an armful of MREs and power bars as a treat for those who aren't familiar with them, and a godsend to those of the Expedition. The steady diet of rich, fatty stews of grain and dried meat has had them reaching for the Pepto-Bismol tablets, and occasionally frantically looking for a quiet place to relieve themselves.

To John's utter relief, Anbur's prediction is born out, and the flies disappear as soon as it's dark.

The night sky in the mountains, though clearer than the desert, still sports only a dim wash of stars, and the aurora is more vivid than ever. Rodney had explained the reason for this in one of his long, drawn out science lessons on the trail, but John had tuned him out, and he wasn't going to go back and ask for the explanation.

Duty dispensed, John sits by the tiny blue fire. It's cold enough that he considers retrieving his sleeping bag and wrapping up in that, too.

The camp chatters and rustles around him, while he stares at the incredible display in the heavens, eating when Anbur thrusts a bowl into his hands with a friendly pat on the shoulder.

After dinner, Lorne has the first-aid kit open, passing out Tylenol, calamine lotion, antibiotic ointment and Band-Aids and making sure that Rodney and Elizabeth's blistered feet are clean and dry, and that no one else requires first aid. John takes a couple of bandages when offered, but he doesn't feel like injecting himself into the cozy, domestic scene.

It has only taken four days for the Expedition and the locals to bond together through the common experience, changing from two disparate groups with vastly differing customs into a cohesive family group, but John doesn't feel particularly sociable. Lorne doesn't seem to mind that John's not very talkative, and sits next to him with his bowl.

He's still mulling over his various experiences in Ayse, but especially the last one. The itchy ant feeling has almost completely dissipated, and his freak out has eased down a few notches, but the episode has left him feeling uneasy and wary.

 

Day One Hundred-Nine - One Hundred-Twelve

John falls into the rhythm of the journey. Walk all day and, at night, either camp out, or take advantage of the facilities offered by the next village. The village is so small that it doesn't even have a name, and John is pleased to discover that the villagers don't seem to give him the dreaded itchy feeling.

The viator still have to camp out, but they are treated kindly; offered food and water in return for news and gossip.

They leave the nameless, wide spot in the road behind and continue their journey upwards, towards the sky and the tall, forbidding peaks that loom over them.

 

Day One Hundred-Thirteen

He didn't think he'd slept very well, the effects of the high, thin air disturbing his rest, but upon awaking, John discovers that it has snowed overnight; just a light layer that quickly disappears in the hot sun, but the melt-water makes the narrow path slippery and treacherous. The viator trudge grimly upward, and the thinner air at the high altitude has them struggling to breathe.

John has sunburns on his sunburns, and his feet are blistered raw and sore, his thighs and calves are straining and complaining at the constantly upward journey. He looks into the far distance above, and they are still miles and miles away from the top of the pass.

Basim, the youngest student, is already suffering from altitude sickness, and a mesla's pack is redistributed so that he can ride. Timmons walks next to Basim, to keep him upright, and Cadman hovers close, exhorting him to drink more water.

One good thing about the extreme exertion is that it has shut Rodney up. John appreciates that he's the smartest man in the galaxy, but dear god, is there nothing he won't pontificate upon?

He is worried about Rodney though, he's red in the face from more than the multiple sunburns he’s sustained despite his sunblock, and John can hear him wheezing heavily while doggedly putting one foot in front of the other.

They are all in the same condition, even Anbur. John is pissed that Anbur had made light of the difficulty of the mountain passage, but Anbur probably hadn't wanted to scare them off, though if he'd known ahead of time he would have made room for an oxygen tank.

Late that night they finally reach the village of Akhlatan, and the town's people throw open their doors. Basim is hustled off to be cared for, though the town has no healer, they are familiar with the mountain sickness and have ways to deal with it.

The opportunity to bathe in the chilly stream is welcome by everyone. John is surprised when Sabat strips down among the men without hesitation and wades into the shallow, freezing water. Elizabeth and Cadman shrug at each other and follow Sabat's lead. John carefully turns his back to shuck off his clothing. He thinks it's too cold for anything but a quick wash, but the boys play in it, splashing and fighting. Surprisingly, Zuhair is in the thick of the mock battle, grinning and laughing.

Dinner is simple but festive. The food is plain and precious bottles of ekal are brought out to share. Lorne puts the last jar of peanut butter out and encourages everyone to try it, and when the last bit is scraped from the bottom of the canister, he and Cadman cheer and do a complicated version of a high five.

John's dogged refusal to talk leaves everyone, especially Rodney, confused and upset. John knows it's a problem, but he's struggling to deal with the fact that the rumor of his resurrection has preceded them; indeed it seems that hardly a single person on the planet hasn't heard. The villagers, all of them, want something from him. Usually it's just to stand near him and, appallingly, to breathe the same air while he eats.

Some of them are worse than others, and his creepy-crawly feeling flares when they breathlessly adore the Quaralyn, to John's ever increasing agitation. Sabat, Lorne and Elizabeth do their best to run interference against the attentions of the more insistent devotees, and John is quietly, deeply grateful.

Under Anbur's unhappy watch, John withdraws further and further away, pulling in as he struggles with his unwanted, undeserved, notoriety.

 

Day One Hundred-Fifteen

The days and nights begin to meld together: struggle along the path worn down into the rocks and dirt from the passage of man and beast over the untold thousands of anam, camp out at night, or partake of the hospitality offered by the villages that are strung out along their path, like beads on an unseen string.

They are well past the tree line, and as they cling to the narrow trail carved into the broad white cliffs, the panorama that spreads out below is breathtaking.

The pass over the mountains is still many days ahead of them, and John doesn't look forward to it, just keeps putting one foot in front of the other. Anbur maintains a slow pace, not only to allow them to acclimatize to the altitude, but because this particular passage is dangerous.

They travel in single file, stretched out along the rutted pathway, almost brushing against the cliff wall, away from the crumbling edge of the deep cliff to the left. The flies are back; there must be more of those purple flowers nearby.

John is behind a mesla that's led by Muaz, when the mesla suddenly shies away from a biting fly and squeaks loudly, stumbling over the loose rocks near the crumbling edge that begins to break away under its weight.

Muaz tries to rein the creature in, away from the disintegrating rim of the trail, but it's instantly obvious to John what is about to happen. He grabs onto Muaz and holds him tightly, and yanks the lead out of his hand just as the struggling mesla gives a last terrified squeak and plunges over the edge, falling into the deep ravine below. John carefully peers over the edge, but the poor thing has already disappeared from view, though he can hear its body crashing down the slope, bouncing off trees and rocks.

Everyone stops, and questions are being shouted out, passed down the line from one person to the next. John holds the trembling boy close and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Master Anbur will be so angry with me!" Muaz starts to cry, and shudder.

"No, you're safe—that's what matters." John shouts out, "It was a mesla, we lost a mesla!"

John hopes that they reach a stopping point soon, because now he's shaking with how close it had been, that they could have lost more than a mesla.

Lorne puts a hand on John's shoulder pushes him up against the inside wall and hands him a canteen, then deftly extracts Muaz from John's tight grasp. "Here, are you okay?"

"Son of a bitch, that was close." John turns the canteen up and drinks, trying to remember what that mesla was carrying. "I'm okay." John passes the word up the line that everyone is okay, and that they're ready to start moving again.

Everyone hugs the wall a little closer, as they begin to move.

 

Day One Hundred-Sixteen - One Hundred-Eighteen

The pass over the mountains is visible now, and they continue their steady progress at a snail's pace. Most of them have slowly acclimatized to the altitude, but Rodney and Elizabeth, already at risk because of their various respiratory issues of the last few months, are exhibiting symptoms of respiratory distress, headaches and fatigue.

Anbur stops when they reach a suitable camping spot, and brews a strong tisane from the bag of herbs that the Ahklatani homeopath had given him. They've all been taking a little of the medicine at morning and at night in their regular tea, but the concoction that he makes them drink now is thick and bitter. He insists that Rodney and Elizabeth chew on the strained leaves.

Elizabeth looks white as a sheet, but Rodney is red in the face from the small capillaries that have broken along his cheeks and nose. They are both coughing, though neither has reached the point of producing any fluid, the worst sign of altitude sickness, because it means that there's actual damage to the lungs, and serious medical intervention is required. John doesn't want to let it get to that point.

He kneels in front of Elizabeth, as she nibbles the soggy herbs. "There isn't anywhere for a 302 to land. We should turn around and go back, Elizabeth."

"No, we need to do this, you need to do this. We'll go on."

"If I have to go on, that doesn't necessarily mean that you have to. You and Rodney could go back to the last village, and wait. I'm sure they'd be fine with it, and I'll send Cadman with you."

"I'd rather try and go on. It's important that we complete the pilgrimage, it's not just a healing journey for you, but a rite of passage for all of us." She holds up the empty cup. "This does seem to help."

John shakes his head. "Well, it was worth a shot."

"I appreciate the thought, John. Thank you."

While they've only ever broken into the regular first aid kit, Paige had left her medical kit behind. "Lorne, figure out where Cole's emergency kit is, we must have something in there." He knows it's here somewhere; they'd done a pretty thorough inventory after the mesla went over the cliff.

"I'm on it." John and Evan dig through the packs of four or five mesla before Evan unearths the aluminum case. He brings it to John and they dig through it, looking for anything that will help.

Rodney rolls over and glares at them. "Injectable steroids, Sheppard. That's what you're looking for. And Acetazolamide, though we should have been taking that for a while for it to really work properly, it should help."

"If you knew that, why didn't you say anything sooner?" Of all the times for Rodney to lose his natural state of hypochondria.

Rodney just shrugs and resolutely puts his head down, chewing vigorously. John wonders if it's because Rodney has something to prove to Zuhair, trying to impress Shaaziya's father. He slowly shakes his head at the new, and improved Rodney's back.

In the morning, Rodney and Elizabeth both swear that they're good to go. They both seem okay, if a little high. It's kind of funny, but John inquires about the nature of the trail ahead, and Anbur thinks it will be fine, no more precipitous ledges. They decide to go ahead; the pass over the mountains is just a day or two away.

 

 

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