Stargate Atlantis: Latitude

Chapter 4 - The village

"Primitive stage of development," said Rodney peering down the hill, his hand held up to shade his eyes.

A cluster of small, round dwellings lay on the near side of a lake. They were similar to igloos, except stone-built and slightly conical in shape. People could be seen moving in between the houses, smoke was rising from cooking fires and out on the lake were a couple of simple rafts. There were wooden frames near the shore which, John guessed, were for drying fish.

"Should we carry on until we find a Starbucks?" suggested John.

"I didn't mean that, Sheppard! I just meant they look hunter-gatherer to me. No crops, no animal enclosures."

"I wonder what they hunt," said John. "I hope it's something you get steaks from." His stomach rumbled at the thought.

They carried on down the hill, folds of land hiding the village from view and concealing their approach, until the trail joined a rough track which followed the line of a river; to their right, higher up the valley and to the left, toward the village. There was a boy sitting with his back to them, legs dangling over the river bank. He wore clothes of rough animal fur, warm-looking but crudely stitched.

John prepared to give him a friendly smile and introduce himself and Rodney, but at the sound of their approach the boy looked around, his expression changed to one of horror and he scrambled to his feet and ran along the path to the village, yelling inarticulately.

"Oh, well, that was a good start!" said Rodney.

"He was just a kid," said John. "It's not surprising he was frightened."

They carried on along the path until they came to the cluster of stone dwellings they had seen from the hillside. The village was deserted. Cooking fires had been left untended, hides left pegged out on the ground, tools for scraping them clean abandoned.

"Where'd they all go?" Rodney said, turning on his heel.

"They're inside the houses," John whispered. "They're watching us." He raised his voice: "We don't want to hurt you!" He spread his arms, palms out, trying to look non-threatening. "We're just passing through!" John heard a thud and a cry behind him and turned to find Rodney holding his head, blood seeping from between his fingers. A large stone lay on the ground.

"What the...?" He began backing out of the village, herding Rodney behind him with one hand.

A whizzing sound and a stone hit John hard on his elbow, sending pain shooting down his arm.

"Go Rodney!" He turned, abandoning his attempt to reason with the villagers and pulling Rodney back down the path.

He felt another stone hit his back and others flew past his head. Incomprehensible jeering shouts broke out and, with a hurried glance over his shoulder, John saw the people, clad in a variety of rough animal skins, had come out of their houses and were following them, stones in their hands.

They ran, back along the track, pursued by well-aimed missiles and guttural yells, until John spotted a place where they could cross the river. He steered Rodney down the river bank and they were across, up the other side and away before the villagers could catch up with them. They had run a couple of hundred yards toward the far side of the valley before John realised they were no longer being pursued.

"Slow down, McKay, they've stopped following us!"

Rodney stumbled to a halt. "They have?"

"Yeah, they stopped at the river bank."

"Why did they attack us?" said Rodney, upset and confused. "We clearly had no weapons, we weren't being aggressive, we just needed help!"

"I think they were just frightened, Rodney," said John. "They must have had strangers come who did hurt them."