Bond by stella_pegasi // Team Atlantis World Building Project
Title: Bond
Author: stella_pegasi
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Genre(s): Friendship, humor
Rating: PG
Character/Pairing: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, Elizabeth Weir
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Het/Slash/Gen: Gen
Word count: 3,770
Disclaimer: I do not own them, I would have treated them better.
Summary: Visiting a new ally on a world full of surprises, the team faces a ritual before negotiations for important, and unique, Ancient technology can continue.
This was written for the World Building Challenge on stargateland. Each team was challenged to create a world for their fandom. A proud member of teamatlantis, we created a world called Centia. Centia was once home of an Ancient tower, and although the Ancients are long gone, their technology lives on in very unusual ways. For the full experience of Centia, please visit one of the web pages listed below. teamatlantis would love to hear what you think of our world. Be sure to check out stargateland for teamsg1 and teamuniverse’s wonderful worlds.
leesa_perrie’s website
Centia
Special thanks to leesa_perrie for hosting teamatlantis’s members work on her site. Extra special thanks to fellow teammates at teamatlantis for being so awesome!
BOND
By stella_pegasi
Dr, Elizabeth Weir forced herself to take a deep breath, and then immediately regretted doing so. Thick, humid air, air that seemingly had a mass of its own, filled her lungs. She was hot; the sleeveless shirt she was wearing clung to her, resembling wet tissue instead of cotton.
Elizabeth was returning to the pavilion the Centians had offered them for repose. Attached to the pavilion by a covered walkway, was another structure, similar in size that provided privacy for sleeping and bathing. Climbing the steps to the lounge area, she found Dr. McKay, sitting lotus style on one of the over-sized, soft-cushioned chairs scattered around the space. Hovered over his pad, the scientist glanced up when he heard her footsteps.
With an impish look on his face, he asked, “How was your morning conversing with the council?”
Flashing an aggravated glare at Rodney, she sank down onto one of the large lounging benches. The pavilion was octagonal in design and quite spacious. Its structure assembled from beautifully carved posts of a darkly stained wood. Colorful patterns of flowers, seen all over the community, were inlaid in the dark wood planks on the floor. Elizabeth looked toward the high, thickly thatched roof, watching the sheer panels of brightly hued fabric that fell from the ceiling blowing in the breeze.
“Well, what do you think? Negotiating with telepathics, or whatever this ability is they have, is quite humbling. I feel like they are talking among themselves even with me in the chamber. They are lovely people; however, their patience is limitless. I thought I could be patient but not so much.”
“You have to successfully negotiate for those trees. If we could cultivate our own crystals, there’s a lot of broken equipment on Atlantis, we could restore. So, hang in there, let them discuss you in front of you.” Rodney’s right index finger had been twirling in the air, but returned to pound on the pad.
“I wish it were that easy, but our a,favorite shaman, Fugara, threw a bit of twist into the negotiations today.” The tone of her voice, pointedly sarcastic, caused Rodney to look up again.
“What did he, she…whatever, what did Fugara do that has you so out of sorts?”
As Elizabeth was answering Rodney’s question, Colonel Sheppard and Ronon were approaching the pavilion. They had been touring the boatyard along the river. Their guide for the tour, Damoni, had shown them how the Centians built the long, elegant boats they used to navigate between villages and out to sea. As they approached the pavilion, it became apparent that something was amiss. They heard Rodney’s high pitched voice along with Elizabeth’s monotone reply, which only meant there was a problem.
“Oh, you cannot be serious?”
“Yes, I am, Rodney.”
“Well, I’m not going to do it.”
“Not going to do what, McKay?” At the sound of Sheppard’s deep drawl, Elizabeth and Rodney turned toward the pavilion entrance.
“He’ll do it.” Rodney leaned back in the large chair, pointing to Sheppard.
Sheppard flashed a phony smile at McKay and a questioning look at Elizabeth. “I repeat, not going to do what?”
Reaching into a cooler they had brought from the jumper, Sheppard pulled out a cold bottle of water, tossing one to Ronon. Sweat was running down his neck, and he tugged his wet, black tee-shirt away from his body. Slouching down on the bench opposite Elizabeth, he waited for an answer.
She looked at him, then over at Ronon, and began to explain. “During this morning’s council meeting, Shaman Fugara raised a concern. The shaman informed the king and queen, and me that the children are unsettled regarding our visit. When he explained what their worry was, King Loresom and Queen Viona concurred that the children’s’ issue would have to be addressed before we moved forward.”
“So, what’s their problem?” Sheppard queried.
“As you know, they live a somewhat communal life here. All the adults are responsible for all the children. While they maintain a family unit of sorts, the children come under the shaman’s direct protection when they reach seven years old. That’s when the shaman begins to teach the children about the history and rituals of their world.”
Sheppard looked concerned, “Rituals, are we talking about, some kind of hinky, ritual, sacrifice going on here?”
Elizabeth grinned, “No, not that hinky.”
“No, I would say humiliating. Wouldn’t you agree, Elizabeth?” Rodney winced as he unfolded his legs and sat straight in the chair.
“Humiliating, what would the Centians do to cause humiliation? They’re like the hippies from the Sixties, ‘peace and love, man’,” Sheppard observed.
“I suppose humiliation is a perception in this case. The shaman teaches the children about a time when visitors from other worlds regularly traveled to Centia. It was a peaceful time. The Centians graciously shared the abundance of their world. They willingly traded the plentiful fruits and berries, the vibrant dyes made from the native flora, and the silken fabric they make from the tenava plant with their allies. They held great celebrations with their visitors during those times. However, every thing ended when, as they describe it, darkness descended from the sky; a darkness that took many of their people.
Ronon said roughly, “The Wraith.”
“I assume so. At least, from the description their story gives of pale-haired monsters. We know already their history relates that the Ancient’s visited here, building a “tower” in the grand City of Lescre. Their history, also tells of an incident much later when there was a fiery crash from the stars, which came after the darkness, and of visitors who lived among them for a short time. The crash destroyed the podium, DHD, that allowed them to use the Ring of Life, the stargate. Fugara reported that the legend says the visitors from the ‘crash’ repaired the podium and departed.”
Rodney was snapping his fingers, “Elizabeth; we have to take some of these trees to Atlantis to examine. The reports that a hurricane destroyed the tower and scattered pieces of it across the jungle and the forest at the base of the mountain range are intriguing. How the ancient devices could have intermingled with the vegetation of this planet is fascinating. You know, Damoni told me the other day that after many years, the Wraith stopped coming. We know they were actively culling several times during those thousands of years. Something prevented the Wraith from coming back. Besides, no one had gated in until Lorne and his team. Domani said that the gate watchers over the years reported the gate lighting up, but no one ever coming through. The gate had to have recognized Lorne’s ATA gene and let him in. We have to have some trees.”
Elizabeth cocked her head, “You know what they want us to do, Rodney.”
Rodney frowned, and Sheppard demanded, “What, what do they want us to do?”
“One of the rituals began after the pale-haired ‘monsters’ appeared. The Centians wanted to make themselves as different as they could from the ones who caused the darkness. They began making their clothes, their surroundings as colorful as they could to disassociate from the horror. They also began to dye their hair the vibrant colors, as they still do today.”
Sheppard seemed a tad disgusted. “I wondered why all they had all the funky colors in their hair, reminds me of clowns.” He noticeably shuddered at the vision.
Elizabeth continued, “Fugara said that when the ones who fell from the sky came, they bonded as friends. They held a ceremony to honor that bond, and the visitors dyed their hair as a demonstration of friendship. Then the visitors left. Until Major Lorne's team and the scientists walked through the gate, they’ve been alone.”
Sheppard leaned forward, “So, what are you’re telling us, that the Centians want to dye our hair?”
“The children don’t understand why we haven’t taken part in the ritual, why our hair is still one color. So, yes, they want us to dye our hair. I managed to negotiate a small reprieve. The council believes that it is important for the children to understand the bonding of friendship. They are not convinced that this is a ritual they should carry forward. However, for now, for the children’s sake, only one of us will have to dye our hair.” She smiled slyly at Sheppard.
Sheppard stared at her, speechless for a moment. When he found his voice, he was stuttering, “E-Eliz-Elizabeth…you are not suggesting that I let…let them dye my h-hair, are you?”
“Well, the council decided that neither Teyla nor I needed to undergo the ritual, and since you are the military leader of Atlantis, it should fall to you.”
Sheppard was shaking his head back and forth, “No, I’m not, let Rodney do it.”
Rodney’s eyes widened and he started sputtering, “Me, why me? Like Elizabeth said, you’re the military leader, you should do it.”
“I’m not doing it, Rodney. You do it.”
“I’m not doing it either. You…order one of your Marines to do it.”
“I can’t order someone under my command to this. And…and …besides, I am the commander of the military, I can’t run around looking like a clown.”
“Oh, flyboy, like anyone would notice with that mess you have on your head? Vanity, thy name is Sheppard.” McKay said smugly.
“I am not vain, McKay.” His words were very quiet and measured. “You do it, you don’t have any hair…the dye would grow out, or fall out, in no time.”
Giving Sheppard a snarky look, McKay brightened, “Kavanaugh, let’s force Kavanaugh to do it. He’s got that long, stringy, dirty blond hair; he could use a dye job.”
“I thought you like blonds, Rodney,” Sheppard snarked back.
“Bite me, Sheppard.”
Rodney’s finger was in the air, an indication he was about to launch into a major rant, when Elizabeth said, “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’ll make the decision regarding which one of you has their hair dyed. There will be no argument. Colonel, I…”
“I’ll do it.”
Elizabeth, Sheppard and McKay turned in unison toward the only other person in the pavilion. Ronon Dex.
Elizabeth inhaled deeply, releasing her breath slowly, “Ronon; I can’t ask you to do this. Are you certain you want to?"
“Better than listening to those two,” Ronon replied, matter-of-factly.
Elizabeth glanced at her military commander and her science department director, both of them stunned and no doubt, quite relieved that Ronon had volunteered.
“I should do this, I’m from Pegasus, and you aren’t. Besides, unlike them, I’ll still look good,” Ronon grinned.
Elizabeth attempted to stifle a laugh, but she couldn’t. As she collapsed into the soft pillows scattered on the lounger, laughing uncontrollably, she had a glimpse of Sheppard and Rodney looking very sheepish.
~~ooOoo~~
The evening’s festivities were being held at sunset. The Centians had spent the entire afternoon preparing food, and setting up an area near the center of the community for the ritual to take place. Elizabeth had spent part of her afternoon with the king and queen, answering questions about Atlantis. The Centians were more than inquisitive about the descendents of the ones who fell from the sky.
Sheppard, Ronon, and Rodney had walked to the Centian farming area to check on Teyla. She was touring the cultivated fields with Huna. Huna was the partner of Damoni, the Centian, who had served as the guide for Sheppard and Ronon earlier in the day. The Atlantians’ needs were being attended to by the couple, who served as assistants to the shaman. Walking back to the pavilion, McKay was gleefully telling Teyla about Ronon’s upcoming adventure, in-between bitterly whining about the heat.
Teyla was smiling as she listened to Rodney. When he finally got to the part where Ronon had volunteered, Teyla seemed quite pleased.
“I agree with Ronon, as natives of the Pegasus galaxy, it is our responsibility to take part in these things.” She turned to Ronon, “I am proud of you for doing this.” Ronon simply nodded.
“Ronon wouldn’t have needed to volunteer if flyboy here hadn’t backed out of his obvious responsibility.” McKay was grinning, his head bobbing back and forth.
Sheppard wiped the sweat off his forehead using his wristband. “Look’s who’s talking, you certainly weren’t volunteering.” At that moment, he was more concerned about losing his sunglasses when he rode the Pegasus, Bessie. He really missed them in the tropical glare.
Shaking her head at the two men, she said, “I believe that neither one of you were very anxious to participate in the ritual. However, it has been decided. I believe you can stop fighting about it.” Both men quieted after her comment, but she knew that neither would let the other forget.
As the hour approached, Fugara arrived, leading Ronon off to be prepared. Sheppard wasn’t very happy about Ronon being led away without one of them with him. Elizabeth chastised him about worrying so much. Sheppard, however, was happy when they arrived at the ceremony.
It seemed that the entire population of the main community village was present for the ritual. As the Atlantian approached, the sight of the Centians en masse was breathtaking. They were tall, most as tall as Ronon, and were thin but muscular, their physiques resembling Colonel Sheppard’s. Both the men and women wore their hair shoulder length or slightly longer, and past the age of seven, dyed their hair with multiple bright colors. The bright tones made their naturally bronzed skin glow.
The Atlantians, however, found two characteristics of the Centians most intriguing. One was highly visible, their pointed ears. From the time Major Lorne’s team returned from their initial visit to Centia, the base had been abuzz with comments about ‘the ears’. Base personnel amused themselves circulating jokes about the Centians’ ears. They made comparisons regarding the Elves from Lord of the Rings, to Spock, as well as speculation that Colonel Sheppard was related to the Centians. Colonel Sheppard not been amused, but his team and Dr. Weir privately seemed to find that comment extremely amusing. However, Dr. Weir had sent a directive to the expedition members to cease all comments, including jokes about half-Centians.
However, the most intriguing aspect of the Centians was the fact that they possessed the ATA gene. Dr. Beckett had made a quick visit to take some preliminary information. He was planning on returning later for a more comprehensive examination. His initial findings concluded that the Centians did possess the gene. As individuals the gene’s strength did not appear to be nearly as strong as Colonel Sheppard’s. Beckett felt that while the gene was weaker in the Centians, collectively they could concentrate their abilities, most likely enhanced by the technology of the Ancients, which had somehow intertwined with the flora of the planet. The doctor also felt that the Centians long life span, estimated between 100 and 200 years, might contribute to their ability to use the gene. That the longer they lived, the more ‘in-tune’ they became with the blended Ancient technology. The one thing he did know is that the Ancients must have developed personal relationships with the ancient Centians and passed the gene off to their offspring. The result was the striking and intriguing people who had gathered for the ritual and feast.
In the center of the community, many of the comfortable cushiony chairs had been placed for seating. Long tables were laden with fruits, vegetables, legumes, and bread, all colorful and appetizing. A large something was roasting over an open pit on the far side of the area. The Atlantians were unable determine if it was a gigantic pumpkin-type vegetable or meat. The anthropologists believed the Centians were vegetarians. So far, they had only been served vegetarian food at meals. Torches of varying heights, and what appeared to be hundreds of candles, illuminated the area. The vibrant colors of the Centians clothing and the billowing fabric walls of the pavilions gave the entire setting the look of a jewel-encrusted crown.
Bark tea was being offered to all when arriving. Sheppard laughed as Rodney nearly ran the other way when offered a cup. The citrus sensitive Dr. McKay had already had a close run in with the tea which contained the heinous ingredient. Not a tea drinker, Sheppard actually liked the flavor of the bark tea, and accepted a cup. Rodney was a bit miffed that he was drinking the foul brew, but that simply made Sheppard enjoy the tea more.
Weir and her team were chatting with Huna, her partner Damoni choosing to remain apart from the Atlantians. The celebration commenced when a melancholy moan resonated from a large seashell announcing the arrival of the king and queen. Once the royal couple was seated, the community children swarmed through the assembled crowd, from all directions. They converged on a small tent made of vibrant purple silk that sat along the perimeter of the area. As the children softly sang, Fugara and Ronon emerged from the tent.
Ronon was now dressed in the silken pants and tunic that all, save the king, queen, elders and council members, wore. The silk was gold in color and, in the candlelight, the fabric’s sheen glistened as though it was gold. Shaman Fugara wore robes of the same golden fabric.
Fugara was an enigma to the Atlantians. A person of nondescript gender never referred to as he or she, with a voice neither feminine nor masculine. Fugara was only Centian with hair of one color; the shaman’s hair was a deep vivid blue.
Fugara led Ronon to a chair that sat on a low dais in the center of the celebration. Two of the children, one called Alithianne, the daughter of Huna and Damoni, and the other child a boy named Nomi, were attending the shaman. Sheppard had nicknamed Alithianne, ‘Alice’ because her name was difficult to pronounce and quickly many had begun to call her that. The children waited for Ronon to sit. They then draped him with a shawl made from the same fronds used for the thatched roofs, although these were green and pliable.
Fugara stood before Ronon and spoke to the crowd. “Centians all, for the first time in thousands of years, we are honored to be visited by those from other worlds. In honor of our new friendship, our brother from our stars, Ronon Dex will undergo the bonding ritual. This bonding will seal our friendship with the ones from Atlantis.”
Four Centian children came forward, each carrying a small pottery pitcher. One by one, they approached Fugara, passing their pitcher to the shaman. Pouring the contents of each pitcher over different areas of Ronon’s hair, the shaman created a design of color. With each pitcher of dye, Ronon’s dread-locks became a work of art.
When finished, Shaman Fugara stepped away and unveiled Ronon completely to their view. The Centians roared their approval. The tall Satedan’s hair was now a cornucopia of color. Colors of deep red, gold, forest green, and sapphire blue streaked throughout the long dread-locks. Where the colors bled together, subtle magentas, purples, yellow-greens and teal hues were revealed.
Sheppard and McKay were being quiet, neither choosing to comment. They both overhead Elizabeth's whispered comment to Teyla, “Ronon was right. He looks good.”
Exchanging glances, Sheppard and Ronon appeared to be wondering if they had made a wise choice in not volunteering. Looking again at Ronon, both men definitely seemed relieved that they were not the Atlantian with the newly dyed hair.
King Loresom and Queen Viona, who had been surrounded by many of the children during the ceremony, rose from their chairs and joined Ronon and the shaman. Queen Viona placed a large flower in Ronon’s hair and stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. The King turned to his subjects.
“This is a monumental day for the Centian people. On the anniversary of this day forward, we will feast and celebrate the bonding of our people. Our visitors have made the children, and those who care for them, very happy. However, before the feast begins, the children have another tiny request. They would like to see all of our guests with at least a small amount of color in their hair. That way our bonding will be complete. Please join me.” He motioned to Elizabeth to come forward.
“Elizabeth, you’re not going to let them do this.” Rodney’s protest cut short when Elizabeth glared at him, effectively shutting him up.
She shifted her glare to Sheppard, “Not a word from you either; we are all going to do this.”
She turned, and walked toward the king, Teyla behind her. Rodney and Sheppard both took a deep breath and followed; Sheppard muttering, ‘crap’ under his breath.
Rodney whispered, “This is so not fair.”
Four chairs were brought for them to sit in. As soon as they were seated, the children brought more pitchers of dye. Instead of the shaman applying the dye, the children painted the dye on their hair, moving the thatched shawl from one to the other.
When the children finished the Centians cheered, pleased with the results. Teyla’s bronze hair looked stunning, a bright gold streak lying along the left side of her head. Elizabeth’s dark hair displayed a deep red stripe framing her face. Rodney had a wide, cobalt blue band of color from his forehead to his neckline. However, the children had the most fun with Sheppard. His thick, messy hair fascinated them. They placed double streaks of emerald green in the hair that fell across his forehead, then dyed the tips of the spiky hair on top of his head as well.
As they headed for the food tables, McKay snickered, “Flyboy, no one would need radar to see you coming.”
“Yeah, like your ‘Mohawk’ wouldn’t scare anyone away.” Sheppard tossed back.
Ronon and the shaman joined Teyla and Elizabeth as they watched Sheppard and McKay walk away.
Elizabeth smiled at the shaman, “Shaman Fugara, thank you so much for helping in our little plan.”
The shaman eyes twinkled, “Always ready to assist our friends; now I must join the children.
Teyla laughed, “Once we discovered that one crucial bit of information, this became a whole lot more fun.”
Ronon was grinning, “When are we going to tell them that this isn’t permanent dye, and that this will wash out in a couple of days?
Elizabeth was grinning broadly, “Not at least until the morning. I want them to suffer just for a while. Come on, let’s go enjoy some good food and get to know our new allies.
The end…
Author: stella_pegasi
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Genre(s): Friendship, humor
Rating: PG
Character/Pairing: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, Elizabeth Weir
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Het/Slash/Gen: Gen
Word count: 3,770
Disclaimer: I do not own them, I would have treated them better.
Summary: Visiting a new ally on a world full of surprises, the team faces a ritual before negotiations for important, and unique, Ancient technology can continue.
This was written for the World Building Challenge on stargateland. Each team was challenged to create a world for their fandom. A proud member of teamatlantis, we created a world called Centia. Centia was once home of an Ancient tower, and although the Ancients are long gone, their technology lives on in very unusual ways. For the full experience of Centia, please visit one of the web pages listed below. teamatlantis would love to hear what you think of our world. Be sure to check out stargateland for teamsg1 and teamuniverse’s wonderful worlds.
leesa_perrie’s website
Centia
Special thanks to leesa_perrie for hosting teamatlantis’s members work on her site. Extra special thanks to fellow teammates at teamatlantis for being so awesome!
BOND
By stella_pegasi
Dr, Elizabeth Weir forced herself to take a deep breath, and then immediately regretted doing so. Thick, humid air, air that seemingly had a mass of its own, filled her lungs. She was hot; the sleeveless shirt she was wearing clung to her, resembling wet tissue instead of cotton.
Elizabeth was returning to the pavilion the Centians had offered them for repose. Attached to the pavilion by a covered walkway, was another structure, similar in size that provided privacy for sleeping and bathing. Climbing the steps to the lounge area, she found Dr. McKay, sitting lotus style on one of the over-sized, soft-cushioned chairs scattered around the space. Hovered over his pad, the scientist glanced up when he heard her footsteps.
With an impish look on his face, he asked, “How was your morning conversing with the council?”
Flashing an aggravated glare at Rodney, she sank down onto one of the large lounging benches. The pavilion was octagonal in design and quite spacious. Its structure assembled from beautifully carved posts of a darkly stained wood. Colorful patterns of flowers, seen all over the community, were inlaid in the dark wood planks on the floor. Elizabeth looked toward the high, thickly thatched roof, watching the sheer panels of brightly hued fabric that fell from the ceiling blowing in the breeze.
“Well, what do you think? Negotiating with telepathics, or whatever this ability is they have, is quite humbling. I feel like they are talking among themselves even with me in the chamber. They are lovely people; however, their patience is limitless. I thought I could be patient but not so much.”
“You have to successfully negotiate for those trees. If we could cultivate our own crystals, there’s a lot of broken equipment on Atlantis, we could restore. So, hang in there, let them discuss you in front of you.” Rodney’s right index finger had been twirling in the air, but returned to pound on the pad.
“I wish it were that easy, but our a,favorite shaman, Fugara, threw a bit of twist into the negotiations today.” The tone of her voice, pointedly sarcastic, caused Rodney to look up again.
“What did he, she…whatever, what did Fugara do that has you so out of sorts?”
As Elizabeth was answering Rodney’s question, Colonel Sheppard and Ronon were approaching the pavilion. They had been touring the boatyard along the river. Their guide for the tour, Damoni, had shown them how the Centians built the long, elegant boats they used to navigate between villages and out to sea. As they approached the pavilion, it became apparent that something was amiss. They heard Rodney’s high pitched voice along with Elizabeth’s monotone reply, which only meant there was a problem.
“Oh, you cannot be serious?”
“Yes, I am, Rodney.”
“Well, I’m not going to do it.”
“Not going to do what, McKay?” At the sound of Sheppard’s deep drawl, Elizabeth and Rodney turned toward the pavilion entrance.
“He’ll do it.” Rodney leaned back in the large chair, pointing to Sheppard.
Sheppard flashed a phony smile at McKay and a questioning look at Elizabeth. “I repeat, not going to do what?”
Reaching into a cooler they had brought from the jumper, Sheppard pulled out a cold bottle of water, tossing one to Ronon. Sweat was running down his neck, and he tugged his wet, black tee-shirt away from his body. Slouching down on the bench opposite Elizabeth, he waited for an answer.
She looked at him, then over at Ronon, and began to explain. “During this morning’s council meeting, Shaman Fugara raised a concern. The shaman informed the king and queen, and me that the children are unsettled regarding our visit. When he explained what their worry was, King Loresom and Queen Viona concurred that the children’s’ issue would have to be addressed before we moved forward.”
“So, what’s their problem?” Sheppard queried.
“As you know, they live a somewhat communal life here. All the adults are responsible for all the children. While they maintain a family unit of sorts, the children come under the shaman’s direct protection when they reach seven years old. That’s when the shaman begins to teach the children about the history and rituals of their world.”
Sheppard looked concerned, “Rituals, are we talking about, some kind of hinky, ritual, sacrifice going on here?”
Elizabeth grinned, “No, not that hinky.”
“No, I would say humiliating. Wouldn’t you agree, Elizabeth?” Rodney winced as he unfolded his legs and sat straight in the chair.
“Humiliating, what would the Centians do to cause humiliation? They’re like the hippies from the Sixties, ‘peace and love, man’,” Sheppard observed.
“I suppose humiliation is a perception in this case. The shaman teaches the children about a time when visitors from other worlds regularly traveled to Centia. It was a peaceful time. The Centians graciously shared the abundance of their world. They willingly traded the plentiful fruits and berries, the vibrant dyes made from the native flora, and the silken fabric they make from the tenava plant with their allies. They held great celebrations with their visitors during those times. However, every thing ended when, as they describe it, darkness descended from the sky; a darkness that took many of their people.
Ronon said roughly, “The Wraith.”
“I assume so. At least, from the description their story gives of pale-haired monsters. We know already their history relates that the Ancient’s visited here, building a “tower” in the grand City of Lescre. Their history, also tells of an incident much later when there was a fiery crash from the stars, which came after the darkness, and of visitors who lived among them for a short time. The crash destroyed the podium, DHD, that allowed them to use the Ring of Life, the stargate. Fugara reported that the legend says the visitors from the ‘crash’ repaired the podium and departed.”
Rodney was snapping his fingers, “Elizabeth; we have to take some of these trees to Atlantis to examine. The reports that a hurricane destroyed the tower and scattered pieces of it across the jungle and the forest at the base of the mountain range are intriguing. How the ancient devices could have intermingled with the vegetation of this planet is fascinating. You know, Damoni told me the other day that after many years, the Wraith stopped coming. We know they were actively culling several times during those thousands of years. Something prevented the Wraith from coming back. Besides, no one had gated in until Lorne and his team. Domani said that the gate watchers over the years reported the gate lighting up, but no one ever coming through. The gate had to have recognized Lorne’s ATA gene and let him in. We have to have some trees.”
Elizabeth cocked her head, “You know what they want us to do, Rodney.”
Rodney frowned, and Sheppard demanded, “What, what do they want us to do?”
“One of the rituals began after the pale-haired ‘monsters’ appeared. The Centians wanted to make themselves as different as they could from the ones who caused the darkness. They began making their clothes, their surroundings as colorful as they could to disassociate from the horror. They also began to dye their hair the vibrant colors, as they still do today.”
Sheppard seemed a tad disgusted. “I wondered why all they had all the funky colors in their hair, reminds me of clowns.” He noticeably shuddered at the vision.
Elizabeth continued, “Fugara said that when the ones who fell from the sky came, they bonded as friends. They held a ceremony to honor that bond, and the visitors dyed their hair as a demonstration of friendship. Then the visitors left. Until Major Lorne's team and the scientists walked through the gate, they’ve been alone.”
Sheppard leaned forward, “So, what are you’re telling us, that the Centians want to dye our hair?”
“The children don’t understand why we haven’t taken part in the ritual, why our hair is still one color. So, yes, they want us to dye our hair. I managed to negotiate a small reprieve. The council believes that it is important for the children to understand the bonding of friendship. They are not convinced that this is a ritual they should carry forward. However, for now, for the children’s sake, only one of us will have to dye our hair.” She smiled slyly at Sheppard.
Sheppard stared at her, speechless for a moment. When he found his voice, he was stuttering, “E-Eliz-Elizabeth…you are not suggesting that I let…let them dye my h-hair, are you?”
“Well, the council decided that neither Teyla nor I needed to undergo the ritual, and since you are the military leader of Atlantis, it should fall to you.”
Sheppard was shaking his head back and forth, “No, I’m not, let Rodney do it.”
Rodney’s eyes widened and he started sputtering, “Me, why me? Like Elizabeth said, you’re the military leader, you should do it.”
“I’m not doing it, Rodney. You do it.”
“I’m not doing it either. You…order one of your Marines to do it.”
“I can’t order someone under my command to this. And…and …besides, I am the commander of the military, I can’t run around looking like a clown.”
“Oh, flyboy, like anyone would notice with that mess you have on your head? Vanity, thy name is Sheppard.” McKay said smugly.
“I am not vain, McKay.” His words were very quiet and measured. “You do it, you don’t have any hair…the dye would grow out, or fall out, in no time.”
Giving Sheppard a snarky look, McKay brightened, “Kavanaugh, let’s force Kavanaugh to do it. He’s got that long, stringy, dirty blond hair; he could use a dye job.”
“I thought you like blonds, Rodney,” Sheppard snarked back.
“Bite me, Sheppard.”
Rodney’s finger was in the air, an indication he was about to launch into a major rant, when Elizabeth said, “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’ll make the decision regarding which one of you has their hair dyed. There will be no argument. Colonel, I…”
“I’ll do it.”
Elizabeth, Sheppard and McKay turned in unison toward the only other person in the pavilion. Ronon Dex.
Elizabeth inhaled deeply, releasing her breath slowly, “Ronon; I can’t ask you to do this. Are you certain you want to?"
“Better than listening to those two,” Ronon replied, matter-of-factly.
Elizabeth glanced at her military commander and her science department director, both of them stunned and no doubt, quite relieved that Ronon had volunteered.
“I should do this, I’m from Pegasus, and you aren’t. Besides, unlike them, I’ll still look good,” Ronon grinned.
Elizabeth attempted to stifle a laugh, but she couldn’t. As she collapsed into the soft pillows scattered on the lounger, laughing uncontrollably, she had a glimpse of Sheppard and Rodney looking very sheepish.
~~ooOoo~~
The evening’s festivities were being held at sunset. The Centians had spent the entire afternoon preparing food, and setting up an area near the center of the community for the ritual to take place. Elizabeth had spent part of her afternoon with the king and queen, answering questions about Atlantis. The Centians were more than inquisitive about the descendents of the ones who fell from the sky.
Sheppard, Ronon, and Rodney had walked to the Centian farming area to check on Teyla. She was touring the cultivated fields with Huna. Huna was the partner of Damoni, the Centian, who had served as the guide for Sheppard and Ronon earlier in the day. The Atlantians’ needs were being attended to by the couple, who served as assistants to the shaman. Walking back to the pavilion, McKay was gleefully telling Teyla about Ronon’s upcoming adventure, in-between bitterly whining about the heat.
Teyla was smiling as she listened to Rodney. When he finally got to the part where Ronon had volunteered, Teyla seemed quite pleased.
“I agree with Ronon, as natives of the Pegasus galaxy, it is our responsibility to take part in these things.” She turned to Ronon, “I am proud of you for doing this.” Ronon simply nodded.
“Ronon wouldn’t have needed to volunteer if flyboy here hadn’t backed out of his obvious responsibility.” McKay was grinning, his head bobbing back and forth.
Sheppard wiped the sweat off his forehead using his wristband. “Look’s who’s talking, you certainly weren’t volunteering.” At that moment, he was more concerned about losing his sunglasses when he rode the Pegasus, Bessie. He really missed them in the tropical glare.
Shaking her head at the two men, she said, “I believe that neither one of you were very anxious to participate in the ritual. However, it has been decided. I believe you can stop fighting about it.” Both men quieted after her comment, but she knew that neither would let the other forget.
As the hour approached, Fugara arrived, leading Ronon off to be prepared. Sheppard wasn’t very happy about Ronon being led away without one of them with him. Elizabeth chastised him about worrying so much. Sheppard, however, was happy when they arrived at the ceremony.
It seemed that the entire population of the main community village was present for the ritual. As the Atlantian approached, the sight of the Centians en masse was breathtaking. They were tall, most as tall as Ronon, and were thin but muscular, their physiques resembling Colonel Sheppard’s. Both the men and women wore their hair shoulder length or slightly longer, and past the age of seven, dyed their hair with multiple bright colors. The bright tones made their naturally bronzed skin glow.
The Atlantians, however, found two characteristics of the Centians most intriguing. One was highly visible, their pointed ears. From the time Major Lorne’s team returned from their initial visit to Centia, the base had been abuzz with comments about ‘the ears’. Base personnel amused themselves circulating jokes about the Centians’ ears. They made comparisons regarding the Elves from Lord of the Rings, to Spock, as well as speculation that Colonel Sheppard was related to the Centians. Colonel Sheppard not been amused, but his team and Dr. Weir privately seemed to find that comment extremely amusing. However, Dr. Weir had sent a directive to the expedition members to cease all comments, including jokes about half-Centians.
However, the most intriguing aspect of the Centians was the fact that they possessed the ATA gene. Dr. Beckett had made a quick visit to take some preliminary information. He was planning on returning later for a more comprehensive examination. His initial findings concluded that the Centians did possess the gene. As individuals the gene’s strength did not appear to be nearly as strong as Colonel Sheppard’s. Beckett felt that while the gene was weaker in the Centians, collectively they could concentrate their abilities, most likely enhanced by the technology of the Ancients, which had somehow intertwined with the flora of the planet. The doctor also felt that the Centians long life span, estimated between 100 and 200 years, might contribute to their ability to use the gene. That the longer they lived, the more ‘in-tune’ they became with the blended Ancient technology. The one thing he did know is that the Ancients must have developed personal relationships with the ancient Centians and passed the gene off to their offspring. The result was the striking and intriguing people who had gathered for the ritual and feast.
In the center of the community, many of the comfortable cushiony chairs had been placed for seating. Long tables were laden with fruits, vegetables, legumes, and bread, all colorful and appetizing. A large something was roasting over an open pit on the far side of the area. The Atlantians were unable determine if it was a gigantic pumpkin-type vegetable or meat. The anthropologists believed the Centians were vegetarians. So far, they had only been served vegetarian food at meals. Torches of varying heights, and what appeared to be hundreds of candles, illuminated the area. The vibrant colors of the Centians clothing and the billowing fabric walls of the pavilions gave the entire setting the look of a jewel-encrusted crown.
Bark tea was being offered to all when arriving. Sheppard laughed as Rodney nearly ran the other way when offered a cup. The citrus sensitive Dr. McKay had already had a close run in with the tea which contained the heinous ingredient. Not a tea drinker, Sheppard actually liked the flavor of the bark tea, and accepted a cup. Rodney was a bit miffed that he was drinking the foul brew, but that simply made Sheppard enjoy the tea more.
Weir and her team were chatting with Huna, her partner Damoni choosing to remain apart from the Atlantians. The celebration commenced when a melancholy moan resonated from a large seashell announcing the arrival of the king and queen. Once the royal couple was seated, the community children swarmed through the assembled crowd, from all directions. They converged on a small tent made of vibrant purple silk that sat along the perimeter of the area. As the children softly sang, Fugara and Ronon emerged from the tent.
Ronon was now dressed in the silken pants and tunic that all, save the king, queen, elders and council members, wore. The silk was gold in color and, in the candlelight, the fabric’s sheen glistened as though it was gold. Shaman Fugara wore robes of the same golden fabric.
Fugara was an enigma to the Atlantians. A person of nondescript gender never referred to as he or she, with a voice neither feminine nor masculine. Fugara was only Centian with hair of one color; the shaman’s hair was a deep vivid blue.
Fugara led Ronon to a chair that sat on a low dais in the center of the celebration. Two of the children, one called Alithianne, the daughter of Huna and Damoni, and the other child a boy named Nomi, were attending the shaman. Sheppard had nicknamed Alithianne, ‘Alice’ because her name was difficult to pronounce and quickly many had begun to call her that. The children waited for Ronon to sit. They then draped him with a shawl made from the same fronds used for the thatched roofs, although these were green and pliable.
Fugara stood before Ronon and spoke to the crowd. “Centians all, for the first time in thousands of years, we are honored to be visited by those from other worlds. In honor of our new friendship, our brother from our stars, Ronon Dex will undergo the bonding ritual. This bonding will seal our friendship with the ones from Atlantis.”
Four Centian children came forward, each carrying a small pottery pitcher. One by one, they approached Fugara, passing their pitcher to the shaman. Pouring the contents of each pitcher over different areas of Ronon’s hair, the shaman created a design of color. With each pitcher of dye, Ronon’s dread-locks became a work of art.
When finished, Shaman Fugara stepped away and unveiled Ronon completely to their view. The Centians roared their approval. The tall Satedan’s hair was now a cornucopia of color. Colors of deep red, gold, forest green, and sapphire blue streaked throughout the long dread-locks. Where the colors bled together, subtle magentas, purples, yellow-greens and teal hues were revealed.
Sheppard and McKay were being quiet, neither choosing to comment. They both overhead Elizabeth's whispered comment to Teyla, “Ronon was right. He looks good.”
Exchanging glances, Sheppard and Ronon appeared to be wondering if they had made a wise choice in not volunteering. Looking again at Ronon, both men definitely seemed relieved that they were not the Atlantian with the newly dyed hair.
King Loresom and Queen Viona, who had been surrounded by many of the children during the ceremony, rose from their chairs and joined Ronon and the shaman. Queen Viona placed a large flower in Ronon’s hair and stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. The King turned to his subjects.
“This is a monumental day for the Centian people. On the anniversary of this day forward, we will feast and celebrate the bonding of our people. Our visitors have made the children, and those who care for them, very happy. However, before the feast begins, the children have another tiny request. They would like to see all of our guests with at least a small amount of color in their hair. That way our bonding will be complete. Please join me.” He motioned to Elizabeth to come forward.
“Elizabeth, you’re not going to let them do this.” Rodney’s protest cut short when Elizabeth glared at him, effectively shutting him up.
She shifted her glare to Sheppard, “Not a word from you either; we are all going to do this.”
She turned, and walked toward the king, Teyla behind her. Rodney and Sheppard both took a deep breath and followed; Sheppard muttering, ‘crap’ under his breath.
Rodney whispered, “This is so not fair.”
Four chairs were brought for them to sit in. As soon as they were seated, the children brought more pitchers of dye. Instead of the shaman applying the dye, the children painted the dye on their hair, moving the thatched shawl from one to the other.
When the children finished the Centians cheered, pleased with the results. Teyla’s bronze hair looked stunning, a bright gold streak lying along the left side of her head. Elizabeth’s dark hair displayed a deep red stripe framing her face. Rodney had a wide, cobalt blue band of color from his forehead to his neckline. However, the children had the most fun with Sheppard. His thick, messy hair fascinated them. They placed double streaks of emerald green in the hair that fell across his forehead, then dyed the tips of the spiky hair on top of his head as well.
As they headed for the food tables, McKay snickered, “Flyboy, no one would need radar to see you coming.”
“Yeah, like your ‘Mohawk’ wouldn’t scare anyone away.” Sheppard tossed back.
Ronon and the shaman joined Teyla and Elizabeth as they watched Sheppard and McKay walk away.
Elizabeth smiled at the shaman, “Shaman Fugara, thank you so much for helping in our little plan.”
The shaman eyes twinkled, “Always ready to assist our friends; now I must join the children.
Teyla laughed, “Once we discovered that one crucial bit of information, this became a whole lot more fun.”
Ronon was grinning, “When are we going to tell them that this isn’t permanent dye, and that this will wash out in a couple of days?
Elizabeth was grinning broadly, “Not at least until the morning. I want them to suffer just for a while. Come on, let’s go enjoy some good food and get to know our new allies.
The end…