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corrupt. There was so much that it couldn’t do, now. It looked down on the humans clustered below. Most were familiar. Several of them were already requisitioned, stored on the lists for processing. One was earmarked for early removal.
    But the others were new. This was outside the generally accepted conditions. It might pose a threat to the Great Work.
    It ran over the options. It was always so difficult to think
clearly
. It would need to confer with the others. But that would take time, make it weak. Perhaps the Great Work demanded action now.
    It looked down, considering the humans.
    Not yet. But it would come soon. It could feel itself weakening. There was only so long it could watch and wait without acting.
    Very soon it would make a decision. Then it would come for the names on the list. They would scream, just like they always did. That had never stopped it before. Nothing could stop it. The only thing was timing.
    It watched, and waited.
     
    “What do you mean,
dying
?” said Sheppard. He didn’t like the gleam in Aralen’s eye.
    “The storms get worse. Every time we have a big one, we think it will be the last. And there are other things…”
    “You think the Ancestors abandoned you?” interrupted McKay. “Because that’s interesting. There was a recording we saw before we — ”
    He bit his lip, looking at Sheppard. John shot him an irritated look.
    Aralen shook his head. “They will never abandon us. There is the portal, the passage to Sanctuary. That knowledge is preserved among us. We know that one day we shall be gathered up in the halls of restitution, so you must know why you are such a sign of hope for us. Never in ten generations has the portal opened! Now you come. Surely, you will teach us the route to Sanctuary, and what we must do to restore the favor of the Ancestors.”
    Sheppard looked awkward. “Well, perhaps we can get on to that later,” he said. “I’ve gotta be honest, it’s a bit… colder than we’re used to out there. It’ll take us time to orient ourselves.”
    “Of course. I can see that you are not used to the ice. No doubt Sanctuary is more pleasant. Khost is a hard place to live.”
    “And yet you survive,” said Teyla. She felt a strange and unexpected kinship with the Forgotten; the stories of her people and theirs were different, but each had survived against the odds.
    The woman, Miruva, turned to her with pride in her eyes.
    “We endure,” she said. “We are strong and can sustain much hardship.” She waved at the stone walls around them. “We learned the arts of carving the ice from the caves and keeping them warm. This place was once a network of dark and empty caverns, choked with snow. We have turned it into our city. This is where the remnants of our people live, harboring what we have left from the endless storms above. We make the best life we can.”
    “Interesting,” mused Rodney. “A totally troglodytic lifestyle. Like the Genii, at a lower level of technology. But how do you source your fuel? And keep the air filtered?”
    Aralen raised an eyebrow. “We can explain all these things, and more, in due course. But though you are most welcome here, you must understand that your presence amongst us has caused much excitement. You have come through the portal. There are some who say that you are from the Ancestors, ready to lead us to a new paradise. I am afraid that others have more superstitious beliefs, and fear your intentions. Forgive my candor, but I must tell the people something. My own belief is that you are indeed from Lantea. Is this the truth?”
    Sheppard shot Teyla a quick look. “Look, I hate to break it to you,” he said, “but if you think we’re Ancients, you’re gonna be disappointed. They don’t get around much any more. You should just think of us as… travelers.”
    “So you’re not from the Ancestors?” Aralen looked deflated. Orand just gave a bitter, knowing smile. “When I heard the portal had revived, I