Ford shrugged good-naturedly. "Do you really think they'd have let us bring something like that through? I mean, they won't let us take fresh fruit on international flights so I don't see them risking an entire galaxy just for salsa."

John snorted and ignored Ford's commentary. Sometimes the kid was simply oblivious. It wasn't the actual lack of tomatoes, but rather the principle of the thing. They'd located the city's equivalent of greenhouses with surprising ease--it seems they'd missed them before because they hadn't been looking for them. Rodney had mentioned something about a healthy preoccupation with weaponry, completely understandable given the circumstances but as a whole not conducive to great discoveries. Anyway, they ended up being neatly organized hydroponics systems, set up under one-way glass that doubled as solar cells just effective enough to power the greenhouses themselves. The scientists had marveled at the way the unidirectional film functioned as a solar collector while still allowing in sufficient light for plant growth--right up until the Athosians declared that they'd found an excellent way to participate in the city's upkeep.

It took a lot of effort, but John suppressed his self-congratulatory smirk. Now, a month later, the Athosians had mastered the basics of hydroponics. His own people had done some quick thinking, figuring out the Ancient controls and working out how to extract needed minerals from the surrounding ocean. Meanwhile, the Athosians provided most of the starter seeds and made suggestions about where to trade for other tasty crops. There were a half-dozen separate greenhouse facilities in the city and with that much capacity they could afford to specialize.

It didn't escape John's notice that as a city they were tacitly planning in the long-term. He considered it proof that they were, collectively, getting over the shock of not being able to contact Earth. Once they got used to the idea of being stuck in the Pegasus galaxy, people would settle down and start calling Atlantis home.

Of course, they all wanted to get back to Earth and to that end Dr. Weir had set up a tentative schedule of contact attempts. They still tried to dial Earth on a regular basis, but otherwise didn't waste precious power dialing other planets outside their local galaxy. Most of their focus was now on keeping Atlantis running and finding a way to get rid of, or at the very least control, the Wraith threat.

That and find something edible to grow in their fancy new greenhouses. John held out hopes that they'd find something that tasted like raspberries.

"Would you like to try rhabnolim?"

John blinked and brought himself back to the present. A pretty Athosian woman--one of Teyla's many cousins if he wasn't mistaken--was offering him a twisty, fuzzy green thing. It looked a little bit moldy and a lot weird. "Um...what is it, exactly?"

She smiled and giggled and John felt older for it. "Rhabnolim is the young seedling of rhabnoliya, a grain. It is very good," She replied, placing one of the green things in his hand. "Try it." Her smile was sweet and young and John knew when he was being flirted with, so he put on his best flyboy grin and closed his fingers around the almost-bristly plant.

"Ok, but if it bites back, I'm blaming it on you," He said lightly, feeling the sprout with the pads of his fingers. The bristles weren't sharp, and the Athosians seemed to like the plant well enough--several people were snacking on the plants as they tended their crops. John slid the sprout slowly into his mouth, enjoying flirting with the girl.

The taste was pretty much as expected--nonspecific tart, green plant taste with an almost overpowering nutty-root flavor. It was what most sprouts tasted like on Earth, mixed with a bit of fresh leaf greens. He could see the appeal and figured it was disgustingly nutritious as well. "Nice," He murmured, smirking. "Crunchy too."

The girl giggled again, which drew the attention of a man sure to be her father. The guy muttered something in Athosian that John suspected meant 'stay away from the evil man with the gun' and the girl scampered away, throwing cute glances over her shoulder.

Ford, who had wandered off to pay very close attention to how a certain type of vegetable was being propagated, returned to where John was standing. "So are we gonna hear about the moldy sprouts at supper," He asked, eyeing his commanding officer. "Or the grower?"

"Shut up, Ford," John muttered, turning to leave the greenhouse.

•••

"What the hell is that?" Rodney asked as Carson sat down next to him in the mess hall. "Your food is..."

"Sprouts," Carson said defensively. "Or, more formally, rhabnolim sprouts, the first edible produce from the Athosian gardens."

Rodney turned up his nose in distaste. "They look like fuzzy green maggots."

Carson's smile was tight. "Thank you for that charming image and I'll be sure to mention just how closely your jello resembles steamed brains, what with that effusive green coloring."

"Brains are not the color of green jello," Rodney protested, spooning up some of the aforementioned treat. Carson's smirk made him pause, however. "They're grey, not green!"

"You're forgetting the 'steamed' part, Rodney," Carson said evilly. "Brain matter has the tendency to turn green when cooked."

Rodney's spoon returned to the bowl of jello and stayed there. 'And all of a sudden, I find myself not the least bit hungry." In response, Carson dug into his supper, sprouts and all. "I hope those sprouts give you gas," Rodney snarled, stirring disgustedly in his now-unappealing jello. "You've ruined me for green jello."

"I didn't think you could eat it anyway," Carson remarked. "Green jello is lime-flavored, isn't it?"

"Most of it is, but this is green-apple jello," Rodney replied dejectedly. "You can tell the difference if you look closely; it's got more of a yellow hue than lime jello, which is closer to the blue side of green."

"I wasn't aware they made green-apple jello, much less that it was a unique shade of green," Carson admitted. "But it's still the color of cooked brains."

"Will you stop mentioning that?" Rodney pleaded. "I'm already traumatized; all you're doing now is making me regret letting you sit with me."

"Talk like that will get your movie-watching privileges revoked," Carson warned with a grin. "Besides, which one of us has to put up with the other constantly snaffling MREs when they think the other isn't watching?"

"Fine! Just... please don't draw any more parallels between jello and anything relating to human or alien physiology. Please," Rodney asked earnestly. "Jello is my comfort food."

"Alright," Carson conceded. "You know, some people would consider this conversation ample evidence of confinement-induced hysteria."

"Yes, the same people who think Monty Python is lowbrow humor," Rodney snapped back. "We've got another set of missions coming up, you know. I think you should talk to Dr. Weir about including a rotation of the medical staff a little more often. She's got the Athosians going through the ‘gate, for nothing else than stress relief. It's the least she could do."

Carson nodded. "I may have to; we're not often on a mission unless someone on the other side is already hurt and can't be moved. Mostly, though I think it might do my doctors and nurses some good to have the experience."

"Not to mention decrease the chances of them clawing someone's eyes out," Rodney remarked. "She sent Kavanagh through last week. Surely she can rationalize you all, maybe on some sort of humanitarian mission. We've traded medical supplies before; actual medical treatment might be worth something as well."

•••

"Good evening, Carson," Dr. Weir said warmly as Carson poked his head in her office. "I wasn't expecting to see you tonight. Has something happened?"

Carson laughed. "No, but it does seem that we only stop by to complain--though I swear that's not why I'm here." He stepped into her office and let the door slide closed behind him. "Rodney mentioned something earlier and it got me thinking."

"Oh?" She murmured, gesturing to a chair. "Regarding what, precisely?"

"Well, it seems like you've gotten pretty good at balancing security and trading with the off world missions," Carson began, pointing out that, in fact, over the past weeks they'd made many trips through the stargate without any serious incidents occurring. "And I was wondering if perhaps it wouldn't be a good idea to incorporate more of the medical staff into those missions."

"Interesting," Dr. Weir said, obviously not seeing why she would want to do so. "In what way?"

"We already go places if someone's hurt," Carson remarked, "And I remember all too well what happened with the Hoffans. But there's still some use in our abilities," He continued, speaking quickly. "Sometimes the offer of decent medical care can positively influence trade. What I think is more relevant, though, is simply getting the medical staff some experience in such situations."

Elizabeth cocked her head to one side as she thought. "Wouldn't you prefer to have your staff safe and on Atlantis?"

Carson sighed. "I would, if I thought that, realistically, they would be safe and on Atlantis all the time. This isn't Earth, Doctor. There aren't all that many of us, and even with our increased security and decreased mobility, we're losing people and not replacing them--we can't replace them."

"We won't start drafting nurses to fill the ranks of soldiers," Dr. Weir said, her voice laced with amusement. "But I can see your point; very few of your staff has much actual experience on missions, or dealing directly with other peoples."

"Yes," Carson agreed. "We see the few that come through here--fewer now that the Wraith are sitting on high--and most of my staff is trained in research. They'd benefit from some field work, I'd say."

Dr. Weir nodded. "It's not an altogether bad idea. We have a mission briefing tomorrow morning; why don't you attend? I doubt that we'll send anyone from medical through right away, but if the mission is successful we might be able to work in some of your ideas in future trips."

"Thank you," Carson murmured as he stood. "And I'll leave you to your work."

He left after that, going back to his own lab for another hour's worth of study on Wraith genetics. He still had samples from the Wraith they'd killed during the storm that he hadn't fully analyzed yet.

•••

The next morning found Carson scouring the mess hall for something edible at an hour far earlier than he was used to being up, a direct result of being asked to attend the mission briefing. He found Rodney already present, chewing on a power bar and drinking from a bottle of water.

"You're up early," Rodney said as Carson joined him in a dusty but adequate breakfast.

"Because you like to start your missions first thing in the morning," Carson replied sleepily, "And after mentioning that little idea we had to Dr. Weir, I got invited to your briefing."

Rodney's eyes lit up. "You're going?"

Carson shook his head. "Not this time, but I'm supposed to talk about the idea and see if maybe we can send some medical personnel through on a secondary mission if this one works out."

"Makes sense," Rodney admitted. "Let us make sure no one's going to shoot at you."

"That would be nice," Carson agreed. Breakfast being what it was didn't require much time, so before long the two men were walking to the mission briefing. They found the rest of the team already in attendance and waiting on Dr. Weir.

Most of the meeting was filled with logistics and precautions that Carson found complicated and boring, even though he knew they were important. It seemed that today's mission was to a planet that was unfamiliar to the Athosians. They'd gone to several new sites before, with mixed success. The hope was to expand their base of friendly and useful worlds beyond the ones known by the Athosians and their allies, in large part to work around the Genii.

"Dr. Beckett has an interesting proposal he would like to put forth," Dr. Weir said, catching Carson's attention.

"Yes," He said, not-quite looking at Major Sheppard and Rodney. "I think we should send medical personnel on some missions--not first contact missions, but smaller ones, like trading missions. My staff needs the experience in dealing with other civilizations and simply being off world. Right now most of them haven't even left Atlantis proper since arriving."

"What role would your staff have on such missions?" Teyla inquired curiously.

"Aside from providing any needed assistance to the team, they could be useful in trade negotiations due to their expertise," Carson mentioned. "All previous misadventures aside, medical knowledge can be useful currency if it's wielded correctly. We can also treat local populations. More importantly, my largely research-specialized staff can garner more field experience. As it stands, most of them are ill-equipped to be field medics should they be pressed into that role."

"It's risky," Major Sheppard murmured, "But not idiotic, as far as ideas go. Why don't we start off with a couple of people going on a fairly simple mission to somewhere that doesn't pose a threat...as much as any place doesn't pose a threat..."

"It is true that sharing medical expertise would make friends of many people," Teyla admitted. "Though it would be wise to avoid another event like that experienced on Hoff."

"My thought was to limit the trading of medical knowledge to disease prevention and treatment, along with some surgical knowledge," Carson replied. "From now on we should just avoid altogether genetic manipulation. It's something we've more or less got a grip on from an ethical standpoint, but I can't say it's worth the risk sharing. I'm not suggesting we give away what little we have now, but the simple knowledge of how to sterilize and tend to wounds--or safely deliver babies--could go a long way."

"You got that right," Lieutenant Ford muttered. "But he's got a point. Who knows what kind of trade agreements and alliances we could form by sharing some of the stuff they know?"

The group seemed to come to a consensus that the medical staff would experience a level of involvement similar to that of the science staff, excepting Rodney who went on most missions. From that point on the meeting refocused on the more immediate concerns of the day's mission and Carson followed along silently. When the team adjourned to the 'gate room, Carson went along, honestly curious to watch how the MALP was used to scout out new planets.

He took a seat out of the way and observed as the 'gate was activated and the automated machine sent through. From his perch he could just see the control display that showed the feed from the MALP through the 'gate and was surprised at the clarity of the picture.

"Atmosphere, gravity and climate readings are within limits," Dr. Zelenka reported. "And it looks like the 'gate is located at edge of a forest, near stretch of grassland. Humidity levels indicate recent rain or nearby body of water."

"Any signs of people?" Major Sheppard asked as he watched the display.

"No, but that means little," Rodney replied. "Half the people we visit put their gates in the middle of their cities and the other half stick them in the middle of nowhere."

"Point," John murmured. "Let's go."

The team gathered as the MALP was recalled through the gate. Prior to the Wraith's arrival, the team had been mostly Major Sheppard, Rodney, Teyla and Lieutenant Ford. Now, in addition to the primary four team members, two experienced Athosian adults and three soldiers, all armed, walked through the 'gate. The decision to increase the size of the team had been a controversial one, but in the end they'd decided to keep security higher and only have one primary team.

Rodney emerged from the event horizon with newfound gratitude for his rarely worn sunglasses. He'd seen indications of bright sunshine on the MALP display and had slipped his glasses on before going through the 'gate and was happy he'd done so--the light was as bright as any he'd seen. It was warm, too, but not hot and he wished he'd looked at the ultraviolet readings from the MALP. 'Within parameters' meant nothing was high or low enough to kill them, but that didn't mean it was at Earth-levels. He could still get one hell of a sunburn.

"Man, that is bright," Lieutenant Ford said as he reached for his own sunglasses. "We are so gonna fry."

Apparently Ford's radio was still keyed to Atlantis, who could hear him through the still-active 'gate. "Doubtful; the sun radiates approximately 15% of ultraviolet radiation that is produced by Earth's sun. You do not even need sunscreen," Dr. Zelenka reported from the other side of the 'gate. "Although if you stay long enough you might develop rickets." With that statement, the 'gate shut down and the team was left alone.

"Rickets?" Ford whispered to John. "What are rickets?"

"Vitamin D deficiency. Most of your vitamin D comes from exposure to ultraviolet light," Rodney replied shortly. "That and enriched foods. We won't be here the months it would take for you to get rickets, if you could even get the disease at your age," He continued. "It's a disease of childhood. In adults the condition is called osteomalacia."

"If you're finished with the medical lecture, we can get going," John said dryly, much to everyone's amusement. "There may not be anyone living next to the 'gate, but that doesn't mean we're alone. And by the way, you are spending way too much time with Dr. Beckett." Rodney glared at John but fell into formation and began to explore the area.

"There is evidence of people nearby," Teyla confirmed. She and one of her Athosian companions circled the 'gate. "I believe someone has been leaving offerings," She called out and the team went around to join her. On the other side of the gate, they found a small pile of foodstuffs, in various states of decay.

"Some people do worship their stargates," Rodney said. "But yeah, I'd say we're not alone."

A few minutes later one of the soldiers found a footpath leading along the forest's edge. They followed it, keeping wary eyes on the dense forest beside them. "It's pretty," Ford mentioned as they walked past tall pines and willowy deciduous trees. "Almost like Earth."

"Plants favor green pigment on most worlds," Rodney remarked. "It's more efficient than other colors given the most common spectrums of light emitted by water planet-friendly suns."

"Well, there goes my dreams of pink trees and plaid grass," John snarked. "Although I don't think that earth has grass quite like this stuff," He added, gesturing to the admittedly odd tufts of foliage around them. "It's kinda neat, though."

"And probably poisonous," Rodney said of the cottony, fluffy plants that crowded the path. The stuff wasn't threatening, though; nothing sprayed up or stuck to them as they brushed against it, nor did any dangerous animals spring from its depths. It mostly wafted this way and that in the gentle breeze and sat there in all its dark green, fluffy glory.

The sound and smell of fresh, flowing water preceded a sharp bend in the footpath and the team found themselves following a small, lazy river. The forest fell away, leaving them sandwiched between rolling grassland and the river's sloping bank. "Still pretty," Ford said happily. "Like one of those paintings by Rockefeller."

"Rockwell," Rodney corrected. "Norman Rockwell, and most of them had dark undertones that nobody wanted to admit."

"Pretty," Ford insisted. "And populated." He paused on the path, pointing to the vague outline of a village in the distance. "See?"

"You know what to do," Sheppard reminded them. "Slow and steady, no sudden moves and don't point your weapon at anybody." The team resumed walking, still taking note of everything around them.

They hadn't gotten very close to the village when a small group of human-shaped people emerged from it and began walking their way. John motioned for them to stop and they waited for the villagers to arrive, anticipation making everyone a little nervous.

The people who approached them kept looking human as they drew closer. They held walking sticks but were otherwise unarmed and to Rodney they looked like some type of stone or metal age primitives. Clothes made well but of organic materials, no obvious industrial age or higher technology and the presence of smoke indicated that this civilization wasn't very advanced. Of course, that didn't mean they couldn't hurl spears at them.

When the approaching band got about ten meters away, they stopped and called out something in a language Rodney didn't recognize. "They're greeting us," Teyla said quietly. "It's a variant of a trading language some planets use."

"So you can talk to them?" John asked.

As a reply, Teyla said something to them in the language they'd used themselves. They said something back and moved closer. "I said we were here to bring greetings and to trade. They have welcomed us and wish to know from which planet we have traveled."

"They're not scared of us?" Ford asked curiously.

Teyla smiled as the people arrived, still chattering. "They say that they rarely receive visitors, and are very pleased to meet us."

Rodney stood quietly as Teyla made their introductions, nodding when it seemed appropriate to do so. She and one of the other Athosians were the only team members who actually understood the locals, so they were stuck with the normal, slow translation process. "We've been invited to the village," Teyla mentioned. "There is a feast being prepared for a seasonal festival and so our arrival appears quite fortuitous."

"Have you ever noticed how everyone has more parties than we do?" Ford asked as they started walking towards the village. Major Sheppard tried his radio and found that he could still check in with Atlantis from the short distance they'd traveled, so he updated them on their status.

The village was much as Rodney had suspected it would be, although somewhat larger. The buildings were built from the nearby forest, all softwood logs arranged into structures resembling hogans. People of all ages stood in the open spaces, gawking blatantly at the very different-looking team, but Rodney was by now well-used to being stared at by those they visited.

Rodney watched as Major Sheppard eyed the growing crowd and wondered if the man was going to follow tradition and fool around with one or more of the prettier women. Where such behavior used to make Rodney jealous, now it simply left him feeling impatient; he wanted to go home and spend time visiting with Carson. They had something between them, something he liked. It was real and solid, if slow, and it definitely wasn't based on googly eyes. They even spoke the same language and did things that required actual cerebral input.

"Rodney!" Ford called out, nudging the scientist on the shoulder. "Come on, they want to feed us."

"And this should be exciting why?" Rodney muttered under his breath, following Ford as they were led to some sort of outdoor festival area. Admittedly, the smell of cooking food was appealing, particularly given his spare breakfast.

"Hey, you never know--they might have some sort of crop we can grow back on Atlantis," Ford said brightly. "Something that actually tastes good."

"One can only hope," Rodney concurred, eyeing the somewhat primitive eating arrangements. They settled down into two groups, splitting up their two interpreters. Rodney went with the Athosian man who seemed to speak the trade language every bit as well as Teyla, leaving Major Sheppard to his dubious pleasures.

As soon as Rodney took the seat he'd been given, a cup of steaming liquid appeared in front of him. "This is a favorite drink of theirs," Mauke, their interpreter, informed them. "It is made from herbs and fruits and is said to be quite delicious."

Rodney smiled weakly and held his cup, waiting for someone else to take an experimental sip before trying it himself. Ford, who had much to Rodney's surprise sat with his group instead of Sheppard's, tasted the drink and declared it very good. "Go ahead, McKay. I can't taste any citrus at all. It's sort of like tea...with apple."

With that ringing endorsement, Rodney raised the cup, figuring that the epinephrine shot he carried would rescue him if need be. Much to his surprise, Ford's initial description was not inaccurate; the drink resembled a cross between cider and tea. The fruit was sweet but not cloyingly so and the herbs weren't particularly bitter but rather tangy and bright. "It is very good," He admitted, smiling honestly at his hosts. They smiled back and said something to Mauke. "Er?" Rodney mumbled, hoping he hadn't accidentally proposed marriage or declared war.

"They are pleased you like it," Mauke translated for him. "As a leader of our people, your opinion is highly valued."

"Oh," Rodney said, shifting uncomfortably. He was used to Sheppard, as de facto team leader, being the one getting all the respect. "How do they know I'm a leader?"

Mauke laughed but asked the question, which elicited laughter from their hosts as well. "They say that it is obvious because you carry yourself with wisdom and care, as a true leader would. You trust but are not too trusting."

"Um...thanks," Rodney said haltingly, really not expecting to be complimented for being paranoid about what he drank. He knew he should be making conversation, but he wasn't really adept at relating to people who hadn't encountered internal combustion engines, much less computers. "What is this festival celebrating?"

The question was relayed and one of their hosts stood to walk over to where Rodney was sitting. He sat down next to the scientist and began to speak, slowly enough for Mauke to translate and for Rodney to pick up and repeat important words.

"Yesterday we completed the final harvest of aukou," The native man said, handing Rodney a small, round fruit. "Today we feast in celebration. Tomorrow we begin drying the aukou."

"It sustains you through winter?" Rodney inquired, inspecting the fruit. It was firm-fleshed and dark green-skinned, about the size of a plum, and had a mild peppery aroma.

The man nodded once the question was translated. "Yes. And when all the ankou is prepared it is then time to harvest the last of the miwe, the final crop of the growing season."

Rodney tried to hand back the ankou but the man gestured that he should eat it, so Rodney wiped the fruit on his sleeve and took a bite. He'd been expecting a solid, apple-like fruit but was instead confronted by a firm shell surrounding a dense cluster of juicy seeds not unlike those of a pomegranate. The native man indicated that he should eat those as well and Rodney tried one. As it burst across his tongue he knew he'd found the thing that gave the hot drink he'd had earlier its characteristic flavor. "Ford," He said as he finished a bite of the fruit, "You're right. We're so growing these."

Ford laughed and accepted one of the fruit from a basket of them that was being passed around. "See? Not so bad, and you're not turning purple or coughing up blood."

"Yet," Rodney retorted with a smirk. Turning back to his host, he asked, "Where do you grow your crops?"

The man gestured across the village. "Ankou and miwe are grown in the holy valley, always within sight of the sacred temple," Mauke translated. "This assures us that our crops never wither from drought or disease."

"Temples?" Rodney echoed, obviously curious.

"The temples are gifts from our ancestors," Mauke translated. "They are closed but to the pure; none but the worthy may enter them."

"I see," Rodney murmured. "Pretty well guarded, then?"

Oddly enough, this question drew laughter from the local citizenry. "The temples guard themselves," Mauke said for their hosts. "The impure and unworthy are banished."

Rodney, of course, wanted to see the temples. Most anything old enough to be referred to by terms involving 'Ancient' meant the Ancients he studied, and that could mean Ancient technology--like a ZedPM. "How do you know if someone is pure enough?"

The lead host shrugged. "The temple knows; purity is within and cannot be seen by human eyes."

"Right," Rodney said under his breath. He decided to move away from discussion of the temple, as much more might arouse undue suspicion. Besides, the day was fading and more villagers were arriving with food and torches.

However, the host next to Rodney wasn't quite finished talking. "Tonight is for celebration. Tomorrow, you should walk to the temple. We have a place from which we look at them."

Rodney nodded, pleased to have been given an invitation to at least get near the holy site. Bowls of food appeared around them at that point and Rodney let himself be drawn into discussions of what they were eating and who had prepared it.

Several hours passed and night fell long before the celebration reached full strength. Rodney felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see John standing behind him. He stiffened slightly at the familiar touch. "Is something wrong?" He asked, trying hard to not let John's proximity ruin his enjoyment of a primitive but relaxing festival.

"No," John replied. "I'm going to send in a report, though. Anything you want me to add?"

"Yeah," Rodney said. "There's a temple nearby, probably Ancient in origin. I've been invited to go see it tomorrow. Very holy, etcetera." John was surprised by the news.

"They invited you?" He asked incredulously. Apparently John hadn't received such an invitation.

"Yes. They seem to like me," Rodney replied. "Now, I think you interrupted a discussion of roasting techniques."

John definitely understood dismissal and faded into the darkness, walking to the outskirts of the village. Rodney knew he might have to travel back towards the gate to make his report, but one or more of the soldiers would be keeping up with him.

Rodney wasn't as surprised when John returned, since he was expecting the man's appearance. "Well?"

John sat down a few feet from Rodney and played with one of the plentiful aukou fruits. "Weir's happy enough. She wants to send a medical team through, since everything here's so damned pleasant."

"You're not having fun?" Rodney asked suspiciously. "The food's good, the people are nice and there's Ancient stuff within walking distance. What's not to like?"

"No, no, it's not that," John said, grinning. He stared up at the dark sky, the stars muddled by smoke from the bonfires around them. "I'm just waiting for something bad to happen. Something bad always happens."

"Yes, but not always during supper," Rodney said firmly. "So enjoy it and the bad things can happen tomorrow." With that he stood up and walked over to where Mauke and Ford were chatting up some locals about their crops. He wanted to make sure they got a good supply of seeds for those fruits. Very tasty, that aukou.

Later on, when the festivities were winding down and people were wandering off to their beds Rodney found himself escorted to what turned out to be a guest house of sorts. The entire team was there, even Teyla. Low beds were arranged in the dwelling, all around a central fire that burned warm but low. He sank down gratefully, toeing off his boots and pulling a soft, wooly blanket around himself. He dimly heard other people shuffling around as they got comfortable but Rodney didn't mind. His belly was full, he had the prospect of an Ancient temple to explore in the morning, and the bed he'd been given was soft and warm. Within minutes, Rodney was asleep.