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When they stepped through the gate, it was like stepping into another dimension. Not that they hadn't done that. The plastique nature of the surroundings just hadn't come through the MALP properly.

"Rodney? You want to tell me what this stuff *is*?" Sheppard poked at what looked like a rubberized plant near one of bright white columns in what looked like a classic Stargate Temple. Done in white.

"If you'll try remember, Colonel, I'm not a botanist. I'll get Parrish to come later, he'll be fascinted I'm sure." McKay peered at the plant. "Now that is odd. Almost like it's a plastic derivative, except naturally occurring. I wonder if we could melt them down and use them for casting broken casings..."

"Rodney, I think you might want to-"

"Not now, Sheppard. You might have actually found something useful."

"Rodney. Shut up and step away from the plant."

The tone of Sheppard's voice caused Rodney to look up. They weren't alone. The formerly empty temple entrance now sported six "Purple stormtroopers? What is this, some sick rendition of Star Wars??" Rodney turned to Sheppard, incredulous.

Sheppard had on his best 'Trust us, we're harmless except for Rodney. And he's just insane' look. It was hard to tell if it was having any effect, since the stormtrooper masks obscured features rather efficiently. Although the chest plates seemed to indicate they were all female. "Hi there. Is this your temple?" Silence. "Right, well we apologize if we've offended you. We came through the Stargate over there." He gestured appropriately. "We're traders, looking for supplies and allies." He took a few steps towards the closest stormtrooper and held out a hand. "My name's John Sheppard. What's yours?"

The stormtrooper cocked her head in the universal sign of 'I'm debating how crazy you are.' John lowered his hand. After a moment she reached up and pulled off her helmet, shaking her head. When the long blond hair settled, a perfectly proportioned face was revealed. When she opened her mouth to speak, he realized that her skin had a vaguely plasticine sheen to it. "I am Unit Commander One(TM), Temple Guardian in service to the High Priestess(TM). What race are you, and from where do you hail?"

"Me? I'm human. Currently living in Atlantis. Big, shiny city of the Ancients?"

She blinked, pronounced lashes batting over baby blue eyes. "I know of it. I had not known it was inhabited." She raised her hand, motioning them forward. "Come, you must meet the High Priestess(TM)."

She turned and began walking to the door, the other stormtroopers falling in beind her. Two remained, escorting the team from Atlantis. They were led out into the sunlight, across a terrace, and to a table set within a white gazebo where they were met by the High Priestess. She stood to welcome them, and Sheppard heard Rodney start coughing. He glanced back, raising an eyebrow quizically. Rodney looked incredulously at him. "You didn't have any sisters, did you Colonel?"

"Not that I see the relevance, but no, Rodney. I didn't. Care to explain for us mortals?"

"No, no. I'll tell you later, if I feel your infantile minds can comprehend it." Sheppard nodded slowly and turned to face their hostess. She was now flanked by not only the stormtroopers who had played their escort, but by two men with identical faces. One wore a loud Hawaiin shirt and what looked like boamrd shorts. The other wore what looked like yuppie clothing straight out of the eighties, aligator and all. Which was terribly disconcerting to see in the Pegasus Galaxy. The priestess, dressed in a flowing white gown and crowned with a tiara, stood and spread her hands in welcome.

"Come, join us at our midday meal, and we can exchange tales."

Sheppard nodded and his team chose seating, waiting until the priestess was seated before doing likewise. "Ma'am, if you don't mind my asking, what do your people call themselves? We've never encountered your kind before."

She smiled beautifically. "We are the Barbei(TM)." She was interupted by Rodney breaking into another coughing fit. "Are you all right, young man?"

"My god, it really is Pegasus Barbie! I thought it was just the hypoglycemia."

Sheppard spoke up quickly. "He's a little strange sometimes, don't mind him."

She gave Rodney another sideways glance, which he waved of while struggling to catch his breath, then returned to her explanation. "You are unlikely to have heard of us. Millenia ago our people adopted a policy of seclusion when we found that our bodies had a harmful effect on life forms not of this world. You are the first outsiders we have encountered in over three thousand years. It is a pleasure to be blessed with visitors."

"Millenia ago, would that have been because of the Wraith?"

"The Wraith? We are unfamiliar with that race. No. As a side effect of a selective breeding program, we accidentally introduced a dominant characteristic into our population. This characteristic was supposed to slow aging and reduce nutritional needs. Indeed, it did prolong our lives. We gained many centuries on our life spans, but at terrible cost. Everything we touched died. Plants, animals, those without the gene. And the gene was pervasive, we couldn't remove it from the population once it had taken hold. We were forced to engineer our environment to be resistant to what we came to believe was a complete draining of life energy. And we quarantined ourselves, hoping in time to find a way to undo what we had done. It has been eleven thousand years, and still we wait."

"Eleven thousand years is an awfully long time to wait on a scientific miracle. We have a geneticist who might be able to take a look at your research and help you. He's very good at selective gene manipulation." Sheppard smiled winningly. Rodney, meanwhile, had a look of serious concentration on his face.

"Eleven thousand... Oh my..." Rodney stood suddenly and backed away from the table. "You're the Wraith! You're the-" He fell silent when he impacted the railing of the gazebo, still staring in shock and sputtering uselessly.

The priestess turned to Rodney, looking confused. "I do no know of these Wraith you speak of, though it is possible there is some relation." She once again focused on Sheppard. "At the Time of Isolation(TM), as we call it, there was a faction who did not agree with the decision. They said it was our destiny to control the stars and all others would adapt to our new, superior state. In rebellion of the edict they left, and were never seen again. They are known as The Lost Ones(TM). Can you tell me more of these Wraith?"

Sheppard winced. "They're the race that defeated the Ancients. They feed on humans, allowing populations to grow in size and then culling them. They pull the life right out of you. Tall, long hair, nasty teeth. You've seriously never heard of 'em?"

Her face had grown grave at the description. "No, we had not, though I am convinced that they are The Lost Ones(TM). It seems we owe your people a great debt, for loosing them into your midst."

Sheppard shrugged and raised his hands in a 'what's done is done' motion. "It was ten thousand years ago. A bit late to change it now. Although if you have any ZPMs kicking around, we wouldn't mind one of those."

"ZPMs?"

Rodney cut in. "Zero Point Modules. They were the Ancient's primary power source. About this big, orange unless you plug it into something, dark veination on the surface."

"Aah, you mean The Trophy(TM)! We would gladly bestow it upon you in apology for our past faults."

Rodney's eyes lit up exponentially. "Could you? I mean normally there's a catch. Like rebels in the jungle or mind games and mythology left over for ten thousand years. There's not a catch... Is there?" Her face saddened. "There is a catch! I knew it. These things are never as easy as they look."

She spoke tentatively. "You are welcome to this ZPM(TM) as you call it. But you must procure it yourselves. At the time of the isolation it was secreted in the Crystal Palace(TM), protected by the strongest enchantments our kind were capable of. While we have long since abandoned our belief in the old magics, there is no way of knowing what guards are in place. No one has seen The Trophy(TM) in over six thousand years."

Rodney groaned. "So we can have the ZPM. But only if we complete the challenge of the Magical Crystal Palace." He threw up his hands. "Is no one else seeing the irony here?"

Ronon and Teyla looked at him blankly. Sheppard shrugged. Rodney sighed. "Fine, yes, we'll negotiate your enchanted palace. There just better be a ZPM in there." Sheppard elbowed him. Hard.

"Play nice, you want the cool toys, remember?" He smiled at the priestess. "Sorry, he really doesn't know what he's saying. So, how far to this palace?"

"It is an hour's journey from the temple on foot. We will depart at first light, if this is acceptable?"

"That would be wonderful. Thank you so much."

"Randi(TM), my acolyte, will escort your female companion to suitable housing. Ken(TM) will guide the rest of you to rooms. I apologize that we have no food to offer, a side effect of the modifications we have made through the years."

"Quite all right. Until first light, then." They followed their respective guides to one of the many buildings near the courtyard. They were relieved to note that Teyla would be just across the hall, not seperated by more than a few feet from the doorways of the men. The rest of the day was spent wandering the complex, poking at various rubberized plant life, and an alarming discovery that the equine population *talked*. By the time they went to sleep, they were all anxious to finish and depart.

Everyone they encountered shied away, muttering apologies and 'just to be careful'. While Sheppard didn't mind, he was all for not risking having the life sucked out of him, it was creepy. And they were all too perfect. White, shiny smiles; long lossy hair in stark blonde, brunette or black (no redheads, he noted regretfully); and thin perfectly proportioned bodies without sign of a freckle anywhere.

The next morning they were all up and assembled at dawn after a quick meal of powerbars. As they set off into the forest on a trail that they were assured would lead directly to the castle, Sheppard couldn't help but think of the mission report. 'Day Two. Off to storm the enchanted castle.'

~ Finis ~