The lights brightened, the colors stronger, whips and veils of green and blue scourging the skies. Once before we slept.... The words of a children's story, long forgotten, flashed through his mind. Once before we slept there was a world where the skies streamed with fire, and the First Mothers turned their back on it and fled. He couldn't remember the rest of it, or even why the Mothers had abandoned it – the story had been old and tangled even when he was in the crèche, which made it old indeed. It would be a bad sky to fly in, he thought, reaching deliberately for rationality, hard on the instruments and tricky on the eye. He turned his back on the window, reaching into his pocket for a set of pyramids, and set himself a game, off hand against feeding hand.
It was full dark when they came for him, Sheppard and Woolsey and the consort O'Neill, and his feeding hand was winning at an improbable rate. Guide palmed the pyramids as the door slid back, and turned easily to face them.
"So my fleet is here?" It was an easy guess: Teyla would have exerted all her influence to bring them regardless of his orders, and Alabaster unquestionably had a mind of her own.
"That's right," Sheppard said, and Woolsey cleared his throat.
"Yes, and they'd like a word with you."
"I'm sure they would."
"But we'd like a word with you first," O'Neill said. "Specifically, are you going to fight beside us, or not?"
Guide studied him carefully, wishing it were Sheppard he had to deal with. Or even Woolsey; he'd come to understand a bit of Hairy's mind since they'd begun the game of diplomacy. But O'Neill he did not know at all. "You know my conditions," he said, playing for time, and saw Sheppard bite his lip.
"We don't have it," O'Neill said. "And believe me, that doesn't make us any happier than it does you."
"Forgive me if I doubt that," Guide snapped.
"It is not to our advantage to lose two of our best people," Woolsey said. "Not to mention an unknown number of others. Nor is it the policy of my government to wantonly murder its allies."
Guide's eyes slid to Sheppard at that, saw the hint of doubt in the younger man's eyes. "Perhaps you do not generally kill your allies," he said, "but our alliance is... tenuous at best."
"And not made any stronger by you not siding with us against Death," O'Neill said.
"And if you were in my place, would you throw your fleet into battle alongside 'allies' who hold a knife to your throat?" Guide shook his head. "Hyperion's weapon must be destroyed. That is not a matter for negotiation."
"But we don't have it," Sheppard said. His frustration was palpable, and for a moment Guide felt a shiver of doubt. If in fact the Lanteans weren't bluffing, if they'd somehow lost the weapon – but, no, they could not be that careless. This was just another attempt to get something for nothing.
"I'll be honest with you," O'Neill said. "Without your fleet, we don't stand much of a chance against Queen Death. I think we can get the city away safely, and maybe without getting the Hammond and the Genii shot up too badly, but we'll just have to do it again someplace else. And maybe you're thinking about that, thinking that maybe we'll soften up Queen Death enough that you can take her out by yourself. But I think if you thought you could get away with it, you wouldn't have bothered making a deal with us in the first place, weapon or no weapon. Which says to me that you're running one hell of a risk not helping us out here. And I really get the impression that the lady doesn't like you."
Guide grinned. "She does not, no. But I say again, Hyperion's weapon negates all other considerations. You say we cannot risk fighting Death alone. I say that it would be worse, far worse, to leave Hyperion's weapon intact and in your hands."
"If we were going to use it," Sheppard said, "we wouldn't be planning to fight Queen Death ourselves."
Guide rounded on him, deliberately moving at his full speed. "But you have lost the weapon, have you not? You have no choice but to fight."
To his credit, Sheppard didn't flinch. "Yes, we have lost it, and no, we don't have any choice. And, no, we're not going to use the damn thing!"
He believed it, Guide thought, his eyes flickering back to Woolsey and O'Neill. But the others.... They were bluffing, hoping to force his hand. And for the sake of his people – of all the Wraith – he could not give in. "I would do the same if I were you," he said, "and I will speak to my fleet. But I will not order them to move until I see Hyperion's weapon destroyed."
Chapter Sixteen
Atlantis Rising
There was a moment of quiet as they came up into the control room, a heartbeat's silence like an intake of breath. John knew exactly where it came from, the moment of panic they all still felt when an unfettered Wraith walked into range, even when that Wraith was technically an ally. The talk resumed, determinedly, technicians and airmen alike trying to pretend Guide wasn't there, half a hand's-breadth taller than either of the escorting Marines, and Guide bared teeth in something that might have been amusement.
"Well, John Sheppard," he said. "We come round the circle again."
"We've been here before, all right," John said, and Woolsey drew himself up to his full height.
"Er – Guide."
You could see it almost killed him not to have an honorific to tack onto the name, John thought.
"Your fleet has arrived, and their commander wishes to speak to you."
"I'm sure he does." Guide looked at him and then at O'Neill. "I ask you again, are you prepared to meet my terms?"
"Yes," Woolsey said. "It's to our advantage to do so. We just can't do it right now."
Guide shook his head, the long strands of his hair hissing against the leather of his coat. "Then there is no bargain. I would like to speak to my commander now."
"Be my guest," O'Neill said. The frustration in his voice was very clear.
"Banks," Woolsey said, and the dark-haired woman nodded.
"I have them on the screen, sir."
She nodded toward the larger of the communications displays, and John turned toward it as it lit, revealing Kenny's straggling hair and high forehead. The tattoo on his right cheek seemed very dark against his marbled skin.
"Commander. What are your orders?"
"To do nothing, for now." Guide looked back at O'Neill as if waiting for him to change his mind. "We will not engage just now."
"Very good, Commander."
Did Kenny look a little confused? John wondered. He hoped so – anything that would disrupt Guide's plans had to be good for them. Maybe.
"And now...." Guide looked down at Woolsey, clearly relishing the difference in their heights. "If we can come to no agreement, Mr. Woolsey, then I must return to my ship."
To his credit, Woolsey didn't step back, just lifted his chin a little to meet the Wraith's slit-eyed stare. "If you wish, of course –"
"But we're a little busy to be running a taxi service," O'Neill said.
"Now that," Guide said, "begins to sound like a threat. And that, surely, would be unwise."
"No threats," Woolsey said, with a minatory look at O'Neill. "And I'm sure we can arrange transport, as Ms. Emmagan will surely want to return to Atlantis. Her presence with your fleet is no longer required."
"Of course," Guide said. He looked back at the screen. "I will be returning to the hive, and Teyla Emmagan will be coming back to Atlantis. Inform the Young Queen."
"At once, Commander." Kenny bowed, and the picture disappeared.
John glanced at the sensor display, calculating times and distances. Half an hour out and back, a quick switch-over on the hive – yeah, the city could spare him that long. "With your permission, General, I'll take Guide across to the hive in a jumper, and bring Teyla back."
O'Neill lifted an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Woolsey nodded. "Thank you, Colonel."
John touched his radio. "Lieutenant Clark. I'd like a Marine escort in the jumper bay immediately."
"Yes, sir," the lieutenant answered, and John looked at Guide.
"I just don't want you getting any ideas."
Guide showed teeth. "It is not I who needs help, John Sheppard."
It was not a long flight to the hive. Kenny had the Dart bay open for them, and John brought the puddlejumper neatly into the open space. In the viewscreen, he could see Teyla waiting, flanked by Alabaster and a handful of drones, and he pushed himself up out of the pilot's chair as the Marines lowered the tailgate.
"Guide."
The Wraith looked over his shoulder.
"You know neither one of us can beat Death alone."
Guide paused. "I know. And you know my price, John Sheppard."
He turned, coat swirling at his heels, and stalked down the ramp to join his daughter. Teyla moved at the same moment, and they passed without speaking. Teyla climbed into the jumper, and the nearest Marine hit the switch that closed the tail.
"We're clear, sir."
John was already back in the pilot's chair, the board lighting blue at his touch, and a moment later Teyla settled into the co-pilot's place. "Good to have you back," he said, without looking up, but he could almost feel her smile.
"It is good to be back," she said. "Though I think it would be well if we did not linger."
The Dart bay door was still open, and John brought the puddlejumper up and around in a single smooth curve. He braced himself for collision alarms, for closing doors and the crash of energy weapons, but nothing happened. They slid smoothly out into the night, and nothing pursued.
He set a course for Atlantis, sliding from day into night, the towers' lights a tiny point in the distance, and finally glanced at Teyla. She looked completely composed, as usual, her hands resting lightly on the arms of the chair, but there was a faint line between her brows. "Any luck with Alabaster?"
She gave a rueful smile. "Indeed, I do not know. She has a solid claim to have spoken with Steelflower, and to be doing her bidding, but – I do not know if the men will follow her in preference to Guide." She shook her head. "I've done what I can, John."
If only we could find the damn weapon – if only McKay hadn't screwed around with it in the first place. If only they'd never found the thing. If only. John swallowed those thoughts as pointless, letting the puddlejumper slide deeper into the atmosphere. "Yeah. So have we all."
"What can I do for you?" Jennifer said as Daniel Jackson stuck his head diffidently into her office.
"Actually, I just figured I might not be in the way down here," Daniel said. "Everyone's pretty busy, and I always find it hard to nap when we're about to have a space battle."
"Me, too," Jennifer said. "I probably ought to get some sleep, because I expect we'll have casualties coming in later, but ..." She shook her head. "Want some coffee?"
"Please," Daniel said. He took the cup she handed him and hovered politely behind the visitors' chair.
"You're welcome to have a seat," Jennifer said. "There's nothing else for me to do until the shooting starts. When it does, I'll have to kick you out."
"Of course," Daniel said. He shook his head. "I always used to wonder how Jack could sleep when we were waiting for a battle. I used to think it was a trick I'd pick up eventually. Apparently not."
"If you were going to, I think you would have by now."
"Yep. I've been doing this for ... too long." Daniel shook his head. "I'm hoping to have the chance to see more of Atlantis when this is over, but this doesn't seem like the moment for sight-seeing."
"It's not the best circumstances."
"It never seems to be."
"At least you haven't been nearly electrocuted this time."
"Not yet. Don't jinx it."
"Sorry."
"I'm sorry to have missed the Wraith," Daniel said.
Jennifer looked at him in bemusement. "You know, most people don't say that."
"We still know so little about them," he said. "I mean, looking at the recent reports, this is the first confirmation we have that the Wraith even have personal names. And we've learned something about the status of Wraith queens within the hive, and about division of labor, and a tiny bit about family relationships. But that's pretty close to the sum total of what we know about the Wraith after six years, aside from the obvious and admittedly distracting fact that they eat people."
"We've studied their written language."
"We've started studying their written language, but, again, we've mostly been focused on basic translation, so we haven't gotten much farther than establishing that it's based on Ancient, which of course follows. But I'd like to actually look at how the two languages diverged, given that now we have some idea of when the Wraith were created. And get some idea of how the language works in practice in a telepathic society – we know that Wraith names have a telepathic component, and that what they're giving us are rough equivalents, so I think looking at their non-verbal communication would be fascinating." He trailed off, with a wry expression. "That may just be me."
"No, it is interesting," Jennifer said. "It's been really hard to find out anything about Wraith culture. Basically most of our interactions have been with prisoners, and they haven't wanted to talk to us very much. Like you said, this is the first time they've even been willing to tell us their names."
"And I see that the part where they eat people makes ethnographic study tricky."
"We haven't really been in a position to send somebody to observe them, no. They think of us basically as livestock."
"That was always fun with the Goa'uld," Daniel said. "Except they thought of us as slaves and potential hosts, which was a little better, but ... not really that much. But at least when we were dealing with the Goa'uld we had the Jaffa to explain them to us."
"I suppose we could talk to the Wraith worshippers," Jennifer said. "But I think a lot of them don't ever see the Wraith at close quarters. It would have to be someone who'd lived on a Wraith hive ship, and we've never heard of anyone who did that and then left the ship alive."
"Believe me, I see your problem."
"At least the Wraith – Guide's Wraith – are talking to us right now. I don't know how long that's going to last after we defeat Queen Death. Assuming we defeat Queen Death. And then there's the question of the retrovirus."
"The one that makes humans able to survive being fed on by the Wraith?"
Jennifer nodded. "We don't really have any idea what that's going to mean for Wraith society, assuming it's even used on a wide scale. Whether they can ever start thinking about humans as people."
"What do you think?" Daniel asked.
She sipped her cooling coffee and considered that. "I think it's possible, once they don't have to eat us," she said. "I think some of them – Guide, for instance – are aware on some level that we're people, but they have to be able to feed to live, so they tell themselves that most humans are no better than cattle at the same time that they're willing to work with us."
"Do you think they'll accept the retrovirus?"
"It's not entirely up to them," Jennifer said. "Humans in Pegasus are going to use it whether the Wraith want them to or not. I think it's a strategic advantage in some ways – they have a population problem, and being able to feed on humans more than once would help them avoid having to go into hibernation because there's not enough for them to eat. Guide was certainly interested in our previous retrovirus, which would have made it unnecessary for them to feed at all, although I'm getting the impression that would have been harder for them to accept."
"A bigger cultural change," Daniel said. "If humans didn't have to eat or drink, that would be great, right? Only think how disruptive it would be to have all of our cultural rituals around eating and drinking suddenly become unnecessary, and maybe impossible."
"And people do like eating and drinking," Jennifer said, raising her coffee cup. Beyond its effect as a stimulant, she had to admit that the coffee was comforting to have in her hand.
"They do. It's pleasurable and psychologically rewarding, and it's a major part of social rituals. A dietary shift is easier to accept."
The
intense light of interest on his face was hard to resist. "If we win the battle, I'll see if I can introduce you to the Wraith, all right?"
"I'd like that," Daniel said.
Sam scrolled to the last page of the reports, her eyes skimming past the details to the final summary: ninety-eight percent ready. Ninety-eight percent of optimum, and forty-eight hours ago she'd have laughed if you'd said she could get the Hammond ready for battle in that amount of time. But her crew had worked miracles, her people and Zelenka's team from Atlantis and Bill Lee and his crew from the SGC. She hoped they got the respect they deserved for it, especially Bill. He'd been in her shadow, and Daniel's, and even McKay's, and if he'd been anywhere else he'd have been the top man, not the guy who was always second best. She'd said as much in the report she'd just finished, and now she touched the keys to add it to the queue for the next databurst, but she wasn't under too many illusions about the likelihood of it reaching Earth any time soon. Yes, they'd been in impossible situations before and somehow survived, but there were four hiveships bearing down on the planet, and still no sign that Todd was going to help them.
She touched keys, bringing the current tactical plot to the foreground. Not that Todd's fleet was all that impressive. He had three hives, yes, but one of them was smaller than the others, its mass and power signature both less, and he certainly lacked the support vessels. Queen Death had eight cruisers of varying sizes and who knew how many Darts; Todd had only a pair of cruisers and a smaller ship that she suspected was supposed to be some kind of support vessel. Sensors said it was armed, but not heavily enough for the coming battle.
Of course, they also had the Hammond, and the Pride of the Genii – with Lorne flying the Ancient warship, she felt reasonably sure it would stay on their side and not vanish into hyperspace as soon as things got difficult – and Atlantis itself, which was still kind of amazing to contemplate. But all in all, she suspected that their best result was going to be to do significant damage to Queen Death's fleet and get Atlantis into hyperspace before her Wraith could press the attack. And that wasn't going to be as easy as she'd like.
SGA-21 - Inheritors - Book VI of the Legacy Series Page 19
