It was a Vanir ship. The sleek lines of its hull meant it could be nothing else. It was small, perhaps only twice the size of a puddle jumper, but far more lethal in appearance, a wedge of dark gray steel with no markings whatsoever on it and no windows or ports either, just a smooth turret that rose midships like the conning tower on a submarine.
“Wow,” John said.
“I wonder why it was left here.”
John walked around it carefully, though there was nothing to suggest it was powered up. No cables attached it to anything in the bay – and it was a bay. Above, maybe forty feet up, there was an irising hatch more than big enough for the ship. Which meant it was expected to takeoff in hover mode. He ducked underneath it, looking for some kind of emitters or jets. Other than some large, darker circles in the metal, almost like the burners on a flat surface stove, there was no sign of anything.
“I’m wondering why the Travelers didn’t find it,” John said.
“Perhaps they could not get through the doors as we did,” Teyla said. “They did not have someone who could read Asgard.”
John nodded, his eyes on the ship. “And there are a lot of empty rooms to discourage looking any further.” Cautiously, he reached up and touched one sleek fin, the metal cold and smooth under his hand, almost oiled to the touch. “But whatever happens with the injured Vanir, this is a find for Atlantis. Maybe one of the most important finds we’ve made in the Pegasus galaxy. The Asgard gave us a lot of technology, but they refused to give us warship specs.”
“Why is that?”
John glanced at her over his shoulder. “Because they were afraid of what we’d do with it.”
Elizabeth sat with Dekaas watching the unconscious Vanir in the regeneration tube while Daniel and Rodney bickered over something on the screen at the control station. “Do they do that all the time?” Dekaas asked bemusedly.
Elizabeth considered. “Yes,” she said.
He shook his head. “They must need a strong…leader to keep them on track.”
“They do.” Elizabeth dropped her voice. “You nearly said queen, didn’t you?”
Dekaas shrugged apologetically. “I suppose. Old habit.”
“I understand,” Elizabeth said. Rodney and Daniel were arguing, oblivious to anything she and Dekaas discussed. “How long were you among the Wraith?”
For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer, and then he shook his head again. “Long years,” he said. “More than a century.”
“But you can’t be more than sixty,” Elizabeth said. “And I would guess closer to fifty!”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Dekaas said.
She lowered her voice still further. “How old are you, Dekaas?”
“I don’t know precisely.” His eyes avoided hers, scanning instead the immobile form in the regeneration tube. “Somewhere around three hundred.”
“Three hundred years old? That’s…”
“Impossible?” Dekaas looked up, a slight smile on his face. “I assure you that it isn’t. During the time I was with the hive, they hibernated twice. So did I. Each time we spent several decades in stasis. And the rest of the time – I told you that I was a favored pet. I have lived through nearly a hundred and fifty years of linear time outside of stasis.”
Things clicked into place, pieces fitting together. “So in addition to healing physical injuries or critical diseases, the Wraith can also undo the effects of natural aging?”
Dekaas nodded. “To a certain extent. The Gift can be used to repair natural wear and tear on the organs, to clear blockages and tumors, and to repair degeneration. Not infinitely, of course, and there are some conditions that humans are subject to which the Gift cannot wholly restore, but for most people the Gift can grant a lifespan of several centuries.”
Elizabeth sat back, her hands on her knees, her mind whirling. “Do you realize how many people would want to know that?”
“That’s why the Gift is a secret,” Dekaas said. “Only the most trusted Worshippers know that it can be used this way.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“I think you will need to know.” Dekaas glanced across the room at the arguing scientists. “Things have changed. I think you’ll need all the information you can get.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Is that why when you left the hive you didn’t return to your own people?”
“Who of my people would have been left after nearly three hundred years? Certainly no one I knew. The hive had become my family.”
“But you said you were treated as a pet.”
“Is your dog part of the family?” Dekaas smiled again. “Lots of people say their dog is. If you could ask the dog, what do you think he’d say?”
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said. “I like to think a dog who is well treated is happy.”
He looked away. “Well, that’s your answer, isn’t it? The hive was my family, complicated as that seems. I mourned their deaths and the loss of my home. And I have not had one since.”
“What about the Travelers?”
Dekaas shrugged. “I’ve found useful work there. But it’s not home. I don’t think there is a place I can go home to now.”
Elizabeth put her hand on his arm. “Could you return to another hive? I know the one you were on is gone, but are there others?”
For a moment hope flared in his eyes, but he looked away. “I don’t know,” he said. “There were not many like Seeker.” He busied himself checking the unchanging data. “And what I told you…”
“I won’t mention it unless I need to,” Elizabeth said. “I understand it’s dangerous.”
“All knowledge is dangerous.”
“Yes.” She considered for a moment. “One question. Could a Wraith be compelled to give the Gift in that fashion against his will?”
“No,” Dekaas said. “I don’t believe so. But if he were threatened with death if he did not? Yes, of course he would.” He held up one hand. “But understand, Elizabeth, that the Gift isn’t free. Life given to one person is taken from another. Life force is finite.”
“In other words, thirty years given to me…”
“Is thirty years taken from someone else,” Dekaas finished. “Or more likely, someone else is drunk dry, the rest of their natural life consumed, and then some portion of that is fed to you.”
“To you.”
“Yes.” Dekaas looked away. “My longevity is at the expense of others.”
“Vampire,” Elizabeth said. He glanced at her curiously, and she continued. “Our culture has stories about those who are effectively immortal, living by drinking the blood of others and thereby extending their lives.”
“Then I suppose you could call me a vampire,” Dekaas said. He bent over the screens again with his gentle physician’s hands. She didn’t ask if he’d taken the Gift willingly. It was obvious he had.
CHAPTER FIVE
PARRISH picked his way cautiously along what seemed to be either a dry streambed or a stretch of ground that suited neither the conifers nor the succulents. On most other planets, he would have called it the track of some medium-sized animal, but nothing on PGX-239 seemed large enough to create a path like this.
“I thought you said there wasn’t any animal life here,” Ronon said behind him, and Parrish jumped. It still startled him that such a big man could move so quietly.
“There isn’t. Or at least not that we’ve seen so far. There are insects, and possibly a land-dwelling crustacean, but we haven’t seen anything big enough to leave a track this size.”
“That would be a pretty big bug,” Ronon said.
This time, Parrish did glance over his shoulder and thought he surprised a glint of humor in the Satedan’s face. “Bigger than I’d like to deal with,” he said. “With my luck, it would be poisonous.”
“Or shoot lightning,” Ronon said.
“That’s an unpleasant thought.” Parrish straightened cautiously, surveying the ground to either side. The conifer
s were a tangled mess, the jagged bark as dangerous as thorns, but you could get a decent look at the ground in between the plants. There was nothing hiding there, only one of the football-sized woodlice rooting in the dirt at the base a conifer stem. Its segmented carapace provided excellent protection against the bark. To the other side, the succulents’ heavy leaves completely obscured the ground and cast deep shadows over even the few open spaces. Just about anything could be hidden beneath those leaves. Could an insect have produced the bolts of energy they’d seen? On balance, it wasn’t impossible. There were plenty of examples even on Earth of animals producing intense electric currents; there was no reason a complex insect couldn’t use similar methods to produce a spark. Though what it would use such a bolt for… “It’s possible, though. In fact, that might explain why it looks unaimed — if it’s some sort of purely defensive reflex?”
“Maybe.” Ronon shaded his eyes, scanning the succulents. “I think that’s where that shot came from – under that thing in the center there, that pod?”
Parrish looked where he was pointing, found the pod — a rounded shape a little darker than the leaves that surrounded it — and lifted his binoculars to see if he could make out anything in the dirt around it. His view was blocked by the spreading leaves, thick and fleshy and mottled green, deep pine-green shading into the near-black of an avocado’s skin. There were no signs of damage on the leaves, neither the lacy tracery where an insect had nibbled, nor the pale lines that betrayed a boring insect. If anything, the plant looked… satisfied and well-fed. And that was a ridiculous fantasy —
He stopped himself abruptly. If there was one thing he’d learned during his five years in the Pegasus Galaxy, it was that nothing should be discounted as too fantastic. “Have you ever seen anything like these plants?”
Ronon shook his head.
Parrish sighed, and lowered his binoculars to see if there was any way through the overlapping leaves of the smaller plants to get to the one with the visible pod. Were there other pods as well? Yes, a few — it looked as though about one in four or five of the succulents had grown a central pod, while the others had only a much smaller, lighter green lump. Pollinator and pollinated? He should definitely take samples of both types.
If he could just figure out how to get in there without having to hack his way in with a machete. He raised the binoculars again, searching for some path between the heavy leaves, but his attention was drawn inexorably to the central pod. It really did look sleek and healthy, the pebbled skin unscarred, unmarked in any way. Or was it? He adjusted the magnification, and thought he could make out a small depression on the very top of the pod. It was smaller than the palm of his hand, and shallow, though the plant’s shifting color made it hard to tell what he was seeing. And… he let his focus drop lower, down the sides of the pod. Was that a crack in the sleek surface?
“You know,” Ronon said, “I have seen something that’s a little bit like this. But it was a lot smaller.”
“Oh?”
“Not on Sateda,” Ronon said, as though that was important. “A place called Dengar. There were Wraith Worshippers there. And there was a plant in the swamps that ate insects. It smelled like rotten meat, and when enough flies gathered, it would open up its flower and release a gas that stunned the flies. They’d fall out of the sky into the bud and it would eat them.” He paused. “I guess it’s not all that like this one.”
“Or maybe it is,” Parrish said. “If a carnivorous plant were hunting insects the size of the ones here —”
“You think the plant is shooting at you?” Ronon gave him a doubtful look.
“I think the plants might be shooting,” Parrish corrected. “Notice that we don’t see any of the big insects hovering over the succulents. I didn’t think anything of it — not their proper food source, other predators might be lurking, there could be a dozen reasons. But if the succulents are carnivorous, that would be an excellent reason to stay away.” He touched his radio. “Dr. Hunt! Are there any insects in your section?”
There was a brief pause, and when she answered Hunt sounded puzzled. “A few of those big pillbugs. Not that I think it’s actually an insect, any more than a pillbug is. One of the giant ladybugs. I can see a couple of the big flying things, the ones that look like dragonflies, but they’re over in the conifers.”
“Confirmation,” Parrish said.
“Dr. Parrish?” Hunt said. She sounded nervous, and Parrish grinned at Ronon.
“Want to test it?”
“What are you thinking?”
“Well, if it hunts insects…” Parrish stooped, scrabbling on the ground until he found one of the hard, fist-sized cones dropped by the nearest conifer. “If it hunts flying insects, and I throw this over it — that ought to trigger it, wouldn’t you think?”
“I think we’re standing too close,” Ronon said, backing quickly down the path.
He was probably right. Parrish retreated after him, activating his radio. “I have a theory about the source of the energy bolts that I want to test, and I need everyone to move well away from the patches of succulents — back to the Stargate and the DHD ought to be far enough.”
“You think something among the plants is the source?” Hunt asked. She and Samara were already moving toward the Stargate, where Aulich and Joseph waited by their equipment.
“I think the plants are the source,” Parrish answered.
“But —” Hunt stopped, audibly reconsidering her protest. “Ok. How to you want to test it?”
“I think they’ve evolved to hunt the flying insects,” Parrish said. “I’m going to throw something over what I think might be a sense organ, and see what happens. That’s why I want everyone back out of range.”
“Roger that,” Hunt answered.
“I didn’t think plants had organs,” Ronon said. He’d reached the edge of the greenery, and was waiting, eyeing the succulents thoughtfully.
“Some do.” Parrish juggled the cone, trying to judge the best line and whether or not he could actually throw anything that far, and Ronon plucked it out of the air.
“You want it thrown so that it passes over that central pod, right?”
“Right.”
“Ok.” Ronon weighed the cone for a moment. “Heads up!” He cocked his arm and threw. The cone arched up into the white sky, rising over the bed of succulents. Blue fire blasted up from the ground, the bolt close enough to make Parrish’s skin tingle, and he flung himself to the ground. Ronon hit the dirt beside him as three, four more bolts blasted into the sky. Parrish lifted his head in time to see a fifth bolt strike the flying cone, which burst into a ball of fire. Beneath it, a pod stretched skyward for a moment, two halves gaping wide, then seemed to sense the falling flames, and snapped shut again. The smoking fragments bounced off its hide and disappeared among the leaves.
“Everyone all right?” Ronon asked, pushing himself to his feet, and there was a chorus of agreement. “Doc?”
Parrish nodded, and accepted the hand Ronon held out to him. “Yes. I’m all right - didn’t expect that, exactly.”
“Let’s not try that again,” Ronon said.
“I think I’ve proved the point.” Parrish realized his hands were shaking, and stuffed them in his pockets. “I probably should have thought. If a bullet triggered them, the reaction to something more insect-like would be — more dramatic.”
“So all those pods are capable of shooting at us,” Ronon said.
“Um. Probably?” Parrish squinted at the mass of plants, trying to figure out which ones had fired. “Though of course there’s the question of whether they need a recharge period —”
“We’re not testing that right now,” Ronon said firmly. “Let’s move back to the Stargate.”
There was something in his tone that brooked no argument. “Yes,” Parrish said, and followed meekly.
They gathered around the DHD, everyone looking a bit shaken by the sudden display of vegetable firepower. Everyone except Ronon, that
is, Parrish thought, who looked concerned but not particularly surprised.
“Might as well eat,” Ronon said, after a moment, and they sorted out rations. Parrish busied himself heating his chili, and traded his candy for Hunt’s Pop-Tart. The others were swapping bits and pieces, too, though he noticed that Ronon didn’t offer to share any of his Satedan rations. From the look of them, Parrish didn’t blame him at all.
“Right,” Ronon said, after everyone had had a chance to get their meals heated. “So what you’ve discovered here is pod-plants that shoot energy bolts at people.”
Everyone looked at Parrish, who sighed. “That pretty much sums it up, yes.”
“Any word on whether Atlantis is open again?” Ronon looked at Joseph, who shook her head.
“No, sir. We haven’t heard anything new.”
“Check that, would you?”
“Yes, sir.” Joseph rose gracefully and dialed the gate. The wormhole whooshed out and stabilized, and Parrish could hear her going through the check-in procedures. It didn’t take long, and he wasn’t surprised when she returned shaking her head. “Sorry, sir. Atlantis is still under quarantine. They’re sounding a bit stressed, too, if you take my meaning.”
“Lovely,” Aulich said, not quite under her breath.
Ronon just nodded. “All right. The question is, is there any reason to stay here instead of going back to Sateda?”
Parrish hesitated. He supposed they ought to withdraw with the information they had before one of the plants actually aimed in their direction, but this was, as far as he knew, an entirely unique situation. “I’d like to investigate further — cautiously! Very cautiously! But these plants might have useful applications later on.”
Hunt nodded. “If we take every care not to trigger them - I’d very much like some tissue samples before we leave.”
“And I’m getting some odd readings, meteorologically speaking,” Aulich said. “I’d like to finish this sampling run.”
Ronon tipped his head to one side. “What makes you so sure the plants won’t start shooting at us?”
Stargate Atlantis: Third Path: Book 8 in the Legacy series Page 10
