Stargate Atlantis: Third Path: Book 8 in the Legacy series

by Melissa Scott

  “I’ll come if you need me,” Dekaas said, but let his jacket fall. Elizabeth could guess at his feelings, torn between relief and regret, but she put them aside.

  She retraced their path through the empty corridors and out into the installation’s main room, careful to close the door behind her. Beyond the main entrance, lights blazed on the landing field, and she could see shadows moving against the pavement. Three Traveler ships stood toward one side of the field, a group huddled at the foot of Durant’s ramp, and a Wraith cruiser dominated the other side. The Wraith she knew as Todd stood behind a scarlet-haired queen, drones and a warrior ranked behind him. Sheppard and Teyla stood a little apart from the others, their backs to the entrance. Elizabeth took a deep breath.

  “Colonel Sheppard!”

  For a moment, she thought he hadn’t heard, but then his head turned slowly, a reasonable facsimile of a casual glance. She saw him frown, and say something, and Teyla turned, too. Her eyebrows rose, and then she beckoned. Elizabeth straightened her shoulders, and came to join them as though she still had all the right in the world to do just that.

  “I thought I told McKay to keep everybody inside,” Sheppard said.

  “There’s something you need to know,” Elizabeth answered. “Rodney said Todd was here because of the Wolf. Is that true?”

  “Guide,” Sheppard said, absently.

  Elizabeth blinked, and Teyla said, “His name is Guide, the one you called Todd. But, yes, he and Alabaster are here because they claim the Wolf is aboard one of these ships.”

  “He may well be,” Elizabeth said bluntly. She kept her shoulder turned to the Wraith, just in case their hearing was as enhanced as their night vision, or they had learned to read human faces. “He has been in the past. And when I was on Osir, before I joined Durant, his wife and son were there.”

  “Damn it.” Sheppard didn’t raise his voice, but his hands tightened on the stock of his P90. “I knew they were bullshitting us.”

  “John,” Teyla said. She kept her expression placid, though her eyes were wary. “You did not see him yourself?”

  “No.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I heard of him, that’s all. But I met his wife — she was assigned to keep an eye on me while we were in transit.”

  Teyla pursed her lips. “This changes matters.”

  “No kidding.” Sheppard looked as though he wanted to hit something, and Elizabeth couldn’t entirely blame him. “They got us to stick our necks out, and the whole time they had this Wolf guy — Lesko knew they had him.”

  “John,” Teyla said again. “He may not have known. It occurs to me now that Captain Lesko made all the promises, but the other two did not. We must talk to Captain Lesko at once.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Sheppard said.

  “And you will let me do the talking,” Teyla said firmly. “Me and Dr. Weir.”

  She turned on her heel and started toward the group at the base of Durant’s ramp. Elizabeth fell into step behind her, and Sheppard grimaced, but followed.

  “Captain Lesko,” Teyla said. “You have not been honest with us.”

  Elizabeth saw Lesko’s face change as he recognized her, and at his side the stocky woman lifted her head. “The Forgetting Woman! She’s Lantean?”

  “You said she was Satedan,” the red-headed Traveler said.

  “She is the woman we were looking for,” Teyla said, “as indeed Captain Lesko knew. And she has told us enough to make us certain that you have lied to us.”

  “We didn’t lie,” Lesko said. “Shaded the truth, maybe — but these are Wraith!”

  “You told me that none of you were sheltering the Wolf,” Teyla said. “And that is not true.”

  It was pure bluff, Elizabeth thought, but effective nonetheless. She saw the three captains exchange uneasy looks, saw the moment it worked and Lesko exhaled a long sigh. “We can’t give him up. You have to understand that. He has family among us now.”

  “So you were just going to leave us hanging out there,” Sheppard said.

  “Colonel Sheppard is right,” Teyla said. “How did you expect to conceal him from the Wraith?”

  “We have ways,” Tallisk began, but Lesko interrupted her.

  “We were working on that. And, no, we didn’t really have any good ideas, but let me tell you now, we’re not handing him over.”

  “And so you would sacrifice all your people, the people of three ships, to protect him?” Teyla asked.

  “He’s one of us. We don’t give up our own.” Lesko matched her stare for stare. “And you’d just stand by and let the Wraith murder us all?”

  “There is very little we could do to stop them, should they chose to act,” Teyla retorted.

  “They’re your allies!” Tallisk said.

  “We fought together against a mutual enemy,” Teyla said.

  “One who would have been just as happy to destroy your people,” Sheppard said. “Queen Death wasn’t planning on leaving any humans alive outside her control.”

  “They’d’ve starved to death if they’d tried that,” Yoran said.

  “Just so,” Teyla said, “except that they planned then to move to another galaxy, and conquer new feeding grounds there.” Her voice hardened. “And that is why we fought alongside Alabaster and her fellow queens, to prevent a fate far worse for all of us, human and Wraith. And, yes, the price of that was that we agreed to let the Wraith take certain parts of the galaxy unmolested, in return for them granting us the same freedom.”

  “We weren’t part of that deal,” Lesko said.

  “We’ve been trying to get you in on it,” Sheppard said, “only Larrin’s been dodging us. And now I think I know why.”

  This was going nowhere, and taking too long. Elizabeth glanced sideways, and saw without surprise that the Wraith were watching with interest, and even as she watched, Todd — Guide — put his hand on the queen’s sleeve and stalked forward.

  “Enough wasting time,” he called. “Have you come to your senses?”

  Sheppard turned quickly, putting himself between the Wraith and the other humans, that familiar uneasy smile spreading across his face. “We’re just talking here —”

  Guide stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as they fixed on Elizabeth’s face. “Surely —”

  Elizabeth gave him her best cool smile, seeing Sheppard’s finger resting on the P90’s safety.

  “They told us you were dead,” Guide said, after a moment, and looked at Teyla. “Your first queen has returned?”

  “It is complicated,” Teyla said, “but, yes, in essence, it is so.”

  “Reports of my death were… exaggerated,” Elizabeth said. This was no time for clever quotations. “And I have — my people have found me.” If Guide was going to treat her as though she were a Wraith queen, it would be just as well to act like one.

  Guide slanted a look at Teyla. “Two queens in one hive is always an awkward thing. Or so it is among my people.”

  “It is much less so for us,” Teyla said. “Or have you not noticed?”

  “Be that as it may,” Guide said, “and I am glad to welcome your return on behalf of my queen, this has no bearing on the problem at hand. We are here for the Wolf, and the Wolf we will have, or we will destroy these ships as they stand.”

  “That could only be construed as an irreparable breach of relations,” Elizabeth said.

  Guide smiled. “Perhaps we should take that risk. After all, who can tell what story would come home to Atlantis from so far away?”

  Especially if we didn’t survive either, Elizabeth thought. The threat was clear. She was glad the others had stayed behind in the Vanir installation. If worst came to worst, Rodney would see that Atlantis was warned.

  “Guide!” That was the Wraith queen, striding across the cracked pavement. Her hair was brilliant scarlet, bright as fresh blood, and she wore an ankle-length leather vest over a white dress that was a sharp contrast to the pale green of her skin. Her eyes were as green as Guide’s, the sensor pits b
racketing her nose sharply defined in the field lights. “What is this?”

  Guide turned, bowing slightly. “It seems the Lanteans’ first queen is now returned to them.”

  “Oh?” The queen tipped her head to one side.

  “Elizabeth Weir,” Elizabeth said. For the first time, the name didn’t feel strange to her, but like a homecoming.

  “Our first commander,” Sheppard said. “We believed she was dead.”

  “A queen believed lost and found again.” There was an odd expression on the queen’s face, one Elizabeth couldn’t read. “I am — you may call me Alabaster.”

  And was that an actual name, or a translation, or a word she had chosen for some other reason? Elizabeth nodded in acknowledgement.

  “But this is a distraction,” Guide said, with a flash of teeth. “However pleasant! The matter at hand is the Wolf.”

  “The commander is correct,” Alabaster said. “Have you come to some decision?”

  “We’re not giving anyone to the Wraith,” Lesko said.

  “Then he is here.” Guide took a step forward, and Sheppard’s hand tightened on his P90.

  “Easy, big guy, we don’t want any misunderstandings.”

  “It seems to me that there have been too many ‘misunderstandings’ already,” Guide snapped. “Your allies have admitted he is here. Hand him over, or suffer the consequences.”

  “To be murdered? Never.” Lesko’s fists were clenched.

  “Has anyone asked the Wolf what he wants?” Elizabeth asked. There was a moment of silence, and she pressed her brief advantage. “Surely he has something to say about all of this.”

  “We won’t turn anyone over to the Wraith,” Lesko said again.

  “Would he want others to die for him?” Elizabeth asked. “Particularly if no one is saved by that sacrifice? Surely that’s a choice a man should make for himself.”

  She saw Yoran’s gaze flicker, and Lesko’s mouth tightened. Tallisk said, “That’s a hell of a thing to ask of anyone.”

  “He knew what he was getting into when he started this,” Yoran said.

  “Let’s at least talk to him,” Elizabeth said. “No one wants a slaughter. Not even the Wraith.”

  “I see no reason to let you out of my sight,” Alabaster said. “You will forgive me, Elizabeth Weir, but I cannot help thinking that this is some ploy to help the Wolf escape.”

  “I assure you it isn’t,” Elizabeth said. “But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll stay here, and Colonel Sheppard and Teyla will talk to the Wolf.”

  “You and the Traveler captains will stay,” Guide said, and Elizabeth nodded.

  “Elizabeth,” Sheppard said, his voice a warning, but Elizabeth ignored him, her attention on the Wraith.

  “Do we have an agreement?”

  Guide and Alabaster exchanged silent stares, and then Guide bared teeth in a nearly-silent snarl.

  “We are agreed,” Alabaster said.

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth turned away, and Sheppard caught her sleeve, drawing her close enough that a whisper might not be overheard.

  “Do you really want me to talk this guy into giving himself up?”

  “I want you to talk to him,” Elizabeth answered. “I want you to find out what he wants, what he can offer, anything that will buy us time.”

  “Yoran is not easy with this,” Teyla said. “And I do not think Alabaster wants to destroy these ships.”

  “Right.” Elizabeth gave a brisk nod. “That’s something we can build on.” She only hoped it was true.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  EMBER tapped his claws uneasily on the edge of the console, wishing that the Lanteans’ machines would hurry up and complete the DNA analysis. Lorne’s new, stricter quarantine seemed to be working, insofar as there had been no reports of plastic being destroyed outside the areas already affected. Ember would have thought that to be a good sign, if the destruction within those areas hadn’t been accelerating. And if the threat of the ‘little replicator’ wasn’t hanging over all their heads. Surely, surely, it was only a false positive. He looked up as Beckett emerged from his narrow office, and barely suppressed a hiss when he saw the expression on the human’s face.

  “Aye, you were right,” Beckett said, and set a sheaf of paper on the console between them. “The DNA matches the pattern you gave us. I’m just waiting for the full results to transfer to the rest of the program.”

  Ember bared his teeth, saw the human recoil, and shook his head in apology. “I had hoped — but no matter. That is what it is.”

  “You said you knew this bug,” Beckett said. “What do we do now?”

  “We must stop it before it can mutate further.” Ember reached for the papers, translating the Lantean terms to his own symbols, hoping that there would be some hint, some key that would let him give a better answer. “And that is not an easy thing to do.”

  “Do you mean to tell me you don’t know how to kill it?”

  “As I said, it’s a danger to us as well as to humans,” Ember said. “There is not always anything good we can do.”

  Beckett made a face. “How long do we have?”

  “I don’t know. Anything from a few hours to a few weeks.” Ember stopped, cocking his head to one side. “Is the program ready?”

  Beckett reached for the nearest keyboard, touched a series of keys. “The data’s just loaded. You’ve got something?”

  Ember swung the screen so that he could see more clearly, watching the model coil and unspool. “Possibly. This is not the most dangerous strain — it’s relatively weak, not as quick to divide and spread as others I’ve heard about. And that means we have time before it can mutate, a week or more rather than hours. We breed a weakness into the solvent in case we need to destroy it quickly. If we can target that, we should be able to destroy it.”

  “Show me,” Beckett said.

  Ember edged to one side, calling up the original analysis. Together, he and Beckett worked through the first few screens, mapping out potential weak spots. The first could be targeted easily enough, but the most effective compound would damage the Lanteans’ electronics; the second Beckett vetoed as harmful to the human respiratory system. The third, though… Ember tipped his head to one side, trying to transform the two-dimensional image into something more familiar. His feeding hand throbbed, a steady pulse that matched his heartbeat, and he closed his fingers tightly, digging his claws into the heel of his hand. “Here. The cell wall — this thing —” He pointed, unable to find an equivalent word.

  “Peptidoglycan?” Beckett said. “That’s the cell wall.”

  “Yes. That. In this, the bond here, between these sugars, is weaker, and can be disrupted.” Ember touched the screen again. “You see? To do so will also slow the growth process, as it will inhibit cell division.”

  Beckett nodded slowly. “Aye, I see that. And this compound looks essentially harmless.”

  “It is slippery,” Ember said. “We use a related compound to clean the hives. But it should not harm even human flesh.”

  “Let’s try a test batch,” Beckett said.

  It took another two hours to create a sample large enough to experiment with, the process hampered by Ember’s having to translate his own terms into language the Lanteans could follow. But at last it was done, and Beckett managed a tired grin.

  “Well. It works on the samples, anyway.”

  “Yes.” Ember studied the screen with satisfaction, admiring the way the cell walls were thinned and leaking. Even where there was resistance, the new compound was making good headway. And at worst it would help slow the mutation rate.

  “Dr. Beckett.” That was Lorne’s voice again, and Beckett looked toward the nearest speaker.

  “Aye?”

  “We really need something to shut this down.” Lorne’s voice was tight with strain. “We’re starting to lose key equipment, and I can’t replace it if it’s not going to last longer than this.”

  “We’ve made some progress,”
Beckett said. “We have a liquid that should at least slow it down.”

  “That would be great, Doc. We need it now.”

  “There’s worse,” Beckett said. “Ember says he believes this will mutate further, producing a strain that will prove infectious to humans.”

  There was a moment of silence before Lorne spoke. “How bad?”

  “Potentially fatal to everyone on Atlantis,” Beckett said. “The good news, such as it is — we’ve some time to find an answer.”

  “How long?” Lorne asked.

  “A week, Ember says.”

  “Ok.” Lorne paused. “Work on that. In the meantime, though, we need something up here to keep the systems running.”

  “It’ll take us a couple of hours to make up another batch,” Beckett said.

  “We need something sooner than that,” Lorne said.

  “I can take the rest of what we have up to them now,” Ember said. “I think it would be useful to see how the bacteria responds in a natural setting.”

  “If you cross the quarantine line,” Beckett said, “you know you can’t come back.”

  “I know.” Ember nodded. “But there is research equipment there, is there not? And we can share files by network. I would like to be where I can see the results first hand. And I will be able to monitor any mutations more directly.”

  “All right.” Beckett touched his earpiece. “Major, I’m going to send Ember to you with all the anti-bacterial wash we have made. We’ll send a second batch as soon as it’s finished.”

  There was a little silence, as though Lorne was stifling a first answer. “Ok, Doc. We’ll be waiting for him.”

  Radek rose cautiously to his feet as Ember arrived in the gate room, flanked by a pair of nervous-looking Marines. He was carrying a glass jar that looked as though it would hold two liters of liquid, and attached to it were a short length of hose and a metal nozzle. Obviously Beckett was having just as much trouble as the rest of them coming up with non-plastic tools.