SGA-21 - Inheritors - Book VI of the Legacy Series

by Melissa Scott

  He closed his mind over that memory as though he closed his fist, looked up as the door slid back to admit O'Neill again. "General O'Neill. It is time that I spoke to my alliance."

  "So it is." O'Neill contrived to look surprised. "I really hope you're ready to tell them to come join the party."

  Guide smiled in spite of himself. "Sadly, this – party – is not yet ready to begin. Unless you bear good news?"

  He saw with satisfaction that the shot had gone home. "No," O'Neill said shortly. "We don't have it yet."

  Guide spread his hands. "Then you cannot expect us to join you. However, I will speak with my ships."

  Properly speaking, it was not Ember's place to wait in the control room with the other lords of the council. Clevermen belonged in the bowels of the ship, in the laboratories and secret spaces, unless and until they were invited; this was for blades and commanders. Guide had never enforced that rule, and Bonewhite seemed disinclined to concern himself with it either, so Ember hovered by the environmental monitoring station, deeming it a plausible enough excuse should his presence draw comment. Guide was due to contact them, to confirm that they should continue to Atlantis, and Ember couldn't bear to wait for that news to filter through the ship, not after what Blackiron had shown him.

  He kept his thoughts closed tight, his head bent over the perfectly ordinary readings. If Blackiron was right, someone among the men assembled here was a traitor, served Queen Death – he couldn't imagine it, except out of fear. And fear was reasonable enough, given everything she had done, but even if it was a hopeless cause, he could not bear to think of serving her. He remembered the feeling of her hand on his chest, the sting of her claws and the pain as she fed. If it had been Steelflower who demanded that service, that taste of his life, he would gladly have given it, and more than a taste.... But that was not to the point: queens rarely admitted clevermen to more than momentary favor. But if they were to survive – if they defeated Death, well, he'd had as much of a hand in that as any blade, and she was extraordinary, wise beyond her years, and no stickler for convention.

  He curbed that thought as well, shaking his head at his own folly. The old proverb whispered through his mind: first find your humans.... First survive this war.

  The main screen lit abruptly, and Bonewhite bared teeth as the cleverman on duty adjusted the system to receive the signal. Ember could feel the tension in the chamber, each one of the waiting blades eager to find out their fate. How soon would they reach Atlantis, how soon would they face Death? He let his gaze slide from one man to the next, trying to read their loyalty in the set of their shoulders, the way they held their hands and head, but he could see nothing more than the general wariness.

  "Commander," Bonewhite said, and Guide's face appeared in the screen. Behind him was a fuzzy image of Atlantis's control room, a double handful of humans vague shapes in the background. Hairy stood at his shoulder, looking less than happy, and another gray-haired human stood behind him, frowning slightly, his eyes narrowed as though he looked into a bright light or a great distance. Ember had never seen him before, but didn't dare draw attention to himself by asking.

  "Is all well?"

  That was the prearranged signal, and Ember felt the tension ease a little. Guide was unharmed, and the Lanteans were negotiating: the rest was details.

  "All is well," Bonewhite agreed. "We await your next orders."

  "There will be a delay," Guide said.

  Ember looked up sharply, felt his own surprise echoed around the control room.

  "Hold the ships at your present position," Guide continued. "I will be in contact shortly with further orders."

  "Very good, Commander," Bonewhite said. "Is there some – difficulty?"

  Guide's smile showed too many teeth for true humor. "Let's say we've hit a sticking point. And if I were not confident in General O'Neill's – intentions – this deal would already be off."

  "Understood," Bonewhite said, bowing.

  "I will contact you again in three hours," Guide said. "If not sooner."

  "Three –" Bonewhite broke off. "Very well, Commander."

  "Until then," Guide said, and the screen went abruptly blank.

  “Three hours!” That was Precision, the leader of the Darts. “Bonewhite, if we're not underway by then – we won't make Atlantis in time.”

  “We're closer than that,” Hasten said, with some reluctance. Ember hadn't seen him there – another cleverman keeping out of sight until his word was needed. “We'll have to make our best speed, yes, but we can be there.”

  “We should be there in good time to prepare,” Ease said. “And if the Lanteans go back on their word – well, there will be time to deal with them, and then with Queen Death.”

  “Enough!” Bonewhite's mental voice was outraged, stunning them all into silence. “I put it to you, this is no place to discuss such matters. I will meet with any who wish to discuss the matter in one hour, and you may have your say. But for now – the Commander's word is clear.”

  Ember bowed along with the others, and kept his head down as Bonewhite stalked from the control room. In an hour, he could ask for audience, and no one would think twice – no one would suspect that he knew something he shouldn't. But if Bonewhite didn't believe him – and Ember was well aware of how flimsy his evidence was – or, worse, if it were Bonewhite who was the traitor.... Ember slipped from the control room, once again aware that he was a stranger here, without kin. He didn't know if he dared take the risk, or if he dared avoid it.

  "I believe we have little else to discuss." Guide did not move from his place at the table, but his tone of voice was underlaid by his mental dismissal. Teyla frowned. In the last two days she'd begun to wonder if anyone would ever get out of this conference room for more than an hour at a time. Certainly they had discussed everything there was to say. The only thing that signified now was action – an action they couldn't take – the destruction of Hyperion's weapon.

  "Surely," Mr. Woolsey began, but Guide cut him off.

  "My fleet was warned of possible treachery before I came here," Guide said sharply. "I assure you that my commanders will not move without my order."

  "Or Steelflower's," Teyla said quietly.

  He rounded on her, coming to his feet. "The medical procedures to transform you take many hours. Hours which you do not have. And no one will follow your orders as you are now." He rested his hands on the table before him, looking at Woolsey. "I came here in good faith, and you assured me that you would destroy this weapon. Now you either cannot or will not. My fleet will not move until it is destroyed. Is that clear?"

  What was clear to Teyla was that Mr. Woolsey had also exhausted everything he might say. He had delayed and delayed and delayed, but they did not have the weapon and there was nothing that would convince Guide of their good faith.

  "We are leaving," Guide said with a quick glance to the side at Alabaster. "Unless of course we are your prisoners. In which case you should consider that our fleet will never move."

  Teyla made herself stay very still. Too much moving and pacing was a sign of weakness in a queen. She had learned that well. "If your fleet does not move soon, it will not get here in time no matter what your intentions or ours are."

  Alabaster put her head to the side as though this were no more than a matter of scientific interest. "We are prepared to move as soon as the weapon is destroyed. I do accept that you are unable to do so at this time, but you must see our position. What is to stop you from using it as soon as you find it? If we are not your prisoners, then we shall return to our fleet and you will contact us when the weapon is found."

  Our fleet, Teyla thought. Oh yes. Steelflower has become superfluous. Alabaster is queen, and so she will be.

  "And if we do that," Woolsey said, "what guarantee do we have that you will come at all?"

  "None," Guide said sharply. "Just as we have no guarantee that you will not use the weapon."

  The alliance was unraveling before her e
yes, collapsing under the weight of history. In a moment too many things would be said.

  "I have a counterproposal," Teyla said, her eyes on Alabaster. Guide might think he ruled, as he had these many years, but Alabaster was more amenable to compromise, and ultimately he must learn once again what it was to serve a queen. She was not a child, and he would not rule her. "Let Guide remain here and oversee the destruction of the weapon when we find it, while you and Darling return to the fleet and await his word." He would be hostage for his daughter's behavior, but she and the child would be free, which was no doubt what he wished most.

  Woolsey frowned. "I suppose that's possible." He looked at her as though he wished for a moment that he had Wraith telepathy.

  "I am to be the hostage," Guide said. "And who is to be the hostage that Alabaster bears away? Who will guarantee your part of the bargain?"

  "I will," Teyla said evenly. "I will go with Alabaster if she wishes it, not as Steelflower but as Teyla Emmagan, hostage for Atlantis' word."

  Woolsey's frown deepened. "I don't think we can allow one of our people to be a hostage."

  Teyla fixed a smile on her face. "You may call me a liaison then. I shall be Atlantis' liaison to the Wraith."

  She saw him consider, saw the possibilities cross his face, and Woolsey nodded. "Our ambassador."

  "Just so," Teyla said. She looked at Alabaster. "If that is agreeable to you?"

  "It is," Alabaster said serenely, and if Guide disagreed he did not publicly rebuke his queen.

  Chapter Eight

  Ultimatums

  "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," Jennifer Keller said.

  "I had the hour free," Eva said. Her own part in the preparations for the imminent Wraith attack had consisted of lending a hand to move things people asked her to help move and trying not to get in people's way.

  Jennifer shrugged, her mouth twisting. "I was guessing that Rodney's usual appointment time might be free, since he's still locked in a cell."

  "Is that what you want to talk about?" Eva asked.

  "I hardly know where to start," Jennifer said. "Last night Rodney and I broke up. I think. He asked me to marry him, and I said not right now, and he said then we shouldn't be dating seriously anymore. And this morning he took his cat and 'moved out,' only half of his stuff is still all over my quarters. And then this afternoon, I found out that he may still be under the control of the Wraith. I don't know what to think."

  "Let's leave the question of any Wraith influence on this aside for a moment," Eva said. She was getting plenty of practice at saying things like that. "How did you feel when he said he was leaving?"

  "Well, upset, obviously," Jennifer said. Eva waited. "And relieved," Jennifer said after a long pause. "And I know exactly how horrible that sounds."

  "I think that's very understandable," Eva said. "You're under a lot of pressure at work, and at the same time you're trying to care for a partner who's been through a traumatic experience."

  "And I'm not sure I want to get married. But I thought we could work things out. I wanted to work things out. I didn't expect him to just say, well, if you don't want to get married, I'm leaving. And now I don't even know whether he really means it, or whether he's just acting strangely because he's being controlled by the Wraith."

  Eva sipped her cooling coffee and took a moment to think about her answer. She figured she'd have to add that one to her mental list of questions that most psychiatrists in private practice never got asked, right up there with "is there any point in talking about my childhood issues if I'm a clone of the person who actually had the childhood?"

  "So what you're asking is whether being controlled by the Wraith would mean that he might change his mind?" she said finally.

  "Something like that."

  "Do you want him to change his mind?"

  Jennifer let out a long breath. "I really don't know." She shook her head. "I love Rodney. I really do. But it seems like he wants to spend the rest of his life in Atlantis. And I don't ... really think I like my job here." She looked guilty, but went on clear-eyed. "You know, when I got my medical degree, I wanted to do fieldwork. Disaster relief and public health. When I go to New Athos, or help people who've lost their homes to the Wraith, it feels like I'm doing what I always wanted to do. But that's maybe a few days out of every month. The rest of the time, I'm a general practitioner for a military base where we do a lot of questionably ethical things. And that's not something I ever wanted to do. It's not even something I like."

  "You've done a lot of good work here," Eva said.

  "I know. That's part of the problem. They need me here."

  "Just because you've done a good job here doesn't mean you have to stay forever. There are other doctors who would also do good work here. Just because you stop doing something, it doesn't mean you've failed. Sometimes, it just means you've finished."

  "I guess I've been waiting for Rodney to be finished," Jennifer said. "But I don't know if that's ever going to happen. And I know I shouldn't even be worrying about this now, because we're about to be under attack by the Wraith, and my relationship problems aren't a priority."

  Eva shrugged. "What would you be doing if you weren't sitting here talking to me?"

  "I don't know. Maybe taking a shower. We're pretty much set for tomorrow. I've triaged the patients to be transferred back to Earth, and we've packed up nonessentials in case they decide on a total evacuation. And we're pretty much always stocked for an apocalyptic disaster."

  "Would you rather talk, or take that shower?"

  "I think talk," Jennifer said. "I'll risk having to face the Wraith without my hair washed."

  "All right, then," Eva said. "What do you want? Never mind what Rodney wants for a minute. What do you want?"

  "I want a different kind of job," Jennifer said. "And I want to be able to figure out what that should be without making someone miserable. And when I do get married, someday, I want it to be when I'm ready to settle down and have kids somewhere that's not a war zone. Maybe that could even be Colorado Springs. Or Area 51. Both of them get invaded by aliens a lot less often."

  "True enough."

  "And when I thought that was what Rodney wanted, I figured, okay, we'll go ahead and move on to the part where we live in Nevada and have a cat and a baby and neighbors who probably aren't going to all die. If that's not on the table, then I don't think I'm ready to go home yet. I'm still okay with working in a war zone. It's just my actual job here that's driving me crazy."

  "Then maybe you should think about how you could change that," Eva said.

  "In all my copious spare time?"

  "Try to make some time," Eva said. "I'll grant you tomorrow is probably all booked up."

  "Yeah, I think the Wraith have penciled themselves in. My life crises will have to wait."

  "Once we're through this, you can talk to Rodney about what you both want in the future. And that includes whether you want a future together or apart."

  "You mean if he's not still brainwashed and carrying out a secret plot to kill us."

  "If that's the case, then obviously we'll want to address that problem first," Eva said dryly.

  Jennifer breathed a laugh. "Good plan," she said. "I think I'm going to see if I can take that shower."

  "Good luck," Eva said, and hoped they'd all have it in the day to come.

  The blade's face was smooth and old, but his voice was sharp. "The time has come," he said, the transmission crackling faintly on the screens of the hiveship Promised Return, "to make a choice. Will you stand with Queen Death against the Lanteans?"

  Waterlight took a deep breath. At her side she felt Thorn stir, her Father who stood in the place of a consort until she was grown.

  "We are in no condition to engage in battle," Thorn temporized. "Our ship is in poor condition, and we are far shorthanded since the war with the Replicators. We would be of little assistance to so great an alliance."

  The blade snarled. "That may be. But i
t is your loyalty in question, and your courage. Are you too much of a coward to face the Lanteans? Is that true, Thorn?"

  She felt his humiliation, the slow burn of disgrace that accompanied him, a consort who had not died for his queen and lived yet, branded coward and with nothing to do about it.

  "It is not Thorn's decision," she said clearly, lifting her head, and the blade's eyes fell upon her though he had previously held her of little account. "I am the Queen, and I choose." Thorn moved, but she spoke on, her eyes on the Old One. "I reject alliance with Queen Death," Waterlight said. "I stand instead with my sister, Queen Steelflower."

  At that he did hiss, his face contorting. "You will regret that, little queen. Death will drink your overlady's life, and she will not spare you in your turn. I name you renegade! None shall succor you or treat with you."

  "Except my sister and her alliance," Waterlight said. Anger welled up in her, fierce and proud. "I do not fear you or that harridan you serve!"

  Her father's voice was sharp in her mind. “Waterlight, mind what you do.” He feared. But she did not. His fears were for her safety, but if one cannot spend one's own life in pursuit of what is right, what can one spend?