And that was the sting in the tail. No one could have said more plainly or more unobjectionably that Guide was hardly impartial in the matter. Everlasting curbed his own delight, and said, *The Lanteans are waiting, Commander.*
*After you,* Guide answered, and they made their way down the ramp and out into the grasses.
The sun was hot, dazzling even after his pupils had contracted to hairline slits, and he saw the distant movement before the shapes came clear. There were four Lanteans as well, one large male, two smaller males, and a slender female walking just behind one of the smaller males. Guide lifted his hand, signaling both greeting and for his group to stop, and Everlasting lifted his head, letting the breeze carry any trace chemicals past his sensor pits. He could taste humans, certainly, and not much more — none of the fear that usually flared when humans faced Wraith, though he could also taste a cold and underlying anger, like the tang of iron and blood. Forge felt it, too, and hissed softly.
*The big one is dangerous…*
*They are all dangerous,* Guide said. *And you would do well to remember it.* He stepped forward as the Lanteans came within earshot. “Sheppard! We are here as agreed.”
The male in the lead nodded in answer, though he did not take his hands from the ugly Lantean weapon slung across his chest. Everlasting eyed it uneasily. He had never faced those weapons, though like all Wraith he had heard about them: a gunpowder weapon, but only vaguely like the ones used on Sateda and Hoff and among the Genii, one that spat bullets fast enough to overwhelm even a fully-fed Wraith’s ability to heal. All four of them carried those weapons, and for the first time Everlasting felt a thread of fear worm its way down his spine. The Lanteans might be even more deadly than people had claimed.
“Guide. So these are the guys who lost their queen?”
Blaze bared teeth at that, and even Salt looked shocked. Everlasting wondered if the insult had been deliberate.
“They are.” Guide extended his off hand, naming them one by one. “This is Blaze, Consort to Moonwhite who is missing. Everlasting, Consort of Light Breaking. Forge, Master of Sciences Biological to Light Breaking. And Salt — storymaker.”
The one called Sheppard fixed Blaze with a hard stare. He was a tall man, with dark hair showing the first signs of gray at the temples: a senior blade, then. “Guide says you think your queen might be here.”
Blaze said carefully, “As I am sure Guide has told you, our queen disappeared while traveling between our hive and her sister’s, and we believe it is possible that she may have crash landed here. That is why we have asked permission to search.”
“You sure you didn’t take a quick look first?” That was the big man. He was darker than the others, and his hair hung in the same kind of heavy cords that were popular with the Wraith of Night’s lineage. That similarity was vaguely disturbing, and Everlasting looked away.
“We are aware of the borders set out in the agreement,” Blaze said, still speaking with great care. “And, though my queen has not formally assented to this treaty, it was still her wish that we honor it while we considered.”
“Like that’s believable,” the big man said, not quite softly enough to ignore.
“Ronon.” That was the female, stepping forward to take her place beside Sheppard. She was small and dark and sharp of feature, and Forge drew breath sharply.
*That is the Young Queen. And the Consort. Which Guide did not see fit to mention.*
*It is they indeed,* Guide answered, *and surely it’s better to deal with them than with some underling.*
*I would have liked to know that we had drawn their notice,* Blaze said.
The Young Queen went on as though they had not spoken — though of course, Everlasting thought, she could not hear their normal mode of communication. “Though he has a point. Our allies here have said they saw Wraith ships in the night sky.”
“Which might be a sign that my queen did come here,” Blaze said, “and may be stranded anywhere on the planet.”
“I’m willing to bet your cruiser already scanned for her,” Sheppard said.
This time Blaze did show teeth. “Of course.”
“And?”
“We have no conclusive readings,” Blaze answered.
“Oh, come on!” That was the third male, the one who had not yet spoken. “We know there have been Wraith here —”
“Rodney,” the Young Queen said, and in almost the same moment, Sheppard said, “McKay…”
“Well, we do.” The one called McKay glared at both of them.
“This is news to me,” Guide said.
“We hadn’t locked down all the details,” Sheppard answered. “But, yeah, you might say we have proof that you people have been here.”
The Young Queen took another step forward. “There has been an outbreak of blood fever in one of the perimeter villages. So far, it has spread to four more. We have sent medical aid, of course, but there have already been deaths, and are likely to be more.”
“And we all know,” Ronon said, “that the Wraith spread the blood fever.”
In spite of himself, Everlasting took a half step backwards. Blood fever was one of the few diseases that had adapted to prey on the Wraith, and, while it was not invariably fatal, it was dangerous enough — and contagious enough — that most hives went out of their way to avoid it, even to the extent of abandoning an infected hunting ground for a generation or two.
“We are also vulnerable to it,” Forge said. “And if you have come from an infected area, you endanger us all.”
Even Guide looked concerned at that, and Ronon smiled. “That’s got you worried –”
“Only a fool would not be,” Forge snapped.
“Ronon,” the Young Queen said again. She fixed Forge with a hard stare. “We have taken all precautions. You are safe — unlike the people of the surrounding villages who have already been exposed, and who do not have easy access to our medicines.”
“And there’s one more thing that doesn’t make us very happy,” Sheppard said. “We’ve got our doctors working on treatment, and they think this is an engineered disease.”
*But that’s nonsense,* Forge protested. He shook his head, and spoke aloud. “That is — I grant you, it’s not impossible, but it is highly unlikely. It is too dangerous to our own hives. No cleverman with half a brain would create a strain of that bacterium.”
“Beckett thinks maybe you were trying to make it work just on humans,” McKay said.
“I doubt that’s possible,” Forge said.
“Why would we believe you?” Ronon asked, and this time, the Young Queen did not correct him.
“This is hardly relevant to our problem,” Blaze said, and fixed his stare on Sheppard. “If our queen is here, she is in grave danger. Let us search for her. If she isn’t here, we’ll search elsewhere.”
“And if she is?” Sheppard’s smile had no real amusement in it.
“We will recover her and leave,” Blaze answered.
“Having infected the entire planet!” McKay exclaimed.
“McKay.” Sheppard shook his head. “It seems like one hell of a coincidence that Teseirit gets hit with an outbreak of blood fever when you guys are sniffing around our borders.”
“We have kept our part of the treaty,” Everlasting said, controlling his anger with an effort. “Even though we were not part of it, nor were we consulted by those queens who signed it, we have honored their word to our own disadvantage. We require similar good faith from you if this treaty is to continue.”
He felt the heat of Guide’s annoyance wash over him, feeling without words, and saw Sheppard’s hands tighten on his weapon. Ronon was smiling, the look of a blade ready and eager for combat, and the Young Queen was expressionless. Sheppard said, “Before we go any further, we’d like some assurance that these hives — Blaze and Everlasting — aren’t actually responsible for our problems. That’s assurance from you, Guide.”
Guide spread his hands, deliberately showing the hand-m
outh. “And what would you consider sufficient assurances, Sheppard?”
“I want proof that this isn’t a Wraith-engineered disease.”
“We are here in good faith,” Blaze said.
Ronon snorted. Sheppard said, stubbornly, “We want proof.”
Forge looked at Guide. “How, Commander, are we supposed to answer this? What have you brought us into?”
“An excellent question,” Blaze said.
“It is indeed,” Guide answered, “and one I turn back on you, Sheppard. I know nothing of this, nor — I believe — do my allies. So how are we supposed to answer?”
“Well, I’d like the truth,” Sheppard answered, “but I’ll settle for something a bit more… plausible than this. Get Dr. Keller to certify what we’ve found.”
*That is the Fair One?* Salt asked, and Guide nodded.
“There is no time,” Blaze said. “To bring her here — you put our queen’s life even more at risk by the delay.”
“That’s not really our concern,” Sheppard said.
Everlasting bared teeth at that, but Forge spoke first. “If this is in fact accurate — if someone is trying to turn the blood fever into a weapon — we also need to know as much about it as possible. And it is also possible that your scientist has — misunderstood — the evidence. Or possibly it is something left over from the fight with Queen Death. We know her people made many regrettable choices. Let me examine the evidence.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” McKay said.
“It is indeed possible that this is engineered by the Wraith but not by these hives,” the Young Queen said, with a glance at Sheppard. “If Forge is willing to consult with Dr. Beckett, perhaps that would be the quickest solution to our problem.”
“If Forge does this, will you let us search?” Blaze asked.
Everlasting held his breath. That was the key, the one thing they needed. The Young Queen and Sheppard locked eyes a moment longer, and then Sheppard nodded.
“Ok. But just him.”
*Are you willing?* Blaze looked over his shoulder, his own eagerness palpable.
*I will go,* Forge answered, and one corner of his mouth curled up in a wry smile. *And trust you to come for me if there is treachery.*
*I will promise that,* Everlasting said, his tone grim, and Forge dipped his head.
“I will go with you,” he said aloud, and Sheppard nodded.
“Then let’s get on with it.”
The Lanteans had set up their field lab in the village nearest the Stargate. It was a long walk, particularly in the sun and painful light, and the skin of Forge’s back tingled each time Ronon dropped behind him. He stiffened his spine and pretended he felt nothing, but he didn’t think any of the Lanteans were deceived. They had taken over one of the few stone buildings, a small outbuilding belonging to the central hall, and there was a generator outside to provide lights and power as well as hastily-applied plastic sheeting over the windows. Sheppard paused by the door and looked at the Young Queen.
“You introduce him to Beckett. McKay and I need a word with the mayor.”
Forge blinked at the direct order, but the Young Queen merely nodded. Perhaps they had misunderstood which Queen Sheppard served?
“I’ll go with you,” Ronon said, with another of his blade’s smiles.
“As you wish,” the Young Queen answered. “But remember that Forge has work to do.”
“And I’ll make sure that’s all he does,” Ronon answered.
The Young Queen gestured toward the door. “This way, please.”
Forge hesitated, every nerve screaming that this was a trap, that he would push open that door to feel a hail of bullets that would overwhelm his ability to heal — or, worse, merely incapacitate him long enough for the Lanteans to imprison him securely. To be trapped, examined and starved until one thing or the other killed him… His hands knotted, claws flexing, and it took all his willpower to relax and step forward. The Lanteans would gain nothing by such a betrayal; they were canny folk, but neither stupid nor willfully cruel. He was safe enough for now.
Inside the little building, it was cooler and less bright, and the Lanteans had filled the space with their machines. A dark-haired male looked up from one of the computers, his eyebrows drawing together in an unhappy frown, and a thin female rose to her feet, looking worried. They were both unarmed, but there were a pair of the Lantean soldiers on watch, both carrying the ugly gunpowder weapons.
“This is Forge,” the Young Queen said, in a voice that was at once serene and still brooked no disagreement. “We have agreed that he should look at your research, Dr. Beckett.”
“Oh, aye?” The man’s frown deepened. “And why?”
“Their queen is missing,” the Young Queen said.
“Not my queen,” Forge said, in spite of himself. The Lanteans all looked at him in confusion. “She who is missing is the sister of my queen —” There was no sign of comprehension in the humans’ expressions. “I have been told that you believe this blood fever to be an artificial outbreak.”
The man called Beckett nodded. “Aye, and a Wraith creation at that.”
“I would like to see your evidence.”
“And I repeat, why?”
Forge swallowed an angry response that he knew was born of fear, the Lantean weapons that could kill him outright without effort and Ronon’s looming presence at his back. “Because I cannot imagine that any of us would be so foolish as to attack any human colony with a weapon that could so easily turn against us. We are also vulnerable to the blood fever.”
Beckett eyed him for a moment longer. “All right, come and take a look — that’s what you wanted, Teyla?”
The Young Queen nodded again. “It is.”
“Right,” Beckett said. “Here’s what we have so far.”
Forge started toward the computer, and heard Ronon move behind him. He swung around, teeth not quite bared, to see the big man’s blaster trained on him.
“I won’t kill him,” Ronon said, to the Young Queen, who gave a thin smile.
“Very well.”
A stunner was better than the Lantean weapons, Forge told himself, and turned his attention to Beckett, though his skin crawled with fear. “Show me.”
Beckett typed something into his computer, and the screen filled with Lantean symbols and small schematic drawings. Forge shook his head. “I can’t read your writing. Have you no direct images?”
Beckett touched keys again, and the first drawing expanded until it filled the screen. “This is what we’ve worked out.”
Forge considered the image, picking out the shape of the molecules and the projected bonds between them. He could see why Beckett thought this strain had been manipulated, could almost believe that certain changes were hooks deliberately set — to make the fever more virulent? To make it more aggressive toward humans? Both were possible, but the structure did not quite fit. “May I see your original sample? How have you cultured it?”
“We haven’t,” Beckett said shortly. “It’s too risky to keep live samples here.”
Forge lifted his brow ridges in surprise — he had not expected that precaution, though he supposed it wasn’t unreasonable, given the primitive nature of the building — and then focused his attention on the new images that swam into focus in the screen. This was more like it, the actual virus displayed in its natural shapes, some stained by Lantean preparations to highlight internal structure, some left untouched as a control. Here it was easy to see where the mutation had been encouraged, shaped the way a Hivemaster pruned flesh and bone to speed the growth of a useful ship, and his lips pulled back from his teeth. “Yes,” he said aloud, “I see what you have seen. This is not my work, nor, I am certain, the work of my counterpart in Moonwhite’s hive — I would know his hand if I saw it.”
“But would you say so?” Beckett asked.
“As you please, of course,” Forge answered, and looked at the Young Queen. “But I will remind you that we are here i
n search of our queen’s sister, and have done so abiding by an agreement to which we were not even party.”
The Young Queen dipped her head at that. Beckett said, “If you didn’t do it, then, who did, and why?”
“Who I cannot guess,” Forge answered, and bent close to the screen again. Beckett worked a control, expanding the image, and Forge nodded his thanks. “I do not recognize the hand, not that I would expect to unless it were a lab-mate of mine. Why, though…” He considered the pattern of mutation, the tiny clues embedded in the magnified cells. “I do not think this was an attempt to make the blood fever deadly to humans only. First, if that were so, I would have expected this unknown cleverman to have begun here —” He touched the screen, indicating the protein spikes that jutted from the icosahedral center. “That is the point of infection for both Wraith and human, and there are sufficient differences in our genetics that it should be possible to find a protein that accesses a receptor we do not share. Instead, the changes are to the nucleic acid. I think any difference in the infection rate between species was an unintended byproduct.”
“Then what was the intention?” Beckett asked.
“I would need to run tests,” Forge answered, “but to my eyes, it seems as though this is intended to be a more deadly strain. And that — it makes no sense.”
“It kills humans,” Ronon said.
Forge looked deliberately at the bared skin at the base of the big man’s neck. “We do not want you dead. Not until we have drunk our fill.”
“Actually, that does make a kind of sense,” Beckett said hastily, and Forge turned back to him.
“Thank you for saying so.”
“The question then is why anyone would create a disease that was not only deadly to their own species, but destroyed their food supply,” the Young Queen said. “And I think we all have an answer to that.”
Beckett gave a grim nod, and Forge said, “The queen who called herself Death. She was determined to force all hives into a dependence on her alone —” He stopped then, wondering if he had said too much, but the Young Queen nodded in agreement. And surely the Lanteans had learned that much during their alliance with Guide.
STARGATE ATLANTIS: Lost Queen (SGX-04) Page 4