STARGATE ATLANTIS: Lost Queen (SGX-04)

by Melissa Scott

“It’s not possible,” Everlasting said. “She is a queen! No one, blade or cleverman or even madman, would attack a queen. It is not in our nature.”

  “It has happened before,” the Young Queen said.

  “No.” Everlasting shook his head hard. “You don’t understand what it is to be a queen. She is the center of our hives, of our lives, our very reason for living. To be without a queen is to be lost utterly — if it were true that her sister killed my queen, still I would rather serve her than be queenless. Only the most perverse, the most unnatural — no. Wraith do not live without a queen.”

  “And yet,” the Young Queen said. “That is not entirely true.”

  “Guide didn’t have a queen when we met him,” Sheppard said.

  “Guide is one many of us would call perverse,” Everlasting snapped, and Sheppard grinned.

  “Ok, can’t argue with you there.”

  “There is nothing wrong with Guide,” the Young Queen said, “but Ronon could testify to the faults of a Wraith who called himself a king among your people. Or perhaps you approve of Runners?”

  Everlasting glared at her. “We cull for food. We don’t hunt for sport.”

  “My point exactly.” The Young Queen smiled at him, and stiffly Everlasting bent his head.

  “Even so — even admitting that this is possible — there is no proof.”

  “If we were to examine the bodies of the blades left by the nest, we might find proof,” the Young Queen said, with a sharp look at Sheppard.

  “They were fed upon,” Everlasting began, and paused. “I see what you mean. They would have begun to heal, yes, but their clothes would still carry the marks of any wounds.”

  “We are not going back to the iratus nest,” Sheppard said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I must agree,” Everlasting said. “Lacking a queen, they will swarm anything that approaches. And I do not think Salt can hold them a second time.” Though if they could… He frowned, trying to remember what he had seen of the bodies. Had there been tears in the heavy coats? He had been focused on the shriveled features, the clear signs that they had — he assumed — given their lives for their queen. And perhaps they had, but — had there been other wounds? Had torn fabric moved in the faint breeze? He thought maybe it had, but he couldn’t be sure. “If we grant that this is possible, and for argument’s sake I do, what could he possibly hope to gain?”

  “You would know that better than I,” the Young Queen answered, and Everlasting had no response.

  “I expect most of your queens have enemies,” Sheppard said. “But the other thing is, if this is true, your queen’s in danger.”

  “She’s not my queen,” Everlasting said, automatically. “But, yes, my queen has charged me with finding and protecting her. I will bear all this in mind, and will do what I can.”

  “You would be wise to do so,” the Young Queen said, and there was a note in her voice that reminded him suddenly and sharply of Light Breaking. For an instant he wondered if there were some way she could understand their mental speech, as she seemed to understand them better than most — but he knew that was not possible. He managed not to bow as he would have done to his own queen, and turned away.

  Forge and Salt were still bent over their crude board, drawn out now into a grid of nine, the counters supplemented by dice to fill out the game. Everlasting seated himself on the log behind them as though he was watching the game, but his thoughts were elsewhere. If what the Lanteans said was true — and he could see how it would fit, could see clearly how that hypothesis explained more of what he had seen than anything else they had thought of — then Moonwhite was still in danger. He closed his eyes for an instant, shutting out the firelight and the deepening night. If Bell was the source of the infection, then all he would have had to do was infect Moonwhite on her return from the hive — or perhaps before? His breath caught in sudden fear, but common sense reasserted itself. No, if that had been the case, there would have been signs of sickness before they left. Moonwhite was infected on the homeward leg of her journey, and the strain was virulent enough that they had to set down to feed. And if it was that virulent, there was a chance it had infected Nimble, and that might well explain the crash. If the ship’s systems were failing, it was no surprise that the pilot could not put it down safely. So then Bell persuaded them to seek the iratus nest? Why not feed first? To preserve the treaty, perhaps — whether or not Moonwhite agreed to it in the long run, neither she nor Light Breaking wanted to make an enemy of Alabaster unless they absolutely had to. And then at the nest, something went wrong, and there was a fight. Moonwhite was flung into the iratus nest — that might explain why she had sprawled so awkwardly, and why she had not yet awakened, if she had entered unprepared. Bell and the other blades fought, he fed on them to try to heal himself, but either he was attacked by the iratus or his wounds were too severe to heal immediately, and he collapsed where he was found. He had been healing then, he would have lived if he had been able to make it to the village to cull.

  *Dice you for your thoughts,* Salt said quietly, his eyes hugely dark with the fire behind him.

  Everlasting did not answer immediately, but rose to his feet and came to stand between the storymaker and the cleverman, resting a hand on each of their shoulders so that they could speak privately. *The Lanteans have proposed a solution,* he said quietly, and let the images spill over them, the story he had woven from the evidence and the Lanteans’ suggestions unwinding like the clockwork in a child’s toy. Salt hissed softly as he finished and he felt Forge take a deep breath.

  *Bell is a blade of Night. He could make the others choose the iratus nest over culling.*

  *He couldn’t force a queen,* Everlasting said.

  *Not if they went mind to mind,* Forge said. *But if she were ill, and he were subtle, offering suggestions with a little pressure behind them? It’s possible.*

  It was possible, Everlasting thought. Moonwhite would have been sick and afraid, and above all she clearly trusted Bell. *But why? What could he gain?*

  *The queen’s death, clearly,* Salt said. *But, more than that, he puts our two hives at each other’s throats.*

  *To what end?* Forge asked. *If we destroy each other, he’s destroyed with us.*

  *Unless he serves another,* Salt said.

  *There are no other queens who would agree to such a plan,* Everlasting began, and shook his head. *At least, none that I know of or that we have contact with. I cannot see Alabaster doing this.*

  *There we’re in agreement,* Forge said, his tone wry. *What do we do now?*

  *Speak to Blaze,* Everlasting began, but the words died as they were formed. If someone came to him with such a tale — no, he wouldn’t believe it, not with more proof than they had to offer.

  *I have a thought,* Salt said. *Let me tell a tale tonight. I will weave such a plot that Bell will betray himself, and that will be the proof we need.*

  Dangerous, Everlasting thought. And if it goes wrong, we are no better off — but not so very much worse off, either. *Can you do it?*

  *I can,* Salt said, and for the first time in years Everlasting was reminded that the storymaker was old and powerful, that he had served more than one queen in his day, and lived to return to his beloved Edge.

  *I’ll hold you to that,* he said, and lifted his hands from their shoulders. *And now — I must have at least some word with Blaze.*

  Blaze came out from the queen’s shelter to join him, shaking his head when Everlasting asked for news. *No change yet, though she has taken water.*

  *I will give her more,* Bell offered, rising from where he had been sitting beside the entrance, and Everlasting stiffened. There was nothing he could do to stop him, and that was the best chance anyone had to harm Moonwhite. To his relief, Blaze shook his head.

  *Not just now. I’ve given her nearly a full container, let her absorb that first. Sit with her, though, while I speak with Everlasting.*

  And that, too, was undesirable, but could not
be avoided. Everlasting moved away from the shelter toward the fire, and Blaze followed reluctantly. *Well?*

  *The Lanteans have made a suggestion,* Everlasting said, *and I’m honor bound to put it to you.*

  Blaze narrowed his eyes. *Why do I think I will dislike this?*

  *Because I don’t much like it myself,* Everlasting said, *but it matches the facts well enough that you must hear.* Carefully, he outlined Sheppard’s theory, feeling Blaze withdraw from him as he spoke. *And you,* he finished, *can prove clearly that it is untrue, given that you know the man. He’s a blade of Night, was he born to Moonwhite’s hive?*

  Blaze took a deep breath, tamping down an anger that burned like his name at the base of his thoughts. *He was born to Edge’s hive long ago, and left before our queens were born. His hive was destroyed by Death, and Moonwhite was glad to welcome him. A more than competent blade, still spoken highly of among his age-mates.*

  *That is not the answer I was hoping to hear,* Everlasting said at last, and Blaze gave a sour smile.

  *I expect it isn’t. It’s not the one I’d like to give you.*

  *So it is possible,* Everlasting said.

  *But unlikely.* Blaze glanced over his shoulder toward the shelter. *And you make me doubt whether I should leave him alone with her. Which could be the whole point.*

  *I don’t want your queen dead or even harmed,* Everlasting said. *I have made my choice, but yours is a worthy queen, and I am happy to see her hunt in company with mine.*

  *There is no proof,* Blaze said. *And he is the only survivor here who is her man. The only person here who is her man besides me.*

  *Salt believes he can tell a tale that will cause him to betray himself.*

  Blaze’s eyebrow ridges rose. *Do you believe it?*

  *I have seen him hold an entire hive in thrall,* Everlasting answered. *And he was Edge’s man. He has never chosen between her daughters.*

  *True.* Blaze dipped his head.

  *I can’t think of anything better,* Everlasting said. *Let him try. And — one more thing? Tell Bell we plan to go in the morning to examine the bodies left at the iratus nest.*

  *Madness!*

  Everlasting nodded. *I won’t do it, and Sheppard won’t, either, but — if there is any truth to this, it should worry him considerably.*

  Blaze nodded slowly. *I will do that much, yes. And I will watch my queen myself. But I do not believe this story. Only a Lantean would propose it.*

  *I wish that were so,* Everlasting said, and turned away.

  The darkness between the trees was impenetrable. On the Lantean side of the fire, the Marine Hernandez edged another branch into the flames, and the burning sticks above it collapsed, releasing a burst of sparks. Salt tilted his head to watch them spiral up toward the moonless sky, the stars obscured by a thin veil of clouds. It was a good night for story-making, with the darkness hugging close and the clouds to bring a breath of damp like the kiss of the hives’ mists, as good a night as he could wish for, except for the stakes involved. He slanted a glance at the shelter where Moonwhite still slept, settled like a child in the bed of branches. He remembered her as a fruit-fed toddler, chasing her sister through the hive with shrieks of laughter, only to fall asleep in her sister’s arms, curled together as though they had shared a single womb. They were the only surviving daughters of Edge, and he would not see either of them brought down, not like this.

  That sparked a memory, a tale he had heard long ago, told by a rival to taunt him for being of the line of Night. It would serve, he thought, and rose slowly to his feet, exaggerating the stiffness of age. At his feet, he felt Forge tense, but Everlasting managed to look up with a fair assumption of idle curiosity. He could not see Blaze clearly, sitting with Moonwhite within the shelter, but Bell lifted his head as well.

  “I have a proposition,” Salt said aloud, pitching his voice so that the Lanteans could hear as well. “There will be no transport until morning, yes?”

  There was a moment of silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire, and then Sheppard said, “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Then allow me to offer entertainment.” Salt bowed as he would to a consort, and saw the humans exchange nervous glances.

  *I would like a tale,* Forge said, and there was a movement inside the queen’s shelter as Blaze moved closer to the opening.

  *I see no harm in it, provided you do not disturb the queen.*

  *I will not touch her mind,* Salt promised.

  Bell looked as though he wanted to protest, then shrugged, and settled back in his place.

  “Ok, but how exactly is this going to work?” McKay asked, from the other side of the fire.

  “I will shape an image so that all can see,” Salt said. “An illusion only, and clearly such, but you will be able to see and hear as though you were yourself present.”

  He saw the humans exchange uneasy looks, and Everlasting said, “It would pass the time.”

  Sheppard bit his lip. “Ok,” he said. “But just so you know, if anything attacks us, we’re going to shoot it.”

  “And we will be in the line of fire, yes, I know,” Everlasting snarled.

  “That is not the sort of tale I had in mind,” Salt said mildly. “In any case, you will know what is illusion and what is real.”

  “Ok, then.” Sheppard nodded.

  “Then let us begin.” Salt reached into the pocket of his coat, found the little bag of aromatic resin that he always carried. He took a pinch of it and turned toward the fire, only to freeze at the sound of Ronon’s weapon coming to life.

  “Hold it,” the Satedan said.

  “What are you doing?” the Young Queen asked, almost in the same moment.

  “It’s an incense, from the resin of the daivo tree.” Salt blinked, realizing what they must have thought. “It has no great physical effect, and none at all on humans. It merely helps me to focus, and that because I have trained myself to take it as such.”

  There was another silence, and then Ronon lowered his weapon. “Ok.”

  The Young Queen nodded as well, and Salt completed his gesture, tossing the pinch of resin into the flames. It ignited instantly, a brief puff of green-tinged flame and the familiar bittersweet scent, and he took a deep breath, focusing his will.

  “Once before we slept, there were nine and ninety-nine, nine Mothers and their men.” He let the familiar shapes dance across his thoughts, shaping them from fire and shadow, the faces of the nine Mothers flickering in the firelight. “And they are all worthy of a tale or nine or ninety-nine —” He let more images flicker past, familiar shapes that would remind the others of a dozen other stories, though what the Lanteans would make of them he did not know. “But this tale is of Night’s lineage, of two of her daughters born at a single birth. For this was long ago, when still we hid from the Ancestors in the empty depths of space, and we had not yet learned everything we know today. So it was that Night conceived, but the egg split in her womb and formed two daughters, and she could not bear to choose between them, but instead bore both. They were called Dusk and Dawn, and were as like to each other as two eyes in one skull, each the mirror of the other.”

  So far, the tale was known, though not common: it had not been told often on Edge’s hive because the daughters’ endings were unhappy, and neither Light Breaking nor Moonwhite seemed inclined to request it, either. Still, it was familiar enough that he could draw on well-known images, shaping the story in the shadows beside the fire. The daughters reached adulthood, and became queens in their own right, each with their own hive. They did not dare hunt together, for fear of attracting the Ancestors’ attention, and so with great regret they separated, each seeking out their own hunting grounds far from the Ancients and from each other. Once in a century, their paths might cross, and the sisters always greeted each other with fondness, and their men were allies and kinsmen. Each sister chose a consort, Dawn a blade of Cloud, whose thoughts were hot and sharp as the desert sands. But Dusk chose a blade of Night,
cool and clever as a mountain stream as it leaps over boulders, and those choices were the first great difference between them in all their lives.

  Salt took a breath, looking through and past his images to see the Lanteans watching from the far side of the fire. They looked alert and curious, the Young Queen frankly fascinated, while the others followed more carefully. Even Ronon seemed to be tracking the story, though neither he nor the Marines had put aside their weapons. As for his own people, they were neatly wound into the tale, relaxed in spite of themselves by the familiar forms. Now it was time to change the story.

  “And so they went on, though neither sister had met the other’s consort, until Sand, Dawn’s Consort, encountered a ship of the Ancestors while culling for the hive, and as he fought to cover their retreat, his ship was destroyed under him, to Dawn’s aching sorrow.” He sketched the queen alone in her chamber at the heart of the hive, a bower empty of purpose without her chosen consort. “And at the same time, for the sisters’ fates were closely bound together, Dusk’s Consort, Rapid, took a party of his own to cull, and they, too, were attacked by the Ancestors. Only Rapid escaped through the Stargate, and he was so badly wounded that he fell unconscious on the very steps of the ring, unable to heal himself and too badly hurt to seek a place to feed.

  “And that is where the blades of Dawn found him, lying beside the ring of the Ancestors, a stranger whom they did not know. So they brought him back to Dawn’s hive and fed him and when he was conscious again, they brought him to the zenana for the queen to see. Weak as he was, Rapid looked into her eyes, and thought, this is the queen I want to serve. And so he told her he could remember nothing of his past, and because he was a blade of Night, and she did not distrust him, he concealed the truth and Dawn took him into her hive. And he was a blade of beauty and talent, and soon she took him into her zenana as well.

  “But that was not enough for Rapid, who they called Stream. He had been a consort, after all, and he wanted to be a consort again. He wooed Dawn carefully, and it seemed as though she would claim him as her own. But before that could happen, word came that Dusk’s hive was nearby. Dawn was delighted, eager to meet her sister, but Rapid was afraid, for once Dusk saw him, all his plans would come to nothing. And so he hatched a plan to keep the sisters from meeting, and to save his place, a man who seemed likely to be consort to two queens both living.”