Jo Graham - Unascended

“But why would I have been left on Mazatla?” she asked. “Why wouldn’t the Wraith have killed me or at least kept me prisoner?”

Dekaas took a deep breath. “There have been many upheavals among the Wraith recently. Queen Death. I suppose you’ve heard of her?”

“A man said she was dead.”

He nodded. “She built a grand alliance. And then she was killed by the Genii, or so they say. By the Genii, or some other alliance of hives against her. In any event, there was war between various hives. And sometimes…” He stopped, and for a moment his gaze faltered. “Sometimes when a hive is hard-pressed they will release their worshippers onto a nearby planet.”

“Why would they do that?” Elizabeth asked.

He shrugged elaborately, going to fetch another notebook from a different table. “If your house was on fire, would you let the dog out?”

“Of course.” A thought came to her, a flash of insight born of his evading eyes, his tunic buttoned up to the throat so that no hint of chest showed. “You were one, weren’t you? A worshipper who was released?”

He took a deep breath, turning back to her slowly, though the infirmary was empty except for them, the doors closed. “Yes. But it’s not something to speak of. There are those who will kill a former worshipper on sight. Or worse.”

“Worse?”

“Hunters want information, and if it is not given freely they will take it.” Dekaas shrugged. “Even if that information is decades old and of no use to anyone.”

“Hunters.”

“There are those who hunt the Wraith, Hunters rather than prey. Some people greatly revere them. Others dread their coming, for fear that they will bring the Wraith in pursuit where they go.” Dekaas walked restlessly about the room. “One famous Hunter makes his home aboard the ship that brought you, as much as any Hunter can. It’s said that the Wolf and two companions destroyed an entire hive ship once.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s true. Only that it’s said.”

“Atelia’s husband,” Elizabeth said.

“Just so.”

“And he would harm you?”

“I don’t plan to find out,” Dekaas said. There was a quirk of humor at the corner of his mouth. “So kindly do not repeat this to Atelia. And certainly do not repeat it if you think that you might have also been a worshipper much more recently.”

“I see,” she replied.

He looked at her keenly. “You don’t seem surprised that the Wraith can heal as well as kill.”

“No, I knew a man once…” She stopped.

“A man who…” he prompted.

“It’s gone.” Elizabeth got to her feet, rubbing her hands on her shoulders impatiently. “A man who was healed, I think. But I don’t remember. I don’t remember what it was I was going to say.”

“Then perhaps you were a worshipper,” he said. “Or lived for a time on a hive. That does happen.”

“To be a prisoner of the Wraith?”

“More like a pet.” Dekaas shook his head, though he was smiling. “I learned much from my time among the Wraith, and medicine not the least of it.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly.

“And if that doesn’t disturb you, I suspect that means something,” Dekaas said.

“There are many different peoples, and they have different experiences,” Elizabeth said. “Even when they’ve encountered the same cultures. There’s more than one story. One nation’s heroes are another’s devils.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe I was aboard a hive. I suppose that’s possible. Will you tell me what that’s like?”

Dekaas sat down heavily. “As different as there are different hives. We tend to think of the Wraith as all one thing, but there are nine lineages and constantly shifting alliances between hives. Each lineage has its own customs and culture, and those have mingled over the years. My experience may be nothing like yours.”

“You learned medicine.”

“For more than thirty years I was the assistant of a hive’s Master of Sciences Biological, something between a pet and a junior scientist as the years went.” Dekaas shook his head. “A doctor, I suppose you’d call him. Or a research biologist. He dug deep into genetics, into biotechnology, right to the edge of the forbidden. It was a hive with a queen who stretched the limits of the possible, a hive that had won renown fighting the Asurans long ago.” He glanced at her. “You know the Asurans?”

Elizabeth shook her head, fighting a sudden cold dread that gnawed inside. “No,” she said quickly.

“I learned many things from him, and he kept me young. Thirty years passed, and I was still a young man.” Dekaas glanced down at his hands, old and wrinkled now. “But it’s been twenty years since then, since I was cast adrift.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “What always does. War. The hive was badly damaged, the Queen dead, and the young queen sent away at the last moment for her safety. The Hivemaster was dead, the ship losing atmosphere. The Master of Sciences Physical was bonding with the ship, trying to keep it alive until we could evacuate. The Consort was with the last Darts, trying to keep a corridor open for the young queen’s escape. The Master of Sciences Biological shoved me and two others into an escape pod and launched us toward a planet with a Stargate. That was the last I saw of him.” Dekaas looked away, swallowing. “If your house was on fire, wouldn’t you let the dog out?” he asked softly.

Elizabeth said nothing, and in a moment he resumed. “After a bit we saw the explosion in the sky and we knew the hive was no more. They all died, unless some of the Darts were retrieved by our enemies. I wouldn’t like to imagine their fate if that happened.” He fell silent.

“And then?” Elizabeth asked at last.

“We dialed a gate address one of the others knew,” he said simply. “And I became a wanderer. The Travelers need my skills, and they don’t ask too many questions about where I got them.” He gathered himself up, smiling with effort. “There are many wanderers in the galaxy. It’s not remarkable. So it’s very possible you had a similar experience.”

“I wish I knew,” Elizabeth said. His story touched her, but only in the way a story of hardship does. It wakened nothing buried.

“You’re welcome to stay here for a bit,” Dekaas said. “I could use an assistant. You could see if anything comes back to you.”

“I was hoping to find my way to Sateda,” Elizabeth said. “Others have guessed I might be Satedan.”

“As you like,” he said. “We’re trading on Dhalo next. There’s a Stargate there. If you come to Dhalo with us, you can dial out to Sateda or wherever you want when we get there.”

“That sounds fair,” Elizabeth said. “And of course I’ll pay for my passage by helping you if I’m able.”

“I can always use a pair of agile hands,” Dekaas said. “Then let’s call it a deal.”

When John returned with the jumper, he hoped they could make a swift retreat, but Rodney insisted they manhandle part of the climate control device into the jumper. “They” ended up being John and Ronon, wrestling a refrigerator-sized hunk of metal up the stairs while Rodney snapped instructions and Ronon threatened to drop it on Rodney’s foot on purpose. It barely fit up the stairs and then barely fit through the door of the jumper, and the jumper protested its weight when they launched, but at least they were finally on their way.

“And then we’re going to go back for the rest of it, right?” Rodney said, bracing himself in the limited room left in the cargo compartment with a proprietary hand on his piece of Asgard equipment. Taking it apart was probably his idea of fun. Returning to get the rest of the pieces so that Rodney could take it apart did not sound like John’s idea of fun.