James Swallow - Nightfall

“I think she wants that ship intact, or at least as in as few pieces as possible. I mean, think about it. Forget the collapsar bomb for a second, even without that an Asgard warship is some pretty heavy iron. Intergalactic hyperspace capability, transporters, advanced weapons and shields.”

Carter considered this. “Enough to tip the balance in a battle, that’s for certain.”

McKay saw where Sheppard’s train of thought was leading. “They take the Aegis and become Wraith Clan Number One…”

“Maybe even turn the tide of battle against the Asurans,” added Lorne. “But if the Queen knows about the bomb… She’s not going to let that slide. She’ll want that too, the whole nine yards.”

All of them were quiet for a while. McKay knew that Carter, Sheppard and Lorne were all thinking the same thing he was, imagining a war-torn Pegasus galaxy ripped open by collapsar weapons and pirated Asgard technology, set afire by the battles between the Wraith and the Replicators; and beyond that, the threat of the vampiric aliens venturing further, perhaps to the Milky Way galaxy as well.

“The Wraith cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to possess that ‘isa’ device or the Aegis .” Sam’s voice was low and grim. “We have to do whatever it takes to deny it to them.”

Rodney wandered over to the cell entrance and glared at the web holding them inside it. “The only question is, how?”

“A communication,” said the Wraith scientist, pausing in his work. “From the Asgard.”

The Queen heard his words but did not acknowledge them. She lay back in repose upon the command throne at the centre of the Hive Ship’s control chamber, her subordinates working over the open incision in the flesh of her abdomen. The pain from the live cut was harsh and constant, but it focused her thoughts in a way that nothing else could. Because of the quickened nature of her species and the lightning speed with which Wraith could heal, it was necessary for one worker drone to constantly slice at the edges of the slit to stop the bleeding edges from knitting back together before the surgery could be completed. “Finish it,” she hissed, savoring the pain.

He bowed slightly. “Just so, mistress. It is almost done.”

She felt a slick, dense shape as it was slipped beneath the epidermis of her torso. In seconds, the matter of her flesh was meshing around it, making the implant part of her.

The scientist backed away and bowed again, oily lines of royal blood staining his fingers. “Complete,” he breathed. “You shame us all by your willingness to accept this burden, my Queen.”

She looked down and waved the other drones away, watching the wound pull itself tight and scab over, the flow of seeping blood slowing, stopping. “We are Wraith,” said the Queen. “And no matter what caste we are born into, we still serve the greater good of the clan at day’s end.” With difficulty she stood up, wincing at jagged darts of agony from her abdomen. “Ah. I will bear this duty proudly.”

The scientist brought his hands together. “My colleagues labor below in the egg orchard,” he noted, referring to the protected chamber in the heart of the Hive Ship where knots of genetic material that were Wraith yet to be born were formed. “The pheromones have been injected into a suitable zygote. Birthing of an alternate will commence when… When…” Suddenly the Wraith halted and gave a shuddering sigh, something akin to a human sob. “Why must you do this?” he demanded sorrowfully. “Why must it be you ?”

The Queen reached out and cupped his chin in her hand. “Because only I can.” She bared her teeth at him. “Do not be afraid. I do this for you all, for the clan.” The female Wraith spread her hands to take in the whole of the chamber and all the drones and warriors working about her. “I do this because I love you all.”

She stepped down from the throne’s dais and stood in front of a flickering lens-screen. “Prepare the warriors and open a channel,” she ordered, buttoning her tunic closed. “I will speak with the Asgard now.”

“As you command.” The scientist touched a fleshy nerve-control and the screen resolved into an image of the dark-eyed alien.

“Fenrir,” said the Queen, noting without comment that the human female Teyla — the one whose genetic matrix had been marked by one of the other clans — stood behind him. She had been slightly disappointed when the woman had not been given to her as the other humans had; but it was becoming clear to the Queen that the Asgard viewed these lessers as some sort of pets. Perhaps this Teyla was his favorite…

“ I will hear what you wish to say to me, ” said the Asgard, without preamble. “ Under truce, as you requested. ”

The Queen gave the scientist a sideways glance and he nodded. Everything was proceeding as she had expected it would. “I will speak to Fenrir,” she replied. “Only to Fenrir.”

“ Whatever you have to say can be heard by Teyla Emmagan, ” said the Asgard. “ In the interests of balance, I will hear you both. ”

The Queen flicked at a long, talon-like nail. “Very well. But I will not address you from a distance. If I must speak to you in this manner, it will only be face to face.”

“ I cannot accommodate you, ” retorted the spindly humanoid. “ I can communicate only through this avatar —”

“And I have only the word of a simulation that it is indeed the real Fenrir!” Her voice rose. “I trust nothing,” she continued, “only the evidence of my own eyes. Face to face, Asgard, or you will never know what I have to offer you.”

There was a long moment when the image froze, and briefly the Queen entertained the thought that she might have misread the little alien’s emotional state; but then Fenrir’s avatar flickered and changed, nodding once. “ Very well, ” it replied, “ but none other than you. ”

“That is all that will be needed,” she noted. The screen went black and she turned quickly to the scientist. “You know what to do. No thrusters, use only —”

The rest of her command disappeared into the humming rush of a teleport discharge.

Teyla watched the Queen bow stiffly toward the Asgard and in turn Fenrir’s avatar inclined its head. She stood nearby and did nothing, never taking her eyes off the alien female. Her nostrils twitched; the moment the Wraith appeared in the teleporter flash, she had detected the faint odor of blood — but Wraith blood, not human. She wondered what might have transpired on the Hive Ship and fought down the desire to shout out and demand to know the fate of Sheppard, Carter and the others.

“ Speak, ” said the avatar.

The Wraith Queen glanced casually at the Risar standing about the chamber and walked toward the cryogenic capsule. “Fascinating technology,” she began. “Your flesh-form is in suspended animation, yes? And yet you are capable of communication through this instrumentality,” she nodded at the holograph, “and these organic drones. Your knowledge is far superior to ours. We Wraith are utterly dormant when we enter a slumbering state.”

“ I will not grant you that technology, ” Fenrir replied. “ The Asgard do not share their knowledge with strangers. ”

“But you shared it with the humans,” she noted. “And ‘the Asgard’? Do you mean the High Council, Fenrir?”

Teyla saw his dark eyes narrow at the mention of his peers.

The Queen continued. “They are dead, my friend. All that is Asgard exists here now.” She chuckled. “You can decide what is and is not to be shared, or with whom.”

“The Wraith want only to feed and to rule,” snapped Teyla, no longer able to remain silent. “Anything you give them will be turned to that goal!”