Nightfall

Chapter Twelve

Carter entered the control chamber with her weapon at the ready, Major Lorne a few steps behind her in a similar stance. “Teyla?” she called. “Are you all right?”

Across the room, close to the cryo capsule, the Athosian woman threw her a wave. “I am uninjured.”

“Where’s the other Wraith?” said Lorne, panning around with his gun.

Before them, the Asgard avatar faded into being. “The Wraith has been subdued.” It inclined its head and Carter glanced in the direction it was indicating. In the corner of the chamber, three Risar stood in a triangle around the trembling form of the alien warrior, each of them holding a glass orb in their hands. Softly glowing rays from the objects bathed the Wraith in waves of color.

“A neural paralysis beam,” explained Fenrir. “The Wraith will harm no one in this state.”

Carter slung her weapon and strode across the chamber to come face to face — or close enough — with the Asgard hologram. A nerve jumped in her jaw; the colonel was about as furious as she could be, and it took a moment of effort to keep her voice level when she spoke. “Your actions have left the entire planet Heruun open to attack by a Hive Ship. Everyone back there, the locals, my people… They could be culling them all right now!”

Fenrir cocked his head. “You have a greater understanding of Asgard technology than any of the humans here. You know that this vessel’s combat and defense systems are not at full capacity. What would you have had me do? Remain in orbit and let the Aegis be overrun by them?” He pointed a thin finger at the Wraith.

Carter bit down on the first angry retort that came to mind and pushed it away. “This ship has teleportation technology. You could have beamed people to safety. You could have —”

“Done what, Colonel Carter?” Fenrir’s dark eyes narrowed. “I made a tactical hyperspace jump in order to save my ship.”

“Where to?” said Lorne.

“Only a short distance away, Major Lorne. A few light-minutes from the planet you call Heruun, up above the star system’s plane of the ecliptic.”

“We have to go back,” Teyla told him. “Fenrir, we cannot leave an entire world to the predations of the Wraith…” She faltered. “These are the people you have been protecting, the ones who helped you repair your ship. You cannot abandon them.”

“You owe them,” Carter added. “You have a responsibility.”

The Asgard eyed her and his tone turned colder. “The only responsibility I have is to my work. It must be protected at all costs and that means this ship must be preserved. I will not send this vessel into harm’s way without shields or weapons.”

“Fine,” snapped the colonel. “You give me the access I need and I’ll help you get the combat systems back on line.”

Fenrir considered this for a moment, then gestured at a panel on the far side of the chamber. “Agreed. This console will enable you to access systems directly. I will quicken new Risar to assist you.”

Carter glanced at Lorne. “Get everyone together. Do a head count, find out who we lost in the break-out.”

He saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

Without pausing, Sam went to the console and began pulling up skeins of data, submerging her foul mood in the task at hand.

She caught Teyla speaking quietly to the Asgard. “You said you must protect ‘your work’. What did you mean by that?”

Carter saw Fenrir turn away. “That is none of your concern, Teyla Emmagan.”

“Colonel Sheppard,” said the Queen, teasing each out syllable of his name. “I am disappointed in you.” She cupped Laaro’s face in her free hand. “Are you really willing to let a child die just to test my resolve?” The Wraith gave a sibilant hiss. “Very well, if I must make an example, I will.” Cries rose up from the Heruuni captives, some of them trying to rise and being clubbed down or stunned for their temerity.

“Wait.”

There was a flutter of wind and a faint humming in the air; and from nothing came the shape of the Ancient shuttlecraft, floating above the wooden boulevard. Sheppard and McKay were visible through the canopy, both men grim-faced with the choice they had been forced to make.

The Queen chuckled once again. “Such a pretty ship. Not so pretty as the prize I want, however. Land your craft and exit with your weapons stowed. Do it, or the boy dies.” She yawned slightly.

In answer, the outrigger pods on the ship extended from the striated hull. “Or how about you let the kid go and I don’t make you chew on a drone missile?”

“This posturing is starting to bore me,” said the Wraith, a dangerous tone entering her voice. “I see through your bluff, Sheppard. I can taste the color of your thoughts from here. You won’t do it. You know what you will reap for this world if you do.”

“Just shoot her,” snarled Ronon, struggling against his captors.

After a moment, the outriggers retracted. “Fine. Let him go.” The Jumper settled to the boardwalk and the aft ramp fell open.

Sheppard exited the ship, his hands out by his sides. McKay followed on behind him, still gripping the data pad that hadn’t strayed from his side since they left the Odyssey.

The colonel gave his team mates a wan smile. “Ronon. Doctor. Looks like we’re on our own for now.” He raised his eyes to the sky, hoping they’d get his meaning. Keller’s face fell; she understood all right.

The Queen approached him. “John Sheppard,” she purred. “I am almost honored to meet you. My clan has so much to thank you for. If not for you, we Wraith might be sleeping still. And the wars and destruction you and your Atlanteans have fostered…” She licked her black lips. “The other Queens you have killed, the clans you left in disarray, that wake of destruction has allowed my kindred to rise to prominence where before we were denied the chance.” The female bowed slightly. “I give you my appreciation.”

“You’re, uh, welcome.” Sheppard’s nostrils flared at the scent of her, the peculiar acidic perfume of Wraith he recognized from dozens of sorties aboard Hive Ships. Zelenka had once told him that was what humans could sense of Wraith pheromone output; like their insect counterparts on Earth, the Wraith Queens exuded chemical smells that trigged genetic command-obey codes in their subordinates. Apparently, the stuff also worked on some human beings. She must have been pumping it out like crazy, because the fug of it was making his eyes prickle. He felt his heart thumping in his chest and the beginnings of a fear response as his body reacted. He swallowed hard.

“Quit trying that crap on me,” he told her firmly. “I’m not a believer, so let’s cut to the chase.”

“Such a shame. We treat those who worship us with great care.” The alien female gave him a demure, toothy smile. “Very well then. You know my question. You know my offer. The ship that hid itself on the moon claimed the lives of many of my clan. I want it, and the being aboard it. In exchange, I give you my word that we will let you leave unharmed and that we will not cull this planet.”

“Your word?” Despite himself, John let out a short bark of laughter, and then coughed. “Oh, I’m sorry. You were actually serious.”

“Wraith lie,” rumbled Ronon. “That’s all they know how to do.”

A Wraith commander pressed his gun into Dex’s throat. “I warned you before, Runner. Don’t speak out of turn again.”

Sheppard glanced at McKay and saw the determination in the other man’s eyes. He didn’t need to hear Rodney say it; it would be bad enough if he actually delivered the advanced technology of an Asgard vessel into the greedy claws of a Wraith clan, but with what they had learned about Fenrir and his doomsday device… His blood ran cold just thinking about it.

“Well?” prompted the Wraith. “Your answer?”

The colonel blew out a breath. “Y’know, even if I knew where that ship was, which I don’t, I wouldn’t made a deal with you, not even if you threw in box seats for the Super Bowl.”

The false coyness fell from the Queen’s face to be replaced by cold anger. “That is so very disappointing, John,” she began, putting brittle emphasis on his name. “I had hoped you would be accommodating. Association with the Wraith can be very rewarding if you work with us…”

He shrugged. “What can I tell you? I can’t help you out. I’m sorry.” He paused. “Wait, no, not sorry. What’s that word I meant? The opposite of sorry. Glad.”

She turned her glare toward McKay. “And you, Rodney?” She said McKay’s name like it was two separate words.

The scientist hugged the portable data screen in front of his chest in a gesture of self-protection. “What he said. Can’t help. Don’t know.”

“That is not true!” cried a voice.

For a moment, Sheppard was thrown off-guard and he cast around, looking to see who had spoken. He heard Keller call out a warning, and suddenly Kullid was pushing his way forward, stepping out across the boardwalk.

The Wraith commander moved to intercept him, but the Queen made a guttural grunt in her throat and her warrior stood aside, allowing the healer to come closer.

He bowed. “I am Kullid, your highness,” he began.

“I don’t like where this is going,” said McKay, from the side of his mouth.

“Long have the stories of your kind been told on Heruun,” continued the healer. “In secret, passed from generation to generation. But I never….” He took a deep breath, and Sheppard realized he was willingly inhaling the Queen’s pheromone aura. “I never expected to see you myself.” Kullid’s face was lit by something new; an attraction that knew no bounds.

“Wraith worshipper…” Ronon spat the words.

“Here?” said McKay.

“Why not?” Sheppard replied. “There’s clearly a sucker on every planet.”

“Kullid, no!” Keller was calling out to him, stunned by his words. “You can’t possibly… These creatures, they’re predators! They only exist to prey on other life!”

“But they can give it as well as take it, is that not so?” he snapped.

The Queen gave a languid nod. “It is so.”

“You see?” Kullid turned and addressed the other Heruuni. “If we look past our primitive fear of the Wraith, they can save us! They can cure us of the sickness!”

“Sickness —?” repeated the Wraith commander, but the Queen spoke over him, seizing the opportunity.

“Of course we will,” she said silkily. “If you in turn help us, Kullid. You said that Rodney was being less than truthful. Please explain.”

“The Atlanteans have knowledge of the Aegis, I know it,” he went on, moving toward McKay. “They left our world through the portal to gather it up and return here.” He looked at the data screen and nodded. “Inside that device. Yes, I am certain of it. They carry the words of more texts than I have ever seen before!”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Rodney managed, clutching at the portable computer. “This is, uh, I just use it for playing Minesweeper —”

The Queen gave the smallest of nods and one of the Wraith warriors stepped forward and slammed his stunner rifle into the back of McKay’s knees. Rodney howled and crumpled; Sheppard surged forward to step in and received the same blow from another of the masked aliens.

He hit the decking hard, and saw Ronon take the opportunity to rush his own captor; it was a bold but futile move. The Wraith commander spun and slammed the butt of his pistol into Dex’s chest, putting the Satedan down with one blow. Keller ran to him, desperately checking his pulse. Ronon groaned and coughed.

Kullid pulled the data screen from McKay’s hands with a savage jerk and turned to present it to the Queen. She inclined her head in thanks and tap-tapped a curved nail on the plastic surface, a curious smirk playing on her lips.

“Take this,” she handed the computer to another Wraith, this one in a leather long-coat of the kind their scientist cadre liked to wear. “Drain it dry.”

“We can translate the human language,” he replied. “It will be done.”

“Tell me you encoded that thing,” said Sheppard.

“Of course!” McKay retorted hotly. “I’m not stupid…” He trailed off. “I just hope I encoded it enough.”

“Well,” said the Queen, flashing them a shark-toothed smile. “It appears that the advantage is mine.” She glared at Sheppard. “You have won so many victories, John. I wonder if you remember what being on the losing side feels like.”

“I remember,” said the colonel, steel beneath his words. “I remember every man and woman we’ve lost to your kind.”

“That is good. I would hate to have to remind you again.” She nodded at the Puddle Jumper. “I think I will begin here by taking this little vessel as a trophy. You will convey me to my Hive.” She walked casually toward the rear of the ship, the scientist and a cluster of warriors moving with her. “And do bring Rodney with you.”

“What?” McKay piped, clearly unhappy with the suggestion.

The scientist eyed him. “He may come in useful if his data device proves…difficult.”

The Wraith commander prodded Sheppard in the back. “Go, prey. Do as you are told.”

“Colonel?” Keller gave him a terrified look.

Sheppard got to his feet and returned the gaze, looking at Keller and then Ronon in turn. “You two stay here. Keep safe, understand?” When the doctor hesitated, he silently mouthed something else. For now.

Keller nodded, fighting back her fear.

“Your highness?” said Kullid, trailing after the alien female. “And what should I do?”

The Queen gave him an indulgent glance. “Tell your people the truth about us, Kullid. Spread the word.” She nodded to the commander. “Remain here. Help him understand our kind.”

The Wraith officer bowed. “As you order.”

Fenrir’s avatar stood motionless before a panel at the rear of the chamber, above which a wide oval screen showed a cutaway display of his starship’s interior spaces; many sections of the craft were dark across numerous levels where the internal sensors were inoperative.

Teyla watched him work the screen via thought, her gaze flicking between the holographic Asgard and the chilled capsule where the real flesh-and-blood Fenrir lay in stasis.

Across the room, Colonel Carter caught her eye. She nodded toward the alien, and her inference was clear. Talk to him. Find out what you can.

The Athosian approached the panel, as Fenrir muttered something in a low voice. “Is something amiss?” she asked.

He glanced at her. “I cannot understand how the Wraith were able to approach my ship so swiftly, without detection. How did they locate me? I ensured the complete destruction of all their craft, blanketed this system and nearby space with a dampening field to retard subspace communications.”

“The Wraith can communicate through other means,” she noted. “They possess a telepathic ability.”

“That is known to me. But the range of that ability is limited.”

“For common Wraith, that is so. But the Queens aboard the Hive Ships… They are much stronger.” Teyla shivered as she thought of the cold psionic tendrils of the Queens she had encountered, and the scars they had left in her psyche.

The avatar nodded, accepting this. “I understand. It was my error to preserve the lives of some of the Wraith from the last craft I destroyed. I was curious. I sampled the superior elements of their genetic code in order to…” He paused, as if he suddenly realized he had said too much. “Their regenerative qualities are quite incredible.” After a moment, Fenrir looked at her. “I believe the Wraith have been looking for me for some time, perhaps since the aftermath of their first attack on the Aegis, when I arrived in the Pegasus galaxy. Other Wraith have come to the Heruun system in the past.”

“You fought them.”

“Yes. I deployed Risar aboard remote auxiliary craft and used my technology and skills to dispatch them. They were formidable adversaries.”

Teyla nodded. “And in doing so, you preserved the lives of all the humans on Heruun. You protected them.”

Fenrir leaned back, his expression tightening. “Despite whatever the Herunni believe, I engaged the Wraith in combat only to protect my vessel and myself, not them. I turned the Wraith to my use as I did the human tribals. I could not construct replacements for certain elements of my ship’s systems, so I used recovered pieces of their bio-technology to fulfill the same function.” He looked away. “I am not a guardian or a god. The Asgard have played that role all too often and it has only ever brought us difficulty.”

Teyla opened her mouth to speak, but Fenrir’s avatar moved away. “I must ensure that the Wraith do not surprise me again. Bring the warrior here.” The last words were directed at the three Risar surrounding the lone captive Wraith.

“Obeying,” The clone creatures spoke the word with one voice, and deactivated the paralysis field. The warrior gasped and stumbled forward a step.

At the engineering console, Colonel Carter reacted by snatching up her P90. “What’s going on?”

“I am not certain,” said Teyla; but she suddenly had a creeping sensation across the flesh of her back.

“I cannot risk any compromise of my work,” said Fenrir. “It was my error to let this creature live. To sever any possible telepathic conduit to this ship, it must be put to death.”

The Risar raised the orb-devices in their hands and aimed at the Wraith; in turn, the warrior threw up its hands in self-defense. “Wait!” it shouted. “Wait! Do not kill me, Asgard…”

Teyla hesitated. “It knows his species…”

“It could have heard any one of us say that,” said Carter.

“Fen…rir!” The Wraith ground out the name between gasping breaths. “You are… Fenrir… Asgard!”

All at once there was something else in the room with them. It was nothing tangible or visible, nothing seen by Colonel Carter, Fenrir and his Risar or the sensors of the Aegis; only Teyla and the Wraith could sense it, a stygian tide of bitter thought pressing its way out through the void, and into their minds. Teyla forced the gates of her own consciousness shut, holding them fast by sheer will. A groan escaped her lips.

“Teyla?” Carter saw her distress. “Are you okay?”

“The Queen…” she grated. “She is…searching.”

“Searching,” repeated the Wraith warrior. “Speaking.”

Fenrir pointed at the Risar. “Terminate it, now!”

“I have a message!” shouted the Wraith. “Hear me out! The Queen speaks… Speaks… Through me!”

The Asgard hesitated, a questioning cast to its face. “Then speak,” he said finally.

“This is a mistake,” said Carter.

“My Queen wishes to speak to you, Fenrir… Under a banner of truce.”

“Truce?” echoed Teyla, her head pounding from the psychic undertow. “The Wraith do not understand the meaning of the word!”

The warrior gave a shudder, and his body language changed as the pressure inside Teyla’s skull lessened until it was a distant background throb. The alien moved jerkily, like a puppet worked by a hesitant master. “Hear me,” it said, in a breathy murmur. “I speak through this instrument… I ask for truce… With the Asgard Fenrir.”

“To what end?”

“The disclosure of information… To mutual benefit… Do you accept?”

“You can’t trust the Wraith,” Carter told him.

The warrior turned blank eyes toward the colonel. “No, human, it is… Your kind that he should not trust. The… Atlanteans are the ones who… Keep secrets… Not us.”

“What secrets?” demanded Fenrir. “Explain yourself.”

“Not yet, Asgard,” gasped the warrior. “When… We meet.” The puppet’s telepathic strings were abruptly severed, and the Wraith collapsed to the deck, shuddering and panting.

Teyla shot Carter a worried look, the memory of the conversation in the lodge coming back to her with grave force. When she turned back the holographic avatar was staring at her.

“What did she mean?” asked the Asgard.

“I do not know,” Teyla lied.

The two ships met in the void, Heruun a distant sphere beneath them lit dull brown by the reflected glow of the far sun.

They came together, closing the distance, prow to prow; they were a study in contrasts, two vessels built by races galaxies apart from one another, from philosophies that were utterly unlike.

The Asgard cruiser Aegis, heavy and armored in appearance but more agile than anything so large had the right to be, drifted to a halt, the maws of weapons tubes and the lenses of beam weapons open wide in apparent ready threat; although the reality was very different. The Aegis was many centuries old by human standards, and yet the enduring steel and iron of its hull was still sturdy; the marks that aged it were a handful of half-patched wounds from plasma fire.

The Wraith Hive Ship moved to mimic the motion of the other craft, the wide spear tip profile of the bony fuselage broken by the spider-leg spars of great antennae extending out behind its hull. It did not have a name, for Wraith did not give their craft appellations as other species did; Wraith simply knew their ships by the trace and the texture of them, as an animal would know its lair by the scent it had laid there. Grown from bone-seeds in vast pools of sluggish blood media and liquid cartilage, the Hive Ship was almost a living thing, made of meat and bone, nerve and sinew.

Asgard and Wraith turned slowly around one another, each taking the measure of their opposite.

“I’m warning you,” said Sam, “these creatures are the most dangerous predators in Pegasus.”

Fenrir’s avatar did not look up from its console. “I have faced the Goa’uld, the Replicators and a dozen other threats from five different galaxies, Colonel Carter. I am fully capable of meeting the Wraith face-to-face.”

“Hive Ship has come to a full stop,” reported one of the Risar. “Scanning.”

The oval screen on the wall became a graphic of the alien craft. Carter studied it; the display showed an even power distribution throughout the Hive Ship; there was no sign of any of the telltale energy spikes that might signal weapons being charged or Dart bays about to launch their deadly payloads.

“Target vessel remains in quiescent mode,” said another of the clones.

“You see?” said the Wraith warrior. His voice was still hoarse from before, when his mistress had used him as a telepathic conduit. Dried streaks of black blood marked his face about his flared nostrils. “We come in peace.”

“I doubt it,” noted Teyla. She gave Carter a look. “Fenrir,” she began, maintaining eye contact with the colonel but addressing the Asgard. “Before you go any further, there is something you must know.”

“Teyla…” Carter warned.

“Transport system ready,” said a Risar.

Fenrir didn’t wait for Teyla to continue, “Engage transport.”

There was a flash of white light and columns of energy fell from the air, a curtain of lightning that flared and faded to reveal a disparate group of figures. Carter felt a moment of relief at the sight of Sheppard and McKay among them, but that quickly evaporated when she saw the look on their faces. The rest of the group were mostly Wraith warrior-drones, stood in a tight circle around a male in the garb of a scientist and a stately, angular female; the Queen. Almost out of sight at the rear of the group was a lone figure wearing manacles, face hidden in the folds of a hooded robe.

The Queen inclined her head and gave Fenrir a level look. “So you are an Asgard, then.” She smiled, showing teeth. “Your kind is known to me. I have been learning so much about you recently, I feel as if I already know your species intimately.”

“I am Fenrir,” he replied bluntly. “Understand immediately that I will react to any assault against my vessel or my person with utmost severity.” To underline his words, the Asgard’s Risar disengaged from their consoles and turned to face the Wraith party, each one raising an orb device.

The Queen studied the Asgard for a moment, considering. “Real and yet not real,” she remarked. “If I could smell blood or hear heartbeat I would think you a living being. Will you not show yourself to us, Fenrir? Do you fear us?”

“I show you all of myself that I am willing to. And I have no reason to fear you,” he replied, “as the number of Wraith ships I have obliterated will attest.”

Carter heard the scientist give a low growl, but the Queen shot him a hard look and he fell silent. “Just so. Clearly you have great power. I respect strength. As a gesture of that, and to show my peaceful intent, I have brought two of the Atlanteans with me as my guests, unharmed.”

“Oh yeah,” said Rodney, sarcasm dripping from every word, “she’s really been the hostess with the mostess.”

The Wraith honor guard stood away, allowing Sheppard and McKay to move across to where Carter was standing. “Colonel?” she said, in a low voice.

“We have a very big problem,” Sheppard didn’t wait for her to question him further. “Be ready. Things are going to go south very fast.”

“And then some,” added McKay. “They cut through the encryption like it was made of tissue paper.”

“Encryption on what?” But Carter’s question was answered when she laid eyes on the device in the hands of the Wraith scientist; an Atlantis-issue data pad. “Oh.”

Sheppard leaned closer. “Trust me, however bad you think it is, it’s worse than that.”

Fenrir was speaking again. “You have made claims about your peaceful nature, and yet it was your vessels that attacked me on my arrival in the Pegasus galaxy.”

The Queen shook her head. “Those were craft of another cadre, Fenrir. We Wraith are a clannish culture with many factions. I represent one of those with a less… Reactionary mindset.”

“Indeed? Then tell me what it is you and your clan want with me.”

The alien female threw back her head in a basso chuckle. “I want to help you, Asgard. I know much about you. I know many things you should know.”

Carter watched the Wraith scientist tap at the data pad. “They took it,” she said. It was a statement, not a question. “They broke the coding.”

“Kullid betrayed us,” said McKay bitterly. “He’s a Wraith worshipper, near as we can tell.”

Sam cursed silently, her mind racing. They had lost control of the situation here, and soon it would be too far gone for the Atlanteans to regain it.

“I know about your long and brutal war,” continued the Queen. “For, you see, in a very real way we share the same enemy.”

“What are you doing?” demanded Teyla, but the Wraith ignored her, instead bringing the hooded figure forward.

“Who is this?” snapped Carter.

“No idea,” McKay admitted, “they just dragged this guy up from the holding decks and brought him along with us.”

With a flourish, the Wraith scientist tore the hood away to reveal a human male in a bland, sand-colored tunic and trousers. He stumbled forward, his face furious.

“Do you know what this is?” grinned the Queen. “No? Let me enlighten you?”

Sam and the rest of the Atlanteans knew exactly what the prisoner was, however; a captured Asuran, doubtless one of many the Wraith clan had taken during their recent ongoing battles with the artificial beings.

The holographic avatar looked on, Fenrir’s alien face caught in peculiar moment of wonderment and distress. The Queen nodded at her warriors and as one they turned and gunned down the Asuran, pouring a huge salvo of energy bolts into the prisoners body. Overloaded, the Asuran screamed and disintegrated, becoming a heap of metallic powder.

“A Replicator…” whispered the Asgard. “A humanoid-form Replicator.” He shook his tiny head, blinking. “We had always suspected they might evolve toward this level of sophistication, but never…” He halted, gathering himself. “How did they come to this galaxy?”

“They’re called Asurans,” Carter called out. “They’re not the Replicators that you know of. They evolved separately, here in Pegasus. Similar, but different.”

“Different, yes,” said the Wraith scientist, “but still the same in their programming. Destroying organic life, spreading like a virus.”

“You speak of yourself,” said Teyla. “The Asurans were made to fight the Wraith!”

The Queen snarled at her. “But now they kill everything, so what does it matter?” She took a step toward the silent avatar. “Our war is your war, Fenrir. Do you not see that simple truth?”

Fenrir nodded once, still staring at the Asuran’s ashen remains. “I … See it.” Suddenly he turned to glare at the humans, a new hardness in his dark eyes. “You knew of the existence of these… Asurans, and yet you said nothing of it. You know of the Asgard’s conflict with the Replicators and yet you kept silent!” Fenrir’s voice rose in pitch. “You concealed the presence of my most hated enemy from me. Why?” He turned to face the Athosian woman, almost pleading. “Why, Teyla? Why would you do this?”

The Queen’s expression grew grave. “That is not all the humans have kept from you,” she intoned.

“Here we go,” McKay muttered.

“Explain!” barked Fenrir, the word echoing from the lips of every one of the Risar; his anger spilled over into the body language of the clones, turning their stances aggressive and threatening.

“That’s enough, right there!” snapped Sheppard, coming forward. “Okay, we admit it, we were a little economical with the truth, but so were you!”

“The Asgard High Council didn’t send you out here on any research trip,” noted McKay.

The Risar crowded toward them, raising their orb-weapons. “Silence!” Fenrir’s voice thundered around the chamber. “No more lies, no more secrets! Tell me!” His avatar shimmered and trembled, moving toward the Queen. “Tell me!”

Carter saw the Wraith female smother a faint smile with a carefully constructed look of sadness. She glanced at her scientist and the other Wraith produced a compact storage module from a pocket; Sam knew the type, the Wraith equivalent of a portable ultra-high density hard drive. Teams from Atlantis had recovered them from Hive Ships and alien bases on several occasions. “See for yourself,” said the scientist.

A Risar took the device and slotted it into the console beneath the oval screen.

“Fenrir,” said Teyla. “Don’t look at it. This isn’t the way, not like this.”

The hologram ignored her and gestured in the air; the data module glowed blue and information transfer began.

“It gives me no pleasure to be the one to bring this news to you,” said the Wraith Queen. “But I must.”

On the screen, a wave of flash-frame images raced past; Carter registered views of the planets Hala and Orilla, a swarm of beetle-like Replicators, genetic schematics of an Asgard, a complex octo-helix of alien DNA, a dying star, and more.

“My people…Are dead,” said the Asgard. His synthetic voice crackled and wavered as if something were breaking up the projection.

The contents of the module sank into the memory core of the Aegis itself, and with his mind connected directly to the starship, into the conscious mind of Fenrir’s physical body. Sam felt a sense of great empathy for the alien; the Asgard did not even have the luxury of processing and assimilating the great loss in his own time. One moment he did not know, the next he knew it all, in complete and total detail.

The diminutive, child-like body of the avatar flickered, frozen for long seconds. Then he was moving again. The narrow, sharp edges of the Asgard’s face were rigid and taut with an emotion Carter had never thought his kind capable of displaying. He stared at her with real hatred in his eyes.

“You were there,” he husked. “You saw my species perish.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Sam. She could find no other words to say.

The Queen gave a derisive snort. “Now she admits it. You see, Fenrir? The humans cannot be trusted. Only you and I, Asgard and Wraith have spoken in truth. Even when my kind attacked your ship, it was not subterfuge, but an honest reaction to an intrusion…” When Fenrir didn’t answer, she came closer to him. “Don’t you see? We have a common foe in the Replicators, no matter what their origin. We have a foundation of truth between us…” She shot a look at Carter. “Not lies.”

“Leave me…” The words were so quiet that Sam almost missed them.

“Asgard, you must listen to —”

Fenrir turned about and the Risar surged forward. “I told you to leave me!”

From nowhere came a brilliant surge of white rising from the deck around them. Carter jerked as the power of the transporter took her, dragging her away from the Aegis along with every other human and Wraith who stood there.

All but one.