The Furies

Chapter Fifteen Quicksilver

They had moved the ZPM from the lab to the hyperdrive compartment, were slowly rewinding the cables that would knit it into the hive’s systems. Rodney watched as Stone and Nightheart brought another cable into play, looking from them to the power displays and back again. Everything was working as it should, the lights steady blue, the indicators that marked the new cables fading from the first white heat of the connection as the load evened out. There was only so much he could do to slow down the work, at least not without arousing suspicion, though it made him twitch to see how far they’d come already. It was a good thing that Ember had always urged caution; Rodney merely let himself be persuaded more often, or led them further down paths he knew would be dead ends. If — when — he got out of this, he would know more about hive ships than any other human — more even than Jennifer, and she’d almost become one.

He blinked at that, blindsided by memory. Jennifer. He could almost see her face, her dark blonde hair, the way her mouth tightened as she considered a problem — her eyes wide with fear as the hive seed engulfed her. Not the ideal frame, he knew that now: better a male, both for size and bone mass, and to preserve the breeding stock. The collision of memories, real and false, Rodney’s and Quicksilver’s, rocked him back on his heels, and he put out a hand to steady himself.

*Quicksilver?* That was Salt, his tone uncertain, and Ember came quickly to him.

*Are you all right?*

*Fine.* Rodney managed a snarl, felt concern flicker through Ember’s mind.

*When did you last feed?*

The question made his stomach roil, threatening dry heaves that would betray him. His feeding hand ached sharply, and he closed his fingers tight, waving the question away with his free hand. Ember’s frown deepened.

*You must not —*

The door of the lab slid open, interrupting him, and Rodney bared his teeth again in a snarl that he didn’t feel. The Old One came all the way into the lab — a blade among clevermen, unescorted, a sight to raise hackles as well as to inspire fear. Rodney straightened his spine. He was Quicksilver, brother of Dust, chief of the queen’s clevermen.

*Well?* He put all the impatience he could muster into the thought, and the Old One smiled.

*Our queen wishes a report on your progress.*

*It would go faster if I weren’t being interrupted,* Rodney said.

The Old One tipped his head to one side. *Are you well?*

*I’m fine.* Rodney thought his snarl was more convincing this time. *And, as you see, we progress. It’s not easy to mate an Ancient device to our own technology.*

*No,* the Old One said. *They did not intend for anything of theirs to be of use to others.*

*Well, not to us,* Rodney said. If he could lose himself in the problem, that was his best defense. *There must be some humans native to this galaxy who have the gene that lets them use it — it’s much more common in the Milky Way —*

*Not a gift they wished to share,* the Old One said. *Perhaps it did not go so well, with those other humans.*

*I don’t know,* Rodney began. Focus on the problem… He was aware, suddenly, of the Old One’s golden eyes fixed on him, of the Old One himself, his face smoother, less harshly molded than the other blades and clevermen. Older, certainly, you could see the age in him, in the thinning hair, but different, too, as though he’d been made to a different pattern — He felt the Old One’s mind on his then, pressing gently, subtly, drew his false memories around him like a shield: Quicksilver, brother of Dust.

*My lord,* Ember said, and the pressure vanished.

The Old One turned, lips parting in a snarl. *You neglect your responsibilities, cleverman. Quicksilver hungers.*

Ember dipped his head, and Rodney said, *I’m busy. I’ll feed later.*

The Old One shook his head, his attention still on Ember. *The queen charged you with his care. I am displeased.*

*I am sorry,* Ember said, though the tone of his mind suggested otherwise. *The queen has also bade us hasten the work at hand.*

*And I am not a fruit-fed child, to be managed by him,* Rodney said. *I have work to do.*

The Old One looked back at him, expressionless, the touch of his mind barely a whisper. “Nonetheless. It has been the queen’s thought for some little time that you, Quicksilver, are not as well cared for as she would wish. And Guide has made it known that he needs his chief cleverman returned to him someday.*

*No,* Rodney said. Ember hissed softly, and the Old One tipped his head again.

*Do you defy our queen?*

*I’ve spent ages getting him used to my methods,* Rodney said, groping for an excuse. If he lost Ember— He killed that thought, hurried on, hoping the Old One had not seen his fear. *Him and his men. I don’t want to go through that all over again. It’s a waste of time.*

*It is the queen’s will,* the Old One said.

*But—* Rodney bit off the rest of the thought, seeing Ember bow his head.

*As the queen wishes,* Ember said. His tone was tightly controlled, showing no more than the barest respect. *I and my men will return to Just Fortune. At once.*

*And what am I to do for assistants?* Rodney demanded. He was shaking, clenched his fists on the nearest console, and tried to project anger rather than the terror that seized him.

*Nighthaze will assist you,* the Old One said. *Perhaps he will make better progress.*

*I doubt it,* Rodney snapped. *I told you, I’ve just got them trained—*

*The queen commands,* the Old One said, and Rodney bit back the rest of what he would have said. He could feel again the touch of the Old One’s mind, the subtle memory of Death in her glory, beautiful and compelling and now completely terrifying.

*Quicksilver,* Ember said.

Rodney gasped and turned to see the other man bowing deeply.

*It has been an honor to work with you.* Behind him, the rest of his men were bowing with equal respect, the murmur of their minds startling.

*And I am honored to have worked with you,* Rodney said. It occurred to him that there were others he needed to say that to as well, and pushed the thought aside.

One by one, the clevermen filed from the lab, men whose minds he’d come to recognize, whose strengths and weaknesses he knew too well: Salt, Stone, Whiskey, Crossroads, Ember last of all. Ember paused beside him, his body blocking the Old One’s gaze for an instant, as he drew his off hand across Rodney’s wrist. Words trailed with the touch, more secret than a whisper.

*Forgive me,* he said, and then was gone.

Rodney forced himself to glare at the Old One. *You have taken more than half my men! How am I supposed to finish this without them? And with our queen urging haste.*

*I will send Nighthaze to you,* the Old One said. *But I am sure you will manage.*

*Oh, yes,* Rodney said. *I’m sure I will.*

The Old One showed teeth in something that was almost a smile, and turned away. Rodney watched the lab’s door slide shut behind him, tightened every muscle in his body to keep from shaking. He was alone. Ember — well, he might be a Wraith, but at least they were on the same side, more or less, and that counted. That counted a lot, when there wasn’t anybody else. Sheppard will come, he told himself. They’ll come for me, the team will, and all I have to do is stay alive…

He was aware, abruptly, of the last three clevermen standing silent and uneasy in their corners, turned on them with a snarl. *Well? What are you waiting for? We’ll have to work three times as hard to make up for that piece of folly—* He only hoped they could not feel the stark terror behind the words.