The Inheritors

Chapter Twenty-six The End of the Beginning

Radek crouched on the jumper floor, staring at the injured Wraith. He wasn't dead, but that was about all Radek could say for him. Wraith were supposed to be able to regenerate almost anything, but this wasn't looking particularly good. If he were a human — Radek had had the usual first aid training, but nothing he could remember seemed likely to help, and opening the kit carried in every jumper didn't reveal anything that looked particularly useful. Ember opened his eyes then, the pupils contracted to narrow slits; he grimaced, hands scrabbling for a moment along the padding, but then relaxed.

"We are on the jumper," Radek said. "We will be able to call for help soon."

"Not soon enough…." The words were barely a whisper.

"Tell me what to do."

"Must feed…." Ember's eyes closed again, his feeding hand lax on the padding. Was he unable to attack, Radek wondered, or was he choosing not to?

"I heard that," Eva said. "Radek, you might want to step away."

Radek ignored her, his own heart racing. He'd taken the retrovirus, he could, in theory, survive a feeding, and if Ember hadn't saved his life back in the shuttle bay, he'd certainly saved him from serious injury. "It's all right," he said, and heard his own voice thin and strained. He opened the neck of his jacket, and the shirt beneath it, aware that his hands were trembling. "I took Dr. Keller's retrovirus. He — I can let him —"

"We don't know for sure that that works," Eva said. She turned backward in her chair to stare at him. "Radek, it's too much of a risk."

"Yes, well." Radek spread his hands. "I can't just let him die." And what is the world coming to, that I am thinking this about a Wraith? What is it coming to, that a Wraith saved my life? I'm not Sheppard, these things don't happen to me… He took a deep breath. "Ember."

The green-gold eyes flickered open. "I heard. We also… worked on such a thing."

"Do it before I change my mind," Radek said.

Impossibly, something like a smile crossed Ember's face. His feeding hand moved as though of its own volition, faster than Radek had expected, fastening onto the bared skin of his chest. Pain lanced through him, worse than he would have believed possible, a hundred heart attacks, a thousand knives. It had all gone wrong, he thought, hazily, Keller was wrong, and I'm going to die. Except… his hands were unchanged, unwithered, remained ordinary and unmarked even as the pain pulled him down into the dark.

Eva swore under her breath, scrambling out of the pilot's chair, grabbing for the heavy wrench someone had left tucked into the jumper's wall straps. She had no idea what she was going to do, how she was going to stop the Wraith, but she had to try. She stopped abruptly, seeing his hand flex and release, Radek sprawling back against the base of the jumper seats, apparently unconscious but not visibly changed. Ember rolled over, his back healed beneath the drying blood and ripped leather, moved away from her, out of reach of both of them.

"I think — he is all right?"

Eva lifted the wrench, fumbled for a carotid pulse with her other hand. Yes, there it was, strong and regular, and she relaxed just a little. "I think so. Don't try it again, though."

"No." Ember shook his head. "This…. I am in his debt."

"Yeah, you are," Eva said. "You better believe it." She hauled herself back into the pilot's chair, checking the navigation screen. All the ships were green, friendlies, and she let the cloak slide away. "Hammond, this is Dr. Robinson. I'm on a puddlejumper —"

"We see you, Doctor." The voice on the radio was reassuringly steady. "Can you bring the jumper back to the city?"

"I can't. I've lost an engine pod."

"Don't worry, Dr. Robinson." That was Colonel Carter, calm as ever. "We'll tractor you aboard."

"Thank you," Eva said, and braced herself for the jolt of the beam attaching.

Five pilots lost, six injured. Four other crewmen injured. As usual the 302s had taken the brunt of the casualties. Sam nodded, listening to Franklin give the report. The Hammond's systems were stable, though the port thrusters had taken external physical damage and the shields were extremely low. But it could have been worse. Much worse. They hadn't lost a life aboard the Hammond. They'd lost five pilots.

And Rodney.

"Franklin, you have the bridge," Sam said, getting up. Everything was on course for the moment.

As soon as Atlantis landed they would follow suit, resting beneath Atlantis's shield to repair, but for now they'd maintain orbit while their allies cleaned up. The damaged Wraith ships were surrendering to Alabaster, who was granting their parole or something with oaths of allegiance to her and to Waterlight, the young queen who seemed to have finally killed Queen Death. What exactly had happened aboard the hive was a mystery to Sam, though she knew she'd have Cadman's report when she got back. Cadman had sounded like there were things she thought it best not to say on an open channel, and she respected Cadman's judgment there. Cadman was coming along nicely. Sam was very proud of how she'd handled the last few weeks, and it was time to tell her so.

But first, the infirmary. As soon as the shooting stopped and the ship was in no immediate danger, it was time to check on her people, at least the ones who were here. Hocken was on Pride of the Genii with a concussion, but she seemed to be in one piece. She hoped Mitchell hadn't managed to do too bad a number on himself with that crazy landing. He'd hit the barrier pretty hard. With any luck he hadn't broken bones.

An airman hit the wall outside the infirmary as she approached, and Sam acknowledged the courtesy with a smile. They'd all done well. Her team was coming together.

"No, I am not going to let you set it! Dr. Beckett is going to do it. He's a real doctor!"

Sam stopped dead in the doorway. That couldn't be. That complaint, that voice…. "Rodney?"

Rodney McKay was sitting on the edge of the examining table wearing a hospital gown while McNair, one of the two physician's assistants, tried to immobilize his left wrist.

"I thought you were dead!" Sam managed.

"Well, I'm not, unless your inept military pseudo-doctor kills me!" Rodney said indignantly. "I told him to just bandage it up and transfer me over to Carson, but he won't do it. Do you realize how important it is for me to have full use of my left hand?"

"I thought you were dead," Sam said again. "We couldn't beam you aboard."

"Obviously you did," Rodney said. He looked at her with a frown.

"Obviously I didn't," Sam said. "You were at eight times the range of our Asgard beams." Something was strange here.

"Colonel Carter?" her radio beeped. "Major Lorne needs to talk to you on the bridge."

"On my way," Sam said. She looked at Rodney again. It was clearly Rodney. And just as clearly there was no way the Hammond had picked him up. A thought struck her. "Did you arrive here in your clothes?"

"Of course I did!" Rodney replied. "What? You normally beam people without their clothes and just have them appear places stark naked?"

"I don't," Sam said.

"Ma'am, Major Lorne says it's urgent."

"Coming," Sam said. It would wait.

"There is much to discuss," Alabaster said, her eyes on Waterlight. "And many things that must be decided between us before we treat with others."

"Yes," Waterlight said. To Teyla she felt awkward, unused to adult counsels without her father at her side, a place that he would never fill again.

There was a soft chime at the door, and Bronze's voice came in filled with elation. "My queens, we have the Old One!"

Alabaster let out a soft hiss. "Bring him in," she said, and Teyla moved to stand beside her, Waterlight to her other side.

He was dignified as ever, flanked as he was by Bronze's blades. They seemed like boys beside him, too sharp and unfinished.

"You have done well, my blade," Waterlight said, and her voice was even.

"Thank you, my queen."

"Leave us," Alabaster said.

Bronze hesitated. "He is dangerous," he began.

"We know that," Waterlight said. "But not to three queens."

Bronze blushed, backing out with his men before him.

"I do not see three queens," the Old One said contemptuously. "I see two, and those hardly more than fruit-fed little girls."

"Do you not?" Alabaster said, spreading her hands from her sides, one toward Waterlight and one toward Teyla. "Perhaps you should look again."

His regard shifted to Waterlight and then to Teyla.

“Do you not?” she said softly, mind to mind. “Do you not see me?”

The Old One stopped, his eyes narrowing, and in that moment she saw what he saw, a young woman, dark skinned and fine boned, her black clothes stained from battle and her weapon at her side, the tenor of her mind sharp as bone. She was Osprey and not Osprey, fresh from the mayhem of a boarding party as Osprey had been in those first days, and yet not. Her face, her eyes, were human and like Osprey's own, like Osprey grown up on Athos and never transformed, Osprey left whole, her memories intact and her body unchanged.

“Yes,” Teyla said. “I am Osprey's human daughter, and I stand with my sisters.”

His eyes searched her face. “You cannot exist,” he said.

“But I do.” Her words were as heavy as her implacable truth.

“You are Abomination,” he said.

“I?” Teyla took a step toward him, and anger sang through her, sweet and true. “You dare say that, who were Kairos? You, who killed your own wife and drank her life? Who have murdered again and again, from one end of the galaxy to the other? You, who incited Death to war against her own kind and who slaughtered the peoples of many worlds not for your hunger but for your sport? You call me Abomination? You dare do such when the blood of the Manarians and the Tricti and all the rest cry out in anguish for justice?” She raised her hand without thinking, as though there were a feeding slit there that could take his life.

Alabaster and Waterlight did not move. “When you killed my Father,” Waterlight said. “The last of your murders.”

He stood still. Even his eyes did not waver from Teyla's face. “I have done what must be done,” he said. “The Ancients must die for their crimes.”

Alabaster laughed. She shook her head, long red hair falling over her shoulders. “Old fool,” she said. “The Ancients are dead. They are gone thousands of years, every single one who harmed you. Yes, they were guilty. And they are dead. Their bones are dust and their names are gone. You are telling fables of a time that is no more, fighting shadows instead of living in the world that is.” She stepped forward, shaking her head. “Look at me. I am not Osprey. I do not live in Osprey's world. That past is done and gone. I am concerned with the world to come.”

His mental voice was stern. “We must never forget.”

“Yes,” Alabaster said. “We must.”

Teyla's hand was shaking. If she could feed, oh if she could, in that moment she would drink his life and it would be right. Every last broken body left amid the ruins of their homes on Manaria, every one of their people fallen in the attack on Atlantis….

“He is yours,” Alabaster said to her. “Your people have suffered most recently. His life is yours to take.”

“You give me to the Abomination?” the Old One snapped.

Waterlight's voice sounded choked, her face pale. “Will you not repent of your wrongs even now?”

“I am not wrong,” he said. “And you doom your people, little fool!” He raised his head, standing unflinching before Teyla. “Go on then, Abomination! Do what you wish.”

And like a tide it seeped out of her, all the vast anger that had risen, leaving only sorrow. “No,” Teyla said. “I will not. I will not have blood for blood. I will not take revenge. Let your hate end here, and may your anger become nothing but a sad relic of days that are past.” She took a deep breath, tears starting behind her eyes, but there was Waterlight at her side, a choking lump in her throat for her father, but clean and clear.

Waterlight's fingers brushed hers, a quiet comment aside. “I think you are right,” she said. “Let it end.”

“If I had a daughter,” Teyla Emmagan thought, “I would wish she were just like you.”

Waterlight smiled, quick and fleeting. “Perhaps you will,” she said.

“I remand you to the custody of my sisters,” Teyla said to the Old One. “May you face Queen's judgment. Do with him as you wish, sisters. I am done.”

I am done, she thought, and I will go home to Atlantis.

John opened his eyes, letting himself ride up and out of the city’s embrace. It let him go willingly enough, the data pooled and ready for any possible question, and he focused on the displays, the conversations surrounding him. Death’s hives were either destroyed or drifting, and somewhere in the background he thought he heard Alabaster’s calm voice accepting someone’s surrender, the transmission relayed to Atlantis for their benefit. O’Neill was talking to Lorne, the Pride of the Genii reporting its damage and its losses. Death was dead, and Teyla was safe and unharmed and Cadman with her; two Marines were dead and more injured, but that was better than he’d dared hope. The 302 losses were worse, a voice John didn’t recognize reciting the dead and injured. Guide’s voice, asking permission to remain in orbit while his people sorted out their ships. And now Carter, brisk and confident.

“— Picked up Dr. Zelenka and Dr. Robinson and the missing Wraith Guide was worried about. And we have Dr. McKay, though we’re not entirely sure how he got here —“

McKay? John sat up sharply. “McKay’s alive?”

The city found video feeds, presented him with a picture of Carter frowning through hazy air, the hair at her forehead damp with sweat. “That’s right, Colonel,” she said, with that familiar grin that said they’d gotten away with something. “He’s in my sickbay with a broken wrist, but otherwise he’s none the worse for wear.”

McKay wasn’t dead. John felt a grin of his own spreading across his face. He didn’t care how — didn’t really care about anything except the simple indisputable fact. Neither of them had paid the price this time. “That’s good,” he said, knowing the words were hopelessly inadequate. “That’s great.”

“Yeah.” Carter’s grin widened.

“What’s Atlantis’s status?” Woolsey asked, and John shook himself back to the business at hand, the readings jumping to present themselves.

“Shields are at about seventy percent. The East Pier maneuver engine is still out, but we have better control now that nobody’s shooting at us.”

“Can we land the city?” O’Neill asked.

John considered, the answer coming not from the displays but directly through the chair, as though he could feel the damage like bruises on his own skin. There would be work to be done, but the repulsors were all still intact, and there was plenty of power left in the ZPMs. The repaired conduit was fragile, but holding, and the city projected that it would not need to use more than those repairs could stand. In fact, the sooner they were down and could lower the shield, the sooner they could reroute power around the damaged areas. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Take her home,” O’Neill said.

John relaxed into the chair’s embrace, easing the city down through the layers of the atmosphere, bleeding speed against the night sky, the aurora leaping around them. If there had been anyone to see, Atlantis would have blazed like a comet, friction flaming bright against the shields, more massive than any meteor, trailing dark smoke across the stars. Now the aurora flashed cold around him, the shields trailing streamers of blue and green and scarlet. He held the city steady, balanced against gravity, the lines of force holding them safe, the fragile towers cradled at the still center where all the forces intersected.

And then they had slowed enough, dropped below the level of the aurora, and ahead the horizon glowed white as they rushed toward the dawn. This time, there was plenty of power, plenty of time to choose his line, to find his perfect landing spot, the city laying out the pattern as though he had all the time in the world. The sun was rising, the city sailing to meet it around the curve of the world, the ocean stretching clear and empty as he brought the city gently down to meet the waves. Atlantis struck, slowed and settled, the water heaving away from her blue and foam-streaked in the new light. Satisfaction filled him, his own, the city’s, mingled and indistinguishable, the job well done at last..

“Atlantis has landed,” he said, and let the city wash over him.

Jennifer leaned forward in her chair in Woolsey's office. It was still early morning, but with blessedly few casualties for the infirmary to treat, she wanted to seize the moment. "I've been talking to Guide," she said. "He and Alabaster plan to conduct a large-scale test of the retrovirus on Alabaster's people."

Woolsey raised his eyebrows. "Do we think this is a good thing?"

"I really don't know. For these particular people, yes, I think it is. It means that when they go to Alabaster for healing, they won't be giving up years of their lives, or even risking death to save the patients."

"I wasn't certain she'd be going back."

"I don't think she plans to stay there permanently. I understand she's settling in on Just Fortune. But the test is going to take some time, and once it's done, I expect the hive will return to the planet at intervals to feed."

"As long as that's a voluntary choice for the local residents."

"I hope it will be. If Alabaster heals their sick when she visits, I think there will be enough people who feel that undergoing the discomfort of being fed on is a fair exchange. But I'd like us to be able to monitor that. Plus I'd like to actually see the results of the test, and find out if there are long-term side effects or improvements we can make."

"What are you suggesting, Dr. Keller?"

Jennifer took a deep breath. "I'd like to go with Alabaster and Guide. Not just for the initial administration of the retrovirus, but to monitor its effects over the next few months. And then after that to work with them as they administer the retrovirus to other human worlds. Hopefully, they'll pick worlds they already control, rather than just showing up on a random planet and forcing the locals to take the retrovirus. But I understand we're still negotiating about that."

"We are," Woolsey said. "I expect those negotiations will be ongoing for some time. The Wraith would like us to cede control over half the Pegasus Galaxy to them in exchange for leaving the other half entirely alone. I have no idea what the IOA is going to say about that."

"What do you hope they say?"

Woolsey met her eyes frankly. "Dr. Keller, I wish I knew."

"You and me both."

"I understand that you want to monitor the administration of the retrovirus, but we will need you here in Atlantis."

"You need a chief medical officer," Jennifer said. "I'm — I guess I’m proposing resigning from that position. This retrovirus — I know we can't control what the Wraith do with it at this point, but surely we'd like to know what they are doing with it."

"We certainly would like to know," Woolsey said. "And you're proposing actually living with the Wraith for a period of months?"

"Or more," Jennifer said. "If nothing else, it's an opportunity we've never had to study the Wraith. There's so much we don't know about their biology, and even more we don't know about their culture."

"And you think they'll be willing to share this information?"

"Probably not at first. If they take me with them, it'll be because they think I'm a useful animal, like some kind of service dog. I don't have any illusions that I'll be much more than a pet. But I'll get to see parts of Wraith life we've never seen, and working on the retrovirus together is going to teach me a lot about their biotechnology."

"You will also probably see them killing people," Woolsey said.

"I know," Jennifer said. "Believe me, that's the part I've been thinking hard about. But… they're going to do that whether I'm there or not. If anything, I hope that having human pets around — me, and Alabaster's humans — will encourage the Wraith on Just Fortune to limit their diet to humans who've had the retrovirus. I'm not a vegetarian, but if I could have a perfect substitute for meat that wouldn't require killing animals, that would sound pretty good to me."

"I also expect that some people would find it unnatural."

"I expect there to be some resistance. Yes. And there's the question of the humans in the feeding cells, which is… frankly disturbing. My hope would be that they'll be willing to maintain a population of humans aboard ship who are willing to be fed on instead, and give them reasonable living quarters while they're there."

"That's just your hope."

"I can't promise anything," Jennifer said. "It's like doing humanitarian relief work in a war zone. You may not like the war, but you also can't stop it. You can only help the people you can."

"Believe me, I appreciate the potential benefits," Woolsey said. "I'm just concerned about placing you in such a risky situation. You'll be entirely isolated, and any contact with Atlantis will be entirely on Guide and Alabaster's terms. We may not be in a position to retrieve you if they decide to break off ongoing relations with us."

"I understand that," Jennifer said. "But this retrovirus — this was my idea, and I feel a responsibility. More than that — I want to do this. It feels a lot more important than being here in the infirmary taping sprained ankles and trying to figure out whether stomach pains are indigestion or an ulcer."

"Those things are important, too," Woolsey said.

"I do know that. But I don't think I'm the best person to do them."

"Very well, Dr. Keller. I'll put your proposal to Guide and Alabaster," Woolsey said. "If they agree, I'm afraid you'll need to be ready to leave in a matter of hours."

"Of course," Jennifer said, but she felt a bit flustered. "I can do that, but… you're saying yes, just like that? I just thought you'd want some time to think about it."

"I expect that as soon as the IOA has time to think about the events of the last few days, they're going to recall me and start looking for my replacement," Woolsey said. "So I'm authorizing this mission now, and accepting your resignation as chief medical officer effective immediately. Unless you're having second thoughts?"

There was some reflexive part of her that wanted to say Yes, this is crazy, but underneath she could feel the same calm certainty that came to her in surgery when someone's life was in her hands. "No," she said. "This is the right thing to do."

"Then I wish you the best of luck," Woolsey said. "And I'm sure the next head of the Atlantis expedition will appreciate whatever information you can pass along."

"Thank you," Jennifer said. She stood, and hesitated. "If they do replace you — I'm really sorry."

"Thank you," Woolsey said. He sounded more surprised than she thought he should.

"For what it's worth, I've been glad to have a civilian in this position. Not that I'm criticizing Colonel Carter, but — I just think it helps everybody remember that the point of being here is not just to be a military base. And I think you've done a really good job."

"So have you, Dr. Keller," Woolsey said, and shook her hand like they were already saying goodbye.

John found Ronon out on the balcony, elbows on the rail, staring out at the water.

"Ronon."

Ronon turned, looking unsurprised to see him. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?" When he didn't answer for a moment, John went on anyway. "I'm not actually pissed off that you nearly got me killed," he said. "I talked you out of using the weapon, and I was ready to take the consequences. If you'd gotten Rodney killed, I would have been pissed off. And if I were Sam, I expect I'd be pretty pissed off right now."

"I wasn't trying to get her people hurt," Ronon said. "I was going to use the weapon before the Wraith engaged her ship. Only when it came down to killing McKay and Teyla and Torren—"

"You couldn't do it. I know. I also know I ordered you to bring me the weapon as soon as you found it. And don't say you didn't really think it was an order."

"It was an order," Ronon said.

"If you were in the Air Force, they'd court-martial you. And they'd be right."

"You want me to leave?"

"I want you to say you won't do it again." John looked Ronon straight in the eye. "I have to be able to trust you not to take off on your own like that. If you have a problem with what we're doing, you come to me."

"And if I think what you're doing is wrong?"

"Then walk away if you have to. If you can't stay on the team, we'll still be friends. You said that yourself. But as long as you are on the team, you have to trust me."

"I joined the team to fight the Wraith," Ronon said. "If we're not doing that, I don't know how long I can stay."

"Maybe not forever. I get that. But while you're here, should I be watching my back, or are you on my team?"

"I thought you were going to court-martial me."

"I can't actually do that when you're not in the Air Force."

"I can't join your Air Force."

"So I don't have to court-martial you."

"You don't have to watch your back," Ronon said. "As long as I'm here, I'm on your team."

"Good," John said. "I'm glad to hear it."

"You really think McKay's going to be the same as he was before the Wraith took him?"

"No," John said after a moment. "But I think he's going to be okay. And so are we."