Homecoming

Chapter Seventeen Queen Death

The combat engineers arrived promptly, the team fanning out into the wreckage under the command of a captain who looked too baby-faced to be as experienced as Sheppard knew she was. They began the careful search, rigging lights as the afternoon waned into night, but progress was slow. Six hours in, the captain retreated to the DHD, sweating in her heavy armor, and shook her head at Sheppard’s question.

“Sorry, sir. We’re not going to make it. Not in the time we’ve been given.”

“Damn it!” Sheppard closed his mouth tight over any further complaint. “What’s the problem?”

“We’re having trouble spotting the traps until we’re right on top of them. The only reliable tool is the short-range detector, and that just takes too much time.”

Sheppard bit back another curse. “Rodney!”

The scientist was sitting on a block of stone, eating an MRE as though it actually tasted like something. “What?”

“Can you rig up a better way to find the booby traps?”

“No.” Rodney set aside the package — emptied of all the good stuff, Sheppard noticed — and came to join them. “I mean, maybe, given enough time, but Woolsey said eight hours, right? I can’t do it in the time we’ve got left.”

“If you want whatever information is in those computers,” Sheppard said, “you’re going to have to try.”

“Weren’t you listening to me?” Rodney glared at both of them. “I can’t. Besides, there’s somebody on Atlantis who could do it in his sleep.”

The engineer captain frowned, puzzled, and Sheppard shook his head. “Oh, no. That’s a very bad idea.”

“Why?” Rodney swallowed the last bite of his candy bar, and stuffed the wrapper into his pocket. “Look, Todd’s bound to know the best way to find these things — he probably knows exactly how they were laid out, what their standard operating procedure is, and he certainly knows what they’re made of so we can look for them better. Why don’t we just ask him?”

Sheppard stared at him for a long moment, trying to think of an argument other than ‘because he’s a Wraith.’ Because, after all, that was why they’d ask him in the first place… “OK,” he said at last. “But you talk to Woolsey.”

As Sheppard had expected, no one was particularly happy with the idea, and no one could come up with anything better. It took the better part of three hours just to argue that out, and then more time for the medical staff to decide that Todd could safely be revived and returned to stasis. At some point during the discussion, Sheppard retreated to the back of the engineers’ tent to snatch a few hours’ sleep, and emerged into the cool pre-dawn light to find Ronon standing by the gate looking mulish, and Teyla looking as though she’d slept even less than Sheppard had himself.“Problems?” he said quietly, coming up beside, and she turned with a smile.

“Ronon does not like this plan. He does not trust the Wraith.”

“I’m shocked.” Sheppard allowed himself a smirk, and was pleased when Teyla’s smile widened in response.

“He has a point, John. We should allow for treachery. But—”

Sheppard nodded. “If we want what’s on those computers, this is the best option.”

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” That was Rodney, striding through the last wisps of ground fog, a metal mug in his hand. “Lorne is ready to bring Todd through.”

“Where did you get that coffee?” Teyla asked, with a sweetness that even Rodney recognized as dangerous, and he stopped, blinking.

“Oh. Over there. The engineers had it sent—”

“Thank you,” Teyla said, and turned away.

Sheppard looked longingly after her — coffee would be wonderful — but shook himself back to the business at hand. The young Marine captain who’d been standing by the DHD saw him then, and came up with a crisp salute.

“We’re ready here, sir. We’ll deploy on your order.”

“Excellent.” Sheppard moved to join Ronon, who was twirling his blaster. “You OK with this, buddy?”

“Not really.” Ronon grinned. “But, hey, you’re the one he likes.”

Sheppard gave him a sour look and touched his earpiece. “Atlantis, this is Sheppard. Are we ready to go?”

“Ready when you are, Colonel,” Woolsey answered.

“OK, Captain,” Sheppard said, and the Marine came to attention. “Let’s go.”

“Sir!” The young man moved away, calling orders, and the Marine detail came to the ready, P90s cocked and leveled.

“Atlantis,” Sheppard said. “This is Sheppard. You can bring him through.”

The gate lit and opened, and a moment later the first of Lorne’s men backed through, his own weapon trained on something behind him. And then Todd appeared, flanked by more soldiers. They’d left the restraints on him, Sheppard was glad to see, but the Wraith still moved as though he was master of the situation. The Marines formed up around him as he moved away from the gate, but he ignored them.

“So, John Sheppard.” The rasping voice was almost amused. “You have need of me after all.”

“You could make our lives a little easier,” Sheppard said. “We’ve got a — situation.”

“So I was told.” Todd looked past him toward the ruined city, and Sheppard was sure he saw the Wraith frown. “This was not a Culling.”

“It seems to be a new style,” Sheppard said. “We’ve seen things like it on other worlds.”

“Indeed? You must regret the loss of my alliance.” Todd’s tone was less tart than usual, his attention still on the wreckage.

“Not that much,” Ronon said.

Sheppard said, “It seems like you’ve been superseded. There’s a new queen in charge of things now.”

“Really.” There was a faint crease between the Wraith’s brow ridges, as though he frowned. “She is careless, then.”

“She’s a Wraith.” Ronon showed teeth in a fair approximation of a Wraith’s smile.

Todd ignored him. “And you want me to help you find traps that were left behind? Very well. Though it would help if you loosed my hands.”

“Sorry,” Sheppard said, without sincerity. “This way.”

The engineer captain was waiting, laptop open on a slab of stone, cables snaking across the dirt toward the various servers that fed the sensors. She looked warily at the Wraith, and stepped back out of arm’s reach to let him study the screen. He cocked his head to one side, considering, then looked at her.

“You are searching for organics?”

“Yeah. Carbon out-gassing and also temperature variation—”

And that, Sheppard thought, is my cue to back off. He looked around, wondering if there was still coffee in the engineers’ tent, and Teyla came over, holding out a second mug.

“You were looking — in need.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say desperate.” Sheppard took a careful swallow. It was typical engineers’ coffee, so strong that not even extra sugar and milk could cut the faint taste of machine oil, but it warmed him all the way to the pit of his stomach. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a demure smile over the edge of her mug, both hands wrapped around the metal. “Do you think this will succeed?”

“I think it’s the best chance,” Sheppard answered. “And I’d like to see what’s on those computers.”

Teyla nodded gravely, and they stood for a while in silence. The sun was up at last, rising behind the gate, and their shadows stretched together into the wreck of the city. The last wisps of the ground fog were fading away, and the first of the engineer teams began to move carefully into the city. It looked as though they were moving faster, Sheppard thought, though it was hard to tell if they were just going through territory they’d already covered.

“Colonel Sheppard.”

Sheppard straightened, turned to face the engineer captain. “Yeah?”

“We’re making better progress, sir, but we’d go quicker if we let him use the computer himself.”

“Let him loose, you mean?”

The captain nodded, though she didn’t look completely happy with the idea. “Yes, sir.”

“What’s on the computers?” Sheppard asked.

“It’s a standard field system. They’re a stand-alone, no links back to Atlantis,” the captain answered. “And nothing on it that would indicate our location. Just the programs that run the sensors.”

Sheppard hesitated. He was pretty sure Todd was playing them, that if he wanted to, he could direct the engineers perfectly well with his hands tied, but Sheppard was also pretty sure he couldn’t make the Wraith do it. And they were in a hurry. “Are you comfortable with that, Captain?”

She gave a rueful smile. “Not entirely, sir. But I do think it’s the best choice.”

“Go ahead, then.”

It did seem to make a difference, though Sheppard couldn’t quite shake the conviction that the Wraith had been faking. Still, it was less than two hours before the engineer captain reappeared, snapping a quick salute. “We’ve cleared a path into the customs house, Colonel.”

“Good work.” Sheppard raised his voice. “All right, people, move out!”

It was safer, Sheppard had decided, to bring Todd with them, particularly with Ronon assigned to watch him and half the Marine unit surrounding him. Even so, Sheppard kept an eye on him as they moved along the cleared corridor, the engineers’ red plastic flags fluttering here and there to mark uncleared bombs. The Wraith was frowning again, staring at the bodies that remained intact in the wreckage, and Sheppard saw his feeding hand close into a tight fist.

“Seems a little wasteful, huh,” he said aloud, and Todd gave him an unreadable look.

“This is not a — practical — choice.”

“Sateda,” Ronon said.

Todd fixed him with a slit-eyed stare. “We were not so hungry then. Most of us were still hibernating, we could make an example of a world like yours. And even then we Culled well and deeply first. This — this is poor husbandry, and we cannot afford it.”

“Really,” Sheppard said.

“You are food, Sheppard. Do you slaughter your herds indiscriminately, the breeding females along with their young? When you are hungry, do you harvest them all at once, and leave what you cannot consume to rot?” Todd checked himself abruptly, lengthened his stride to catch up with the Marine escort.

“I think I hit a nerve,” Sheppard said, to no one in particular, and followed.

The engineers had cleared a way into the ruined building, shoring up a weakened ceiling, and bracing a stairwell that looked on the verge of collapse. It led directly into the computer room, its plain concrete walls and floor a stark contrast to the colored stones and wood of the halls above. Two of the big display screens were cracked, and another was missing its glass entirely so that wires spilled like entrails; the fourth was intact above the largest console. The engineers had rigged lights, and the dust of the destruction drifted in the air like smoke. Rodney fanned at it, coughing, and moved toward the main console.

“You’ll be interested in this, Sheppard,” he called over his shoulder. “There was another bomb rigged to go off if anyone tried to investigate, but first the system was going to play this.”

He touched a key before Sheppard could think of a protest, and the intact screen lit, fizzing. The picture wavered, but the image was clear: a Wraith queen stared down at them, head lifted, slit-pupiled eyes sweeping the room as though she could see the humans waiting there. One of the Marines lifted his P90 in instinctive response, and Sheppard felt his fingers tighten on the stock of his own weapon. She was pale, her skin blue-toned, the veins dark on her face and the curves of her half-bared breasts, cupped and framed in a black bodice trimmed in silver; black hair fell straight as rain to frame her high-boned cheeks. Sheppard heard Todd’s breath catch softly, but kept his own eyes on the screen.

“So, humans, you have come this far,” the queen said. Her voice was a gentle purr, almost melodious. “Your perseverance is commendable. It is almost a pity it has brought you nothing.” She lifted her head. “Look well, humans! For I am Death, and I come as your end.”

The image vanished. Sheppard saw one of the engineers flinch, as though anticipating the explosion.

“And that’s when the bomb was supposed to go off,” Rodney said. Of all of them, he seemed least affected, but that was probably because he’d already seen it at least once. “The good news is, they didn’t bother to wipe what’s left of the databases, I suppose because they thought the explosion would take it out. So there’s information to be had.”

Sheppard took a breath. “OK. Copy it — on secure laptops only, please — and get back to the gate. Marten—” That was the lieutenant in charge of the Marine detail. “—take your people and take a quick look around, make sure we haven’t missed anything or anybody. Take a couple of engineers to check for booby traps.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant saluted, gathering his men with a look, and Sheppard turned to face the Wraith.

“And now I’ve got a question for you. Do you know her?”

Todd blinked, shook his head slightly. “No. No, she is a stranger to me.”

“I thought you knew all your queens,” Sheppard said. “Being a leader of an important alliance and all that.”

“She is young,” Todd said. “And I do not know her.”

There was something in his tone that made Sheppard think he was telling the truth. “We’ve been hearing a lot about her, this Queen Death—”

The Wraith’s eyelids flickered, veiling the golden pupils.

“What?”

Todd looked away, fingers flexing nervously.

“Don’t give me that,” Sheppard said. “You know something.”

“Queen Death is a fairy tale. Not real.”

For a crazy second, Sheppard wondered what the Stargate was translating as ‘fairy tale,’ and then just what kind of stories the Wraith told their children anyway. They’d probably do really well with Nightmare on Elm Street, or Halloween — the hockey mask might not present much of a translation problem—

“There are a hundred stories,” Todd said. “They all begin, ‘once before we slept, there was a queen called Death, and she was glorious in her name.’ For anyone to take on that persona — she must be a remarkable woman.”

“Don’t go getting sentimental on me,” Sheppard said, and Todd swung to face him.

“I am telling you something you’d do well to remember, John Sheppard. Queen Death is a legend reborn.”

The words sent a chill down Sheppard’s spine. A legend reborn… In spite of himself, he glanced over his shoulder toward the darkened screen, seeing again the image of the queen who called herself Death. Even Todd had been shaken by her, and that was not a good sign. Though in Todd’s case there was more than a hint of desire in it… He shoved that thought aside — the last thing he wanted to think about was Wraith sex — and straightened his shoulders.

“You sure there’s nothing more you can tell me?” he said aloud.

Todd’s fingers twitched, as though his thoughts, too, had been far away. “I told you I do not know her. Though I am sure you will eventually become… acquainted… with her.”

“Nice,” Sheppard said, under his breath. “In that case, I wouldn’t want to keep you out of stasis any longer.” He lifted his P90, gestured toward the doorway. “After you.”

The Marine detail joined them, escorted the Wraith through the crumbling corridors with weary precision, and formed up in the lengthening shadows outside the customs hall. It was well into the afternoon now, Sheppard saw without surprise. In another few hours it would be hard to see the engineers’ markers, and he touched his earpiece. “Rodney. How’s it coming?”

“Slowly.” McKay’s voice was as sharp as if he’d been standing at Sheppard’s side. “Though it would go faster if people would stop bothering me with stupid questions.”

“You’ve got two hours,” Sheppard said. “It’ll be getting dark after that, and you’ll have trouble getting back to the gate.”

“I may need more time—”

“Sure,” Sheppard said. “If you like walking through a ruined city in the dark, not being able to see where the bombs haven’t been cleared…”

“I take your point.” There was a pause. “I’ll do what I can. McKay out.”

Sheppard tugged at the sling of the P90, settling it more comfortably against his body, looked for the Marine sergeant in charge of the detail. The sergeant saw the movement of his head, and came to join him, moving easily through the rubble.

“Back to the gate, Colonel?”

“Yeah.” Sheppard squinted at him, the low sun dazzling in spite of his sunglasses. The sergeant was one of the new men — well, new to Atlantis. Baker had been with SGC for years. “Time to put him back—”

“Gate activation! Incoming wormhole!”

That was a blast on the emergency override, and Sheppard swore, bringing up the P90. Wraith, it had to be, they had to have triggered something in the ruins — maybe playing Queen Death’s message had done it, called her people back to see what they’d caught in the trap—

In the same instant, Todd lunged sideways, as though to put cover between himself and humans. Someone fired — Baker, Sheppard thought, the only one who reacted quickly enough — and the Wraith swung around, roaring.

“Hold your fire!” Sheppard shouted. There were holes in Todd’s coat, three at least: whether he’d have the strength to regenerate was an open question, and there was no way in hell Sheppard could let him feed.

“Darts!”

Sheppard aimed his P90 at Todd’s head, a new pattern forming in his brain. Not Queen Death’s people, but Todd’s — somehow he’d done it again, in spite of everything. “Everybody under cover! You, too, Todd.”

“You really don’t want to keep me prisoner, Sheppard—”

“Do it, or I take your head off. You’re not healing that.” Sheppard lifted the P90 a little further, and the Wraith backed reluctantly against a broken wall. Sheppard flattened himself into a corner — well out of Todd’s reach, but a blind man couldn’t miss the shot. The Darts’ thin scream was coming closer, and he touched his earpiece to speak on the emergency channel.

“Everybody take cover. Let them pass this time.” He looked at Todd. “Yours?”

“Yes.” The Wraith gave a thin smile, off hand flattened against his body, covering the holes in his coat, the healing wounds behind them.

“Son of a bitch!” Sheppard controlled himself with an effort.

“You do not want to keep me, Sheppard,” Todd said again. His voice was almost cajoling. “I am useless to you as a prisoner. These are my men, my alliance. I have no reason to join Queen Death. Let me go, and I’ll be a counterpoise to her.”

“It’s not my choice.” Sheppard tipped his head to scan the sky, blue and empty after the Darts’ passage, looked quickly back at the Wraith. “Besides, what guarantee do I have that you wouldn’t just join up with her?”

“Did it sound as though I approved her tactics?” Todd asked. “This — waste?”

The whine of the Darts rose again, turning back for another run. Sheppard said, “Sorry.”

“Besides,” Todd said, “my alliance is mine — mine alone.”

Sheppard bit his lip, the Darts loud overhead. It was true that Todd wanted to be the dominant power among the Wraith, they’d learned that the hard way when he’d tricked them into destroying the Primary for him. And it was also true that they couldn’t keep him, not forever. Better to take the chance and hope he’d stand up against Queen Death for his own purposes. Sheppard touched his earpiece. “Everybody hold your fire. I’m sending Todd out.”

Confused acknowledgements filled his ear, and he gestured with the P90. “OK. Go.”

Todd nodded gravely, and pushed himself away from the wall. For an instant, he seemed to stagger, then controlled himself, stepped out into the open, lifting his hands. The Darts responded, swooping over and down in a maneuver that left Sheppard gasping. The Culling beam sparkled, and Todd was gone. The second Dart rolled, turning for the gate, and the first followed it, low and fast.

“Colonel! Gate activation!”

“Let them go,” Sheppard said. “Don’t fire unless they shoot first.” He was going to have some explaining to do — he could just see Woolsey’s pinched glare — but he thought it was a chance worth taking.