The Inheritors

Chapter Twenty-five Queen to Queen

Smoke swirled around Waterlight like a living thing, twisting through the corridors of Queen Death's hive ship. Only Bronze was with her now. The last drone was dead, and Waterlight had watched Thorn twist before her, shielding her with his shredded body. The air was acrid and stank.

Ahead the bulkhead door was closed. “We must open it,” Waterlight said.

Bronze nodded. His hair had fallen from its clasp and fell over his shoulders, matted with blood and other things. “I will go first,” he said, his hand on the door override.

“I will let no more men die for me,” Waterlight said. “Because I am queen.”

Her hand was on his wrist, and so she knew what he did not need to say. Not because she was queen, but because she was Waterlight. Not a distant hope, a privilege and an ambition, but the friend of all his years since he had come aboard as a thin and half-grown fosterling, his Waterlight, his playmate turned princess, his only family.

“We will go together,” she said, with no word for this strange tenderness that stirred in her. “Whatever there is, we will face it together.”

He nodded and opened the door.

Less smoke but more bodies. A half dozen drones lay dead, and there were two humans as well, one withered to a husk while another bent over him. All dead, Waterlight thought, and then the bending one straightened.

It was a human woman, slight and dark, the muzzle of her weapon rising to track them in an instant.

And then her eyes widened with recognition, the point of the weapon dropping again, her relief shuddering through the air like a palpable thing. A worshipper? But would Death arm her worshippers thus? Yet her relief was almost audible, as though she had said their names aloud. As though she had spoken mind to mind.

"Who are you?" Waterlight said, but even as she spoke, she knew. The feel of the woman's mind was unmistakable, though her face was unfamiliar. Her stance was the same, her height, her way of moving. And her mind. “Steelflower.”

“I am Teyla Emmagan of Atlantis,” the woman said, and her weapon pointed to the floor, standing before them as though she feared nothing. And why should she? She did not see what humans saw, Blade and Queen, bloodthirsty revenants, but frightened younglings barely out of childhood, adult estate thrust upon them by war, stained by the blood of their kin shed to protect them.

“What are you?” Waterlight said. Steelflower and not….

“I am human,” she said. "And I am not. I am Teyla Emmagan of the line of Osprey. A cleverman in days past mingled his blood with that of my human ancestors. And I am Steelflower. I took the name and appearance of a young queen who was lost.”

Bronze frowned. “Why would you do that?” The stunner in his hand did not rise.

She held her hands out to the side. “What man would follow me otherwise?”

Steelflower. And not. A human woman, given the blood of Osprey by a renegade cleverman…. And in that moment the paths of the future and the past stretched out before Waterlight, clear as the path of sun on water, all the twists and turns made straight

“And my kinswoman still,” she said, “Steelflower or not. That cleverman was my mother's brother. Brother and sister there were, and you are of him and I of her, your grandmother and mine the same.”

Teyla blinked. That did indeed surprise her.

“You did not lie to me,” Waterlight said. “Though you meant to.”

“I did not lie when I offered you alliance with Guide,” she said.

Waterlight reached out her off hand, touching it to her wrist, queen to queen. “You are Guide's queen.” And how not? He could not rally men against Death without a queen at his side, no matter how she appeared or what she truly was.

“I am of Atlantis.”

“Who are Guide's allies,” Waterlight said. “But we are united in one thing.”

“We must end this,” Bronze said, his voice surprisingly steady.

Teyla smiled, and her eyes closed for a moment, watering at the corners. “We must,” she said. “Will you face Queen Death with me?”

“We will,” Waterlight said.

There was only one way it could ever end — queen to queen.

The Wraith tried to stop them twice on the way to the engine room, and each time Cadman blasted through, leaving bodies behind them in the dim corridors. Not so many of Radim's, and none of hers, for which she was unabashedly grateful, and plenty of dead drones, which was even better. The hatch that gave access to the engineering spaces was locked, and one of the Genii fiddled for a moment with the controls before he stepped away, shaking his head.

"C4," Cadman said, and reached into her pocket.

"They'll be expecting you to blow the door," Radim said.

She nodded, molding the soft explosive around the central node. "Yes, sir. But I don't see any alternative. I figure we follow up with flashbangs and then rush them."

Radim nodded sharply. "Good idea, Captain," he said, and turned to give the orders.

She set the fuses and waved her people back into shelter, pulling out the remote detonator. She gave them all a final look, her Marines ready with stun grenades, the Genii with their repeating rifles ready, and raised her hand. "Fire in the hole!"

The door blew in with a satisfying whump, and her people followed with the stun grenades, rushing the smoking opening on the heels of the first flat crack. She charged after them, planted her back against the nearest bulkhead to give covering fire. The cavernous space echoed with the sound of gunfire and the roars of the angry Wraith, and then, abruptly, there was silence. She straightened, automatically checking her people. Hernandez was down, and her breath caught, but his face was unchanged and even as she realized that, he began to stir. Just stunned, then, she thought, and kept counting. Four, five more Genii down, and Radim was bleeding from a cut along his forehead, but they were still in business.

"Okay," she said, swinging her P90 so that its light played across the tangle of cords and weird organic stuff in the center of the room. "What next, sir?"

Radim swabbed impatiently at the blood on his face, and pointed to one of the objects protruding from the ceiling. It was wrapped in what looked like vines, or maybe tendons, and a web of more fleshy cording connected it to consoles below it and to the bulkheads to either side. Within that sheath, a bulbous cylindrical core glowed softly orange. "That's the hyperdrive. If we can disable that, Queen Death won't be able to escape."

Cadman reached into her pocket, pulled out another packet of C4. "Can do, sir."

“The control room is this way,” Teyla said mind to mind, sheltering behind the corner of a wall. The corridors of the hive ship were filled with smoke, the air thin. Somewhere there had been a hull breach now sealed, but the damaged systems had not fully managed to restore life support. Waterlight and Bronze stood behind her, Bronze with a pike taken from a drone, Waterlight with a stunner. They were not what she would choose for a boarding party, but with her radio smashed she could not know where any of the others were.

“How many?” Bronze asked, as Waterlight put her hand to the wall.

Her eyes closed. “Seven, maybe eight.”

“Too many,” Teyla said. She could not rush the control room with three on seven or eight, certainly not with two who were practically children. They must wait for her team. John would be in the chair in Atlantis, but surely Ronon would come soon. Or Cadman. Cadman and a Marine team would be welcome. Surely they were aboard.

Waterlight reared away from the wall, her eyes opening. “She knows I'm here!” she said. “She felt me. She knows we are here.”

“Retreat,” Teyla said. “This way.”

They scrambled back down the corridor, Teyla dropping back to cover them. Behind, the door of the control room opened, and she felt as clearly as if she'd seen — Queen Death and four of her blades. She would handle this personally. The arrival of another queen on her hive was a challenge old as the Wraith themselves. A more prudent queen might have waited or sent only her men, but Queen Death was hotheaded and angry. She did not stop to think. Or perhaps she was only too used to having her own way.

“This way!” Waterlight had retreated into the first room, the outer hall of the zenana, deserted now during the battle, a little table on its side, the game pieces scattered across the floor. Bronze looked around the door, the pike in his hands. Their fear was almost palpable.

That would not work, Teyla thought. They would retreat until they reached a door that would not open. Fortunately, Death was so focused on the young queen that she would not expect–

Teyla lunged out, P90 rising with a spray of bullets across the corridor. The two foremost blades pitched under the hail of fire, one dropping to his knees and the other reeling against the wall as Teyla slid into cover on the other side of the hall.

And still they came on, Death and the other two men. They would simply overwhelm her.

Teyla dove across again, firing as she went, a knee-high raking fire. She heard a bellow of pain and stunner bolts streaked just over her head, coalescing against the wall behind her. She landed hard on her right hip, the old bone bruise shrieking in pain, slowing her down. A blade stood over her, stunner in hand.

And then it was knocked away by a pike, flying from the Wraith's hand. Bronze brought it around backhanded, slashing the blade across the forearms. “Run!” he yelled as Teyla got to her feet.

Stunner fire followed them as they dived through the doorway, Waterlight closing it just behind them, as Bronze pitched into Teyla.

“Bronze!” Waterlight shrieked, catching at him.

Teyla leapt for the door control. “Do not open,” she told it. “Seal.”

Three stunner blasts had caught him at once. Bronze lay unmoving on the floor. Waterlight put her hand against his face. “Please be well!”

“He is stunned,” Teyla said. She felt a heavy thud against the door. “He will live if we do. But I cannot hold this door. This is Death's zenana. She will simply order it open and the ship will obey.”

The door shuddered open. Teyla brought up the P90. Bullets flew, and the remaining blade fell back under withering fire. Two shots caught Queen Death in the chest, but she stepped through it calmly, her hand closing about Teyla's neck. She lifted her off her feet like a rag doll and threw her across the room. Teyla's head struck the wall, and she knew no more.

They were almost at the shuttle bay. Radek forced himself onward, his leg burning from the old injury, the Wraith — Ember — panting at his heels. The deck felt unsteady underfoot: either the gravity was going, or the inertial dampeners, or maybe both. Something exploded down a side corridor, a flash of light and heat, and he heard Ember snarl behind him. Only a little further — yes, there was the beacon they had left behind when they first came on board. He made himself stop, check the door controls to be sure there was atmosphere in the bay, and touched his radio again.

"Eva! We are at the door."

"You'd better hurry," she answered. "I don't know how much longer this is going to hold together."

"We are hurrying," Radek answered, and the door slid back. The puddle jumper was waiting, tailgate down and ready, but Ember turned back to do something to the console beside the entrance. "Come on!"

"I must seal this hatch, or we will not be able to open the bay door," Ember answered. As he spoke the door began to move, but there was a snapping sound overhead. Radek looked up to see the central conduit splitting open, raining sparks and debris, knew in an instant that he would not be able to avoid it. And then Ember lunged at him, faster than a human could move, shoving them both toward the jumper's open stern. Radek fell, sliding to a stop at the end of the tailgate, the deck wavering unpleasantly beneath him, looked back to see the Wraith half buried by a pile of smoking debris.

"Eva! Get ready to leave!" Radek dragged himself upright, the floor wobbling again, and turned back to Ember's body. He stripped off his jacket, wrapped it around his hands to drag at the smoking conduit — thick cable, heavy but not impossible to move. The heat seared his palms, and he swore loudly, but the cable moved.

"They've knocked us loose from the hive," Eva called. "We have to go now."

Radek swore again. Ember's coat was shredded, the skin beneath it green with blood, and there were half a dozen finger-sized pieces of metal embedded in his back around the knobs of his spine. But he wasn't dead. A hand moved, and then his head, and Radek grabbed him by the arms and heaved, dragging him up the tailgate and into the jumper. He slapped the door controls, saw the tailgate begin to lift. "Ok, go!"

The puddlejumper lifted, hovering a meter or so above the deck. "I can't get the door to open," Eva said.

"Try a drone!"

"Oh. Yes, of course."

Radek saw her shoulders hunch, and a moment later a drone flashed into view, exploding against the cruiser's inner hull. The bay door blew out, debris pelting the jumper's hull, and outside the stars pinwheeled past. There was no sign of any other Wraith ships, but…. "We're tumbling," he said.

"Yeah." Eva's voice was tight. "There's a gravity field holding us steady relative to the cruiser, right?"

"Yes."

"What happens when we leave it?"

"The jumper should compensate," Radek said. "Go!"

"I really hope you're right."

The jumper lurched into motion, arrowing for the center of the bay door. Radek braced himself against the rear seats, one arm across Ember's body in what he suspected would be a futile attempt to keep him still, and abruptly the cruiser seemed to spin around them.

"The gravity field's down!"

Eva didn't answer, all her attention on the controls as she fought to keep the jumper steady. They were falling sideways, heading for the edge of the bay door. Radek ducked his head, closing his eyes, and felt rather than saw the jumper scrape hard along the jagged metal where the drone had hit. It staggered, metal keening, and then they were free.

"We're all right!" Eva said. "We're okay…."

Her voice trailed off, and Radek looked up quickly. "Except for?"

"One of the engines is out, and the jumper — either I can't fly it without it or it won't fly without it, but we're out of power."

Radek pulled himself up to the copilot's seat, scanning the navigation console. "We're okay," he said. "We're not going to run into anything immediately, and we're not going to hit atmosphere any time soon. We're okay." He suspected his voice was shakier than his words.

"Yeah." Eva nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess we are. So we just wait?"

"We wait till they stop fighting," Radek said. "And then we ask nicely for someone to come pick us up."

There were voices that echoed through Teyla's head, not through her ringing ears but through her mind itself.

“I am Waterlight of the line of Osprey.”

“You are nothing but a child!”

Waterlight. And Queen Death. Teyla opened her eyes, blinking as her vision swam. She had only been unconscious for a few moments. She lay half behind one of the seats in Death's zenana. Before her Waterlight stood with her back to Teyla, facing the other queen.

Death stood just inside the doorway, alone, but no less menacing for that, her long black hair caught up in combs of bone, her voice filled with fury and triumph. She had no eyes for anyone but Waterlight, and Teyla understood. Death had not seen Steelflower either. She had seen only a worshipper, a grunt at Waterlight's back, no more to be regarded than Bronze, stunned and forgotten on the floor.

“I am not a child,” Waterlight said. “And you will not kill me like one, craven and begging for my life.”

“So be it,” Death said. “Queen to queen.” She took a step forward, and though her hands did not rise, Teyla felt it like a physical blow, the force of her mind pressing, just as Coldamber's had in the drilling station beneath the sea. Inexorable. Heavy as weight, strong as gravity, pressing her down. Teyla had fallen beneath Coldamber's first onslaught, unexpected and relentless. She had only won later because Coldamber was befuddled with drugs. She knew she could not have stood against her.

But that was three years ago. That was before Guide's tutelage, before she had used her mind as she could, back when she still feared what she was. These things went through Teyla's mind in the moment that she saw Waterlight sway, the moment before Waterlight crumpled to the ground, a small, sad pale heap on the floor.

And Teyla Emmagan stood up. Her hip was bruised again and her leg shook beneath her, but there was the back of the seat to hand. "Look at me, Death," she said aloud.

Death raised her head from where Waterlight lay, no doubt seeing a human guard prepared to die to give her queen one more chance.

“Look at me again,” Teyla said softly, her mind like polished iron, like flowers wrought of steel.

“You will die as surely as your overlady,” Death said, but there was a flicker of uncertainty.

“I will not,” Teyla said. “This is not my day to die. It is yours. Unless you surrender and leave off this war.” An odd serenity gripped her. This was no different from a knife fight, no different from the bantos sticks, mind to mind, though anyone watching would have seen nothing of the maneuver and block, of the clash of one stick against the other.

“You….”

“I am Steelflower,” Teyla said. “And I will give you one more chance. Surrender and we shall make terms, you and I. Otherwise, I will kill you.”

“You cannot be!” Death said. “You aren't.”

“I am.” Block and parry and advance, though they stood still as statues. “The world is not what you think. I exist, part human and part Wraith. We are not so different. Now come. Let us put aside the past and look to the future together. Lay aside the burden of old wrongs.”

Pushing, so very strong, but with no discipline, no sorrow beneath it. For all her bravado, Death was very young. She was not so much older than Waterlight, and filled with anger untempered, ancient pains turned outward, every desire fanned as something that she deserved.

Teyla held, as a fighter holds her opponent at bay with both hands on the stick, holding off the pressure at arms' length, elbows locked. “Put it aside,” she said. “Whatever you have been told, whatever of the First Mothers you remember, whatever injustice you are heir to. Put it aside. You will destroy your people and all others too. What shall your blades and clevermen eat when you have made the galaxy a wasteland, killing that which you cannot consume? How shall the Returned survive when you have narrowed all bloodlines to your own? Do you not understand that you will doom your own people as well as all the other children of the Ancients?”

And there in Death's mind was the Old One — Ashes, Teyla realized with a shiver of recognition. His was the voice that whispered in Death's ear, his the promises of sweet revenge.

“Put him aside,” Teyla said, and still she held, defending but not striking. “Let it go, my sister.”

“I am not your sister!” Death said, and shoved with all her mental strength, crushing and dark as a wave, consuming all within its depths.

The surface of the water broke, and from it rose the white bird. Spray flew from its wings as they extended.

“You cannot defeat me,” Teyla said, and in that moment she knew it was true. The greater strength was hers, born of experience and life, of compassion and love, of all she had overcome to stand there. “But I can defeat you. And I shall if you will not yield.”

“I will never yield to you.” Attack again, all strength extended, a fire that rose to consume–

Quenched by mist. It cut off all light. It cut off breath, shutting down those parts of the brain that made her lungs work, holding synapses inactive though Death's body screamed to take a breath.

“Yield,” Teyla said, and she held. She held until the end, until Death died in the prison of her orthodoxy, until her eyes dimmed and she fell to the floor.

Teyla staggered, leaning forward over the seat and lowering herself shaking beside it. Her hands shook against the soft floor covering, and she sat amid the bodies. In a moment she would get up and see if Waterlight lived. In a moment.

There was a rattle of P90 fire somewhere far away, the sounds of footsteps, of minds, human and Wraith alike. A Wraith boarding party was there, nine strong, and with them three Marines and Captain Cadman. It was Guide's man Swiftripen who led them, the one who had so wanted to impress Steelflower. Teyla felt them check at the door, heard one blade go to one knee beside Bronze.

"This one lives," he said aloud.

Laura Cadman looked in, P90 at the ready, and Teyla moved.

Swiftripen came behind her, and then he saw Waterlight and Death. "What has happened here?"

Teyla did not pull herself to her feet. She was not certain she could yet, but her voice was strong. "Queen Waterlight met Queen Death," she said. "And Waterlight prevailed. Though I do not know if she has survived her victory."

Cadman's eyes widened, and Teyla shook her head a fraction. No. It must be as she had said.

Swiftripen hurried in, flinging himself to the floor beside Waterlight and turning her over gently. "She lives!" he said, his hand to her neck. "The young queen lives!"

"The other is dead," Teyla said. "Death is dead."

Cadman helped her to her feet, one arm about her waist. She smelled of cordite and improbably of oranges. "Are you okay?"

"I shall be," Teyla said. "I am only stunned."

"Okay," Cadman said. "Hang on." Her eyes went to Death where she lay on the floor. "What happened?"

"It is over," Teyla said. Her hip twinged as she put her weight on it, and so she leaned on Laura. "It is over."

“Queen Waterlight did it!” one of Guide's blades said wonderingly. “So young and so brave.”

“And so beautiful.” Swiftripen's thought followed.

They lifted Waterlight up and tenderly laid her on a couch, while another bent over Bronze. Yes, Teyla thought. This is how the legend begins. The brave young queen in her white dress met Death face to face, and hope killed death and the world began again. That is what happened once above the City of the Ancestors, long ago and far away.

She closed her eyes and leaned on Laura Cadman's shoulder.