I wake slowly to the realization that I am lying on a hard floor, my head throbbing from the sudden lapse into consciousness. Events replay themselves in my mind. I am kneeling on the ground, firing at the oncoming enemy soldiers. I yell for John to go. I am about to follow him when I am struck in the back by an energy weapon. My whole torso freezes over and I cannot move. The last thing I remember is watching John and his team escape through the Stargate.
I give a sigh of relief. They're safe. With this thought, I am able to move on to my next task, and force myself to open my eyes.
I am lying on my side in a dimly lit cell, water droplets echoing off the stone walls. I am alone.
Slowly, I manage to sit up, and a wave of nausea passes over me. I imagine they must have given me something after stunning me, because it feels like I've been unconscious for a while. I do another scan of the room, this time, searching for any possible means of escape, as that is now my top priority.
There are no windows, and the only piece of furniture is a wobbly old wooden bench in the corner. The cell is small, and built entirely of rough stone. The iron bars are covered in a thin layer of rust, but when I rattle them experimentally, I can tell they are still strong. There are other cells like this one across from mine, and the only source of light is in the narrow strip of aisle that runs between them.
I quickly realize that I am no longer aboard a hive ship, or a ship of any kind for that matter. I determine it must be some kind of Wraith research facility, like the ones run by Michael. Why I was brought here? …I'd really rather not know.
I stand up and begin meandering my way around the tiny cell, touching the walls and staring up at the ceiling, as though I might have missed something in my initial scans; but before I can finish my exploration, the silence is broken by the thumping of heavy footsteps coming my way. I turn slowly, facing the mouth of the cell just as two Wraith soldiers appear there. I am not surprised by their presence, and do not back away this time when they open the cell doors and storm over to me, hauling me out.
They bring me to another room which appears to be a small laboratory. The countertops are covered with various trays, chemicals and instruments I am not familiar with. In the center of the room is a large chair with restraints hanging off the arm rests and legs.
I frown, but before I can put the pieces together I am being dragged towards it. I struggle against them, but I have already been forced into the chair and they are strapping down my hands and feet. I tug at the restraints, but it does no good. The Wraith soldiers leave to stand by the door, and another enters.
It is the ugly Wraith from before—the one with the tattoos. I can't say I'm surprised to see him, and I only glare at him as he stalks into the room and over to a tray of instruments. The last time I saw him, I looked like a terrified deer caught in the headlights. I will not give him that satisfaction this time.
He selects a long needle and injects it into my arm without warning. I jerk away, but quickly realize he is only taking a blood sample—probably trying to determine if I've been infected by the Hoffen drug or not. He withdraws the needle and holds it at eye level, flicking it. Seemingly satisfied, he sets it down on the tray and begins rummaging through the many other instruments.
"What do you want?" I demand, growing impatient with the lack of information he is providing.
He frowns and stops what he is doing, turning slowly to face me.
"You killed my queen," he says.
I have a dozen smart-ass comments I could use to reply to this, but as usual, I choose not to use them. Instead, I stare straight ahead and say, "I can't say I'm sorry."
The Wraith turns back to his tray and selects a second syringe. "Perhaps not now," he says. "But you will be soon enough."
The syringe is filled with a greenish liquid and my eyes widen as it is directed to my arm. I pull away, thrashing in my restraints, but the Wraith clamps his hand over my arm and forcefully inserts the needle, leaving droplets of blood.
I am hyperventilating, trying to somehow get the unknown chemical out of my bloodstream. I can feel it coursing through my veins, making my insides burn. The ugly Wraith beckons over one of the guards, and he approaches the chair. I panic, looking back and forth between the hole in my arm and the Wraith now towering over me.
Before I can predict their next course of action, the Wraith is drawing back its powerful feeding hand and plunging it into my chest. I scream out loud and my back arches involuntarily. I can feel his hand digging deep grooves into my skin, sucking the life out at the same time. My heart is racing and feels like its being vacuumed from my chest.
Gradually, the pain dwindles down and the hand releases me. I collapse against the back of the chair, breathing hard, and open my eyes to see the Wraith lying dead on the ground.
Ugly Wraith looks furious, and he says something in another language to the other guard, who storms over and quickly undoes my restraints and hauls me back to my cell without another word.
V
"What have you got?" John asked as he strode into the lab, Ronon close on his heels.
Rodney and Jennifer looked up from their computers briefly to acknowledge their presence.
"I think we might be able to confirm your theory, Colonel," Jenn explained, turning back to her computer screen.
"Which one is that?" John asked with feigned interest, perching himself on a stool.
The doctor strode over to one of the other monitors and brought up an image of some blood cells making their way slowly around the perimeter of a microscope lens.
"I went over Colonel Carter's blood work again to see if I could find anything significant. As you know, she has a high concentration of naquadah in her system."
Ronon frowned. "Naquadah…?"
Jenn looked up for a second, then back at her screen. "The trace element left behind from when she was blended with a Gua'ould," she explained distractedly.
She brought up another image beside the first one, this time, of white, Wraith blood cells. "And this is what's left over from some of the Wraith blood samples we've collected."
John frowned, leaning in closer to the screen with interest.
"Now," she began, dragging the mouse. "This is what happens when they mix."
The simulation showed the two blood samples coming in contact with one another, and slowly, the red blood dispersed over the image, drowning out the white blood until each individual cell had shriveled and disappeared. John raised an eyebrow.
"You see, the Wraith aren't designed to survive with naquadah in their system," Rodney explained. "Sam had no way of knowing."
Jennifer continued for him. "In most cases, it would've taken some time before the naquadah left its mark, but the feeding process goes so quickly…"
There was a long silence while the two men absorbed the information.
"So why don't they just kill her?" Ronon asked, instantly regretting it when he saw Jenn's face sink in horror. Rodney wasn't as greatly affected though, having already conjured an explanation.
"Well because…" he began, as though the answer should have been obvious. But everyone was looking at him, waiting for an explanation, so he continued. "Well, I guess we have no way of knowing, but, it really wouldn't work in their best interests if you look at it from their perspective."
The others looked at each other, confirming that they were all still a little lost.
"And what would their point of view be?" John inquired.
Rodney sighed, going into lecture mode with a shift in hand gestures. "Think about it," he began. "They're population was low from the beginning. They didn't have enough queens to make up for lost numbers and Michael's been wiping them out by the hundreds. Not to mention the war with the replicators seriously depleted their food source."
Jennifer dropped her shoulders, beginning to follow where he was going. "Yeah, and don't forget the Hoffen drug."
"Right," Rodney agreed, jabbing a thumb in her direction. "Look, as a species, they are in danger of extinction."
John and Ronon looked at each other, exchanging frowns and raised eyebrows.
"What's your point?"
Rodney quickly went on, as though he had never been interrupted. "My point is… Sam presents a great threat to them. She's like a human weapon. I mean, imagine if we had an entire population of people like her—we could quite possibly wipe out the Wraith once and for all, just by using their own weakness asgainst them."
There was another pause, and Ronon took the opportunity to repeat his question. "So why don't they just kill her?"
"Because…" Rodney went on. "They probably figure that we knew about this, and we brought her there on purpose—to test if it works or something. So they must figure we've already been able to recreate it, otherwise we never would have risked bringing her there. If that's what they believe, then they'd know we already have a weapon to use against them, and killing Sam wouldn't make any difference. No, they'd want to make use of her. Probably try to find a way to counter act the affects of the naquadah."
John frowned. "You're saying they'd experiment on her."
Rodney sighed. "It's possible. Look the point is, there's a very good chance she's still alive out there."
Ronon straightened. "Then we'll find her."
No one responded. Jenn and Rodney averted their eyes, looking down at their shoes instead, and John gave Ronon a nod of approval. Just then, loud, slapping footsteps could be heard approaching, and Major Lorne appeared in the doorway.
"Major," John greeted, giving him an incredulous look. Lorne came to attention, breathing heavily.
"Sir," he replied. "It looks like Todd came through for us. We just received Intel on one of Michael's research facilities where it's believed one of our people is being held."
John rose in excitement, the others following suit.
"Sam?" Rodney asked disbelievingly.
Lorne turned to the scientist and shook his head. "No, sir," he said. "Teyla."
