CHAPTER 7

Morning rose in the open doors of the terrace and I woke up with a start. In the zone between dreamless sleep and reality, the events of the day before seeped in, first like shifting ghosts then taking form, passing through my mind one by one, as real as if they stood in front of me—the Wraith Queen with my DNA and no feeding hand; the Commander with his grand plans for the Wraith race that, somehow, included me; the lonely feeling; the questions; and the frustrating lack of understanding of a Wraith's mind; or rather of THIS Wraith's mind. What was wrong in my world, was not in his; what was right in his world, was not in mine… And the nagging, corroding thought that I was nothing but a piece of his plans; an easily manipulated human; a vessel of DNA for his race. That worm of anger squirmed inside me.

I threw off the covers and sat up. Moira stood at the foot of the bed waiting my orders. I did not know for how long she had been there, awaiting my awakening; as if she was waiting for a Wraith's awakening, the odd thought crossed my mind.

With the Commander's visit, she seemed to have become even more—wasn't sure how to describe it; even more 'devoted'; or attentive; or… whatever. I really didn't want to use the world servile. It was as if she had been injected with some drug or enzyme that had started to fade before his reappearance but had been renewed now.

The same drug or enzyme I've been injected with?

I met her eyes. "Moira," I said, modulating my voice to display quiet authority.

She bowed. Deeper than before.

"Your master," I started, "has given me his rights over you."

"Yes."

"I have the power of life and death over you, according to him. And being a Wraith, he truly means life and death. I am correct in that?"

"Yes." She bowed again.

"If your loyalty fails me, he has given me the choice to eliminate you by whatever means I think appropriate." I was listening to myself and shuddered a bit; I was doing a very impressive imitation of a Wraith. "I will not kill you with my own hands," I continued on the path of threats, "but I will lift my protecting hand off you. You know what that means?"

She nodded, She was a little bit pale.

"But, this is not of concern." I smiled. "You have proven your loyalty and even your friendship."

She nodded and lifted her gaze. "After all," she said softly, "it is easier to love a human master than a Wraith. Although…" she attempted her own smile, "a human could never be the benevolent and perfect master a Wraith could be." She stared at me. "They certainly would not crave our friendship or affection."

Her words made me pause. Was that an advice, or warning? I let it pass, my mind bent on the benevolence of the Wraith. Whatever it was, I was certain a human could not match the form it took. It was what had molded Moira's soul of a worshipper. And that is what I wanted to know. "Tell me, Moira—how does a Wraith obtain and keep your devotion?"

Obviously, it didn't always work; to wit the killing of the Wraith I had encountered on the planet of winds.

Moira swallowed. "They do it by taking our life then giving it back to us."

That we all knew. "That's all?" I said dismissively.

"They take the life slowly, the pain prolonged. But, then when they return it, it is the sweetest and most exhilarating feeling any human could experience. You would not know it, because when the gift was given to you, it was for healing." Her eyes were gleaming with some inner delight. "You would not know…" She suddenly seemed lost in her own thoughts. There was a light tremor in her hands, as if she was experiencing a whiff of the pleasure of the gift. She looked at me almost feverishly. "It becomes a craving that burns in our gut. We desire it more and more with each gift, a longing that nothing can satisfy, until we break down like madmen and howl for it until it is given to us; if we deserve it. If not, we die at our own hand to relieve the pain."

I looked at her without hiding my disquiet at her words. "All these years you've been with me…"

"It was hell. But, it was my sacrifice for my master."

"How do they give you this gift?"

"The worshippers' gift," she specified. "The same as they take our life. With the hand on our throat." She seemed puzzled at my question.

"Tell me in detail."

She took in a breath. "It is not an easy task for the Wraith," she said. "That is why it is done rarely, and only to the ones who have been singled out for devotion. We are left to desire it until we nearly go mad. The Wraith sense when that happens. We are summoned by the Commander, or the Queen if there's one. If we are found to be especially devoted and of service, then the gift is given to us by the Queen or commander themselves. If it is only to maintain us, then it is given by the other Wraith, who are less skilled in this. Sometimes the heart stops. We kneel and worship and plead with traditional words. Ceremonially, we open the front of our vestments, and the Wraith grabs us and slowly, very slowly takes our life away, until we scream in agony. And then, at that special point, where pain and anticipation become overwhelming, slowly they return life to us, the pleasure of which obliterates everything."

"When the Commander was here, yesterday, did he give you the worshipper's gift?" Something weird squirmed inside me. Surely not jealousy.

"Of course," she said, suddenly sounding proud. "I have served him and you, as no other worshipper."

Yes, of course… "What about the ones who turned against him?"

She sighed. "They were not born in the hive to worshippers," she answered. "They tempted us and misled us. We paid dearly for it."

"How about Doria?"

Her face darkened. "She's dead. The Commander withdrew the gift of life from her because of her hate for you. She died by her own hand."

I trembled inside. This was indeed a game of life and death. "When?"

"After my fellow worshipers were taken back from you. She had been plotting against you."

"Why?"

"She was misled and had lost her way. She was jealous of you, that you have taken the Commander's interest away from her."

"Interest?"

"Doria was his most devoted worshipper. She reported to him on everything and she was our mistress for the Wraiths. The Commander spoke to her mind. But she had the audacity to put herself on the same footing as you, to think of you as equal to her in the mind of the Commander. She was fatally mistaken."

"I was not equal to a worshipper?" I asked, the demon of my suspicions—that I was not more than another form of worshipper to the Commander—rearing its ugly head.

"Oh, no!" Moira flinched. "Never! From the beginning you were above us. You had honored the Wraith as only a Wraith would; and you took the Commander as a mate as only a Queen would. You gave the Wraith a Queen, as only a Wraith queen would. You have been given the gifts of a Queen."

It took me a while to ask the next question as an unexpected feeling of happiness filled me. But, startled by it, I tried to suppress it, cautioning myself of the foolishness of such a feeling. I shook my head. Absurd. ABSURD. I then had to ask the next question: "Are the male Wraiths male like humans?"

Moira seemed to ponder the question for a second. "I hear that they are."

"You hear?"

"I hear that they discarded that ability when they turned against the Ancients, and separated themselves from all human ways." She added, softly: "Their pleasure is elsewhere. No human knows anything of it.

With one exception, perhaps?

"With one exception," Moira echoed my thoughts. "I have never heard of another, besides you."

I rose from bed and paced to the terrace doors. "When they give you the worshipper's gift, do they always take your life first?" I turned to face her again.

"Yes. Otherwise it would not be what it is."

My breath was a bit shallow. The Commander had not taken my life first. He had simply put his hand on me and drew me into another world. And then, my hand in his—

"Do they ever touch you in any other way?" I asked. "Like putting your hand in their feeding hand—"

She looked at me indignantly. "That is done only between a Wraith and his Queen."

My heart stopped and then fluttered quickly. She added, gravely: "He has given you his life." She pointed to the square piece of blue amber on my night stand.

So, she knew what it was… I stared at it and then picked it up. I put it in my right palm. It was cold and lifeless. I looked at Moira.

"It will alight when needed," she said.

I held it in both my hands. There was a soft point of heat in my palm. But, I said nothing of that.

"What will happen to you, Moira, without the Wraith's gift? They are gone."

Moira straightened her shoulders. "The Commander has given me to you. He has given me the rest of my natural life. Doing without the Gift is how I will prove my true devotion and loyalty."

A thought suddenly crossed my mind. "What happens to the other worshipers now, while the Wraith are in hibernation?"

Moira pushed her chin up and looked squarely at me. "They have performed the ultimate act of devotion to their Wraith lords—they were fed upon to provide the sustenance the Commander and the hive will need for hibernation."

They were all dead… I felt cold. Very cold.

"It's only you and me," Moira whispered. "To protect the Wraith."

I clasped the amber communicator in my hands. I said: "And what are exactly the orders the Commander has given you?"

"To protect you."

"Protect me?"

"I would protect you by informing the hive that you are in danger."

"Really…"

"Also, I am to inform you of anything I hear that might threaten and harm the Commander and his Queen and hive."

"And what about informing him of any harm I might want to bring on his hive?"

She looked at me long. "You will not harm the Commander and his hive."

"You are certain…"

"You are the Keeper of the Commander's hive." She added. "Like no other Keeper the Wraith has ever had."

Those words were almost incomprehensible to me. Yet, in some bizarre way, in a way one would find only among the mad, they spoke the truth.

"Are the Wraith known for insanity?" I quipped, feeling as if I've fallen into a vortex of madness.

Moira smiled: "No. They are known for their intelligence and cunning; and clever plans."

"Then how do you explain this?" I spread my arms out.

"You belong more to Wraith than to humans. You are the Queen of the strongest alliance and thus the Keeper." She bowed deeper. "My Queen."

PART 3

Fear, retreat and confusion have never been part of my repertory. I have experienced one of these sentiments at various times in my life—I would not be human if I did not—but when I experienced one, it did not bring on the other two. This time, confusion was my undoing. The confusion of being both the head of Atlantis with the responsibility of protecting every single human in it and lending aid and protection to every human in the galaxy against the Wraiths, and being suddenly designated The Keeper of a Wraith alliance, thus protector of the Wraiths against all threats, which would inevitably come from Atlantis and other humans, and also apparently some kind of weird Queen of theirs, brought on fear of having the choose between humans and Wraiths. The choice would seem simple to most; were it not for the bizarre, unexpected and inexplicable attachment I had to a certain Wraith Commander. To that we had to add the existence of a Wraith Queen who was, by the law of genetics and nature, half my progeny, the other half being that same Wraith Commander.

That I have created a being with a Wraith finally threw me off balance. It was a highly intelligent being, part after my image; part after a Wraith's image.

Confused and fearful, I became the coward I never thought existed in me—several months after my encounter with the Commander and Amanda, as Pegasus indeed seemed to quiet down (the few rogue Wraiths hives still roaming around became insignificant), I relinquished my command of Atlantis and asked for a transfer back to Earth.

The IOA delayed its response for another six months. I gave them scant reason why I was doing this, some inane statement about 'career path' no one believed. The only ones to understand, and who seemed to have taken an oath of silence, were Doctor Bernard and Colonel Santos. Moira, o n the other hand, seemed shocked and for the first time since I first met her on the Commander's hive, I saw again that flicker of dislike and even hate. It made me shudder, but it also increased my resolve to get out.

"Moira," I called her on the evening before my departure, having asked her to help me pack a few things for my journey back.

She turned and bowed, but her eyes avoided me.

"Moira," I said, "I will need you now more than ever."

She raised her gaze and looked at me suspiciously.

"You are the connection now between the Commander and me. As he meant it to be. He knew that sooner or later, inevitably, I will return to Earth."

"What will you be able to do from there?" she came back at me and there was nothing nice in her voice.

"Moira," I said after taking a deep breath. "You think and speak as a worshipper. You do not have divided loyalties. But I do. The Commander knew and understood that in spite of his actions. I fear the orders I might get from Earth." I paused, then said what was on my mind. "I don't trust the motives of the Earth command."

"But, if you were here, if such orders came through, you would be able to counter them."

"No, Moira. To do that would be going against my own kind; it would be treason."

"You are the Keeper! You cannot leave. Your duty is with the hive."

"No, Moira. It is you who calls me a Keeper. The Commander has never called me anything. He had the need to go in hibernation, and he hoped that with me, he will buy the necessary time to hide somewhere beyond the gate system, some place so far and hidden that our human lives would be too short to reach it." I sat down, with the hands abandoned in my lap in a gesture of despair. "Moira, hear me." I swallowed hard before I spoke the next words. "I love your Commander. And that cannot be. It is not wrong, it is not right. It just cannot be."

The look in her eyes seemed to have changed at my last words. "Is such a thing possible?" she whispered.

"I have to go, Moira," I said, my voice breaking. "I have to go…" I put my face in my hands. "You are the only connection I have to the Commander. It breaks my heart to go." I started to cry.

Moira was now close to me. Perhaps she wanted to kill me; I would not be surprised. But her hand fell on my shoulder gently. "Yes, my Queen. You must go. You are weakening, and that puts you in danger among Wraiths. Come back when you are strong again. I will stay here."

My tears abated quickly; I was not the emotional type. I stood up and wiped my eyes. "You know better than anyone else, that emotion is lost on the Wraith. The Commander would not understand it and would not even recognize it."

"Perhaps…" she mused and returned to helping me pack.

Leaving Atlantis was not as much of conundrum to me as it was leaving the Commander's hives and Queen Amanda. Atlantis was guaranteed a leader and the continuing operation; although it would not have the power of a leader who also affected, at least on the surface, the behavior of the Wraiths. Leaving the Commander was more radical; yet, these were Wraith. As someone had once famously said—they won't lose sleep over it.

Next day, I stood in front of the Stargate, the Atlantis team gathered around me and up the stairs to wish me well and say goodbye. The gate chevrons lit and moved, locking in each symbol of the Earth address. When the last chevron locked, the gate came alight, a burst of blue coming forth from it. As everyone applauded me, I stepped through, carrying with me two small suitcases.

I was aware more than anyone else about the prohibition on taking Pegasus artifacts to Earth, no matter how inoffensive or insignificant. I wrote the rule. This interdict was even more imperative when it came to Wraith objects. Yet, I carried in my suitcase the Wraith outfit I was given during my stay on the Commander's hive; and the amber tablet.

My arrival on Earth, a mere twenty seconds after stepping into the wormhole, was greeted with polite words of welcome. The IOA was displeased, but not displeased enough not to avail themselves of my expertise and my advice. Before I even had a chance to go home—wherever that was anymore—I was called upon to be part of the main board as a scientific advisor on Pegasus, but more than anything else, as an expert on Wraith and the liaison with Atlantis.

Suspicious as ever of the IOA—their obfuscation, lack of action and obtuseness being the fuel for much of my paranoia regarding this august body—I could not quite escape the feeling that their benevolence towards me and even a certain degree of fawning, had something a lot less benevolent behind it. I held tightly to my secrets; the foremost among them being the amber tablet.

Slowly, my obsession with the Wraith Commander slipped away from me as the little nugget of cold and hot in my palm did not manifest itself and somehow my memories grew strangely dim. I could not recall the Commander's name. I did not dare to try the amber tablet. I would not dare; I didn't think anything would happen, but one did not take chances with a Wraith; especially one as dangerous and supremely clever and inventive as the Commander. The temptation was great; very great to let it light up and perhaps touch his existence. But I did not.

Bent on returning to normal, a year later I married. But the secrets I had to keep—not just the secrets of the mission, but my connection with an alien being—made me a stranger and a deceiver in this marriage.

The pivotal moment came one morning when, half awake, I felt a touch on my neck. Half inside a dream, a felt an immense bliss that filled me with golden light. I opened my eyes anticipating with overflowing happiness to see the Commander as I had seen him on the sunlit terrace of Atlantis. His name came to me, like a glimpse, a flash of colors and a distant wafting of spicy scents.

Somewhere in my subconscious I wondered why I could suddenly see him and recall his name when it had been so silent for so long.

My breath was cut short and a cold, forlorn feeling of disappointment shrouded the very core of my soul when I saw that the hand on my throat was that of my human husband who was doing his little pre-conjugal rights ritual. Before I could think, I drew away from him, as violently as a Wraith would have when so touched by a human.

My husband sat up startled and stared at me, something akin to fear in his eyes. "What?" he whined.

Oh, yes. My human husband did what all male humans did well—whine.

"You should've seen your face," he said, now pouting. "You didn't even look like you."

"A dream…"

"You have those a lot. " He rose from bed and went in the bathroom leaving the door open; an annoying habit.

I dropped back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. There was an itch inside me that nothing could scratch. I've seen worlds and I've done things, and I've been places that, I realized, had forever placed me outside the ordinary life I was trying so desperately to lead. But, above all, out there, very far away, beyond this galaxy and across others, there was a Wraith who had changed me. And I suppose I changed him.

I tried again to bring back the name of colors and scents that brought with it that golden light of delight. But, my memories were silent again. Had it been truly just a half dream and just the feel of a hand on my chest that had jolted something dormant? Nothing more? I looked at my husband's reflection in the bathroom mirror visible through the half open door. I juxtaposed his image over that of the Commander with amber eyes. There was a vague flutter inside me; so vague that it disappeared before I could capture it. I was empty again.

I closed my eyes. I was in trouble; big, freaking trouble. It was hopeless; and I was trapped. I admitted it to myself with self flagellating cruelty and brutality-my husband, the one I chose and convinced myself that I loved, looked dull, retarded and a prick next to that being in the far world of Pegasus, the Wraith whose eyes turned amber gold when looking at me. No sugar coating this. My human husband lost out to a Wraith. I giggled immensely amused just of a sudden. I think I was hysterical.

"It's someone else, isn't it?"

I opened my eyes and found myself staring into my husband's face, looming over the footboard of the bed. And that remark brought out a great laugh out of me. Oh, yes, there's someone else.

"Don't be absurd," I replied.

"Don't blow me over, Elena!" He was angry.

Tough cheese. I rose on my right elbow. "Any suggestions as to who this someone else is?" I countered flippantly, suddenly enjoying the absurdity of the conversation; and the irony.

"No, I don't have a suggestion!" he answered, looking as if he'd been hit with a wet rag.

"You've just made an accusation," I said, "so, you must be basing it on something!"

"You're self absorbed, whenever I want to get close to you, you either start looking at your right hand—which does weird me out—or you react like you want to kill me, like this morning. You looked feral."

Feral? I didn't think he knew that word. But, that was an interesting choice. I looked at my hand and flexed the fingers.

"Like that!" he exclaimed.

"Hm," I answered. "You're the psychiatrist—" Yes, I married one of THEM. "What do you think it is?"

"I don't psychoanalyze my wife!"

"That's nice…"

He was silent for a while. Then he said, slowly: "There's someone else, isn't it? You are seeing him, aren't you?"

I stared back at him. "You still haven't told me how you've come to that conclusion and if you have a candidate from our circle of acquaintances."

"I don't want to live in a sea of lies with you," he said and sounded very plaintive. Whining again. "I can understand the secrecy of some of your work with the military, although even that is so boneheaded. Is it someone you are working with?"

"The truth? Fine. You asked for it." I got out of bed, put on my robe and went to my office. From there I took out the Wraith black leather outfit and the amber tablet. I returned with them to the bedroom and slammed them on the bed. "Do you see these?"

He scratched the stubble on his chin. "I've wondered about them."

"You looked through my things?" My voice went up. Now I felt anger. The reason for it was on many levels.

"You would too, if you suspected me!"

Actually, no. But, I let it pass.

"Well," I continued with my original narrative, "these are gifts from my lover."

He looked at me suspiciously. "Rather odd…" He put out his hand to touch the outfit.

"Don't touch!"

He retracted his hand and looked at me completely confused. He said, to cover for it: "You and he going to those comic character conferences?" He seemed to try to muster all the mock he could at that moment.

"Well, he's different. You see," I could feel a smile twitch on my face, "he's not like you; like us."

"What, uh, nationality is he?"

Oh, you little prick! I know what's going through your mind.

"He's not a nationality. He's a race."

"Race?" His lips twisted getting ready for some devastating sarcasm; he could do those on occasion.

"Correct that," I said. "He's a species of intelligent being. He's what is called a Wraith. Part human DNA, part bug DNA. Yellow eyes with slits, like a cat, long white hair, kind of pale, greenish face; tall. Sucks the life out of humans. Flies around in spaceships they call hives. Seems to have a preference of mating with red headed female humans."

He stared at me completely uncomprehending. Then his face suddenly flushed red. "How dare you!" he yelled.

"You asked for the truth. You got it." Yes, you did!

"I will not permit you to make a mockery of me and this marriage!" He now sounded violent.

It was at that point that I recalled that I had faced, and faced it well, a deadly Wraith and no human compared to that. I also remembered that I had been trained to fight in combat and kill. Something the hapless fool in front of me could not even conceive, let alone suspect or fathom. He had gotten a glimpse of it that morning. I took on the Commander's pose—arrogant, straight backed, dangerous, sneering. "Are you done?"

He gulped but took a step towards me. It was threatening or even quick. But, as if by instinct, I put my hand out and before I knew what I was doing, I slammed my right hand on his chest. He let out a gasp and his eyes widened as he stared back at me, a fear in his pupils I never thought I'd see in the eyes of anyone looking at me. I felt a very icy needle in the middle of my palm. He staggered back and quickly moved out of my range, his eyes on me all this time, like prey on a predator.

I was as stunned as he was. But, I recovered quicker than he. I said, very quietly and very coldly: "I know of ways to kill that you cannot even imagine." And that was apparently true, because I knew in my deepest instincts that if had kept my hand on his throat, I would've done him harm to the point of death. "Ways," I added, "no coroner would be able to describe." Yeah, like sucking you dry… Then I added, breezily: "I think I want a divorce. What do you say?"

"Yes…" he said, somehow having recovered also, "I think it's wise."

I think he thought I was clinically insane. Perhaps I was.

It was then that I noticed the amber tablet glowing in the folds of the comforter on the bed. It faded as soon as I looked at it. I took in a deep breath. Somehow it has sensed danger and somehow it had reached beyond that room and galaxy and somehow powers were transmitted to me that were not mine. Or, had it reached for me first and that was why I recalled the Commander name for a flash? Is that why I acted the way I did?

For the first time since I left Atlantis, I could feel the Wraith close. And now it was me who was afraid. The very reaction I had had to my husband's—my ex-husband's—hand on my chest and throat had been out of ordinary, unusual. A warning. Something had happened. Something was happening.

The phone rang. I looked at the ID. It was the number of the IOA. I picked it up.

"Doctor Vries?"

"Yes."

"We're patching through a communication from Atlantis."

I froze.

"Colonel Santos here," I heard a familiar voice. "I think you better come over."

I didn't ask what was wrong or why I was needed. I was just eager to go. I made my suitcase, buried the amber tablet with the Wraith outfit at the bottom of my pack and took the first flight out to Stargate Command. Reaching Atlantis was a three step trip that took over a week, and included a very long and boring bout in hyperspace on the Daedalus. As far as any information on what was going on, all I got from the Daedalus commander was that 'the Wraith are not sleeping as peacefully as we had hoped and are not having beautiful dreams of endless fields of humans.'

Colonel Santos, Doctor Bernard and my replacement as the leader of Atlantis, Cyril Feng (don't ask…) stood at the bottom of the steps as I walked out of the Atlantis stargate. My gaze flew up the steps, in an instinctive and foolish, and absurd—and startling—hope (or desire) to catch the image of a tall figure in black with white hair and pale face. All I saw was Moira, her hands clasped in front of her, looking gaunt and old.

But, as if to welcome me back in the Pegasus, colors and scents fluttered for a moment through my mind and senses and I thought of an amber moth. Then it faded, the feeling of delight just as transitory. My palm was quiet.

"Doctor Feng," I greeted the man who had taken my place.

"Doctor Vries," he offered me a nod of his head and a hand shake. He looked stressed.

I glanced quickly at Santos and Bernard. Both faces were expressionless.

"It is unfortunate," Feng started, "that we had to interrupt your life on Earth. This was not my idea."

Odd thing to say in welcome. I sniffed something in the air. I never thought of feeling and emotions having a smell, but this time there was a smell, and it was emanating from Feng. It was acrid; like someone who had not washed for a while. I glanced at Feng again. He didn't seem to lack in personal hygiene. As a matter of fact he was a fastidious little man.

I realized suddenly that I was flexing my right hand; an unnerving instinctive sign of emotion; although I could not discern what emotion.

Feng had a grim, almost angry look in his normally blank eyes. I knew him to be a man of slow decision making, who would waste more energy on covering his *ss than taking action. Was I there to cover his sorry *ss?

I smiled inwardly—I have a little surprise for you, little man. My days of playing devoted team member are gone. Why they are gone, I don't know; may be I am just not in mood. It's my game, not yours.

"Let's not waste time," I said, hearing my own dismissive impatience in my voice. "I assume it is something about Wraith."

Feng was fidgeting with his fingers on his throat.

Santos sent me a smile and a wink. It was Bernard who spoke: "I think you are the only one who can carry this out."

At Bernard's words, Feng looked like he had just swallowed a sea slug. That brought to mind a subaltern of mine who had made the mistake of shacking up with him. She told me that it felt as if she had a slug between the sheets.

The thought made me smile for a second.

"All right," I said, "let's hear it."

Without further niceties or attempt to conversation, I marched in front of Feng to the conference room, Moira bringing up the rear. Once inside, the doors closed shut and we sat down, I found myself taking the spot at the head of the table, facing the doors, Feng on the other side.

Feng played with his pen, wrote something on the top of the notebook in front of him and then, after a deep breath, said: "We received a message from a Wraith hive that has dropped out of hyperspace a day ago above planet MS34435—"

"Inhabited?" I asked.

"Yes," Santos answered in Feng's place. "One of the planets that is part of our alliance with… uh… your Wraith; Beauregard."

I did suppress a laugh. Beauregard? "Is that what you call him?"

"My idea," Doctor Bernard intervened.

"And since when is he MY Wraith?"

"Well…" Santos smiled back at me trying to look innocent. "Isn't he?"

"Oh, yeah… I'm his child bride." I swiveled in my chair. "Beauregard?"

Feng made an impatient noise through his nose. We all turned to him.

"They hailed us using your channel and requested a meeting to discuss terms of an alliance."

"Really?" I leaned back in my chair. "Terms of A alliance or of THE alliance?"

"We didn't get the finer point of that," Santos quipped.

Feng drummed his fingers on the table, apparently unconscious of it.

"In order to get our attention-" Santos continued.

"Naturally…."

"—the hive blocked the two gates—the one on the planet and the one above it—and took hostages the humans in one of the major towns. The humans there are early industrial age phase."

"Any culling?"

"Not that we know of. But, they said that they will cull ten people for every hour we delay accepting the invitation, starting at 0900 hour. Which is an hour from now."

"And they are inviting us exactly where?"

"In a neutral location on the planet."

"And they are requesting you," Feng interjected. "If you are not there, even if we show up at the rendez-vous, they will cull."

I tightened my lips. "Not very subtle…" I stared at the closed doors. "Wraith can be brutally direct, but this is crudely direct."

"It's a trap of some kind," Santos said.

"Too crude to be a trap. The meeting is not the trap in itself." I shifted my gaze on Santos. "It's nothing that is visible to the naked eye, so to speak."

"Do you think it's Beau-… I mean, the Commander's hives?" Feng asked.

"Have you seen any movement other than this?"

"No," Santos answered.

"In the face of it, and if this is all there is, it is too simple to be the Commander," I said.

"He's rather refined in his methods, I must admit," Santos agreed. "This is not his style."

"Something else is hiding behind it," I said and smiled, rather ruefully: "Something more elegant and more deadly, I think." I focused on Feng and put him on the spot: "So, your decision is that we walk into this based on believing what the Wraith tell us? Do we even know who's on the other side?"

"No," Santos rumbled.

Forever the cautious and wavering man, Feng countered: "What do you think is the trap?"

"I cannot fathom," I said. But, I was lying. My suspicion was that 'someone' wanted a piece of my DNA; again. But, that was the obvious. Again, if it was the Commander, he knew enough and the two of us had shared enough for him to know that he would not have to go through such crude subterfuges. "If it's the Commander, I cannot imagine why he would find it necessary to deal with us like this." Even if his purpose was to have me show up. "If it's another faction of Wraiths… They would not know of me, unless someone has betrayed the Commander." In which case… they could want a piece of my DNA.

"Can you hail the Commander to come to your aid?" Feng said.

I stared at him and an alarm went off in my head; or rather I could smell that acrid odor again. "Disappointingly, no."

"It could be a splinter group," Santos chanced.

"I thought you could hail your Wraith," Feng insisted.

I did not like the tone of 'your'. But, I shrugged. "He's a Wraith; which means he's not stupid and certainly does not trust humans enough to give me a way to hail him."

"I thought he trusted you," Feng continued his line of discussion.

"He used me, Doctor Feng, didn't trust me. And I didn't trust him. These are Wraith we're talking about. Never assume anything." I decided to give the little man a crumb so that he would reveal where he was going. "But, it could be," I said with a cogitative tone of voice, "that, although in hibernation, he is keeping an eye on his territories and the status of the alliance—I am sure that in true Wraith fashion he's got something underhanded going on—and that he might receive a signal that someone is encroaching on his empire. There is a chance that he might show up."

Feng seemed pleased. "That is good."

There was more behind this. A lot more.

I stood up. "Anything else? I understand that time is short."

"Yes," Feng mumbled.

I locked my gaze into Feng's eyes before he could avert them: "You don't have any theories, suspicions, hunches?"

Feng's eyes slipped. "No. That's why you're here, Doctor Vries. You're with the suspicions and theories."

Liar. I glanced at Santos. He nodded softly.

"Shall we contact the Wraith and tell them that I am coming?"

Feng stood up quickly. "I will contact them. In the meantime, I suggest you use the time to prepare."

That smell reached my nose again. "I will be speaking with them from now on. No one else. Is that understood?"

Feng seemed to dissolve in stress and incertitude. I was higher in rank by virtue of my position on the IOA, but my high handed manner had thrown him off balance. "Put me through to the Wraith," I said to Bernard.

"Yes!" Doctor Bernard jumped to his feet.

A few minutes later, I stood in the control room, facing the screen filled with static.

"They are responding," the Lieutenant manning the communications said.

"Patch them through," I said. My heart was in my mouth.

The screen cleared and the face of an unknown Wraith appeared. His hair was slick and carefully arranged, two strands of beard adorning his chin.

"I am Doctor Vries," I announced before the Wraith could speak.

"Ah… Doctor Vries. Glad to see you."

"With whom am I supposed to meet?" I asked directly.

The Wraith seemed to appreciate that. He tilted his head. "My Queen."

"Do I know your Queen?"

"That's immaterial, Doctor Vries. Be there at the agreed upon time and we will not cull, or feed upon the hostages."

"You realize that there was no need for the hostages and all the other niceties. You could've just asked."

The Wraith grinned. "It did not appear to be enough at the time. And not everyone is as reasonable as you are, Doctor Vries. We are expecting you."

The screen went blank and 'signal lost' flashed on the screen.

"What did he mean?" I turned to Feng.

"Just Wraith talk," Feng answered. Too hastily.

So, there have been discussions between Feng and the Wraith beyond what he had told me… "I get the feeling that they didn't just take hostages and showed up on our screen."

Feng shrugged.

I turned on my heels and walked out. Colonel Santos came in my wake and caught up with me. Moira brought the rear.

"Let's talk in here," I said and veered through the opening doors leading to the great terrace over looking the ocean.

I took in a deep breath, the smell of the ocean filling my lungs. "I am happy to be here," I said.

Colonel Santos came alongside while Moira remained in the corridor. I couldn't help thinking that she was guarding our privacy. Slowly, she closed the doors.

"What troubles you, Colonel," I started, "besides the obvious."

He clasped his hands behind his back and stared over the turrets of the city. "Let me be brief and to the point."

"I expect nothing less from you, Colonel," I smiled.

"I have the same suspicions you have, Doctor Vries. I think Feng has been talking to the Wraith before they showed up with this 'we'll cull if you don't come and talk to us; and by the way, we will only talk to Doctor Vries.'"

"Are you saying that Feng is hiding a piece of this so called future alliance?"

"I think," Santos said, "that we're not doing this just to save those villagers. We are not that noble. I think Feng is getting something in return."

"Any suspicions?"

He shook his head. "I'm just saying, nothing is what it seems. We need to keep our eyes open."

"Always with the Wraith."

"I don't like this. I want you to know that I will back you up in whatever decision you make."

"I am the Trojan horse?"

"I don't know that. But, that's what I feel in my gut."

"So do I." I squared my shoulders. "Let's see what these Wraiths are all about. And let's keep in mind that we have an alliance with the Commander's hives. It could be all about that." I kept to myself the next thought—and I am the Keeper of the Commander's hive. I will not be the one to destroy it. I said however: "If this hive we're going to talk to today threatens the alliance, we might have to choose sides among the Wraith." I was silent for a while. Then I said: "Colonel, I need you on my side."

"I am on your side."

"I don't want Feng to be able to track us."

Santos nodded. "I understand."

"Can be done?"

"Yes."

As we opened the door to the hallway, we both looked at Moira. "She might know something," he whispered to me.

Inside the room assigned to me for my stay in Atlantis, Moira was unpacking for me and laying out my things on the bed, placing the computer on my desk. I watched her as she reached the Wraith outfit. She paused looking down on it. She was older and looked drawn.

"How have you been, Moira?" I asked.

She straightened up. "I have been well."

"Do you miss the Commander?" The question was really: have you seen him?

She glanced at me. "It is the way things must be."

Was that a yes, or a no?

"He was a kind master when you didn't cross him?"

"He is Wraith. He was just."

"Wraith justice."

"Their justice is predictable if you know their ways."

"Their treachery is a code." Then I asked directly: "Has he communicated with you at all while I was gone?"

There was a prolonged silence. "He is Wraith. It might simply be that neither of us is needed to him anymore."

And that was the heart of the matter. That worm of forlorn despondency and feeling of loss squirmed in my heart and gut. I took a deep breath to rid myself of that sensation. It was illogical, unreasonable and absurd. Absurd seemed to describe a lot of what was going on.

"Do you know anything about the Wraith who asked to see me?" I asked Moira.

"It is someone from the Commander's alliance, I think. A faction that betrayed him." She looked pale. Was it anxiety or was it simply the long fasting from the Commander's gift to the worshiper. I glanced quickly at myself in the mirror across the room. Was I also pale and withdrawn, looking as if fading from some mental form of starvation? But I found my face was glowing and looking content in a way it had not looked through my long stay on Earth. I looked as if I've just been to a spa. "You must go, Doctor Vries. You must." She came a step closer. "This is not what it seems to be. Something is wrong. I fear for the Commander."

I bit my lip in an old gesture of discomfort. I looked carefully at Moira. Very carefully. "What do you know of Feng's dealings with the Wraith who want to talk to me?"

She answered me readily enough, in a very soft voice: "He has promises from these Wraith."

"How do you know?"

"I know."

I nodded and didn't press that particular point. "Do you now what?"

"No. But I do wonder." She gazed squarely at me. "You think like a Wraith; and you think like a human. You know what the Wraith would want; and you know what someone like Feng would want for his glory. There is a desire there that is common to Feng and these Wraith." She took a step towards me. "Think."

I paced the room. Time was running out; I only had minutes before we would be ready to leave. The Wraith would desire many things, but mainly domination and acquisition of feeding grounds; humans wanted to eliminated the Wraith as a power in Pegasus; weaken them and eventually, short of turning them in some kind of grass eating eunuchs, eliminate them; Feng in the particular, who was a very ambitious little man, wanted the be the one to do it. The Commander's alliance was the most powerful of all the Wraith factions; it dominated and it had acquired most of the human feeding grounds; held in waiting for them by Atlantis. Not a very comfortable arrangement. The common thread; the common desire… I took in a deep breath.

"The destruction of the Commander's hives," I said softly.

Moira nodded.

"These Wraith want the destruction of the Commander's hives and freeing of his feeding grounds; also they want to destruction of one of his greatest assets—me."

Moira was very still.

"Feng would agree with it, including delivering me to the Wraith…" I almost gasped in surprise at the thought that occurred to me: "He fully expects the Commander to come to my rescue, to save his great asset, and thus reveal himself and the locations of his hives."

Moira's gaze was downcast now. But, the look on her face was one of agreement; almost triumph.

I continued. "Failing that, perhaps the Wraith will tell Feng the location of the hives. Feng will attack them while they're still hibernating."

"He has a weapon he's been experimenting with. A disruptor that attacks Wraith DNA." She looked up at me. "I've seen it. He's been working at it secretly. Not even Doctor Bernard knows. It works slowly, so it has to be in a hibernating hive."

I let out my breath. "And after that, it would be easy to destroy the smaller Wraith factions. They would be of lesser threat."

Moira looked up at me, her eyes sparkling. I wasn't sure why. She said: "But, you know the Wraith, Doctor Vries."

"They will not play the game they led Feng to believe they would play. They've got their own deadly game. They don't play games with humans as part of their team. They are using Feng."

"Yes."

"And me?"

"I don't know." She shivered a little. "Take the tablet the Commander has given you. Hold on to it for dear life."

"The simplest way to break up the game, is to refuse to go," I said.

Moira looked at me horrified. "No," she almost cried out. "No. Perhaps the commander needs you. And then there are all those humans the Wraith will kill. There is no way of knowing how this will turn out."

I smiled. "I wasn't seriously suggesting it. Oddly, I have no fear of it."

"Of course not." She bowed to me. "I ask permission to go off Atlantis to the village on the shore."

I wanted to ask why, but I let it go. She would tell me, if I needed to know.

"You have my permission." And I hope you contact the right person.

She bowed again and slipped out of the room.

I stared at the closed door. After a while I turned to the terrace and looked out over the ocean. I bent my mind into the Commander's name. As soon as I did that, it bloomed in my brain and spread out with tendrils of light and color. He was not gone. Not gone at all. Now I knew why I accepted the mission without hesitation and agreed to go along. Somehow, I had lost the concept of fear; somehow, all that moved me was the prospect of encountering the Wraith; and a driving force that I preferred to call loyalty. The strangeness of that only troubled me somewhere at the peripheries of my consciousness.

I picked up the amber tablet and held it in my right hand. I remained dark. I stared down on it.

Before I left Atlantis, I had been able to see the location of a hive, very far away, beyond the reach of any of our ships. But, now, the tablet was mute. I felt cold. Something was terribly wrong.

I was needed.