Not To Have or To Hold

by Wedjatqi

ALLIANCE FIC – As Teyla's wedding day fast approaches, she must tell John and end their affair. But the consequences will be far reaching, significantly affecting the relationship between Atlantis and the Alliance. As this threatens to tear JT apart, the most significant battle against the Wraith is about to begin, while in Atlantis an event shatters the only rest day had in years

34. Saturday Night

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Chapter 34 – Saturday Night

It was getting really late and Sam knew she should have gone to bed hours ago. She'd already been up too many hours today, worried about John out there with the Elite, worried about how the IOA were going to react, and worried about all the more usual common stresses of running a military base in another galaxy.

Added to that, was the fact that it was the mandatory rest day tomorrow and she felt somewhat obligated to make sure that she didn't work then herself. There wasn't any point in ordering everyone else to rest, stating over and over how important it was to take time off, and then not do the same herself. So, not unlike a student rushing a paper, she was staying up late the night before in order to cram everything in.

She was almost done with the "paper" at least, and even her meeting with Woolsey had gone well when he had returned from Athos. There weren't any major worrying extra points to be discussed over the marriage contract, other than some technical issues that she was going to fortunately pass along to the IOA to decide upon.

She glanced at her tablet, her eyes falling on her email account. It was stupid, because the IOA couldn't email in. There had been a short burst communication earlier today through the Gate, which had simply held confirmation from the SGC and Earth Defence that they had received and understood the reports sent back to Earth, and they had reported that the IOA would meet urgently to discuss the new contract.

If Sam knew the way politics ran, she suspected she wouldn't hear anything for days. They would all sit around and discuss it endlessly first, arguing, forming another committee maybe, and then, at the very end, they would decide on whether she got to keep her job.

In truth that was hardly the main concern for her. She knew without doubt that she wouldn't lose her place fighting for Earth, it was just whether she would stay in charge of Atlantis. She knew well enough there were those among the IOA who were against her remaining in charge, some feeling her too military and others feeling that she was too much of a scientist. In this role, you were never right for everyone. It was just whether this would be the opportunity for some to force some changes for their own political reasons.

Her own future in Atlantis aside, the real point that kept her nervously working tonight was the fear that the IOA might not honour the new political contract. As much as she had had to tell John off yesterday, she did in fact completely agree with him. This was perhaps going to be the best chance they had to fulfil this expedition's mandate – to find new technologies, allies, and weaponry to help defend Earth's interests. In the ongoing battle against the Wraith, it was the Alliance, and especially the Elite, who were literally leading the battle. Working with them, side by side, was likely to be the only way to make a real change in Pegasus.

There would be plenty of fears over that prospect back home, but hopefully the IOA would see the value in the contract. This way they could trade with the Alliance and the Elite without getting too deeply involved in Alliance politics. She needed to keep Atlantis as neutral as possible among the members of the Alliance High Council especially, but siding with the Elite and Athos probably had already stepped over some lines for some in the Alliance. The contract might bring more allies and technology than ever before, but it would probably also make them some new enemies.

Sighing at her turning thoughts, she tapped awake her second tablet and called up the latest search results into the Ancient Database. John's report, sent back through Woolsey, about a new style of metal hulled Wraith ships was worrying, but so far they hadn't been able to find any reference to such tech in the Ancient Database.

She had hoped to have something to provide back to the Elite, to get the exchange of intell moving right away, but had had no luck so far. Though, Woolsey had reported back from Torren that, as expected, the Elite were very interested in trading on the retrovirus. The Elite wanted access to it, which presented a slight dilemma for Sam.

The retrovirus was probably their only real unique weapon against the Wraith, but that said, work on it had stalled some time ago. Carson had grown frustrated with it, and she had ordered him off the work for awhile. Even the Elite's own Iketani had only been able to advance the retrovirus a little during her incarceration of Carson. He had felt that it had been Iketani' familiarity with Wraith biology that had made the difference. She had even kept several Wraith in her underground bunker for fresh samples. They didn't have that, and there was no way Carter was going to hold Wraith in the city.

However, the Elite could probably easily capture Wraith for samples...

It could help them advance the work, and working with scientists from across the Alliance could not only advance the retrovirus, but actually turn it into a workable weapon. The scientist in her said to go for it wholeheartedly, but the Colonel and City Commander in her told her to keep control of it.

However, the truth was that the research was stalled, so fresh insight, technology, and research would be invaluable. So, the point wouldn't be withholding it, it would be keeping control of it. If the Elite took it and used the retrovirus too early in its research it might provide the Wraith time to counteract the retrovirus, then Atlantis would have lost its only advantage against the Wraith. Therefore, Sam suspected the best way forward would be to invite the Alliance/Elite scientists to Atlantis and work on it together here. Colonel Sumner hadn't been keen on that option, but he'd seen the reasoning behind it.

After much debate with him and Woolsey earlier, she had drafted a report to the IOA on the suggestion, setting out clearly the positives involved and how potential issues could be addressed. She had also made it clear in her report that Torren had agreed with Woolsey to allow Atlantis scientists in to see some of Athos' Ancient tech, including their massive Gateway at Tjaru.

Actual sharing of weapons technology might take longer, but in return for the retrovirus, and helping in organised defence against the Wraith, the Elite might be willing to share their technology.

If it worked, it would be brilliant.

It was the risk that was the worry, but wasn't it always.

She knew she had tried to oversell much of it in the report, Jack would tell her as much. She glanced over to his photo by her desk. She missed him every day, but it was these quiet evenings when she worked alone in her office that she really wished he was here. Not just to advise her, make her laugh with his comments and suggestions of what to actually tell the IOA, but also for his touch, his hugs. So many times she had written reports on the sofa, tucked up against his side.

They were a strange couple, both of them agreed, who spent more time apart than they did together, but they had the same ideals. They were working for something bigger than themselves. Plus, she had no doubt that she would be reassigned home at some point soon – the IOA wouldn't keep her here for years more. She was simply covering a watch after the loss of Elizabeth. At that time the IOA had liked the idea of a military scientist – she had been a good sell to both sides, as Jack had put it. Well, he had put it more suggestively than that.

She smiled at his photo, at him smiling out. Daniel had taken the photo during one of their rare group fishing trips, and she knew that she had been sitting only inches away from Jack when that picture had been taken. In the picture, Jack was smiling at Daniel and his camera with that wonderful open, yet faintly mocking way he had, like he saw some wonderful underlying joke to life. It had been a wonderful fishing trip that one, one Jack planned to repeat next summer. She had promised to be there, had booked off the time in her Atlantis diary, but the truth was they both knew she might not make it there, not because of anything morbid, though that was always a possibility, but because life in Atlantis was inherently unpredictable.

Well, at least tomorrow would be good for the city. Minimal staff were on duty and no teams were out in the field back and none would be sent out. It should be a good relaxing day for everyone. It was about time this city had a break; everyone needed some time off, even if it was just a single day.

Drawing her eyes away from Jack and the memories of a lovely fishing trip, she opened up her email and found it absent of anything new. Good. At this rate, she really could take a day off herself.

There was just one more small piece of business she needed to complete before she could willingly turn in for the night and enjoy her own day off tomorrow. She shut down her tablets and headed out of her office, with one last glance towards the photos of her old team.

She said goodnight to the crew on duty in the Control Room as she passed through, and slowly made her way down through the tower in her own time. She loved this city. It didn't have the deep quiet that she had loved at the SGC, but it was beautiful. If Jack were here then she would call it perfect. Well, the threat of a Wraith attack aside.

The Infirmary was quiet tonight as she entered, but there were still a few people in the beds. One was coughing, a victim of a nasty alien pneumonia that a team had picked up during an off world mission. She smiled sympathetically at the Captain in question, who returned a thumbs up to Sam, all while still coughing. The Captain was the last of her team to display the symptoms and Carson had reported that she was "out of the woods" now.

Two other beds held sleeping patients. One had a broken femur following a mission that had involved a rioting group thinking they were Wraith worshippers or Alliance warmongers. The locals hadn't seemed to care which, just intent to chase off Carter's team. Fortunately, the broken leg was the only injury, but the poor Lieutenant was stuck in the Infirmary for a good few days. The other bed held a sleeping member from one of Rodney's teams who had fallen and hit his head yesterday while part of the teams cataloguing the unknown ancient rooms throughout the city.

Carter moved on, a nurse indicating which direction to find the Doctor.

She found Carson sat to one side working away on a chart. His coat was always the sharpest white, regardless as to how many washes and splashes of various fluids it had to have encountered over the years. Carson looked up and round with that look Carter knew well among doctors – it said "what now?" laced with a sense of tired frustration, but combined with a deep eagerness to help others. Seeing the expression brought back so many memories of Janet Fraiser that the aching pain of missing Jack only intensified. Losing Janet had been one of Sam's darkest days, only surpassed by losing Dad.

Carson smiled as he recognised her and the fact that no patient was apparently inbound. "Hallo, Colonel," he smiled in greeting.

"Hello, Carson," she smiled back. "Do you have a free second? I need to pass something by you before I send my next report to the IOA."

"Of course," he agreed immediately, as he always did. He was always patient, always willing to help, just like a brilliant doctor should be. If she didn't already know he had his rest day tomorrow booked to go fishing, she would have made it her personal mission to ensure he actually did rest tomorrow. But, instead he was choosing to go fishing with Rodney – madness, in her opinion, but the two were friends. How Rodney managed to keep that friendship, and a relationship with Katy Brown going, was anybody's guess.

"Shall we go to my office? I'm just waiting on some scan and blood tests on Doctors Hewston and Watson. They had a little run in with an Ancient device down in the new sections of the city," Carson said.

"What?" Sam stopped in turning towards Carson's office. "When was this? I wasn't informed."

"About half an hour ago, I thought it had been reported," Carson replied. "They came straight up here and we've run full scans and some bloods. The scans look fine, but we're just waiting for the blood work to come through."

"So they're okay?"

"They seem fine," Carson replied. "They turned on a device by accident and it emitted an unknown form of radiation, but they deactivated it right away and no harm seems to have been done. I doubt much will come up on the blood tests, but we'll keep an eye on them for a day or so."

Sam looked away worriedly towards the area near the Ancient scanner, an area of the Infirmary she hadn't been able to see when she had walked in. She had seen what radiation could do to someone. Memories of what Daniel had gone through still haunted her some nights, usually accompanied with the dreaded fear that when she woke up she'd find that he hadn't truly come back, that he was still lost.

"Radiation poisoning doesn't always show right away," she uttered unnecessarily to Carson.

"I know, but the scans of the device and the lab in question are completely clean. We'll keep an eye on them," he promised.

"I'm sorry, Carson," she smiled apologetically at him. "I don't mean to tell you your job."

"You care about your people, there isn't anything wrong with that," he said softly, his Scottish accent extending some sounds and sharpening others.

"Where are they?" Rodney's voice abruptly demanded from across the Infirmary.

"Oh God help me," Carson muttered as he gently pushed past her and headed towards where Sam could now see a bed-haired Rodney striding into the room, wrapped up in his dressing gown.

"What happened?" Rodney demanded.

"Everything is under control, Rodney," Carson placated him as he approached.

"I knew I should have been down there, but I can't be everywhere. Some people are off gallivanting with Alliance aliens, but some of us have to do the mundane work around here-"

"And of course you're the one to do the mundane work," Carson muttered.

Sam followed slowly, letting Rodney keep talking, which was usually the only way to get through most of his tirades, but also because Doctors Hewston and Watson were technically his staff. Rodney, of course, lost in his self important moment hadn't noticed her approaching.

Doctors Hewston and Watson were stood almost to attention near the scanner, looking sheepish yet also faintly annoyed as McKay descended upon them.

"You know, I think I am a pretty easy guy to work for," Rodney began. Sam saw Carson look over at her with a doubtful look that she returned. "I am usually too busy doing all the really important stuff to micromanage all the little things I need you people to be doing."

Sam noticed that Carson was studying a computer screen, which hopefully displayed the doctors' blood test results. She watched Carson smile at what he was reading, his posture alone telling her the doctors were okay. She sighed an inward breath of relief.

"Now," Rodney continued, "because of that, you have a fair amount of freedom." Sam crossed her arms and listened with interest. "That does not, however, mean you can do whatever the hell you please! There are rules!" Sam lifted her eyebrows at the great and often incongruent Dr Rodney McKay praising the rule book.

"There are protocols in place not only to protect this city, but your sorry little existences," he continued. Sam was actually a little impressed that Rodney appeared to be taking his position seriously to lecture his people, even if he wasn't going about it the right way.

"Look, if I can just say..." Dr Hewston tried to start, but Rodney shut her down quick.

"Oh no, you cannot," he interrupted her. "You cannot interrupt me. Okay, I was having a perfectly wonderful dream before I got this call, so you can just stand there and listen." Poor Dr Watson looked nervous and serious, but Dr Hewston appeared to be holding her tongue.

"You were sent on a routine cataloguing of one of the abandoned Ancient labs, and you activate some alien device without having the first clue what it was?" Rodney went on, which was highly ironic considering his own escapades with unknown technologies.

"We thought it was-" Dr Watson tried to explain.

"Yes. Well you thought wrong!" Rodney exclaimed.

"Yeah, but just the other week you did the exact same thing, so I don't-" Dr Hewston argued.

"But, I am me. If I make a mistake, I can fix it," Rodney argued. Sam would have to have a word with him about dealing with his ego, but that would probably be like asking a shark to give up water.

"You are you," Rodney pointed at Dr Hewston, "and when you make mistakes, you don't have to fix them. I do."

Dr Hewston wasn't going to take that though. "The second we realised it was emitting radiation, we turned it off."

"So what?" Rodney asked arms out, "What? You want a medal?" Sam wondered if she should step in. "Look, my four year old niece could figure out how to turn something off if it was emitting radiation. That does not make you smart, that just makes you a little less stupid!" Rodney concluded.

Sam took a breath to interrupt, but Carson beat her to it. "Rodney, be nice," the doctor soothed as he turned away from his computer screen and approached Rodney's side.

"So," Rodney asked him, "are they gonna live? More importantly, can I go back to bed?" Sam shook her head in silence.

Carson let out a breath. "According to their body scans and blood tests, they'll be alright, yes. Although," he turned to the nearly irradiated doctors, "you should check back in the next 24 hours and we'll run some more tests, just to be certain."

"Well, you are lucky," Rodney jumped in. "Because, we are in a place where something as simple as flipping a switch can domino out into thousands of people dying. You need to be more careful." Sam was almost certain she had used the same argument with him several times in the past, but he was right and Sam could see both the doctors agreed. Fortunately, they had learnt their lesson without any horrific consequences.

Rodney finally seemed to hear himself and register their relief. "Okay, just take tomorrow off, alright?" He suggested foolishly.

"We already have tomorrow off. It's the mandatory rest day," Dr Hewston reminded him.

Sam could see the realisation hit him like a brick. "It is?" He asked worriedly. "Already?"

Carson stepped back and mimed casting a fishing rod and Sam smiled at Rodney's pained look. "Oh great," he muttered as he turned away, at which point he finally noticed her.

He pulled up short, looking abruptly overly self-conscious. "How long have you been standing there?" He demanded.

"Long enough, McKay," she replied. She glanced over to Doctors Hewston and Watson, who also looked embarrassed at seeing her as they slipped away.

"Well, I was just," Rodney gestured back to where he had been standing, "rallying the troops."

"That was some rally," Sam replied. "Some of it sounded awfully familiar too," she teased.

"I don't know why," Rodney took instant offensive. "I do have some leadership skills...sometimes."

"I think you made your point very well," Sam conceded.

"If not somewhat dramatically," Carson added as he joined them. "You wanted to talk to me about something, Colonel?"

"Actually, McKay can listen in on this," she suggested and Rodney groaned.

"But, I was going to go back to my..."

"Dream?" Sam asked. "This won't take long. Woolsey came back from the latest discussion over our treaty with Athos and the Elite. One of the main points from the Elite is that they want in on our research into the retrovirus." She watched Carson's face, looking to his expressive face to tell her how he truly felt about the suggestion.

He frowned. "If being kidnapped by Iketani taught me anything, it was that the Alliance has access to some advanced technology and Wraith biological knowledge that would certainly be useful. As you know, my research has hit something of a brick wall," he said apologetically.

"So we hand it over to the Elite?" Rodney protested. "Who knows what they'll do with it."

"What can be done with it but attack the Wraith?" Carson asked him. "My research is going nowhere and, as ashamed as I am to say it, I can't do much more at the moment."

"There's no need to apologise, Carson," Sam told him. "We've all hit points in our research where the technology and understanding just hasn't caught up to where we need to take things."

"Speak for yourself," Rodney objected.

"How is that hyperspace drive for the Jumpers coming along?" She challenged him.

Rodney's expression lapsed into nervous defensiveness. "I'm...working on it. It was my idea in the first place."

"My suggestion to the IOA," Sam continued to Carson, "is that we invite the Elite researchers here, keep the retrovirus in the city, and share our knowledge here."

"A good idea, but once they see how it was put together, there's no reason why they can't replicate it themselves," Carson pointed out.

"I know, but at least for now it's our main bargaining chip. If you're happy to work with their scientists that is?" She checked.

He was already nodding. "I am, any help would be appreciated, and who knows maybe they can get it up and running quickly."

"It'll take them months to create their own version," Rodney put in his ten cents. "Even if they copied it right away. What are we getting in return for this?"

"Access to the Athosian Ancient sites and technology, and potentially Alliance defence weaponry," Sam informed him.

"What?! Really?" Rodney asked, suddenly on side with the whole idea. "When can I go visit the Tjaru Gateway?"

"I'll ask Woolsey to arrange the first dates to visit, but it may be a week or so away."

"But, we can get in to see it?" He checked.

"Yes, Rodney," she assured him.

"That is assuming the treaty stands," Carson noted.

"You mean if Sheppard doesn't muck it up somehow," Rodney interpreted. "He better not, I want to see inside that Gateway. We know it's active."

"I'm sure Torren is good for his word," Sam assured him. "For now all we can do is wait on the IOA's response and iron out the details of the contract in the meantime. Carson, will you keep me up-to-date with how Doctors Hewston and Watson are doing?"

"Of course," Carson promised.

"And have fun tomorrow," Sam added as she moved away. "Both of you," she added towards Rodney, who looked pained and more than a little sick at the idea.

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The strange new Wraith creature looked even weirder to Seeal than she had expected.

Cut open, the inside looked vaguely Wraith-like, a living centre that looked like some sort of multi-armed dark blue slug-like thing, but its exterior was metallic. The metal appeared to be a part of the slug, as if it had grown the metal layers like a shell around itself. The long pipe-piercing claws she had seen before were actually the long sharp tips of its multiple of limbs. She could count eight of them from where she stood across the room from the dead thing.

The Elite techs had apparently been able to tell that the thing had powered itself from the heat within the hot water pipes and that it had grown from something far smaller. They had found that the metal layers on the thing had been assimilated from scrapings taken from the inside of the water pipes. The thing had literally chewed microscopic amounts of the inner lining of the pipes and grown its shell with the shavings of metal!

"I've never seen anything like this," one of the techs repeated from where the woman stood next to Ru, the Lead Engineer nodding as he frowned down at the slug thing.

Seeal itched at the back of her neck, her hair still slightly damp at the back. On the way here, she had been given a change of clothes, which meant that she was now dressed like the rest of the Elite crew – in dark loose trousers, a shirt and jacket. The colour coding on the uniform denoted her to be of the security division. Appropriate she supposed. It wasn't as if she fitted in anywhere else among the crew, and she was hardly an Elite.

The crew style boots were heavy and uncomfortable though, so she hadn't put them on. They were still sat by the wall where she had left them half an hour ago. Her own clothes and boots were drying in a laundry room, so tomorrow she would have her own clothes back, but until then she was stuck in the unfamiliar clothes. The extra thick warm socks were nice though.

"The genetic tests of the organic matter are similar to the Wraith organic tech we know, but different enough for it to be clear it is not the exact same species," the tech continued.

"Meaning?" Si asked.

"Most likely," the tech answered, "it's from the same original planet as the usual Wraith organic based tech. A genetic cousin, as it were."

"So from the same planet on which the Wraith evolved," the usually stern Seifer summarised.

"That would be our agreed assessment," the woman replied. "Further study is obviously required, to look at the genetic sequence in more detail."

Oneakka was stood to one side of the slug thing, and Seeal watched as he reached out and examined the darker blue fluid filled lines that ran like wires through the middle layer of the thing. Several had been cut, which was how the Elite had stopped the thing. She watched him trace one line through the creature, his hands nibble as he followed it through the gooey mess.

"Does it have a power source?" He asked.

"It seems to have some sort of gland that sits alongside its pulmonary system that acts like an organic power cell," the tech replied, reaching forward to point out the area to Oneakka.

"It grew fast," Si noted thoughtfully.

"If we are correct, it used the heat of the hot water to essentially germinate itself, but we suspect it also required sustenance from the algae and metal scrapings it took off the walls of the water pipes.

"Algae?" Seeal asked.

"It grows in the water, cleans it and helps keep the warmth," Ru explained.

"Don't you use this water for washing and drinking?" She asked. She had been swimming around in that water!

"The water used for such personal use is filtered," he assured her. "The algae is harmless to humans."

She frowned at that, but accepted it, grateful that she'd showered before she'd put on her new unfamiliar clothes. "How did the slug broadcast its hacking programme?" She asked the tech.

"We suspect that a system here," the woman pointed to near the top of the slug, "is the closest to a brain that we have found so far. We need to study it further, but it appears to act not unlike circuitry, and we believe the actual transmission was emitted from here." She pointed to part of the metal exterior where something close to small antennae stood out slightly from the thing's "head".

"Could it broadcast via subspace?" Seeal asked worriedly.

"We do not think so," the tech replied. "However, it is possible that if it grew larger, it might develop the ability to broadcast further."

"Can you surmise how much more it would develop?" Si asked.

The woman sighed. "We believe this is not unlike a newborn, it seems fully formed, with all the correct organs, but it could indeed grow larger. Considering the speed at which it grew, even during your battle with it, it is possible it could grow considerably larger."

"It displayed a basic level of intelligence in trying to avoid us," Si reported. "It held back from stunning us for some time, knowing that it would damage itself too in the water."

"But, you said its hacking programme was basic, old?" Seeal asked the tech.

"Very," she confirmed. "Which matches with some other findings. We were able to identify some foreign particles on the hull from the impact damage with the Seed ship." The term had even more meaning now they knew this slug thing had "germinated" inside the ship. "The readings on the metal indicate that they are thousands of years old."

"So this is old Wraith tech then, and perhaps these," Seifer pointed to the slug, "are old weapons being brought back into commission."

"Or not Wraith at all?" Si considered.

"It looks Wraith," Seifer disagreed. "The Seed ship's underbelly did as well."

"Or that ship was a full grown version of this," Seeal suggested and all heads turned to her. "We assumed there were Wraith inside the ship, but what if it was a creature like this?"

"Neither Teyla or I detected a Wraith mental presence during the attack," Si considered. "Perhaps there were none and Seeal is correct."

"It may be an old weapon that was woken up," Seifer considered, "germinated on the base on the Arkinian system. Maybe it didn't find any Wraith it recognised, or perhaps it already hates the Wraith, so it attacked them. Perhaps simply defending its territory of Arkinian."

"Someone might still be controlling it," Oneakka put in, though his attention was still focused down on the slug. He was studying a pad that had been plugged into the slug's brain area.

"We've had no reports of anything like this in the Lantana system," Seifer said. "It might just be an anomaly; we only have evidence of the one Seed ship and this unusual creature. I suggest that we inform the research teams in Arkinian to watch for more of these things on the moon wreck, and we hand over this one to the Mad Moon once the mission is over, let the best study it. For now, we have a battle ahead tomorrow."

"Agreed," Oneakka replied, but his attention remained on the pad and the slug.

"I suggest we share what we have learnt with the rest of the Fleet when we arrive," Si added.

"When will we be back underway to Lantana, Ru?" Seifer asked.

Ru glanced round from where he had been studying the pad along with Oneakka. "My people are working on redirecting the water system. It should not be too long, but we first need to ensure that there are no more of these things in the water system."

Movement in the open doorway drew everyone's attention away from Ru. Seeal looked round to see that Numfar had returned with Major Sheppard in tow.

Sheppard stepped into the room, his attention immediately on the slug thing, his expressive face frowning with disgust. His hair appeared more spiked than usual, one side slightly flattened.

"Holy giant slug robot, Batman," Sheppard muttered as he approached. "What is it?"

"You've never seen anything like this before, Sheppard?" Oneakka asked him.

Sheppard shook his head as he moved closer to the slug, at which point Seeal realised that Emmagan's dragon pet was with him for some reason. The creature followed him to the table and lifted its pointed snout to the edge of the table.

A growl rolled up from the dragon and the long thin spines down its long neck shifted loudly, like a rustling warning.

"Ketra thinks its Wraith," Seifer noted.

Sheppard dropped a hand to Ketra's head as he kept peering at the slug. "It's dead, Ketra," he assured her. "Right?" He asked Ru quickly, holding still.

"It's dead," Ru confirmed.

"It's Wraith tech?" Sheppard asked.

"Perhaps very old tech, or not Wraith at all," Si replied.

"You've not heard of anything like this from Atlantis?" Oneakka repeated, which explained by Sheppard had been brought in here in the first place.

"No," Sheppard replied. "This looks more like an Iratus bug to me," Sheppard shivered and stepped back.

"Iratus?" Seeal asked.

"The bug that first merged with human DNA to create the Wraith," Sheppard replied as he stepped back further from the "robot slug", Ketra at his side.

Seeal frowned at the dragon – from what she had seen and heard about the Athosian pet, it tended not to follow anyone around except Emmagan. Seeal frowned thoughtfully at Sheppard – it made you wonder how close Sheppard and Elite Emmagan had actually gotten before their marriage...

"Iratus," Seeal tried the word again.

"The insects still exist on the original planet of the Wraith," Oneakka informed her.

Seeal hadn't known that. "Really?" She asked him. "Maybe the Wraith are experimenting with their own genetics to create new things," she gestured to the robot.

"The Iratus planet is now within our territory, as of this year," Oneakka reported.

"On purpose, presumably," she checked.

He nodded.

"Couldn't have done that sooner," Sheppard muttered. "Would have made my life a whole lot easier."

Seeal frowned at him, but he shook his head, clearly unwilling to expand on that comment. She had noticed he muttered to himself a lot, and often about things that made no sense to her. She wondered if it was a trait of his people, or just him.

"So, this was what was left behind when the Seed ship tried to gut us?" He checked.

"Got into the hot water pipes near the outer hull, germinated in the heat and grew into this," Seeal summarised for him. "I told you it didn't make sense."

Sheppard smiled at her and then frowned. "There's only one, right?" He asked worriedly.

"We are scanning all the pipes," Seifer replied. "If there are any more, we will find them."

"Great, find them quick," Sheppard suggested and Seeal smiled, sharing the sentiment.

Something drew Seeal's attention downwards and she found that Ketra was looking at her with interest. Seeal smiled slightly cautiously at the dragon and turned her attention quickly back to the robot slug. Why did it feel like the dragon was a part of the discussion? It was just a pet.

"Can I see the hacking programme it used?" She asked.

"No," Seifer answered.

"Here," Si passed her a pad. "She is the one that found the creature," he argued to Seifer.

"That seems to be a habit of hers," Seifer replied. "Finding herself in the heart of trouble, just where she happens to be needed."

"Many would say the same of us," Oneakka noted.

Seeal looked up from the pad.

"You're defending me?" She asked Oneakka. "Wow, times change," she smiled teasingly before looking back down at the pad displaying the slug's computer hack coding. "This is primitive," she stated after a split second. "I mean really basic. This is the most basic code a hacker can ever use. Whoever wrote this barely knew what they were doing with computers. No Wraith wrote this. This is how you would teach children to code."

"Children?" Oneakka asked.

"I don't teach children how to hack," she insisted quickly. "But, if I did, this is how I would start. This is like learning the alphabet to write."

She saw the tech nodding. "Primitive and basic," the woman agreed with Seeal.

"It's almost as if it's as old as the metal scrapings," Seeal considered. "Maybe this thing is from a very long time ago." She considered the robot slug again.

"As in from the time of the Ancestors?" Sheppard asked.

"Older. Early days of the Wraith kind of time."

"Long time ago," Sheppard agreed with weight. "Where'd it come from?"

"Possibly from the base we found in the Arkinian system," Si replied. "Perhaps not."

"From what we saw, the Seed ship seemed to arrive out of nowhere," Sheppard considered. "It could have jumped in from somewhere else in the system, but nothing else was picked up on the feeds, right?" Si nodded.

"Or it had some sort of cloaking ability," Seeal considered. All eyes turned on her. "Some people are working on that," she defended her seemingly outrageous theory. Invisible cloaking fields were the holy target of almost all technology specialists. There had been plenty on Dreamstation trying to think up how to do it – none had yet come close.

"What people?" Oneakka demanded.

"I'll make a note," she promised.

"Right away," he ordered.

"I said I would give you all the information I have," she reminded him.

"Information on people developing technology that could make them invisible should be at the very top of your list," he replied.

"You said Iketani was at the very top of my list."

"Cloaking technology is a close second," he retaliated instantly.

"Make up your mind," she replied, "and I'll try to keep up. Besides, they're nowhere near close to developing the technology practically."

"Note it down anyway," he stressed.

"Since you asked so nicely," she offered back with a sarcastic smile.

"If we could focus back on the organic-robot for a moment," Si interrupted them. "How do we ensure that are no more of these onboard? We cannot risk entering hyperspace if there are more of these in the ship."

"We thoroughly decontaminated the areas around the impact area, and I have them repeating the same now," Ru reported. "This creature got into the water system through a tiny breach. If there are any more of these, the water is the only place they could be."

"And probably the only place with enough energy in the form of heat to germinate," the tech considered.

Tyoosi strode into the room. "The damaged Hot Water Regulation Chamber has been sterilised and cleaned," he reported. "No evidence of any further creatures has been found. The second sweep of the impacted areas are also clean. All the crew are working on searching and scanning the ship, if there are any more of those things on the ship, we will find them."

"If we assume then that the water is the only place left for them to hide and travel through the ship and germinate," Ru pondered out loud. "We could cool the water, and the heat readings emitted by the creatures will stand out in the pipes."

"That could take ages," Seeal put in. "And if there's tons of them and they all decide to break free like that one did? Poison through the water would be quicker."

"Put something in the water that will poison them?" Si asked. "We need the water for the hydroponics bay and personal use; we cannot contaminate our own water."

"Find something quickly that's safe for us, but dangerous to them," she clarified the obvious. "Or something that will show them up. Something that binds with the creatures and shows up on a scan."

"I have an idea," Ru announced abruptly. "A safe radioactive isotope flooded through the water system will show up everything in the water, even if it is too small for the eye. We can scan all the ship and quickly pick up any abnormal collection of the isotopes that will have attached to the creatures."

"Do it," Oneakka ordered. "Quickly."

Ru nodded and pushed his way out of the room.

"How long will it take?" Seifer asked the tech left behind.

She pondered her answer for a moment before answering. "We'll have to create enough of the isotope first and then allow it to flood through the system, then the scans, and dealing with the creatures if any are found...perhaps four or five hours to be safe?"

Seifer sighed. "We will be late reaching Lantana."

"The meeting is waiting our arrival," Si replied. "Enough hours are built into the plan." The big man glanced around the room. "I suggest that those not on rotation retire to sleep. Emmagan is in Central Station, I will oversee the isotope search, while Halling and Nalla are already with the search teams. I suggest you two should retire."

Seifer muttered something that Seeal didn't make out, but Oneakka was nodding next to him.

Beside her, Sheppard was nodding, his attention still on the slug robot. Seeal glanced down to his side, where the dragon was sat, leaning against his leg and looking up at him intently.

Seeal considered the man as the others began leaving, talking, planning. Sheppard was a handsome man sure enough, not that he was her type; she preferred more rugged men with a stronger wider build. But, she could see that he had a way about him that enamoured people to him, female or otherwise. Even Wraith-hunting Athosian dragons. She wondered how he did it.

Even she, barely knowing him more than a day, liked the man. There was something about him that just was...likeable. It was a skill that she had seen in others before and it had always confused her. How did people like him do it? How had he ingratiated himself with the Elite crew so quickly? So easily? She didn't trust anyone, but even she felt comfortable and at ease stood beside him.

The dragon glanced up at her. Seeal shifted her attention down to the almost frowning look around the orange-eyed dragon glare.

She quickly looked away. She'd heard plenty of stories about Ketra's species.

Which brought her attention to another unique species – Oneakka was heading towards her.

"Come with me," he ordered as he passed by her, heading towards the exit.

Sighing grumpily, she followed. "You could ask nicely," she objected as she moved towards the open doorway with him, leaving Sheppard, and Ketra, with Si and Tyoosi.

"I didn't do anything wrong," she pointed out to the back of Oneakka's shoulder. "I didn't hurt anyone, in fact I, yet again, helped save the ship."

How many times was she going to have to help this stubborn piece of oafish Elite before he admitted she was useful?

"I didn't say otherwise," Oneakka replied over his shoulder as they exited the lab, only he pulled up short and she had to stop quickly to save herself slamming into his back. He frowned down at her socked feet. "Boots?" He asked.

"I don't want them," she explained.

"You need them," he insisted.

"Mine will be dry by the morning," she reminded him.

"And if we are attacked in the night and you need to move around the ship?" He asked.

"I can walk and run without boots."

He looked at her, those strangely unique blue eyes holding her own gaze with a determination that told her that he would stay here all night until she complied.

She sighed loudly and returned into the room. She grabbed the boots, the heavily awkward military boots, and headed back into the corridor. "Happy now?" She asked as she held them up.

He looked down at her feet pointedly.

"My feet are too warm right now," she made up in an instance.

He seemed to accept that for some reason, as he turned away and continued down the corridor.

She followed him, frowning down at the military boots in her hand with disgust. They were heavy and the laces danced around them. Too many had worn such boots during pit fights, using the heavy heel and thick toes for kicks and stamps. She had worn similar herself back then, but they were too military, too warm and heavy for her use now. They would only slow her down.

Tiredness lingered at her mind and body as she followed Oneakka. "What do you want?" She asked. "I promise to note down the cloaking people and others with similar possible advanced tech, but I'm tired, and since I'm still damp from our swim in the Hot Water Chamber and I need to find somewhere new to sleep-"

"I've organised somewhere," he replied.

"I'm not sleeping in the barracks," she insisted quickly, lengthening her stride to get up alongside him. "I've told you that."

"You're not sleeping in the other Hot Water Regulation Chamber," he told her. "The techs are working in there and it could flood as well."

"I wasn't going to," she replied, though the thought hadn't really occurred to her either way.

He led the way into a transporter and she followed him in. As it moved upwards, she faced off towards his shoulder.

"There are plenty of empty storage rooms on the ship," she told him. "Point me towards one."

"Two floors are partly flooded," he told her, glancing at her as he led the way out of the transporter onto a new floor. "You want to sleep on a wet floor? The rest of the lower levels are going to have techs pouring over them. You need to sleep on the personnel levels. Like everyone else."

"Fine, I'll find an empty room," she replied.

"There are none, every space is accounted for. Your choices are to sleep in one of the three barracks that have spare beds, to sleep in the brig," he glanced at her with a slight smile to remind her that she had spent a few nights in that small room before, "or here. The choice is yours," he had stopped outside a door and now tapped a code into a small retrofitted panel set alongside the door, which slid open.

He stepped inside and she followed, not liking that there was a code panel locking the room shut – was he putting her in a vault or an equivalent to the brig?

He tapped another code into a panel inside the door and continued in. She followed suspiciously as the room opened up ahead. He stepped aside, revealing a makeshift barrack bed set into the corner of the room. It looked like it had just recently been put there, because a piece of furniture had clearly been pushed aside against the far wall to make way for the bed.

"You can sleep in the barracks," he told her, "anyone else would, but you don't trust anyone to sleep in the same room." She had confessed that to him.

This was someone's quarters.

She stepped forward, looking around him to see the rest of a very full room. Half of a wall was covered with cubed shelving, which was crammed with items that looked either out of a museum or a temple. Books and scrolls were stacked almost knee high by the shelving, beside a large bed, and across the floor. A large thickly woven rug filled the space from the end of the bed to two small tables, one of which was almost entirely covered in pieces of tech, which looked newly retrofitted, like the panel outside. Tools, pads, and coils of wire and circuits covered most of the surface of the other table, all contained in clear boxes that were stacked to the point of collapse. Only two chairs stood around the first table, and one of them was covered with books and pads. On the wall behind the table, a variety of weapons sat in secure holdings, displayed, but ready to be pulled free.

She recognised two long sheathed knives.

"These are your quarters?" She asked in disbelief.

She would never have expected something like this. She had trouble imaging him sleeping, let alone having 'interests', of which reading appeared to be a major component. She had thought he would probably live in a small empty room, just full of weapons and perhaps one change of clothes.

She glanced back to the large bed. There was a grey shirt lying at its corner. A usual everyday shirt, like he was a normal person...like the one he had worn the other evening.

"The only place left for you is to sleep in the barracks," he told her. "You won't sleep in there because you don't trust them and they don't like you-"

"I don't care what people think," she objected.

He moved away from her, moving further into his home, across the rug, past books and stacks of scrolls. He drew his stunners and one small knife from his holsters and laid them on the side, just in front of the shelving. As he straightened up he absently reached up and touched his fingers to something in the central most cube. She angled her head to see what it was, but he stepped in the way, his large bare, muscled arms crossing in front of his wide chest.

"I choose not to share a room with people I don't trust," she reminded him.

"Would you prefer to share a room with someone else?" He asked. "Do you trust anyone?"

"You think I trust you?" She asked.

"Yes," he answered simply.

She wanted to argue, but it was true; she did trust him. Perhaps out of the entire Alliance, if she had to be at someone's side, someone who she knew would adequately watch her back if the situation required it, she would choose him.

She had no idea how that had happened.

Not so long ago they had fought each other in hand-to-hand combat and she had ended up running from him in panic. The thought of running into him again at that time had filled her with real fear. Now, she was contemplating sharing a room with him.

Life was very strange.

Yet, she knew where she stood with him, because he would tell her, frankly. He had promised her that she would be safe on the ship, and she believed him. She had made her deal with the Elite mainly through him, because she knew he respected the fact that she had saved his life...and hadn't he saved hers in turn? He had shown her a life in which she saw she could have value again – that she could do good and try for redemption.

She looked at the waiting spare bed. It was a proper bed. It had been days since she had slept on a proper bed. She suspected the Elite gave even the lowest of their crew good bedding to sleep in. She would be across the large room from him, the tables between her and him, the rug a wide space, putting aside his columns of books.

She would feel safe in here.

She frowned at one point though.

"I can't sleep in here," she reiterated. "People will get the wrong idea."

"I thought you didn't care what people thought?" He asked, challenged really.

Damn it.

She glanced back to the spare bed.

"I had them put up one of the dividing curtains," he added.

She glanced across to the far wall beyond the bed where she could see a long curtain gathered against the wall near his weapons. Most Alliance quarters had a dividing curtain that hung from ceiling to floor, which separated a living area from a sleeping area. She moved towards it, past the bed and pulled the curtain partly out to look at it.

"This is sheer," she noted suspiciously.

He moved forward a step towards the curtain. "I don't know about textiles."

"Sheer," she explained. "Transparent. Like a cloaking field," she threw in.

He looked at the curtain, his expression unreadable. "If it was you wouldn't be able to see it," he pointed out. "This is blue."

She frowned at him – was he being deliberately obtuse? "A blue curtain that is so thin you can see through it."

He pulled the curtain out further from the wall and thicker material came into view – it was only partly sheer. Still, it would not been a proper divide, he would be able to see through to her sleeping. "Change it if you want," he met her gaze.

She held his gaze. A strange thought occurred to her - had he done it on purpose? Or had he not thought about it? Maybe he hadn't even chosen the curtain himself. Why was it even important?

"Its fine," she decided, not wanting to admit it was an issue, because it wasn't. Was it?

"The washroom is through that door," he indicated the one doorway off the main room. "There are spare towels in the cupboard by the door."

He had spare towels? Oneakka?

She glanced towards the closed door, then back around his room again.

"What?" He asked into the silent pause.

"Nothing," she lied. "It just appears...it's not what I expected," she admitted.

"What did you expect?" He asked as he sat down at the larger table, picked up a piece of tech and began fiddling with it.

"Maybe a concrete cell," she replied. "A single pallet on the floor on which you sleep in one fixed position, fully armoured even when asleep," she put her boots down by the end of the bed that she had accepted for the time being. "Why do you have so many books?" She asked.

"I like to learn," he answered absently, all his attention on the tech he was tinkering with.

"I meant why read physical books," she clarified. "I thought all information was uploaded into the Alliance central database," she asked as she moved away, glancing over the stacks of books, crouching down to look at the labels. There were a couple that were titled in a language she couldn't read, but the others were close enough to standard Alliance that she could tell what they were about. One was on scans and dissections of human brains and another on code breaking. She picked up the code breaking one and leafed through its pages.

"Not all information is on pad," he replied. "Many Alliance worlds still print books, some still use scrolls."

"I know that," she replied absently as she ran her eye over the details in the book. It smelt faintly of soldering smoke. There were random twisted pieces of wire marking places throughout the book – twisted off-cuts from something he had been working on. She glanced at the littered table at which he sat. Coils of varying wires, plastic boxes of circuit pieces and dissected tech seemed chaotically scattered across the larger table, but as he reached for a tool he found it with his hand without looking round to locate it on the table.

"I just assumed the Elite were into the electronic information only," she told him as she watched him insert the fine tool into the middle of the bulk of tech in his hand.

She put the code breaking book back down in its former stack, making sure it was in the same place as before, and moved on to another stack. "What is this other language? You have a lot of them," she asked, glancing over several more stacks.

"Ugun," he replied. "From my homeworld."

She snapped her head round towards him.

She didn't know what to say.

Everyone knew what had happened to the Ugun world. The planet had been decimated by the Wraith, a powerful Queen deciding it would be the perfect place for her new base as she fought the growingly powerful Alliance.

"I've heard the stories about what happened there. How many of your people survived?" She asked.

He looked up from his work. "Just one," he stated without any emotional inflection and returned his attention back down to his tinkering.

He was the last of his people?

People always told stories of races who had been obliterated by the Wraith, with a lone survivor or two remaining to tell the tales. That was until they died and no one was left to tell the tales anymore. She had never quite believed in lone survivors – too many people left their home planets through the portal system.

"No others?" She asked. "Surely some were off world at the time."

"No," he replied. "My people stayed on their world, traders came to them. I was the only one of my people to leave." He picked up another tool. "Like you," he commented.

"I was chased off mine with flaming torches and pitchforks, that's hardly the same," she replied as she wandered over to the table at which he sat. "Besides, Ulfur left as well."

"And now he's back there," Oneakka set down one tool and picked up another. She got the impression from his tone and overly focused tinkering, as well as the lack of his usual battling comments, that this was a delicate subject. How could it not be? All his people were gone?

His usual grumpy attitude took on a slightly different edge for her now.

She wasn't sure what else to say about the subject. She glanced back across the room towards the overly crowded cubed shelving – all those items, were they the remains of his people's culture? The last of his family's things perhaps?

She returned her gaze to Oneakka, feeling something new and strange stirring in her chest. He was big and strong, and hadn't shown any emotion in his voice when he had talked about being the last of his people...but something inside her chest kind of broke for him. She had never had a loving family, didn't know what that was like, but she had seen people with them. Had he had a family who had lovingly waved him off to become an Elite warrior? Or had he always been this stubborn headed, determined male who had simply stomped off to become the powerful Elite he now was?

If he hadn't left, he would be dead along with the rest of his people.

She ran her eye over the broken pieces of tech littering the table before him, feeling awkward. One small piece of tech in particular caught her eye...she had never seen this type, but she had seen blueprints. She reached out and turned it over to see that its back had been opened and wires disappeared into another component, she turned that over as well.

"Whether Ulfur," she continued on their previous conversation, "actually had the nerve to rejoin our people and stayed i- is this an Arian retinal scanner patched into a Genii sequence de-scrambler?" She asked in disbelief.

He nodded. She picked up the assemblage only to find that the wires continued on into a pad. Frowning, she picked up the pad and touched it to life.

"This is a literary pad," she identified it. "For reading, and you've patched it into the de-scrambler and scanner?" There was only one conclusion to such an assembly. She looked at Oneakka with a new curiosity. "These retinal scanners are closely guarded, only used in high level security on Aria." Oneakka nodded silently again.

She decided not to ask how he happened to have one in his bedroom; presumably the Elite could have anything they wanted.

"And you've patched it into a hacker's trick combo," she continued. "Is there a reason why you're trying to hack into Arian security retinal scanners?"

He finally lifted his blue eyes up from his work to meet her gaze. "To see if it can be done," he replied. "To stop people like you."

She frowned at him and his logic. "You're testing the tech?" He nodded. "Not working out a way to override it yourself, of course."

He looked down at the tech in her hand and then back to his own work without another word.

Interesting.

She had heard all the usual stories about the Elite that there were no locked doors to them in the Alliance. She hadn't considered that perhaps those locked doors were unlocked for them not by their status, but by the fact that they simply broke in where they liked. Who was going to prosecute an Elite for breaking in? Now she thought about it, it was very much Oneakka's way of thinking. Look at what had happened with Toshka's computer core.

Still, working out how to break into the highest level of security in the Alliance, into the Alliance ruling buildings, seemed excessive even for an Elite. Unless he didn't trust those in power.

She looked back down at the assemblage.

Was this an insight into the Elite's attitude in general towards those in power of the Alliance, or just Oneakka's?

She itched to study the retinal scanner. They were said to be the most advanced, not just in precision scanning and data comparison, but were supposed to be unhackable. In was a fascinating challenge.

"The scanner, even through the de-scrambler, won't talk with the pad," she informed him.

"I've wired in a Litan translator circuit," he replied.

She frowned down at the wiring again. She moved to sit down on the second chair at the table, only to remember that it was covered in books and pads. She picked up the stack and set it down on the floor, ignoring Oneakka's frown across the table as she sat down, her attention focused on the wiring that she teased apart.

"There's no way that will work," she told him, but the wiring looked good, the translator one of the latest models that she hadn't had a chance to tinker with herself yet. "Did you add additional processing into the pad?" She asked as she peered at the open back of the flat tech. He had put in an extra processor, not that there was enough space for it. He'd held it in place with some more twisted off-cut pieces of wire.

"You should use tape, not wire to keep extra pieces in place," she informed him. "Unless you want to get electrocuted," she smiled across the table at him.

"Ran out," he replied.

She cast her eye over the table and its multitude of bits and pieces. If he had run out, then it had to have been recently because she had seen how well stocked the Sythus' stores were. Which meant that he must have put this together today, or late yesterday, or he would have restocked on installation tape.

"Do you sit up late at night making these things?" She asked as she turned on the pad.

"It's a hobby," he replied, his tone more relaxed to her ear now.

"It still won't work," she told him across the littered table. "You'll need a re-sequencer programme that will handle the scrambled input."

"Several already loaded," he replied. "Haven't tried them yet."

She opened up a list of programmes on the pad and three sequencer programmes appeared. He had downloaded them earlier today by the times listed next to them.

"The first two won't work," she informed him with her wealth of experience. "The third might work, but you'll need to rework the code."

She tapped open the programme and opened up its base coding.

"Good thing you've got an expert code writer available," she smiled as she tapped through the coding. "Not that it's going to work," she muttered absently. It was interesting challenge though.

She leant her elbows on the table, the room falling silent.

Maybe if she plugged the pad into the re-scrambler itself...

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TBC