Chapter 8

The samples he had collected from the subject so far were utterly fascinating.

Valkalar had been gathering information on the Wraith for years – decades – since he'd first dreamed of dominating Gragoffa as a boy, and had studied and heard many rumours of how they had evolved. To see the evidence of the process here in front of his own eyes was a surreal experience for him. The culmination of his life's work…no…no…the culmination would be when his army marched forth and conquered the galaxy. This was a steppingstone, but one that had put him on a steady path toward his goal.

The Wraith had been a powerful race, revered by some, feared by most. The key to their success at dominating the galaxy had been their sheer numbers, able to increase their population with cloning to simply overwhelm any perceived enemy. Anyone showing any signs of technological advancement was simply culled back to primitivity. Except the Lantean who had mistakenly created them. Already advanced, they had proved the Wraith's strongest adversaries, but even they had turned tail and run under relentless attack from Wraith armies. It never ceased to amaze him that they had eventually been brought low by mere humans, a pitiful iteration of the long lost Lanteans. The Wraith had underestimated them, and that mistake had proved their end. Which had brought him to where he was now…ready to resurrect a new and improved Wraith army able to feed on anyone and completely loyal to him. Those kinds of mental implants were easily acquired on Gragoffa. And if they could control the mighty Kheprians and bend them to Akalus' will, then they would do the dame to the Wraith.

Valkalar sat back from his screen and allowed the gravity of the moment to fully sink in. Human/Iratus hybrids. The whispers that the Wraith had arisen from such a mixture of DNA strands had long circulated, but now that he could see it clearly in his computer's calculations it made it so much more real for him.

On the left of his screen, Teyla's perfect human DNA genome strand revolved, depicting the template for all human life. On the right, an incomplete Wraith strand executed a similar revolution, but with broken strands mutated by its combination with Teyla's own DNA.

This was where his valuable database of all known DNA would come into its own. His system, for which he had paid handsomely some years ago, would now analyse all the data held, and calculate the most likely pattern to complete those missing elements. They had no record of Wraith or Iratus DNA because those life forms had been extinct for so long now, as had humans until Akalus had reintroduced them to Pegasus a few decades ago. Without that action, his system would not have been able to so accurately recognise the human DNA in Teyla's sample. In fact, he supposed, he owed Akalus a debt of gratitude for the position he now found himself in. If only he hadn't been blown to pieces at Phylacos he could send him his thanks.

Amused by thoughts of Akalus' demise, Valkalar recalled their last meeting, when the great and mighty Akalus had humiliated him with his refusal to sell Teyla to him. Akalus had treated him as nothing more than dirt on the sole of his boot. Well, Akalus wasn't so pompous now, and he had obtained Teyla without spending a single credit. All the better, as far as he was concerned. Akalus' demise was his gain. He would not mourn the loss of such a foul creature. The universe was better off without that madman on the loose.

He returned his focus to his work. He would collect more samples from Teyla to ensure he had the clearest possible reading on the fractured Wraith DNA strands before proceeding with the next stage of the process. Once done, he would put the information through the DNA database. With billions of DNA patterns to scan through, and comparisons and computations to make, it could still take a few days for it to deduce the most likely representation of Wraith DNA.

And then the real work could begin.

oooOOOooo

'Hey…Colonel. Time to rise and shine.'

Mehra's words and the insistent shaking of his shoulder gradually brought Sheppard back to consciousness. When he forced his eyes open she was bent down in front of him, hands on knees, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Clearly someone had gotten a buzz from all the action. Meanwhile, Ronon and McKay stood behind her, their obvious concern for him written all over their faces.

Pain lanced through to the back of both his eyes, and he shielded them from the intensity of the sunlight streaming in through the open loading door. 'We back already?' He slid himself up against the wall, thankful that the hull was there to support him as he waited for his balance to assert itself.

'Sure are. How's the head? I understand you took quite the spill, Sir.'

'Feels like I downed a bottle of Jack,' he confessed, swaying as he tried to make it to the hatch.

'Huh, at least that would have been an enjoyable way to get a headache,' McKay chuckled, the first to depart the transporter now Sheppard was awake. He always had been bad in enclosed spaces, so he couldn't blame him.

Ronon reached out and grasped his shoulder. 'Need some help?'

'No…no…I'm good,' he lied, feeling like his head might just explode if he didn't get laid down soon. He tentatively touched at the golf balled sized lump on the back of his head in amongst the tangle of hair and dried blood. 'Just a little dizzy, s'all.'

Ronon gave him a long, cool look, but seemed to understand this was a matter of pride for Sheppard, so nodded and headed out after McKay, leaving him to take it at his own pace. Sheppard staggered for the opening on legs that felt like they were simply going through the motions rather than purposely propelling him forward. He couldn't even feel the floor beneath his feet.

As he emerged into the full daylight, his pain increased ten-fold and he almost lost his footing. Okay, so maybe a little more than just dizzy if he was honest. As he looked around, he found the rebels in chaos – people running about packing, dismantling shelters, loading transporters. Apparently, they were decamping. Oh, joy. More work.

'Where's everyone going?' Mehra asked, catching the attention of a passing female.

'The Reliquiae will come for us. We have to move.'

'Crap,' Mehra breathed, turning back to Sheppard, her enthusiasm now dampened. 'This feels like it might be our fault.'

Yes, Sheppard admitted to himself. Yes, it did.

Despite his obvious fatigue, Ronon set off and started helping a group of females to pick up a huge crate they were trying to carry between them. Mehra watched him for a few seconds, then jogged over to help out, too.

Sheppard watched them both with a sinking heart, wondering which reserve of strength he could tap into that he hadn't yet depleted…if he had any reserves left at all.

'Who needs sleep anyway, huh?' Rodney said with a grim smirk, trudging after them, but as Sheppard tried to follow, he found him way suddenly blocked.

'You will not lift a finger until I have properly tended to your wounds.'

Mishta's violet eyes burned into his with such insistence he knew there was no point in arguing. He'd thought he'd lost his little hybrid shadow when she'd chosen to ride home with her shaken brother, but no, apparently not. Too drained to argue, he allowed her to tug him toward her shelter, which others were already in the process of dismantling.

'Leave it. I will finish up here,' she ordered, and without question they dropped their work and moved away. There was plenty of other packing to be done elsewhere, and they apparently seemed to share his view that Mishta wasn't to be argued with.

Inside the shelter, everything had been crated up already. Mishta guided him into position on one of the boxes, which he cautiously sat down on while she began a rummage through some of the others, cursing under her breath. He hadn't realised quite how beat up he was until trying to find a comfortable position for his butt on such an unforgiving surface. Eventually she emerged with the medical supplies she'd been searching for. 'How's your head feeling?'

'Sore,' he admitted, flinching as she rounded behind him and began gently prodding at the injury. 'Very sore.'

'Not surprising. You have a bump the size of a geldak egg.'

'I'm guessing that's big,' he quipped, flinching again under her touches. 'Ow.' She grabbed his head and held it in place, an unspoken instruction to be still while she worked.

'Yes…very big,' she replied, tipping something that smelled distinctly antiseptic onto a cloth and dabbing at the wound.

He hissed and grasped the corners of the box so hard his knuckles blanched. 'You know…maybe this could wait...'

'Hardly,' she snorted, bending down to rummage through the kit for something else now. 'We can't leave a head injury untreated. You're going to have a scar as it is.'

'Well, they say chicks dig scars,' he retorted, is mouth purely operating on autopilot.

Of course, she had no idea what that meant. 'What is a chick? And how do they dig scars? It sounds painful.'

'I'm just talking nonsense…a knock on the head can do that to you,' he lied, figuring that was far easier than explaining – then probably apologising for – his choice of words.

Satisfied that she'd cleaned his injury well enough, Mishta tossed the bloody cloth aside and reached for something else. 'I can reduce the swelling some, that should ease the discomfort.' She chose something from the supplies, but when he tried to see what was coming next, she forced his head back into position again before he could see it. He wasn't a big fan of the 'it's a surprise' style of nursing she'd adopted, but it didn't seem like he had much choice but to trust that she knew what she was doing.

He heard her activate something and then a spine-tingling coldness gripped his scalp, the sensation spreading down his neck and into his shoulder and arms, making him shudder. 'Uh, what are you doing?'

'It's a cool compress. Concentrated cold atoms held in a field on the area of your wound. It lasts a few hours before the containment field deteriorates and the atoms are free to come in contact with the outside world again. It numbs the pain and reduces the swelling.'

He tried to feel it, but she slapped his hand away. 'Don't mess or you'll increase the deterioration speed of the containment field. 'Now, clothes off.'

This time, he did turn to look at her. 'Excuse me?'

'You took a fall from the top of that transporter. I doubt your head is the only thing you landed on.'

She reached around him to unbutton his over-shirt. This time he was the one batting her hands away. 'You know…I'm pretty sure you've paid me back for saving your life in the river now. You don't need to do this.'

'No…no…I'm certain I still owe you. You saved me several times over out there today,' she blustered, her tanned cheeks flushing with colour as she leaned over his shoulder. She again reached for his buttons only to have her hands smacked away again.

'No…I think we must be even by now,' he insisted, noting her discomfort.

'That's not true,' she snapped, circling around to the front of him and moving so quickly she succeeded in grabbing his buttons this time. He caught her hands and stopped her, still feeling a little of that enzyme strength in her resistance.

'I'm starting to think you don't ever want to be released from your service to me,' he smirked, watching for clues in her reaction.

'Don't be ridiculous,' she snorted, snatching her hands back, and planting them on her hips, suddenly defensive as she cocked her head to glare at him. 'I have plenty of better things I could be doing with my time, but tradition states –'

'Tradition?' he quirked an eyebrow, his smile widening. 'That old defence, huh?'

She arched an eyebrow too, mirroring him. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Is selective traditionalism a thing?'

Now she frowned. 'What are you talking about?'

'Your commitment…to Marmotah. You didn't seem too worried about that earlier…behind the shelters. Seems like you're quite happy for that tradition to stay on the back-burner.'

Her jaw slackened, and for a few, tense seconds she couldn't find any words. He'd clearly hit a nerve. 'I…apologise for my earlier behaviour,' she stammered, her cheeks now almost aflame. 'High spirits and enzyme got the better of me. It won't happen again.'

'Right…' he drawled. 'So…you didn't mean to do that, it was just an…enzyme rush?'

She narrowed her eyes and ignored his question. 'My commitment to Marmotah has been on hold while we battled Akalus. There has been no need for me to act on it. But my debt to you can be repaid whenever my services are required. As they are now. So, let me work.'

Again, she reached for his buttons. Again, he caught hold of her hands. 'I don't need you to undress me.'

'Fine. Remove your shirts yourself, but please hurry, there are others here who need my help.'

That was true, and since she seemed determined to help him, he relented and did as she said, turning his back to her as he did so.

The breath she sucked in as she saw his exposed skin told him he was pretty messed up…again.

'It looks like this is almost back to where we started,' he said as she pulled a clean cloth from the kit, doused it in antiseptic, and began to dab at his various bumps and scrapes.

Her contact was heavy and inconsiderate of his condition. 'Ow!'

'Don't be such a child,' she grumbled, pushing his head forward and dabbing harder. He got the feeling she was getting some sadistic pleasure out of his squirming, no doubt as retaliation for embarrassing her. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold still while she worked, and the less he reacted the softer her touches became.

She eventually straightened up and asked, 'Is there anywhere else you need me to attend to?'

He pulled on his t-shirt and stood stiffly, thankful to be up off his sore rear. 'Nowhere you need to see.'

'There's no need to be modest,' she smirked, apparently picking up on his insinuation and his awkward movements. 'I could get you a cushion…or perhaps an application of coolant will make sitting more comfortable.'

She blinked back at him as his jaw dropped a little, a picture of innocence despite what she was suggesting. What would she offer next, a bed bath?

'I'll be fine, thanks,' he assured her, sure this girl was going to get him killed sooner or later.

'It's up to you,' she shrugged, packing her things away and tucking her medical kit back under into a crate. 'The offer stands if you change your mind. Right now, there are plenty of other people to attend to…people who appreciate my efforts.'

She turned to leave, but he caught hold of her wrist and stopped her. 'Thank you, Mishta. For everything.'

She glanced down at his hand on her arm as if surprised by the contact, then gave him a puzzled frown. 'Everything?'

'Helping to get the humans off-world to safety. You were fierce out there against the Reliquiae.'

A smile brightened her pretty face. 'I was, wasn't I?' she grinned, embracing the compliment, but the smile slipped away again just as quickly. 'I only we could have saved all of them.'

'I know…I've been trying not to think about that.'

'You fought bravely to protect them too,' she offered, as if sensing he needed consolation. 'Considering you are not in the best of health.'

He winced at her words. 'I'm not that sick.'

'Too sick to take falls from the top of Kheprian transporters,' she retorted. 'You look terrible. I've never seen anyone bruise so much.'

'Thanks for that.'

'You know I mean well.' she said, looking a little upset by his rebuke. She sighed. 'Now it's time for me to put what's left of that enzyme to good work again…'

He tightened his grip to keep her there a little longer. 'About that. I know how good the enzyme makes you feel, Mishta, believe me. But what you did today…going after the Reliquiae for more…that was reckless. That stuff will have you hooked just so you can feel strong. But each time you do it, the coming down will get worse. I know life seems bad right now, always hiding out, always running, but enzyme isn't the answer because if you keep using that, you're gonna get reliant on it, and then it doesn't serve you anymore, you serve it.'

She stared at him, and her expression flashed through hurt and anger in quick and confused succession. 'You think I sought the enzyme for myself?'

He gaped back at her, for a moment unable to join the dots.

Her expression hardened, their brief moment of genuine camaraderie lost. 'Of course, you would think the worst of me,' she growled bitterly, snatching her wrist free. 'Everyone always does.'

A moment of realisation struck him. He felt sick to the pit of his stomach. 'You were getting it for me.'

'You're growing sicker. I wanted to help,' she said, eyes glistening, voice failing. Despite the anger, she suddenly seemed very fragile in a way she hadn't for days now.

'You didn't need to do that,' he said softly, now reaching out for her hand and gently stroking his thumb across her knuckles. 'I don't want you to put yourself in harm's way for me.'

The look in her eyes softened and she swallowed deeply, blinking away her tears before responding. 'I know you don't care about me, John. But that doesn't mean I can instantly stop caring about you.'

She tugged her hand and away and spun to march out, but he darted in front of her, blocking her path despite how dizzy the sudden motion left him. 'I do care about you, that's why I don't want you to pull another stunt like that again.'

Her violet eyes locked onto his, burning with frustration. 'No…no you don't. All you think about is Teyla. I'm just a source of amusement until you can get out of here.'

That accusation stung and now he found himself on the defensive. 'Yes, I'm worried about Teyla. She's my friend and she's out there somewhere alone on a planet full of predators and I have no idea how to reach her. It's driving me nuts.' He grasped her shoulders and forced her to look at him. 'But that doesn't mean I don't care what happens to you. If you were missing, I would want to find you too.'

'But I'm not missing…I'm right here,' she cried. 'Yet you treat me like I mean nothing to you.'

'What do you expect from me, Mishta? If things were different –'

'Of course,' she spat, 'the convenient excuse not to act.'

'It's not an excuse!' he protested. 'I don't want to hurt you.'

That seemed to genuinely puzzle her. 'And you think your constant rejections of my attentions don't hurt?'

'I thought you said it was the enzyme earlier?'

Again, the sheer frustration she felt was etched into every aspect of her presentation – her face, her posture…the way she was balling up her fists like she wanted nothing more than to punch some sense into him. Perhaps it was the enzyme talking again. How was he to know?

'If things were different…if there were no Marmotah…no time difference…would you want to be with me?' she asked.

He stroked a few stray strands of her red hair back from her forehead. 'Mishta…going over this stuff isn't making it any easier on you. You need to let this go.'

She stared back at him, almost on the verge of folding. Then she set her jaw and pulled away. 'I could say the same thing to you about Teyla,' she said coldly, before throwing back the fabric door and storming away from him.

He let her go. This wasn't a discussion he could handle while he felt the way he did. Maybe his head would be in a better place once they'd relocated to a safer spot…if she would ever forgive him enough to talk to him again.

Across the camp, he noticed Marmotah watching her movements then turning his attention to him. The look the Birajan gave him was purely murderous.

Yep, Sheppard figured as he struck out for his own shelter. Mishta was definitely going to get him killed.

oooOOOooo

Though the convoy of Kheprian trucks had escaped them, and along with it many of the humans they so desperately needed, their mission had not been without its successes.

At the centre of the Reliquiae meeting chamber in Anastan, eighteen terrified humans huddled together for comfort. They clung to one another, some sobbing, others silently trembling, all pathetic in the face of their captors. Ten males and eight females. A considerable haul. They would dine well tonight.

Oolanae found their crying irritating to her sensitive hearing. She hoped this meeting would be over soon so they could put an end to the cacophony. Unfortunately Marrath, with her sense of drama and occasion, seemed to have other ideas.

She rose, standing at the chamber's centre alongside the snivelling human wretches. 'Though not everything went according to plan today, all is not lost,' she announced, everyone, including the humans, falling silent as she raised her voice. We have enough humans here to more that sate our hunger. But first, questions must be asked.'

She beckoned to two of their gathered sisters who rose from their seats to join her, and then pointed to a young man at the front of the group. 'That one. Bring him here.'

As they grabbed hold of him, the rest of the humans began to scream, arousing the Reliquiae into a heightened state of menace.

'Restraint,' Oolanae warned. The humans were panicked enough. If they wanted them calm enough to answer their questions, they couldn't make things any worse than they already were for them.

The human was forced to his knees, his arms stretched out at his sides. Marrath pulled something from a pocket concealed withing the folds of her dress and forced it into the young man's ear. He screamed and bucked as the tendrils of the translator wormed their way into the speech centres of his brain and made their connections, panicked by the odd sensation. Predictably, he vomited down his shirtfront from shock and fear. One of the more unappetising aspects of human nature.

'Do you understand me, Human?' Marrath demanded, pushing her face into his. His eyes almost bulged from his head in terror. 'Do you comprehend my words? Ah…yes…I see that you do.'

A moment of recognition puckered the human's forehead, puzzled as he was that the alien before him could suddenly speak his language.

Marrath reached out her elongated fingers and stroked them down his cheek. 'We require information from you, Human. Do you understand?'

At first, his voice simply wouldn't come out, but he eventually croaked, 'Y…yes.'

'Good,' She purred, continuing to stroke the plane of his cheek. 'Where did the Kheprians take the rest of the humans?'

'I…I…I don't…I don't know,' he quaked, obviously aware that wasn't the answer she was waiting for.

'Perhaps you could ask you companions her if any of them know where the humans were taken?' she purred, more of a demand than a request.

He did as she asked, but none of the had an answer.

Someone had to know where John Sheppard would be. Oolanae had been so close she could almost taste him on the air, only to have the opportunity to take him snatched away from her. She should have stayed and fought her ground.

'I see,' Marrath said, her voice monotone as she gestured no for Tarrantha to come before her. The frail female slowly stepped out from her spot, still graceful despite her fragile state, and pulled herself up tall and proud. The very epitome of Reliquiae strength in the face of adversity.

Marrath looked at the female a long moment, and then said, 'Take your pick.'

Tarrantha's eyes gleamed with pent up ferocity, and with all the strength she had left she pounced on a male to the left of the group, tearing into his throat with her jagged teeth. Every other human huddled there scattered, screaming fit to burst their lungs. The noise was horrendous, but unsurprising under the circumstances. The rest of the Reliquiae formed a barrier around them, preventing them from escaping the chamber. They were far too precious a resource to lose now.

'Restraint!' Oolanae cried over the chaos, ordering her sisters, now high on the scent of blood filling the air, to hold from exercising their primal urges and allow the questioning to continue.

Once the screams subsided, the young man still being restrained at the centre of the chamber could be heard proclaiming, 'I swear w…we don't know where they took them. They n…never told us the name of the p…p…planet we were going to. It didn't m…matter to us as long as we were safe.'

'Silence,' Marrath bellowed, and everyone, even the terrified humans, held their breath.

Oolanae now rose from the seat and joined Marrath in the centre of the chamber. 'They are on another planet. This will make locating Sheppard next to impossible.'

'Sheppard?'

They both turned to look at the young man who had interrupted them. 'Do you know something of him?' Marrath demanded.

'Y…yes. He isn't with the other humans…at l…least I don't think he is. He…he said he was staying behind…to look for a friend.'

Oolanae, pounced almost as quickly as Tarrantha had leaped on her unfortunate meal. She grasped the human's jaw and stared straight in his eyes. 'Are you certain of this?'

'Ye…yes,' he wheezed, finding it hard to talk. 'There were four of them staying behind to look for her.'

She released him, and he sagged in the grasp of her two sisters. Sheppard was still on Gragoffa. They could still retrieve him from the rebels.

She stepped aside, gesturing for Marrath to follow her. 'This changes things. Our priority should be finding Sheppard, not the other humans.'

'But what of the sustenance they will provide? We need them,' the older female protested, waving her hand towards their gathered numbers. 'We are more or less rejuvenated, but we cannot stay like this forever.'

Tarrantha rose from the floor, her face, dress and hair soaked in dark blood, but beneath that macabre mask, it was clear to see that her features were already beginning to plump out and become more youthful. She grinned, her ferocious set of jagged teeth gleaming out from amidst the crimson.

Though pleased for her sister, Oolanae couldn't help but feel a certain amount of disgust at the sight.

'This is not who we are, Marrath,' she sighed, sensing the bloodlust in the air. 'We can conduct ourselves with more decorum than this.'

Marrath narrowed her eyes in suspicion. 'Tell me you are not feeling compassion for these humans,' she growled, pressing in close on her.

They were all feeling the strength of rejuvenation. The blood coursed through their veins with renewed vigour, and emotions ran high with their increased strength and vitality. Oolanae had noticed it over the past few week. Some of the old rivalry was beginning to rise, flowing close to the surface. She could imagine a time when she would challenge Marrath for leadership…but this was not that time. As such she demurred, and spoke a little less fervently.

'I feel no such thing,' she assured Marrath. 'They are food, nothing more. But we can behave with more grace than this. We were reduced to feral creatures by our unsatisfied cravings, the blood of animals doing little to replenish us. And Akalus kept us subservient, tossing us only scraps when he wanted to be entertained by our craven destructiveness. But Akalus is gone. We are our own masters now. He no longer controls when we eat and when we don't.'

'But there are so few of them. These humans cannot sustain us forever.'

'Perhaps not forever,' Oolanae agreed, looking them over with mild distain. They really were pathetic, filthy creatures. In their current state, grubby and soiled, they gave her little appetite. 'But if we are careful, these few humans can provide us with what we need for many years. We require human blood, do we not?'

Marrath, seemingly intrigued by the direction of their conversation, nodded. 'We do.'

'Blood, not flesh,' Oolanae iterated, making the distinction clear. 'We do not have to kill the humans to take their blood. They can have some removed without dying. Now we are strong, we will not need to feed again for a while unless we are injured. Let those who are still famished take their fill, but then we should keep the others alive, particularly the males. If we feed them and care for their health, they will soon replace the blood lost, and be ready for further harvesting. With the use of the hibernation pods, we could keep them alive to provide for us for many, many years. It can be controlled and dignified, not the ravenous orgy of brutal hunger this galaxy reduced us to.'

Marrath regarded her coolly for what felt like an age, but then, very slowly, she began to smile. 'Oolanae, as always, you give wise counsel. I agree to your proposal.'

Oolanae dipped her head, offering her respect.

'So firstly, we ensure all of our numbers are rejuvenated and fit to fight, and then we hunt down those rebels and take back the Wraith Slayer.'

Oolanae raised her chin, meeting Marrath's gaze. There was a light in her eyes, a spark of excitement. Greatness was within their grasp.

All they had to do was find The Wraith Slayer.

oooOOOooo

Tamrak stayed back at the periphery of the lab as Valkalar once more took samples from the human. He flinched as his master plunged a needle deep into a vein on the inside of her right elbow joint and took a large cylinder of her blood. Once the action was completed, he snapped the vial out of the syringe and held it out.

'Tamrak, store this for me. Quickly!'

He jumped at the instruction, darting forward to take the vial as Valkalar began to examine the implements on the tray beside him as if her were merely choosing from a selection of desserts. Casting a furtive glance over them, Tamrak thought they each looked as horrific and painful as the next. Valkalar took a sadistic pleasure in inflicting pain on this woman, something he said was her lesson for defying him. But Tamrak had to wonder if he would have been more courteous if she hadn't tried to escape. Cruelty was something of a trademark for this prince. Everyone in the Rammarant tribe knew that and gave him a wide berth where possible.

'We need to turn her over,' Valkalar called over to Tamrak as he refrigerated the blood.

When he turned, Tamrak saw the prince emptying a syringe of sedative into the human on the table before him. Teyla groaned, seeming to become disoriented as her body fell completely limp, the resistance he'd seen against her restraints as Valkalar had worked now abandoning her.

Tamrak returned to her side, assisting with releasing the bindings at her ankles, while Valkalar opened up those at her wrists. Her tiny frame proved surprisingly heavy in this new, flaccid state, and his muscles strained to roll her, especially as Valkalar left that particular part of the process entirely to him. Once he had her positioned on her front, her head to the side to assist her breathing, he began to apply the restraints again as Valkalar picked up what he recognised as a bone biopsy needle from the tray of instruments. He'd watched Valkalar practice this art on various animals over the years and was glad Teyla was sedated for this portion of the harvesting.

'Don't just stand around gaping, Tamrak. Expose her hips for me,' Valkalar demanded, stepping back to give him room and access.

He blinked back at his master, uncomfortable with the instruction.

'Come on! Hurry Up!' the prince yelled, making him jump into a response again.

He took hold on the top of Teyla's garments, and tugged them down a couple of inches below her waist, withdrawing once he'd done so.

A few seconds later, when Valkalar didn't moved,' he looked toward his master.

'No need for modesty, Tamrak. Pull them lower.'

Knowing refusal would end in him suffering some kind of beating, he darted forward again, pulling hard until the small of the back and the curve at the top of her buttocks was exposed.

Shame washed over him and he averted his gaze, unable to look at his work.

'She's very beautiful creature, don't you think, Tamrak?'

Nausea twisted his stomach. Up until this point he had convinced himself that this was all about the prince's pet project. One he sincerely hoped failed before it began. Now, he was certain the prince's interest in this human went beyond the samples he required from her.

He glanced up to see the prince trailing the fingers of his free hand over the skin he had just exposed. 'She would make a fine partner. Just think of the beautiful offspring she would produce.'

Something inside Tamrak shifted at that moment. His fear, an emotion he'd lived with for as long as he could remember, was instantly replaced by disgust and anger. He'd thought taking samples against Teyla's will was bad enough, but this…this was so far beyond acceptable he couldn't fathom it.

Valkalar pushed the needle into the fleshy part at the back of Teyla's hip, the skin dipping under the pressure before it yielded to the sharp point. The prince forced it in until it struck bone. Tamrak though he actually heard the scrape and it sent a shudder through him. Valkalar set the end of the needle in motion, a gradual, twisting pressure that forced its way into the hip bone to take a sample from its core. Teyla groaned, aware of the pain even through the haze of sedation.

'There-there, now,' Valkalar soothed, stroking her hair while the mechanised needle continued to work. 'It will all be over soon…for now.'

The grin that split his face as he said those words was pure evil. This wasn't just a necessity for his plans…he enjoyed this.

Tamrak looked at Teyla's face, contorted as she hung somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. This woman already had a child, and they were keeping her from him. It was clear to him now that they had no right to do that. But for now, Tamrak knew he had to let his master do his work. He drew back to the periphery of the room again, sickened but certain that to act now would be a mistake.

He vowed right then and there that he would fix what he had done to this woman, whatever the eventual cost to himself.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks to those reviewing. It's always good to hear your thoughts.