The crunch was unnaturally loud in the silent laboratory.
Carson turned sharply from the microscope, where for the first time in a row, he watched the Wraith cells begin to multiply uncontrollably and die rapidly after encountering their latest variation of the retrovirus. As in ninety-nine tests before. To happen in a living Wraith, his blood changes to the density of the pudding. An almost immediate, certain and probably very painful death.
It's almost like getting in the way of a really frustrated Wraith, who was Todd. Waves of dull anger rolled out of him the next day, one after the other. And it started so inconspicuously, only with small tremors, which probably flashed through the otherwise smooth mental surface, but were rapidly gaining strength. Literally hour after hour. So the torn handle of the sample refrigerator and the angry growl at the Marines, who aimed their weapons at him, were just the culmination of a long process.
"Okay, we'll all calm down," he said, especially at the Marines, who could do more damage with their gunfire than Todd whipping things around. "It's just a refrigerator door. It's left in my hand a few times," he continued, and as he spoke, he approached the Wraith slowly, both hands slightly in front of him, palms up.
It took him three long days - an unusually long time for him - to combine this gesture with an intense and sincere need to act non-aggressively on everyone around him. If he understood correctly, it was a small piece of Wraith nonverbal communication.
Todd looked surprised for a moment as he took a torn piece of plastic from his hand and set it aside. He got one of the two soldiers into the firing line, so he had to move, and that meant increasing the distance between himself and Todd. Carson didn't have to be so close to feel Wraith so clearly and intensely, and he would still know that the distance had calmed him a little. To be sure, he backed away a little to reassure the Marines for a change, and showed his palms again.
"I think I need a break," he said, resting himself, for it was clear to him that Todd would never acknowledge his frustration, his growing anger, and probably his fatigue. They had been working on the project for three weeks, one of which Todd spent in handcuffs until Carson managed to convince Elizabeth that it would be more useful to have his hands free. That must have been tiring for the Wraith, too.
"Or end it," Todd growled, turning away and taking two steps toward the lab table - he couldn't go on, and it was clear that he was even more frustrated. "We've been chasing each other in circles for two days. Solving one problem will pose another obstacle."
"That's research. It takes time."
"Time?" Todd repeated a little harder after him. "Even I don't have an unlimited amount of time. I can't be out of the Hive forever ... and I'll soon be hungry," he added, a thorn in his voice that Carson had long identified as a deliberate Marine stab.
They, of course, reacted predictably and immediately raised their weapons. Todd showed his teeth in an amused, if only short, smile. But Carson sighed inwardly. He skated out of one potentially explosive danger to get to the next.
"Is it clear to you that there are flammable and explosive chemicals that could ignite when fired? Then we would all die here." He decided to just say it plainly, not even knowing more because he needed to tell Todd his own, or to warn the Marines that furious shooting was as dangerous as the furious Wraith. It only affected the Marines.
"I don't," Todd replied with another predatory smile. He was obviously having a good time.
"But I do," he snapped, perhaps sharper than he intended, but strangely, it helped.
The Wraith evidently withdrew, measured him with a long look, then turned away for a moment, as if thinking of something. Whatever it was, he finally detached himself from the table and walked slowly to the locker.
"It's time for us to test the retrovirus on my blood," Todd decided as he opened the cabinet and removed the blood collection kit.
Carson frowned slightly.
"Do you consider the differences between the blood of soldiers and your blood to be so fundamental?" he asked, walking over to the Wraith to take the set from his hands and gesturing to the stool. Todd didn't resist and just folded his tall body on a small swivel chair.
"Not essential, but they can be important." The elegantly slender fingers worked quickly on the small black clasps of Todd's left sleeve. Carson couldn't help but simply take his eyes off those fingers. The way he could do even the smallest and most precise activities with long claws must have been fascinating to everyone, and it certainly had nothing to do with Carson always having a weakness for men with long, dexterous fingers. God, it was a Wraith, not a man ... a human man, correcting himself. Or at least he assumed Todd was a man. This was a reasoning that aroused the scientist in him, moved his hands with the sampling set, and most importantly made him speak:
"Maybe it's time to tell me more about how Wrait soldiers differ from Wraith like you." As he said this, he forced himself to concentrate on preparing the vacuum needle, rather than looking at the exposed pale green forearm.
"Drones," Todd said, catching his attention. He turned to him, all things ready to pick, and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "The trumpet is an appropriate term in your speech for a Wraith like me."
"Trumpet. Sure, it makes sense, though it's a little weird to use with ... intelligent beings," he said, pulling up a chair and a small wheelchair, and sitting close enough to Todd to take his blood comfortably. Being so close to Todd, and especially long enough, to inject a blood vessel in his wrist and start pumping the first tube, gave him a chance to inhale that strange, heavy, sweet scent. He had noticed it before, both in the living Wraith and in the dead bodies and their parts. But she had never been as strong and intense as Todd's now.
"In our country, it is a designation for males of a social species of insect; bees. I used it in my research on Irat beetles, because their males play a similar role in the Irat beetle community as drones in a beehive," he said, partly out of nervousness. his attention from the inappropriate staring at Todd's greenish skin, and also to give Wraith a better understanding of the term 'trumpet' Carson had used in the research he had lent him. That he could decide if it was really the word he wanted to call himself. "There are only a few dozen of them in the clutch of the dominant female, and their sole purpose is to fertilize another clutch, then they die. They don't even have a mouth opening."
"I know more about Iratus beetles than you do."
Surely he knew more about them than Carson could find out in the only year he had studied them. After all, they were distant relatives of the Wraith, and it was only logical that the Wraith were interested in them. He should have realized right away that Todd needed no explanation. Stupid, stupid Carson. You'd better shut up and finish taking the first tube.
Just as he said, so did he. He set the first tube in the rack and reached for the second. It wasn't until he put it on that that he decided to speak again.
"So, what are the differences between soldiers and drones?"
"Didn't you have enough opportunities to investigate?" Todd answered with a question, and there was a clear, prickly challenge in his tone.
Shortly after, he shot a look just to meet his piercing eyes. Probably because of the light, his dolls were pulled into thin lines that were almost lost in the orange-yellow sea, so that his eyes looked perhaps even more inhuman and fascinating than ever. They expressed a deep interest ... no, it kept flowing from Todd himself, now much stronger than before (and than recent frustration) probably because of the direction of the conversation and the physical proximity.
"A few, yes, but the samples ... I meant, the Wraith soldiers ... to whom I had access were already dead. And I never had the opportunity to dissect the body of any Wraith tube."
"You had two alive," Todd said flatly, yet it was clear where he was going.
The assumption aroused a dose of righteous anger in Carson, though spiced with guilt, but he chose to ignore it now in favor of his indignation.
"Despite what you think of us, we do not kill our prisoners so that we can dissect them or carry out invasive experiments on them."
Todd didn't even have to say anything, and his expression would be all-encompassing, and it didn't even have to pop up a single name in Carson so clearly that he couldn't think of him alone.
"Michael was a big mistake," he admitted bluntly, leaving his guilt free, even a little embarrassed, because he knew very well that Todd would catch those feelings. "When it came to the idea of testing my retrovirus on a living subject, I was blinded by my ego and scientific enthusiasm and overlooked all moral issues. By the time I finally realized that what we were doing was wrong, it was too late to stop it. he could go back in time and stop himself before I gave Michael the first dose of retrovirus, I would do it. And that's pure truth, "he said with all sincerity, looking straight into the amber eyes that had been watching him motionless all along. Todd, not telling whether he had accepted his sincere confession or not, and with a little less determination, continued, "I've never underwent Michael other than the basic check-ups I regularly subject to all at this base. He paused for a moment, paying attention only to the test tube for a moment, "He died in a Hoffan prison, and the Hoffans weren't interested in finding out why. All they had to do was kill their Wraith. An autopsy was not even possible. "
Todd continued to say nothing, and the second tube was already full. There were three more left, which meant enough time for a conversation or at least a monologue and getting at least non-verbal answers. He raised an eyebrow, growled, snorted, just something he could deduce if his findings and assumptions were correct.
He put on a third test tube and took a breath to recite what he knew about the Wrait soldiers.
"I can only build on my findings from the autopsies' autopsies and the observations and examinations of the two drones," he said, checking at a glance that Todd is still paying attention to him. "Soldiers seem to have a strong musculature, I would almost say superfluous. An estimated thirty, maybe thirty-five percent more muscle than drones, and they're five to eight inches taller." Another look and no denial from Todd's side. The third tube was full. "Although I've never had a chance to explore the living waves of a living Wraith, according to a brain tissue survey, I estimate that soldiers' mental abilities may be limited. Our theory is that the long-term mental pressure of more advanced individuals is the reason for ..."
"No," Todd interrupted. "Soldiers are born with limited mental capacity. It's their innate trait. Unchangeable."
"As a worker for bees and Irat beetles, which are subject to the queen's pheromone guidance?"
"Less than that," Todd replied, then his gaze slid aside, almost immediately, with a growling sigh, fixing it on Carson again. "I can't speak for bees, but the workers at the Irat beetles have the ability to make their own decisions and form groups with their own ... intellect. The Wraith soldier is unable to act independently. not only the ability to handle technology, but all his civility. He is driven solely by the basic and only instinct he has; to feed. For example, "Todd raised his right hand slightly in some vague gesture and again attracted the attention of the soldiers. Which Carson barely noticed this time, he was fascinated by the barrage of information he was just receiving from Todd. "If you killed me, it would mean that the soldiers in your cells would lose my leadership. They would lose control and become very dangerous. And that's why I brought them here. As a small guarantee that if something happens to me, you will bear it for it. unpleasant consequences. "
The thorn of the threat was clear and easy to understand, and said that if they ever tried to misuse the information about the trumpet-soldier relationship, for example by discharging the trumpets in the hive, they would only get a horde of furious, inhuman creatures who wanted to eat them. Carson accepted the report clearly and cleanly. And he could already say that he would definitely not be in favor of such a plan.
"I see." He nodded and indicated that he understood everything, including its hidden meaning. "Does that mean that trumpets are born trumpets, or is there some way for a soldier ... to develop in a trumpet?"
"A trumpet is born by a trumpet."
A short answer, which Carson carefully recorded and, with a little displeasure, put the fourth tube in the rack. Only one left. That was a damn little time. Why couldn't Todd be shared a while earlier? At least one test tube? One day? One week? God, he had so many questions about the workings of the Wraith Hive that he probably wouldn't have had a month to ask them.
"So is your role in the hive biologically determined?"
"Yes." Todd nodded without hesitation, but then tilted his head to the side and continued, "Although there are many different ... social levels among the trumpeters. Some are due to their origin, the Queen Mother who fathered them, others gain their talents, abilities, knowledge and effort. And, of course, it also depends on the personal preferences of the Queen. But in general, the young trumpet has an almost unlimited opportunity to advance in the hive hierarchy to the top. "
"Are you there, I suppose?" he asked, and Todd raised an eyebrow slightly. "I mean, you're dealing with us and giving the impression ... of authority," he added, feeling so embarrassed that his ears burned. Oh no. Trying to cover it up was futile, and Todd, of course, noticed and commented with an amused smile as he raised his upper lip only slightly, showed a small piece of teeth, and narrowed his eyes. The phrase 'predatory smile' has taken on a whole new, very concrete look that Carson will project in his head forever.
"Yes. I'm the supreme commander in my hive. The first of the drones."
"So you decide everything the queen doesn't want or can't decide for herself," he said, assuming only to be reassured, because it seemed logical. There was only one queen, she could not decide on every insignificant thing, and every commander in every social system and in most animals, had his second commander.
"And I have the right to mate with the Queen first."
Carson just winked.
In one month in the emergency room, he pulled more strange things from people's rectum than he could have imagined could be tucked in at all. And with a dose of self-irony and embarrassment, he could well imagine what would fit in there. He had his years of experience. So, if Todd expected to make him nervous about such a statement, he must have been very disappointed. Talking about sex, even eccentric sex, was not something that could embarrass the doctor, but ...
Carson looked down and sat down discreetly in his chair. A while ago, he regretted that the tubes filled so fast, now he would like the last one to fill even faster. Not that he didn't have questions anymore, oh my God, he didn't have hundreds, but the mention of Todd ... with the queen ... or anyone else ... brought a familiar drop in her stomach and growing discomfort under her waist. Rationally, as a doctor, he knew that an abnormal level of adrenal flowed in his body all those weeks because it works with a single, real predator targeting human beings. And he understood that so much adrenaline boosted testosterone, so then just a mention of sex was enough and the body responded as naturally as it was, especially when it was someone who, to some degree ... on a primitive level ... considered Carson at the same time considered attractive and dangerous ... yet ... Inappropriate erections in front of a colleague or patient - and Todd could say both - were embarrassing at best, a problem at worst.
He wasn't sure what it was like with Wraith, but he could clearly see that Todd had noticed his problem. He may not know the exact cause, but his olfactory slits widened as his dolls grew larger and he tilted his head to the side in fascination.
Thank God the tube was full. He set it down and automatically reached for the disinfectant swab to remove the needle, but Todd prevented it. The needle was already out and ended up next to the test tubes. Of course, the Wraith didn't need any care.
Carson cleared his throat slightly and turned back to Todd, who was already systematically buttoning his sleeve.
"Are you the queen's husband?" he asked, because he was interested in the subject, no matter how embarrassed it made him.
"What is the earthly definition of a husband?"
He was half surprised that Todd asked, mainly because he expected him to just end the discussion now and return to work. But well, he was able to put the definition of a husband together and not think about sex.
"People on Earth have many different cultures and religions, and each culture and religion has a slightly different definition of marriage. I can only speak for the culture I know and live in," he began a little extensively, again waiting for the wraith to rise and leave, because he would be bored, but he listened intently to him with his head tilted to the side. "In my culture, marriage is a union of two people who have feelings for each other ... I mean love, romantic feelings ... they share a home, a place to live ... they often have similar views on different social issues. They raise children together and "Yes, of course, they have sexual intercourse on a regular basis. And they are faithful, which means they have no contact with anyone else," he added, recalling the mention that the first trumpet has the right to mate first. This suggested that the Wraith queens might have more partners.
"I see." Todd nodded. "Then yes, I am the Queen's husband, but not at the same time." Giving Carson this vague answer, he finally got up and took an ampoule of blood from his table.
He got up and quickly followed him.
"Do queens have more husbands?"
If Todd had anything to deduce, he didn't mention it. He just started preparing test samples.
"You could say that. There are more drones in the hive who have the privilege of being able to mate with the queen."
"And how many husbands does the queen usually have?"
"It depends on a lot ..." Todd replied vaguely.
"Like?" he insisted.
Wraith snorted and shot him a look of impatience.
"We have work to do, Dr. Beckett. Distraction is not desirable," Todd growled half-mouthed, but he didn't stop his work and didn't look really dangerous. Even Carson didn't even feel a real threat from him, just a slight irritability and something ... something like uncertainty. Either he was really upset that they were so distracted at work (besides, Carson wasn't doing anything at the moment) or he felt embarrassed when he had to answer such clearly intimate questions. The fact was that it was the Wraith who had introduced the speech to the queen, and as far as Carson was concerned, he was already overcoming his embarrassment and was determined to try to find out more.
"I'm sorry, but I have so many questions about the hive, your biology and society, and you're the first and only Wraith willing to answer some of them. I was trying to get some answers in the ancient database," he waved vaguely to the panel on the wall. but there are desperately few of them. Just the basic information that every person born in Pegasus knows. "
Todd snorted and muttered under his breath.
"Typical."
"But if I'm embarrassed by my questions, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything like that, and I won't ask any more questions. It was just professional, scientific curiosity. Do you understand?" he added with an encouraging smile.
Todd made another sound, something between a growl and a sigh, then looked at Carson out of the corner of his eye as he continued to work. How he did it without having to concentrate on work was one of the many things about the Wraith he wanted to understand how it worked. Because they literally excelled in their ability to do more things at once. His theory was based on self-sufficient nerve ganglia, which the Wraith had distributed evenly around the spine, but also around large joints. He couldn't tell how self-sufficient they were, certainly enough to move their severed limbs with some intention. Unfortunately, they had a short lifespan, and as soon as they did not receive enough nutrients through the bloodstream, the number of neuronal cells decreased rapidly.
"I'm not embarrassed, Dr. Beckett, and I realize it was I who offered you the answers," Todd said, finishing the last sample and turning to Carson. Because they were close, close enough to make the Marines nervous in itself , Todd left his hands loose along his body. "The number of drones to which the queen gives her favor depends on how old the queen is, how big the hive is, how many drones there are, how many soldiers or workers are needed, and what the queen's preferences are. It varies greatly, but it can be to say it ranges from two to ... twenty maybe twenty-five drones. "
"Oh," he literally escaped his will. He vowed not to be surprised, but the number was higher than he expected. He meant two, five drones at most. But true, his idea was based on what he knew about human, functioning polygamous relationships. There, in reality, the number of people involved was around five. Large, explicitly harem communities could not be counted entirely, not with regard to the Wraith, because from what he had learned so far, all the 'chosen' trumpeters with the queen were regularly sexually active. In that case, there were just twenty men for one woman too ... oh, Carson, Carson. Get rid of your outdated, misogyny-smelling ideas. The hives are ruled by Queens, really strong women with absolute power. When he looked at it this way, it wasn't that weird, especially if ...
"I admit, twenty is more than I expected," he admitted, and Todd snorted in amusement and narrowed his eyes, so he was probably fine with the whole conversation and less out of tune, "How many drones are in an average-sized beehive?"
"About two hundred," Todd replied without hesitation, so that was information that anyone could easily access.
"Ah, that means the Queen's favorites include only a small fraction of the drones who serve her." In this context, this seemed more acceptable.
"Of course." Todd nodded. "But there is everyone she chooses."
"Available?" he repeated. It sounded so impersonal.
"Every queen's goal is the health and genetic diversity of her offspring. If any of her drones meet the requirements she has set, she mates with him, whether or not she is one of her ... favorites."
"Whether they know each other?"
"A drone who lives in a large hive may never even see his queen."
At that moment, one disturbing thought occurred to Carson. What if his first fear of the idea of one queen and more drones was correct, just aimed at the wrong person. The queens had absolute power. They had a power of mind that could not be resisted by man, let alone the Wraith, who had to be mentally connected to it on some level. And Todd admitted that her influence extended to every aspect of everyone's life aboard the hive.
"What if the trumpet rejects the queen?" he expressed his idea.
"It will not happen." Todd's conviction was strong.
"But what if ..."
"No," he said firmly, in a tone a little irritated as always when he had to repeat something, because Carson didn't understand it the first time. "The purpose of the existence of drones is to mate with the queen at least once in a lifetime in order to pass on their genes. they impressed the queen. Yet most will never succeed. No trumpet will reject the chance of his life. "
He wasn't entirely convinced by Todd's firm confidence, and it wasn't just this doubt that raised his next question.
"In such circumstances, there must be incredible competition between the drones in the hive."
"Hmm," Wrait acknowledged with a grunt and jerked his shoulder into something like a shrug. "Controversy will occur, but it is not as common as you, as a person, would probably expect. Individuals of your race can be aggressive to get what they want. Wraith, on the other hand, know the meaning and power of the hive and understand the role they play in it. They can suppress their ambitions in favor of the collective, and those who are far too ambitious ... and the rights of the first of the drones. "
At this point, more than ever, Carson had no doubt that Todd in particular would have no problem aligning with another, over-ambitious trumpet. Majesty, confidence, strength ... and many other, mostly aggressive superlatives were the words Todd could best describe now. Carson's back froze.
"Has your curiosity been saturated enough, Dr. Beckett?" Todd asked, this time not just with a thorn of impatience. Further delays and issues were clearly out of the question.
"Yes, yes ... for sure. I still have a lot of questions," he said, and Wraith froze, so I'd rather add with all clarity, "but for now I definitely have something to think about. Thank you for the answers. We should get back to work. "
It was clear that Todd appreciated it when he stopped questioning and started researching again. The room plunged into the usual silence, this time uninterrupted by any other accident and, surprisingly, not by waves of Todd's irritability, though they had not yet had any positive results with his blood. It was exactly the kind of silence that suited Carson and allowed him to concentrate well.
He heard Todd's voice again in a few hours, sometimes around two, when he was tired of the border and fainting, he said it must end for today. And, surprisingly, Wraith's complaint about the futility of sleep was not something else, seemingly innocent at first, but insulting at second.
"And you, Dr. Beckett, are you husband's husband?" he asked as he was literally at the lab door. At the point where when the Wraith stopped, all his guards tensed in a nervous almost convulsion. Todd ignored it this time in a simple long look toward Carson, though he would have fun another time.
"What I?" he pointed at himself in surprise. "No. explain anything about homosexuality, the position of gays in society and about same-sex marriage.
Fortunately, even such a confused answer seemed to satisfy Todd's curiosity, as he turned in one smooth motion and, as usual, let himself be led away. And Carson could finally go to bed alone.
A few hours later, just before his alarm rang, Carson woke up with a clear thought in the form of a question; Given the small number of women in Wrait society, did the drones maintain homosexual relationships?