CHAPTER 3: THE WRAITH HOLIDAY

The female Wraith's voice didn't stop. She just kept talking and talking. And while she kept talking and talking, she dispatched a pair of escort darts to fetch them while McKay had the biggest freak-out of his life.

"What is wrong with you, Major? Are you trying to kill us?" McKay pranced around the chair, sat down, stood up, and checked the readings again.

"Relax, Rodney, they can't see us – we're still cloaked."

"Well, they know that we are here," Teyla said pointedly. "So, maybe we should consider leaving."

"—And we hope you enjoy your temporary stay on Anti-Atlantis Colony 4!"

"Temporary?" McKay rounded off the transmission.

"Well, they are going to eat us, eventually," Sheppard shrugged.

McKay glared at Sheppard as a new stream of transmissions floated through their audio-communications system. This time, the female Wraith, who had just pleasantly finished describing how wonderful Anti-Atlantis was and how proud they were to have the galaxy's only Atlantian Skull-of-Fame exhibit, a superior tribute and display for how much the Wraith of Colony 4 hate the Atlantians, told them in a not-so pleasant voice to lower their cloak.

McKay leaned forwards, flicking on communications so that Sheppard could give a hearty, "No."

"Excuse me? I'm sorry, but it says here you're in an Atlantian Puddlejumper, which means you must be Atlantian. Atlantians are number 1 right now on the Import Register – you fetch a wonderful price on our menus, the most popular dish. We'll have to escort you in, I'm afraid."

"Well, that sounds nice. But we're not actually here," Sheppard explained.

"I'm sorry?"

"No, can you see us?"

"Well…no, but-"

"Because we're not here. We're not Atlantians. I think you've made a mistake."

The female Wraith got a little uncomfortable with this idea and became rather silent for a long period of time.

"Listen," Sheppard leaned back and gestured casually with his hand – really to make a show to Mckay and Teyla, because the Wraith couldn't see him. "You sound like a nice gal, I know it's a bit confusing, but we're not Atlantians. Your readings are probably wrong because you've never met one of us before. Our ship is invisible…and…so are we."

"Invisible?"

"Yes, we're the Invisibonians…of the…Star Wars Galaxy…it's a galaxy…far, far…away."

"I see…"

Rodney buried his face in hands; Teyla was too stunned in shock to know whether this hair-brained scheme was even working.

"So, we're invisible unless we take on a form you can see. Same with our ship. That's probably why your readings are getting all messed up."

The Wraith was silent for an instant, which made Sheppard rather nervous. Frightening enough, he still thought it was a brilliant plan.

"Right you are, that would make a lot of sense, wouldn't it? Well, it certainly explains why you're not on our Import Register – my word, I've never heard of the Invisibonians. And you chose our humble and wonderful world for your first visit into the Pegasus Galaxy, currently in Court undergoing a legal change to Wraith United Galaxy?"

"Yes!" McKay piped up, scared to hear his own voice. "We're uh, here to learn about your culture!" Which was altogether not a lie at all, so his voice was fairly steady.

"Oh, that's so lovely to hear. We don't often get vacationers of other species, maybe the Dracarins and the Yoodlies, but that's really it."

"Oh really?" McKay forced a laugh, reflecting on the strangeness of the conversation, "Why is that?"

"Well, dear me, we consume everyone else! Are you edible, then?"

"No! No, not at all," Sheppard nodded. "We're invisible, right? Nothing to eat there."

"Right, right, makes sense."

"But, when we come to your world, we'll have to take form. We aren't...used to taking forms in this galaxy and we currently only know how to do the human-form – but it's just a mirage," Sheppard emphasized.

"Right, so not edible. I see. Well, I'll just issue you a couple permits for you, then, and you'll be all set. Just wear the badges around your necks and nobody will give you any trouble – I've got it all worked out on my end here."

"Our compliments, thank you!" Sheppard grinned deviously. "What's your name?"

"Not a problem! My name is Betty. Our escorts will take you to the Vacation Sector of the planet. How will you be paying?"

"Er…"

They exchanged glances with each other. So they were learning that the Wraith had a currency…and vacationing…and restaurants with Atlantians as the number 1 choice on the menu.

"Wraith dollars comes in the form of digitized credit or people from the Import Register – Atlantians are worth the most."

"Well," Sheppard started, "We don't have either."

"Oh." The word "oh" has so many fascinating uses.

"Well, we're new to this galaxy. We didn't know about any of it."

"We do have another system for outworlders," The female Wraith named Betty began. "If you can provide us with information about a planet with a fresh supply of people, you would be provided our most luxurious accommodations."

Mckay tried to vividly, without success, try to imagine what Wraith luxury would look like. Then a strangely unrelated, though understandably connected, imaginary picture popped into his mind of a cocktail bar in the Caribbean playing host to gambling, smoking, and drinking Borg, Wraith, Sith Lords, and Gou'alds.

"Darth Vader was there, too – playing the jazz piano in the corner," Sheppard's voice pulled McKay out of his daydreaming trance.

"-What?" He snapped.

"The cocktail bar?" Sheppard blinked, as if McKay was being really daft about the whole thing – which made no sense because the entire conversation was daft to begin with.

McKay – get this –freaked out. "Are you reading my thoughts? Oh my god, you're reading my mind! How did you do that!"

"I didn't! – but let's get back to the mission, shall we?" Sheppard imitated his earlier statement, punching the communication buttons again. I don't actually know if they're buttons, really, but it's just so much harder to describe someone gently guiding their fingers up or down the consol to initialize the controls that don't really look like they're there but are! Oh, they are.

"I do not think this is what Dr. Weir had in mind…" Teyla said under her breath, looking between the two. If only the jumper window would implode.

"We know of a planet full of people," Sheppard announced to Betty the dispatcher Wraith.

Teyla and McKay shot him incredulous looks. How could Major Sheppard, that compassionate sweetheart, always out to save the world, betray a planet of people to the Wraith?

"The Genii. Hate them bastards."

"Oh, but we already know of them. Their villages are small, not worth – "

"Did you happen to look underground?"

"Er, no?"

"Well, you should. They're all there."

"Well! This is good news, indeed! Escorts are now flanking your invisible ship and have your Colony 4 Vacation Passes ready to go! Your payment has been submitted to the Colony 4 Wraith Government –"

"You have a government?" Rodney interrupted, intrigued.

"Well, Gerald, he's just one Wraith…but still…the government no less! Tells us all what to do. Enjoy your stay!"

And with that cheery end, the jumper followed the strange looking Wraith escort ships down towards a flashy part of the planet. The entire while the team wondered if this was the craziest thing they'd done yet. They were about to vacation on a Wraith planet. They could potentially be caught and killed – but they faced that possibility in every episode – er, mission – so was this really any different? No, I think not. Besides, if they just picked boring run of the mill missions, you'd tire of wanting to hear the stories and just shut them off. Then Sheppard and the gang would be out of a job and out on the street, dying of starvation under the baking sun. So, it's either go to Wraith planet for vacation or be burnt to a crispy cinder under a vicious sun, while dying of starvation and many multiple, horrible diseases with only a broken accordion to keep them company. I thought so, too.

Wraith Vacation, here we come!