"Shouldn't they be here already?" he nervously asked the two Marines (Doglas and Pete), who of course did not answer. They just looked at each other and then they both shrugged slightly. Of course, they didn't know anything either, because Carson would have noticed if anyone had connected with them. And he would have noticed the alarm just as well if the visit of the Wraith had somehow turned upside down. But that did not relieve him of nervousness and especially of guilt, which he knew had no rational justification. But he couldn't help himself.

The first time the Wraith contacted them and suggested cooperation, he urged Elizabeth to try it, and it turned out badly. This time it was even his own idea! It took him almost three weeks to repeat all the tests on the dead Wraith cells to make sure that he really didn't find out anything more in these conditions, and only then did he decide to suggest that they needed a living Wraith. Alive and willing to participate. That was his condition. After the fiasco with Michael, he didn't want to take any more risks. After all, he was also responsible for that.

So that's why the preliminary feeling of guilt. He was afraid something would go wrong again.

The door finally opened.

Elizabeth came in first, followed by John. He checked with a quick glance that they both looked healthy and as calm as possible, though it was clear that there was a discrepancy between them. Small, more of a disagreement, but he was there. Carson could feel it in them. Before he could focus on it, all his attention was drawn to the Wraith, who entered the laboratory behind them.

All of Wraith's license plates were exactly as John had entered them in his report.

A clearly visible star-like tattoo around the left eye. The hair, which, unlike the other Wraith they had documented, was strangely shaggy and torn. It corresponded to its estimated height and the resulting weight - which, however, was thirty percent lower than John could have estimated. He assumed that if a Wraith looked human, he would have the same bones and weight accordingly. But the bones of the Wraith were a mixture of calcified cartilaginous tissue, very similar in structure to the human cartilage of adolescents, except that strands of chitin fibers were woven into them. Chitin was not present in the human body, but it was lighter than bone, while providing the same strength and, moreover, greater flexibility.

But what John left out of his report was how impressive this Wraith was. Carson just couldn't find a better word for it. He was taller than the Wraith he'd last worked with, also more expansive in his shoulders, but that wasn't what made him impressive. It was something else - something indescribable and difficult to grasp in thought. One of his feelings. The ones that were so difficult to talk about.

Oh, oh and yes. This Wraith was definitely much prettier than any other he could see so closely. Which was an idea he consciously drove away as soon as he felt blood rush to his face. It seemed late, because the Wraith stared straight at him - Holy Mother of God, Carson, don't you know anything about the ultra red spectrum ?! - and his airways slit.

It was just endlessly embarrassing.

"Dr. Beckett, I'd like to introduce you," she hesitated a little, glancing uncertainly at Wraith, "Commander. Commander, this is Dr. Beckett. He's our chief physician and creator of the retrovirus. He's the most professional person to answer you." all your questions. "

"Nice to meet you, Commander," he said, stepping closer, and yes, he almost raised his hand to shake the Wraith. Such a stupid habit, experienced so deeply that it was hard to overcome.

Wraith fixed his amber eyes on him. His gaze was intense, Carson could feel it almost palpably — actually more than that. He was sure she could feel it inside his head, in his mind. In a place he didn't belong. It wasn't the first time he'd felt anything like it, a few times in the past — though, since he'd come to Atlantis, it had happened to him more often. He could clearly feel something that was part of the city itself. Permanent, non-aggressive presence. Inanimate, but alive at the same time. And then sometimes, for example, with John Sheppard, a small jitter of something human as it rubbed against his thoughts. None of this was like this cold, calculating, curious, and thoroughly scientific mind, which was not really hostile, just unwelcome and very foreign.

He resisted.

Wraith raised an eyebrow in sincere surprise. But the expression only lasted a moment before he rearranged it to politeness and nodded slightly.

"Dr. Beckett," he repeated his name emphatically. Maybe that was the right way the Wraith introduced themselves. They just said their names. Maybe they shared more than their names. How much Wraith communication actually takes place without words? He did not know the extent of their extrasensory abilities, but it was clear that they were not limited to creating "ghosts," as the Athosians called them. He had no way of knowing how far they were, given that he had in his hands either dead Wraith, most often only parts of them, or very reluctant prisoners and infant Wraith officers. This rwaith - John called him Todd, which Carson decided to take for granted, if only for his own needsby. So, Todd - could he be willing to answer some of his questions? He hoped so. He definitely planned to try it.

"All right," he began, because no one else seemed to want to do it, "how well do you know molecular biology and genetics?"

"Certainly more in that Wraith than you," Todd replied calmly, looking down on Carson from his good meters of ninety-five.

"Sure," he admitted without blinking, who might know more about Wraith biology than Wraith, "and I'd certainly appreciate all the information you could give me," he said eagerly, to which Todd responded with a loud bleed. slits that sounded like a throaty grunt. Dissatisfaction perhaps? No, it wasn't like that… "Of course I don't think until we work together," he added quickly, if it was disagreement. "The point is that I've devoted a lot of time to detailed studies of Wraith biology, or at least as detailed studies as my limited options have given me," he corrected quickly, realizing that it would be inappropriate to talk to Todd about dead Wraiths as about the samples, "and I mapped the entire Wraith DNA. He even performed several partially successful clinical trials with the first version of the retrovirus…."

"I know the result of that clinical trial," Todd interrupted sharply, especially with the emphasis on the last word.

"We called him Michael," John said from behind.

"Yes, Michael was not a great success," he admitted with a sting of guilt. Michael was more than 'not a great success'. He had created perhaps an even worse monster than the Wraith. At least they killed mainly to feed themselves, while Michael… killed out of revenge and perhaps for pleasure, and that was many times worse than the Wraith hunger he could comprehend. At least as a biologist, a doctor, and a scientist, but hate… He cleared his throat and made him return to why they were here. "But it made me think more about the whole situation and try to figure out where I had made a mistake. In the end, it occurred to me, even though I was able to start a chain reaction that pushed the DNA of the Irat beetle out of the Wrait DNA. In time, the beetle DNA began to re-phased. Without regular doses of retrovirus, there was a back mutation - or at least a partial mutation, "he added for clarification, pausing for a moment to give Todd room to say something. But he watched him in complete calm, literally without blinking. He smiled nervously, only briefly, it was more of a spasm - oh Carson, sometimes you act like a jerk - and continued quickly. "I realized we tried to remove and replace too many chromosomes. That's why it didn't work. But!" he raised his finger consistently, "if we try to rewrite only a small part of the DNA so that the overall picture is preserved as much as possible, we could prevent backward changes. It would be enough to remove only the part of the DNA that forces you to feed on people's vitality and digestive tract. Then you could eat normal food! " he finished enthusiastically. It was his great trump card that he took with great pleasure and waited for the Wraith to react to. He continued to watch him literally without blinking.

"It might work," he said at last, but still without emotion, "but to make just such a small and concrete change would be difficult."

"Undoubtedly," he nodded seriously. "And that's why we need your help. Your knowledge of your own DNA would be -."

"You need live samples and test subjects to continue," Todd interrupted, saying what was true without wrapping up.

"That too," he admitted, half reluctantly. He had no choice but to have a clear and very specific feeling that if he tried to lie to Todd or just cover up what they really needed, their alliance would be doomed to an end.

The Wraith replied in silence, looking away from the wall behind Carson's back. At that moment, he looked like a greenish statue in a cemetery, so motionless. After a few tense moments, he made his first move, toward him, but didn't look at him. At the same time, all the Marines and John moved, raising their weapons and the fuses knocking. As if Todd didn't even notice, he just continued slowly, past Carson — very, very close, so he could smell the air from his cloak and the sweet smell — and on to the lab, to the micron microscope. He laid his hand on it and thoughtfully rubbed its surface several times with his thumb.

"I understand the usefulness of what you offer," he finally broke the silence, then turned back to them, "There are too many of us. The former Guardians were greedy, fed more than necessary and did not take care of what was entrusted to them. Our pastures Sooner or later they will not be able to feed us. When you woke up those who hibernated, you only hastened what was inevitable. " He walked slowly back to them again. "Without new, rich pastures, we must find another way to survive."

There was silence again. The Wraith did not move, standing still in the same place as before, facing the door. He didn't say a word as to whether it was just a consideration or whether he had just accepted their offer of cooperation. People who were in mine embarrassed and asked each other before John said:

"Does that mean we'll work together?"

"Yes."

A simple, one-word answer seemed to relax the atmosphere for a moment. Carson enjoyed the moment and allowed himself to feel excited that he could finally reach his destination. Solve the puzzle and help the millions of people in this galaxy and even the Wraith, who, as Todd just said, were threatened with extinction. But after a brief relief, the tension returned. He could read Elizabeth and John's faces calculating and devising the best way to work together that wouldn't end up like the last one.

He decided to help them.

"In that case, I suggest my team work with one of your scientists."

"It will be myself."

"Okay," he nodded, looking hopefully at Elizabeth, "It would be best if the Commander could stay here, at least for a while. Research can take a long time with help."

"Yes, it could be arranged," Elizabeth agreed without hesitation, which was very gratifying. "But only you and your two men. You will all be under surveillance at all times. You will have no access but to this laboratory and to your rooms, and by that I mean to the common rooms and not to the Control Room at all."

"I'm not interested in a tour of Atlantis. I'm not here on a social visit, but working on research."

"Sure, but I had to say it to be clear that if you try to go anywhere else, we'll consider it a hostile act," Elizabeth said very seriously, with a small threat in the background.

"And I'm not talking about the Hive anywhere near this planet. Believe me, all I have to do is take a look at the trash in orbit," John added.

"Of course. How else." Todd looked and sounded mocking as he said it, even as he tried to cover it up. Carson saw it clearly. "Now, if you're done with vain threats, it's best to start."

The moment he said that, and before Carson could answer anything, the door to Elizabeth and John opened and a Wraith soldier came in. He was not wearing armor, so his unnaturally developed muscles stretched his shirt almost to break. On his wrists and forearms, which were otherwise protected by the armbands, his skin was light white, with only a slight hint of green, and a tangle of blue-green veins — indicating that he had either never removed his armbands or Wraith's skin had reacted intensely to light. It would be fascinating to explore.

Further bustle and the click of fuses disturbed him in his biased examination of the skin of a somewhat oversized Wraith soldier (he never liked the muscular types, especially when he got to the point where it was not only nice, but also healthy.). Elizabeth and John were forced to retreat to the soldier because he did not seem to plan to stop until he was two paces from Todd. Only then did he stiffen.

"Please, Dr. Beckett. Go ahead." Todd motioned to the soldier.

Carson blinked, completely taken aback. Sure, he wanted to start right away, but the calm Wraith soldier waiting to take his samples was a bit of a revelation.

"Um, well," he said uncertainly, looking awkwardly at Elizabeth and John, "Perhaps you would…" He slightly indicated that they should leave.

"Oh, sure," Elizabeth grabbed immediately, but she looked and felt as out of balance as Carson. "We'll go and let you work. Good luck," she added, turning to leave.

Still hesitant, John looked down at the motionless soldier, nodded at Carson, and followed Elizabeth. The door did not even close behind them, as they were replaced by two more Marines. That meant two men for each Wraith, and probably two more, maybe four outside. They were literally surrounded by military force, and yet it did not bring him much reassurance, probably because - he looked at Todd's motionless face with an expression of little interest or curiosity - he felt good about this Wraith. He felt no threat from him. And he had learned to trust his feelings, at least with people.

He turned away from him and went for a non-invasive tissue collection kit, wondering who to invite from the team. Everyone was important and useful, but not everyone was able to work calmly alongside the Wraith. Perhaps it would be best for him to make basic sampling today and introduce the others to the Wraith commander at the beginning of their shift tomorrow. Yes, that seemed reasonable.

He approached the Wraith soldier.

"I need to take samples of blood, skin, saliva and feed fluids. It would be best if you sat down," he asked, but it went unnoticed. The Wraith stood motionless, turning his head to him, making no sound, just nothing. But beside him, where Todd stood, there was an amused snort.

"You're trying unnecessarily, Dr. Beckett. He doesn't understand you."

"Doesn't he know our language?" he asked. That could be a problem. Under normal circumstances, when he treated people, he had no problem communicating with them, even though they spoke different languages. As Rodney would say, it was enough to pull out the sharp, primitive instruments of torture of his intrigue, and everyone knew immediately that he had something to do with the doctor. And, although it was not best, if the patient could not describe his symptoms, the experience taught him a lot - from the way the patient looked, which place he was protecting, how he moved, he could get at least some information. But it was about the people, not the Wraith. He didn't know how a healthy Wraith behaved and how wounded he was, despite the fact that he couldn't see his face through the mask.

"He doesn't know a language," Todd replied, and at that moment the soldier moved, found the nearest chair, and sat down on it.

"He only communicates telepathically!" it occurred to him immediately.

"The word 'communication' is exaggerated."

Todd's answer was so vague, but at the same time mysterious, that it simply had to be bait. He looked up into Wraith's eyes and grabbed him.

"What does it mean?"

Todd didn't answer his question at first, just stared into his eyes before slowly tilting his head to the side.

"I have a suggestion for you, Dr. Beckett; you will teach me to work with your technology," he gestured vaguely toward the devices in the vicinity, "and I will answer your question."

"Okay. That's right." He nodded without hesitation. "You still have to know how to handle the devices, otherwise you would just get in the way."

"Very well," he bared a series of white sharp teeth in a small smile, "Agreed… if I'm not mistaken, it's human custom to seal the deal by shaking the right," he added, extending his feeding hand in the shake offer. Although he wore a glove that completely covered the feeding gap and thus probably prevented feeding, the gesture was enough to cause a stir among the Marines. And for Carson, a flash of uncertainty.

At that moment, Todd laughed and raised his hands.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Beckett. It was just a little Wraith joke."