Chapter 5: Challenge

Disclaimer: the Stargate franchise and aliens that they created are the property of MGM. This is just a fictional story made out of fun and has no profit or commercial value derived from it.

You there? Are you awake? It is urgent. The inseparable duo called out to her mind while she was resting.

What is so urgent? It is not even the Moon set. She grumbled.

The young one you toyed with yesterday. His foremother is also Gryphon. Our line. The duo replied.

You call that urgent? She was not happy.

No. He is in trouble. There was a fight outside our laboratory just now. He accidentally walked into the middle of two blades. He is badly injured. We are in feedlots. The rest of the new ones are not letting him feed. Help. They pleaded.

I am coming. She was definitely very irritated. Why should she care about a newcomer? If he cannot defend himself on the Hive, he was dead anyways. However, she enjoyed the company of the incorrigible inseparable duo and derived a benefit with association. Knowledge. They must have a reason to keep the young one. It better be a good one.

Time to engage in wraith officer mode. She threw on her black Wraith uniform. Her finger armor was snapped on with a vehemence. Daggers. Checked. Her hair hastily bunned up for a fight. And ran through the corridors towards the feedlots. A fire was raging inside her.

She saw the inseparable duo outside the feedlots and growled at them. Both stepped away. They had been in a fight too. She entered the feedlots to see three blades taking their turns kicking a badly battered cleverman. Two looked at her coolly. They seen her around but never in the state like this.

What is the meaning of this? She growled at the nearest one with the dredlocks. Picking on a weakling?

He snarled at her. Not your problem. He knew that there was reason that food could be allowed to wander about freely. A higher rank officer might be a backer as it was on his hive. Injuring her could earn him a challenge with her backer. He may be no match for a higher ranked officer. Unless she attacked him first, he would be in trouble.

My problem now. She snarled back getting into position. It was one on one always. Not three on one. The one on the floor was almost dead already. By right, she should ignore it. She just did not like the look this wraith was giving her. Fighting in a feedlot and winning did confer an advantage for a while despite the risk. Even within feedlots, there was a hierarchy and the only way to jump the queue amongst blades was to publicly demonstrate sheer brutality. Most will take care to avoid a highly aggressive wraith for self preservation. These three may give her feeding issues in space, judging by the way they treated the weakling.

You look like food. You smell like food. He took a sniff at her and showed her his feeding hand. If she attacks first, he will have legitimate excuse to feed on her. Fighting food tend to be tastier.

That was it. She really loathed the look he was giving her. She snapped and engaged him in all fury. They were throwing each other on the walls. The fight was going into the corridor. Other blades came to look.

A challenge has been accepted. Feedlots. Fight Fight Fight. There was a telepathic echo in the area as more came to watch.

Her former Second Commanding officer was passing by and heard it. He shoved a path through the crowd aside. They moved aside. He, a high ranking male, took position of a referee in a challenge. The two who were kicking the battered cleverman quickly moved aside.

The dredlocked blade took a swipe at her as she jumped away deftly and armlocked him. His back shoved her into the wall. She growled and bit him hard. He hissed and tried to slam her into the wall. She tightened her grip as he clawed at her bleeding arms. She scratched him across the neck in ferociousness as she release the lock. His neck was now bleeding profusely and he held on to it staggering. She looked at the Second Commanding officer. He signaled for her to finish. She lunged at the now weakening blade and slamming her right hand onto him draining him.

Show no mercy in a challenge. Kill or be killed. Well done. Her former Commander was there, clapping in satisfaction now. The blades had quickly made way for him. The fight was over. She won. The crowd dispersed as two worshippers appeared and dragged the husk out.

She had now won the right to feed in peace for now. They left her in the feedlock with the limp figure of badly battered cleverman. She fed and left as the inseparable duo supported his barely conscious broken body as he struggled to feed by instinct on the nearest cocoon. She came. She won. She fed. She has moved up the feeding hierarchy, judging by the number of spectators. She deserved sleep for that.

Moon rise. Her data tablet had no messages. She looked sleepily at it. The event at the previous Moon set exhausted her. The Queen heard of the matter and was so amused that she allowed her to rest. Not that the Queen cared who survived. It was the thought of the blade trying to feed on her and got fed upon instead. Survival of the fittest and cleverest. The Queen had no time to worry about stupid impulsive young blades who underestimated their opponent. Those only made good weapons fodder. She deserved that Wraith uniform.

She was happily dozing on her warm bed under the layers of soft furs.

You there? Are you awake? The inseparable duo again.

She sat up and growled. Do not tell me that your friend has got into in the middle of another fight AGAIN. I have no time to look after a baby.

His body is barely able to regulate warmth. His stores were only adequate for regeneration of essential parts. He is too cold. They pleaded. Again.

Go sleep with him then. She replied.

We tried. He is still too cold. Your body radiates more warmth. The other option is to drag a worshipper in. But the available ones seem to have issues with the cool temperature too. We tried. She did no good. Both ernestly replied.

Bring him to my quarters then. She resigned herself to fate. The duo seem too determined to keep this one alive and her mind will never hear the end of it if something untoward happened.

His eyes woke to an unfamiliar room. He blinked and looked around. The room was sparse. There was a clean black leather wraith uniform with reptilian accents on its collar was hanging on the wall in front of him. A large wooden chest at the corner. Two data tablets strewn on the table. He was warm snuggled under the soft furs...then he realised his coat and top were taken off. They were folded neatly on the chair beside the bed. They smelled cleaned. The scent of the room was unusual. Male wraiths tend to emit a musky scent. The room smelt more unusual but pleasant. Probably a blade's room. The bed was so comfortable with a warmth. He felt the sheets. It was as though someone had slept next to him.

The light was filtering across the room. And then the door opened. It was the inseparable duo. They came to see him. He whiffed their scent. It was too different from the room scent. It had to a room of another but he only knew two persons other than the odd wraith worshipper he met. They were in front of him. So whose room was it? His eyes started to show panic. He was new to their Hive.

They reassured him gently. He was fine in a close ally's room. Their ally was on duty and would not mind him recuperating. From them, His new Hive ship, as he found out, was not like his old Hive ship. He was sent to one where others will fight and challenge daily for feeding and positions. It was not as bad with the newcomers who were exchanged. Life on this Hive ship would be tougher than his old Hive ship. His mother is the Queen of his old Hive ship and she favored her children over others. The new Queen had a different way of running her Hive. It was the survival of the fittest and cleverest. There were seldom any favors shown. He had to be more mindful and cautious of where he was going. Stepping in the middle of a status challenge was a straight route to the feedlots where he will be left for dead. The end result would be most likely dead.

He was also advised to form allies to survive. Being a cleverman, he was generally viewed as weaker than the blades. He nodded. They channelled the conversation towards the research they would be doing. The Queen had assigned him to their laboratory which was a relief. They were discussing the details of how to improve certain relay pathways and the algorithm of transport beam.

Have my quarters become a meeting place for scientists? I should apply to be a cleverman. He froze at the recognition of a familiar telepathic signature. Fire burning presence.

Yes. But you are only good at planetary systems. Your coding skills are still suboptimal. Like an iratus on an interface. The inseparable duo chorused back.

Still superior to your combat skills. An iratus could probably fight better than you. The familiar presence was growing stronger. Who called me up in the middle of my sleep to fight?

We did. Your status at the feedlot is higher now. You should thank us for the opportunity. The duo replied cheerfully to their ally.

Flattery gets you no where. Your new cleverman is alive, is he not? And should I thank you for being a bed warmer to him? . The presence was strongest outside the door. He took a deep breath. He was going to meet the mystery blade.

He was however not prepared for the sight of what he saw. The door opened...wraith worshipper? No, it cannot be. The human woman appeared in full wraith uniform. A partial glimpse of a tattoo on the side of her neck showed under her unfastened collar. Her eyes were now fiery instead of heavily subdued when he first met her in the ship. She stopped and looked at him as her wide brown eyes widened with increasing fiery.

YOU! They both pointed accusingly at each other. The inseparable duo were looking in surprise at the unexpected reactions of both parties.

Challenge. It never ends.