"Almost there!"

The frantic yell died away into nothingness.

Gasping, forty-year-old scientist Foster found himself sitting upright upon a hard, dark surface. Squinting into the dimness, he momentarily felt as though he were falling, as he had not quite gotten his bearings. The sweat that had beaded and run down his face was dried in his sideburns. Foster looked around frantically as the floor stopped moving. Patches of dark blue light, blending into a dirty color where they mixed with amber filtered through what resembled a giant, decaying butterfly's wing. The ceiling was in total darkness. Foster slowly lay back on his elbows. What in the world was he doing inside a hive cell? There could be only one reason. Where was the rest of the team? After one failed attempt, Foster painfully got to his feet. His weapons and tools were missing. As he stepped backwards, something soft made him stumble.

"Major," he gasped. He dropped into a crouch and pulled the unconscious man's shoulder to turn him over on his back. "Major," he hissed, shaking the man, then feeling for a pulse. Melbrick was definitely alive, and no injuries were to be seen. "Darok? Ritha?" Foster sprang over the major and reached out for what appeared to be a coat, but the garment was empty. "Darok's vest," Foster murmured, his heart racing.

"Where are we?" rasped a voice. Melbrick began coughing.

Foster spun around. "We were culled," he said quietly, getting to Melbrick's side and loosening his collar. "Any pain, sir?"

"Bruised. Broken shin? It's a guess. My right leg is killing me," Melbrick said. "What happened? Last thing I remember was a white flash."

"Stun bomb."

"Know how long it's been?" Melbrick jerked as he tried to sit up.

"Easy, easy, we really went flying," Foster said, gently feeling the man's right leg.

"Yeah, and we are again. In a hive ship."

"I have no idea where it is located, but maybe we can hack our way out of here," Foster said, searching the major for any other serious injuries.

Melbrick bit his lower lip hard as Foster examined his leg further.

"Yeah, your shin's broken."

"No one hacks out of a hive, you know," Melbrick grimaced.

"Always a first time," Foster said. "Darok's gone, so is Ritha."

Melbrick looked around. "Any idea where they were taken?"

"Nope."

"Great. I thought the planet was uninhabited, that's what made it such a fascinating place to be."

"Could have been anything that got us. The attackers had long white hair though, not to mention we're in one of these slimy places, I think we can guess."

"So much for all that about a treaty," Melbrick muttered. "Come on, help me sit up."

"Easy, easy does it," Foster said. "I'll get you over near the wall where you'll be more comfortable. After I brace your leg with something."

"There's nothing I can see that would be useful for that," Melbrick said through gritted teeth.

"Not sure I should move you, sir."

"Come on! Put me against a vertical surface so I can at least be upright."

Foster obliged by gently and slowly lifting the man under his shoulders and pulling him toward one of the dark walls.

"You're acting spry for someone who went through the ragdoll effect," Melbrick observed, grimacing.

"Acting," Foster said. "I've got a killer bruise in my gut."

"Any internal bleeding?"

"If there is, I'm not concerned. There you are, sir. Don't try to move."

"Wonder what happened to Ritha and Darok."

Foster shook his head as he looked up and around at their surroundings. "I don't know. Maybe they're in a separate cell." He began groping around in the dark for supplies. "The wraith took everything. Our canteens, too."

"They would. Wonder what they want with us."

"Only hungry wraith cull," Foster mused. He sighed, fear welling up within him as he peered out between the thick black tendons that crossed what was the doorway to the cell. "Not a sign of life, no sounds."

"Try calling out," Melbrick suggested.

"Think I should?"

"If Ritha and Darok are in another cell along the same corridor they may hear us. Yes, there's a risk a wraith will hear us and give us heck."

Foster let out his signature whistle that Ritha always immediately responded to, but not a sound greeted it in return. He shook his head. "Maybe they're still out cold or they're not even in the vicinity."

"Ok. How long were we out?"

"No idea," Foster said. "Feels like we were probably sedated. Oh great, my watch is gone."

"These guys are pickpockets," Melbrick muttered. "So's mine."

"They're thorough."

"Too much so," Melbrick said, his eyes piercing the darkness.

"I haven't ruled out that we're probably next on the menu," Foster said. "By the way, I think those guys took the opportunity to make sure we can't be tracked."

"No surprise there," Melbrick said. "Let's try to find a way out of here."

"I don't have my scalpel. And we're not going to chew our way through this tendon stuff."

"There has to be some way to pry those doors apart."

"Wonder why they took Darok and Ritha and left us."

"First come, first served," Melbrick muttered.

"The wraith aren't supposed to need to cull anymore," Foster said. "I know only a third of the galaxy has been fully affected by the retrovirus, but…that mountain, remember the growths? Did we disturb something?"

"Likely. Very likely. Somebody's private shrine to some unknown god. We've been condemned for sacrilege."

"It's probably more complicated than that."

"Do you know what sarcasm is?"

Foster looked around. "I've been in a cell like this once before. Takes some getting used to." He went to the door again and peered out of the open spaces framed in black, bone-hard substance. "Disgusting. Cool, but disgusting."

"Not as bad as being fed on."

Foster looked back at the major. "They wouldn't dare if we convince them we've taken the Hoffan drug."

"I don't think they're going to buy that, they'll assume we think they've been affected by the retrovirus. If they really have been. It's too bad we don't have some of that along, we could infect this hive from the inside out. Course, they'd kill us anyway." Melbrick sagged against the wall. "Well, we can't just sit around."

"Looks like we have no choice."

"Looks like," muttered Melbrick. "I'm thinking."

"Same here." Foster frowned at the giant black webbing. "Maybe I'm thin enough to fit through one of these window frames."

"If you get stuck, guess who's not pulling you out?"

Foster shrugged as he reached up to grasp one of the irregularly shaped bars. "Fair enough." He measured his shoulder width and held his hands up to compare the size. He looked back at Melbrick. "Maybe if I twist and turn a little…"

"You're not exactly a contortionist."

"Knew I should have taken lessons," Foster muttered. "Guess my original idea is a good one after all."

"You'd better hope that stuff tastes good," Melbrick said.

Foster yanked hard on part of the webbing. "Strong as an exoskeleton but I might give it a try." But he began searching his pockets for anything that could be used as a cutting tool. Melbrick did the same, albeit much more slowly.

"Well, there's always this." Foster crouched down to undo one of the buckles on his boots. Grunting, he twisted and yanked at it until it came free. "Got it."

Melbrick just watched him.

"It looks small, but maybe I can scratch my way through that stuff."

"Wake me when you're finished," Melbrick growled.

After three tries of scraping at a tendon, the buckle tip crumpled up and clattered to the ground. Foster swore. "Argh! New protocol," he said, retrieving the useless piece. "Always store extra pocketknives inside boot flaps."

Melbrick looked up at the tall webbed door. "Try climbing it. See if there's any weaknesses up top. I would expect the most fortified areas would be where humans can reach from the ground. Very narrow possibility, but it's worth taking a look at."

Foster shrugged. "Ok." He had just gotten one foot upon a tendon when he heard a deep growl. He leaped back.

The shadow that suddenly appeared through the papery webbing was tall. Melbrick blinked and a hideous wraith face was suddenly framed in one of the higher openings. After a moment or two of heavy breathing and snarling, the wraith turned away.

The men held their breath as the heavy footsteps receded.

Foster sighed. "Shall I try again?"

"Make sure the coast is clear this time."

"I did. That thing appeared out of nowhere." Foster cautiously strode to the doorway and attempted to go up the angled and horizontal tendons hand over hand. He'd only gotten a few feet up when he dropped to the ground and scrambled back to the wall. "Drones," he whispered. "They showed up finally."

"They always do," Melbrick snarled, as the doors slowly began sliding apart.
...

The glyphs were dark dots in their confines. From the center of the giant ring, whispers of other worlds echoed hollowly before departing from the boundaries and dissipating.

"There's something very wrong with this picture," McKay said, his chin resting in his hand as he stood before the stargate. "You don't say," he answered himself. "You don't say."

He tried to shut out the general noise of the command center. How was it that he had been at loose ends all this time? How was it that Teyla, the slayer of Queen Death, had not immediately offered to read his thoughts in order to glean what she could regarding the unexplained communication he'd experienced? And how was it that the shield had been lowered in accordance with a GDO signal and yet Woolsey, Sheppard, and Ronan, not to mention the others present in the command center at the time of Melbrick's update, had not seemed overly concerned?

McKay had questioned everyone who had been there at the time and most people seemed to find it interesting that an alarm had not been sounded not to mention their accounts of experiencing sudden brain fog. There was something else he was missing. The sudden onset of forgetfulness that seemed to be sweeping Atlantis had something to do with that fake transmission, he was sure of it. McKay's mental powers were fully charged once again. He and a science team had followed the path of the spread by tracking down people suffering slight amnesia, and it seemed to be moving steadily through the city without creating a lockdown. It was estimated that at the rate it spread and disappeared, it would be gone after another twelve hours.

"Could be a virus?" McKay sighed. "Doesn't make any sense." He ran a hand through his hair. "Ok. Focus. Got a lot of things going on at once. Is whatever it is related to that pathogen material? But that doesn't make sense either since none of us had been to the planet yet." He tapped around on his tablet. "Behaving like a common cold. Everyone catches it, and everyone recovers in a day and a half." He tilted his head back and stuffed his right hand into a pocket. "And it started when the shield was lowered. Hm. Only Sheppard and Ronan seemed to get that something was a little off with the major. Rate of exposure?" McKay began to pace back and forth. "Something that leaves the mind open to suggestion." He hit his comm. "Carson, you have anything for me?"

"Aye, Rodney, good timing, you must be improving those abilities of yours," Beckett answered.

"Just tell me something I don't already know."

"Whatever created that brain fog…"

"Why didn't the city detect it? I mean, I have the alarm system fully checked over, it doesn't go off for no reason but this time nothing happened."

"I'm not sure whether or not whatever this is could trigger a lockdown. Someone's planned something very carefully. I'm not sure we can blame any microbes or nanites, all your brain scans are clean."

"Great," McKay said. "And no, I am not telepathically linked to the med bay. Hey, what about Teyla? She's got the same abilities I do."

"I thought of that Rodney, but it doesn't seem to be a factor. Zelenka himself had to stop his work for a bit."

"So that explains why Sheppard thought he saw Melbrick when in reality he and everyone else watching were hallucinating."

"Exactly. And how was the wraith on the other end to know who and how many people would be looking at a transmission screen or listening to the audio? I think we'll have to theorize an entity is responsible."

"You know what, everything that's gone on so far is just…at loose ends."

"You might want to take a break. I'm not surprised I had to remind you to send the rest of your data to Todd after he left."

"Gee, maybe because I forgot," McKay sighed. "Ok, I'm not standing around here anymore. I need to talk to Woolsey."

"I was just reviewing his results. He's here with Sheppard."

"Coming to you now," McKay said, striding toward the stairway. He let go of the comm and took the journey through the corridors to the medical bay.

Woolsey and Sheppard were deep in conversation beside Beckett's computer station. The commander looked up, his eyes dark.

"Well there was definitely something sent through that wormhole to us in order to attack our brains. Now where is it?" McKay looked shrewdly at Woolsey. "I'm going to be honest with you. What else prompted you to call us back so quickly after we searched P6L-266?"

Woolsey smiled grimly. "My mind was slipping. Something was different, and as I tried to hold on to those strands of concentration I usually do, Sheppard reported in about your discoveries. What he mentioned caused me to make a connection between wraith-related activities and Ritha Guider, the only female in Atlantis who seems to think the wraith are more intriguing and worth her time than the Go'auld ever were to Jackson."

"Yeah but, how did you remember all that?" McKay said in some bewilderment. "You had dismissed her from your concerns a year ago."

"Outwardly perhaps. But I had kept up with her background checks and maintained that she might be a valuable or a not-so-valuable asset in the future."

"Yeah but…" McKay stopped. "Ok, so you got us back here while you could still trust yourself to keep the critical stuff in mind."

"It was a strange moment, I'll admit. Twice I could not remember where I was. It only lasted a few seconds, but I knew that we needed to investigate Ritha. I didn't immediately contact Beckett about how I was feeling because…well, you know why. Something affected our minds for a time. And I want to know what it is."

"Ok, so for the sixth time we rewrite the protocol around the GDOs."

Woolsey nodded. "I was looking over the reports from your last visit to the planet. Todd gave us an incredible amount of data."

"Wait, has he gotten in touch with you?"

Woolsey shook his head. "I am allowing him forty-eight hours maximum between updates. In the meantime, AR-9 returned, and naturally, long range scanners showed nothing."

"Whatever the wraith are up to, they know how to cover their tracks," Sheppard said. "You know what, this is so old, I think I can predict their next move."

"It feels like a setup," Woolsey said. "If the wraith assumed that humans would avoid the planet as it was known to be culled very frequently, they were much mistaken. They must have known that anyone could show up at some point."

"Could they have been tracking Atlantis, hoping for some people to arrive so they could snatch them?" McKay said.

"I don't see how. What do they want? Or, as you put it, maybe AR-6 was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You know what, after everything we've been observing, I highly doubt that," McKay said. "And Todd mentioned that he was there at P6L-266 once after a false lead. A wraith rival's way of getting back at an enemy. "Hey, fast food joint everyone!" And then it's found empty. Coincidence?"

"His memory certainly seems to have held up," Woolsey said.

"Because he's Todd," Sheppard said in a tone that sounded like he was saying it for the hundredth time.

"Yes, well," Woolsey said. "I should have asked him if he detected anything while he was here."

"Or maybe whatever it is didn't dare attack a wraith," Sheppard said. "On the other hand, if he felt anything, and didn't tell us, I'm gonna be real upset."

"We'll deal with that when he reports back. Now, our biggest concern for the moment is if the wraith attack the minds of AR-6, a great deal could be compromised," Woolsey said. "Hopefully they have kept Ritha alive; we need to find her. She could be a ticking time bomb."

"Guess we're at a crossroads," Sheppard said. "We've never left a team behind before and we aren't doing it now. But it seems like we are."

"I still don't think flying the city over that planet is a wise choice," Woolsey said.

"Oh, I missed out on that conversation," McKay interjected.

"Yeah, I know, this could all be a trap," Sheppard said. "Todd better have something good for us or I'll seriously reconsider sharing that ZPM."

"We are all doing what we can," Woolsey said. "And quite frankly, I don't fancy having my mind tampered with."

"I'm with you there," Sheppard said. "We weren't exactly…ourselves. I bet Todd secretly enjoyed that."

"We are ourselves now." Woolsey said grimly. "When the signal came through, I felt there was an emergency, but after the shield was lowered, nothing really seemed to matter as much, not to any of us. And that is not going to happen again."

"Insulted, Sherlock?" McKay said.

"When we believe that we are entirely immune to attacks from the outside, that can, over time, lower our awareness," Woolsey said.

"If anyone thinks some wraith scum is going to get away with sabotaging our greatest weapons, that is to say, our brains, you don't know me," McKay said to general thin air.

"Hold on, leave some for the rest of us to shoot at," Sheppard said. "Somebody out there doesn't like what we're doing, maybe they think we're out to attack them because they don't know that the retrovirus isn't the Hoffan drug."

"That's what I was thinking," McKay said.

"We already anticipated protestors," Woolsey said. "But it doesn't add up, the human food supply was dwindling, so why wouldn't all the wraith try to survive by allowing the retrovirus to run its course? Someone may really be starting an uprising."

"There's one in every galaxy," Sheppard muttered.

"Clean as a whistle." Beckett sat back, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, commander, but the best I can give you is that whatever created that illusion you all experienced didn't leave any footprints I can track, visible or otherwise."

"This is just weird," Sheppard said.

"Well, it certainly slowed down my reaction time getting you some critical information about Ritha's data banks," Beckett said.

"It's not a concern anymore, what's done is done," Woolsey said. "Forget about it."

Sheppard raised his eyebrows.

Woolsey looked sideways at him. "You know what I mean."

"I didn't go through them as thoroughly as I would like, which is why I'm redoing the process," Beckett said.

"Have you accounted for everyone that experienced that illusion?" Sheppard said.

"Oh yes," Beckett answered, swapping out data crystals. "Teyla experienced no hallucinations. She was in her quarters at the time of the transmission."

"This was probably something invisible," Sheppard said. "If the attackers captured and released a being somewhat like a Sekkari, we're in trouble. It could be spying and relaying everything we're talking about."

"If it had a job to do, it failed miserably," McKay said. "Why wasn't the illusion sustained? Why are we now aware of our own previous brain fog?"

"It doesn't add up," Sheppard agreed. "I think we should comb the city again."

"What if it really is a Sekkari?"

"Not possible in my experience," Sheppard said. "Nothing can stop or contain those things. They didn't seem to wish us any harm the first time, but that doesn't mean they aren't working for the wraith now."

Woolsey frowned. "That would be insane if they were. Of course, we don't know much about their race. Todd dismissed the notion, but if a Sekkari is indeed trapped here, we need to find it."

"What if it left?" McKay said. "What if it gave us brain fog and left later on?"

"It's possible," Sheppard said. "But how in the world could the wraith get their hands on one of those aliens in the first place? That'd be pretty insane."

"I dunno," McKay said. "Ask Todd?"

"He has enough to do," Sheppard said. "Besides, I'd like to investigate this on our own first."

"Maybe there's an entity related to the Sekkari."

Beckett was silent, still scrolling through data.

"We really don't know what we're dealing with," Woolsey said. "I suggest we narrow down the possibilities. Nanites, microbes, links, brain signatures, Sekarri, wraith… any other ideas?"

"Not a gaseous compound," McKay said. "It would have affected everyone here."

"Can we get to that later?" Sheppard said, leaning on the computer station, and counting on his fingers. "Ok, so we've gotten our minds scrambled because of an infiltration after the shield was lowered, P6L-266's got a pathogen infection dying on a rock, AR-6 is gone, Ritha's under suspicion, life signs aren't available, and Todd gets all mysterious and tight-lipped at the last second."

"Yes, will someone please tell us what's going on?" McKay said to thin air.

"We will regroup, sit tight and wait. I am still not landing the city just yet," Woolsey said.

"Why not?" Sheppard said. "We've been flying around for ages, we can still track the progress of the virus from a planet, you've set up enough beacons by now."

"I think we should be prepared for the need to move quickly," Woolsey said. "Until Todd gets back to us, there isn't much more we can do besides continue the search by rifling all these files."

"I'm nearly done sifting through them," Beckett said. "I can't believe it. Ritha really expanded her knowledge."

"How does it compare to our own?" Woolsey said.

Beckett's blue eyes were wide as they roved back and forth over the screen. "It's a lot. Oh my word."

"Let's see," Sheppard said, coming around to see the images.

"She can code. In wraith. Great Scotland."

Sheppard put his hands on his hips. "Doesn't that beat all."

"Exactly," Beckett said. "This is unbelievable." He pulled the data crystal out and reached for another that was sealed in a dark red case. "Teyla found this one by accident inside a closet. Ritha had reinforced a secret compartment, it wasn't easy to pry open." Beckett slid the crystal into place. "Right. I've already covered the set about the override. This is the last data bank. John, why don't you take care of looking through it? We need people reading this stuff and quite frankly, I want to devote as much time as possible to everything concerning the retrovirus."

"You got it," Sheppard said. "Since I'm bored enough to anyway."

"Flashdrive?"

"I'll pass, I like tablets. And run that through a translator, I'm not so good with the Ancient derivatives."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't forget that." Beckett smirked. "Rodney, you can take care of examining some of the others. I've sorted out everything by data type. Historical, dialectal, biological and medical, retrovirus, and personal. John, you're getting the personal one because we experts have got to tackle the others."

"Mmm. You know, I don't really read diaries unless they're mine," Sheppard said. "Not my thing."

"Seriously?" McKay said. "Did I ever tell you what my sister did after she caught me reading hers? And the time I added to it…"

"Over a couple of beers. I'll enjoy it more," Sheppard said. "Is it really necessary to read Ritha's diary?"

McKay nudged him. "See? You've got the snoopy bug."

"Oh great, thanks doc. Last time I checked, curiosity killed the cat." Sheppard looked over at Woolsey.

"It needs to be done," the commander said, his glasses reflecting bluish script. "Based on the fact that this was the most carefully concealed, it's likely to contain critical information."

"Maybe it's just her last will and testament. Or her time with SG Command."

"At least we'll know."

Sheppard pursed his lips. "Doesn't mean I'll enjoy it."

"You really haven't lived," McKay said.

Beckett reached over, grabbed five crystals and held them back over his shoulder. "For you, Rodney."

"Subject matter?"

"All dialectal."

"Piece o' cake." McKay hefted the stack. "Guess I should get the lab ready for when Todd returns."

"We'll need him to check all the override files and see if he can't uncover any flaws," Woolsey said. "I'm calling Keller back here as well. She has more knowledge than most of us regarding the virus, of course. Well, not counting Ritha," he added as an afterthought.

"Recall," McKay said a little jokingly, before leaving.

Sheppard half-heartedly nodded as he watched unintelligible coding zipping vertically up the screen.

Woolsey turned to leave. "I'll be in my office."

"Right," Sheppard said. "And I'll be in the lounge. Reading. But I'd rather be in the jumper."

"I haven't seen Ronan for a while," Beckett said.

"I think he's sparring. Especially after our last excursion."

"Ah. Almost finished," Beckett said. A couple of minutes passed in silence. "Ok, there you are." He returned the crystal back to its case and handed a tablet to Sheppard.
...

Far, far away, across the reaches of the Pegasus Galaxy, rested a statis pod situated deep within a singular, giant ship. The hive was no ordinary cruiser, but one of the largest that had ever been grown. It's gray-purple hues were barely visible against the star-sprinkled blackness of the deep space it dominated. Thousands of tiny gold pinpricks glowed along its edges like eyes keeping a steady watch. Without a sun or planets to offset its imposing appearance, the ship was, for the time being, master of space.

Far away, in Atlantis, John Sheppard seated himself in the lounge, a hot drink on a table beside him, and his tablet at the ready. He still felt a mite uncomfortable about prying into a journal, but what choice was there when Ritha's secrets might prove to be of great value? Sheppard settled himself comfortably and began to read the whitish script upon its blue background. Every few minutes, he scrolled upward.

The dark reddish stasis pod was as silent as a grave.

Sheppard was now slumping in the armchair, his eyes still roving back and forth across the screen he could not look away from. Priority data entry fifty-seven spoke of long, tired hours spent watching three feedings, filling test tubes, and incidents including Beckett's outburst of frustration at the fact that the retrovirus was nearly complete but still, something was missing and why wouldn't it just come together. Sheppard stirred. Carson Beckett must have really been tried that day.

The silhouette of the female within the pod was barely visible, for the glow behind her was dim. However, behind that dullness, a slight grimace twisted the female face, an expressive remnant of the savage hiss she had given as she was jammed unwillingly into the confines of the cocoon.

Sheppard's facial expression transformed multiple times during those three fateful hours he spent studying.

A set of broken lines had dried into dull, red scabs upon the back of the woman's right hand. The wraith who had taken her had also taken a few quick punches to the teeth. He had not bothered to restrain her after removing her from the dart, for he had assumed she would continue to sleep. But Ritha Guider was not part of a recon team for nothing.

Sheppard's eyebrows knitted deeper and deeper, to be replaced by a quiet look of something between wonder and confusion. As he took in word after word, his pulse quickened. He slowly leaned back and rested his head upon the back of the armchair. His thumbs gently moved up and down the sides of the tablet. Eventually, he reached for his intercom. "Rodney."

"Yeah. Hey, this woman is good at what she does. Geez. I don't know why she didn't work with me more often."

"Yeah," Sheppard breathed, not knowing what else to say.

"What'd you find?"

Sheppard was silent.

"Something up?"

"Not really," Sheppard murmured, still staring at the script before him. "It's just…I think need a break."

"Yeah, me too. Beer time?"

"Ok, be there in a few." Sheppard absently let go of the comm button. He leaned forward, rested his arms on his knees, and continued to let his eyes rove. Try as he might to imagine it, the words before him did not morph into anything different than what was there. Sheppard blew out slowly and massaged his forehead. The look of slight confusion and wonder on his face remained steady. He didn't know Ritha well outside of her general companionship, but…he found himself realizing that she was not someone he did not miss. He wondered if Ronan felt the same. Sheppard slowly shook his head, working through his astonishment.

Far, far away, the heart of that woman beat sluggishly, but steadily, ringing with secrets, their depths not intended to be revealed, as they had just been to Colonel John Sheppard. However, she could not have asked for a better secret-keeper. Ritha Guider's profound love for Todd had absolutely…nothing…to do with the fact that he was a wraith.