"The Lieutenant Colonel and the Runner," said Vekken, "they are on board this vessel."
"It matters not!" snapped the Magnate, jabbing a finger at the air. "The Wraith will kill them. Our survival is the issue here. Without me, Halcyon will be lost, rudderless!" He glared at Rodney, the light of mad fury in his watery eyes. "I order you to stop this ship! Do it now!"
McKay threw up his hands. "Make up your mind! The hibernation systems or the flight brain, I can't work on both at the same time!"
"Who is controlling this craft?" roared Daus. "Is this your doing? Have you made this happen, outworlder?" He advanced menacingly.
Rodney blanched, the memory of Kelfer's murder still very fresh in his mind. "As far as I can ascertain, these ships are autonomic," he managed, "they're like trained animals. Give them a command, they execute it. Only a Wraith can make a Hive Ship obey."
"Scar!" Daus spat out the word like a curse. "He did this."
And like the secret name of a demon conjuring the very beast it described, the next voice they heard was the rasping purr of the Wraith commander.
The Wraith played with the radio, caressing it and examining the device at eye level, in the way that an artisan might appraise a gemstone for flaws. Scar had quickly deduced the functioning of the communicator. "Human," he husked, a vein of anger audible under the words. "You prove more resilient than I expected."
Teyla smiled coldly at the sneer in Sheppard's reply, inwardly elated that her friends were still alive. "You know, for a superior kinda Wraith, you're not as smart as you like folks to think."
"I killed you," growled the alien.
"Beg to differ with you, eyeball. That's what happens when you mess with weapons you don't understand," the colonel retorted. "Why don't you tell us where you are? We'd be happy to swing by and show you how they're supposed to work."
With an expression of loathing on his face, Scar reached into his tunic and removed the Beretta pistol he had taken from Teyla, holding it as if the gun filled him with disgust, as if it had somehow betrayed him. With an angry flick of his wrist he tossed it away, over the edge of the walkway where they stood. It clattered away into the darkness below. "I will not make that mistake again,"
"Too late for that. We've got explosive charges planted all over this ship. One command from me and ka-boom. Game over. You're finished."
A cruel smile appeared on Scar's face. "A lie. If you had the power to destroy this vessel, you would have done so before now. You are not like the natives, you have no desire to keep it intact, like some wretched breedery." He threw a wicked glance at Teyla and kept speaking. "Let me tell you how this will end, prey. Once we achieve orbital parity, my ship's guns will carve Halcyon's settlements into rubble. I will sow panic and fear in the prey that swarm on this world. Calls have already been sent, Hive Fleets are already on their way. My kindred are coming to Halcyon, of that you may be certain. When they arrive here, I will lead them in a culling so brutal, so total, that it will become legendary in the annals of the Wraith. We will harvest everything that lives on this world, spare nothing but one single survivor…" He chuckled, and the sound was chilling. "Yes. I will spare the woman Tey-lah, so that when your species see her broken by the horrors she has witnessed, they will know that the dominion of the Wraith is total."
When Sheppard replied, his words were curt and clipped. "Atlantis team, switch to alternate channel delta. Scarface can talk to himself for a while."
The Wraith commander gave a guttural laugh and turned back to face the Athosian; he was quite unprepared for her to spring at him and bury a curved dagger in his chest.
"Delta!" Rodney shouted. "I know that one!" Without thinking, he snatched at the radio in the rifleman's hands and twisted the frequency dial to the right setting. "Sheppard!" he called. "It's me, I'm alive! I'm here, on the control deck! I think we can-
The sudden impact came from nowhere and without any apparent intervening movement McKay found himself sprawled on the floor, clutching at his shoulder. The radio spun away, out of his reach.
"Do not dare to speak without my permission!" Daus raged, towering over him with his fists balled. His face was flushed with color. "I warned you!"
He could hear Sheppard calling out to him, but the thudding of his pulse in his ears made McKay giddy. "They can help us! I can't do this alone!"
"Are you as much a liar as you are a coward?" thundered the Magnate.
"I'm not a coward!" Rodney retorted. "I just have a heightened level of self-preservation!"
"You told my daughter you were the font of knowledge regarding the Wraith," he continued, "but you are not! You pathetic weakling! I would have killed you out of hand had I known how useless you are, instead of bringing you here!"
McKay felt sick inside. "You brought me here… Because of Erony?"
The rifleman's knife went into Scar's torso, through the ragged leather jerkin he wore, into corpse-colored flesh to the jeweled hilt. Oily blood flowed as the Wraith howled and beat at Teyla. Scar had released the control leash for her collar, and was clawing at her face with both hands, frantic as he tried to force her away.
The Athosian woman had her grip on the blade and she worked, trying to turn it. Wraith were incredibly resilient, their cellular structure and monstrous physiology capable of repairing wounds that would be instantly fatal to a human. A cut like this one would be only a memory in a day or so, unless she could render so much damage that Scar's body would not be able to save him. Blaster fire, decapitation, a salvo of hollow point bullets-all these things would have finished Scar off in an instant, but Teyla Emmagan had only the tools at hand to work with.
She tried to let herself slip into a cool, steady battle-mind state, a point of focus without anger or fury; but her years of training failed her. She had too much rage for this creature, a towering hate built from his cruelty to her and the brutality he had shown to those riflemen, to John and Ronon, to poor Bishop. Teyla realized that she did not just want Scar to die. She wanted to make him suffer first.
That chink in her psyche was enough, and Scar fought back with rage of his own, striking her mentally even as he clawed at her flesh.
Other hands grabbed at her, tore her away from him. Teyla went wild, turning and grabbing the neck of one Wraith under her arm, twisting it until it broke. She let the corpse fall and flew at the next pale-faced alien, her hands finding flesh to gouge. The thick spike of a stunner came at her and Teyla sank her fist into the owner's sternum, hearing ribs snap. She disarmed him with a crippling kick to the knee and spun the Wraith rifle about, using the spike to impale the alien to the deck.
Fingers flicked at Teyla's auburn hair and she felt a wave of pain as an unseen attacker dragged her backward with a savage jerk. She stumbled and her footing fled, the deck rising up to meet her. The woman cried out with the impact, the metal tore of the choke collar vibrating where it hit the ground.
Teyla spat out blood and tried to right herself. A heavy boot pressed into her chest and held her down there. Through a haze of agony she saw Scar hunched over her, the dagger still in his chest, his tunic dark with alien fluids.
"Bad little Hound," he said thickly, pain rattling his words. "I… I am disappointed in you. I thought we had…. An under standing."