The transport chamber doors opened on Atlantis’s control room level, and Sam stepped out, almost plowing into Richard Woolsey. “Excuse me,” she said. “I was on my way up.”
“I was on my way down to see you,” Woolsey said, and that was almost unheard of. The person in charge in Atlantis waited on the starship captains to come to them. It was a protocol Elizabeth Weir had established in her first days working with Caldwell, a protocol she’d been careful to keep when she was in charge. Atlantis did not answer to the starship captains. The chain of command was made absolutely clear.
Woolsey shifted from one foot to another, stepping back to let her actually get out of the transport chamber. “Is Colonel Sheppard with you?”
“No.” Sam wondered if she looked as perplexed as she sounded. “He’s not back?”
“No.” Woolsey’s face was drawn. “We haven’t heard a word from any of the team. Nothing.” His voice sharpened. “I thought they were to return with you.”
Sam shook her head. “That was the original plan, but we had trouble getting in close enough to beam them out. I had a radio message from Sheppard that indicated they had been beamed aboard Todd’s hive ship. I thought they’d be back by now.”
“No,” Woolsey said. “We don’t know anything.”
Sam blew out a breath. If Todd were holding them prisoner they’d be getting demands any time now. But that was less likely, given that Teyla was still masquerading as his queen. “It’s possible that the hive ship also took some battle damage,” she said. “That may be more of a priority than getting to a gate and reporting in.”
A twitch of Woolsey’s eyebrows showed what he thought of Sheppard’s enthusiasm for immediately reaching a gate and reporting in. “Did they recover Dr. McKay?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said. “There was a lot of interference on the radio. Sheppard said they were aboard Todd’s ship, but I don’t know if they had McKay with them or not.” She shook her head. “If not, he’s dead. Queen Death’s hive ship exploded. There would have been no survivors.” Surely they had him. Sheppard wouldn’t have beamed out without him. And if not… It was better than orders to kill him. Better than Sheppard having to fulfill those orders, if he had died at the Hammond’s guns rather than Sheppard’s hand. “I expect they have him,” she said. “I’m not certain. The communications were very spotty.”
Woolsey nodded, looking somewhat comforted.
He was worried, Sam thought. He was worried about his people. The Woolsey she’d known wouldn’t have been. When had that happened and what had changed him?
“I’m sure they will report soon,” he said.
“Yes,” Sam agreed.
Dr. Kusanagi had approached, standing well back to not be rude but close enough to indicate she had something to say, and now Sam turned to her. “Doctor?”
“The SGC has dialed in again and sent through supplies. I thought you would be pleased to know that it includes material for the Hammond.”
“Absolutely,” Sam said, “What have we got?” With a nod for Woolsey, who headed back into his office, she went down the main stairs with Kusanagi. The floor of the gateroom was filled with boxes and pallets, a couple of hundred boxes sent through the Stargate containing everything from kitchen supplies to vital medicines. One big pallet looked like it was stacked with seven or eight hundred pounds of metal plating. It also had a big red ribbon around it.
“I think these are for you,” Kusanagi said, smiling. “They’re 640 hull plating.”
“I expect they are.” Sam couldn’t help but grin. There was a tag attached to the big red bow, Jack’s handwriting. Happy Birthday.
“I did not know it is your birthday, Colonel Carter,” Dr. Kusanagi said. “Many happy returns.”
“It isn’t my birthday,” Sam said, as Kusanagi tilted her head and looked confused. It was Jack’s. Happy Birthday. Carter is still in one piece. Again. She supposed that made a pretty fair present.
Thorn looked about the audience chamber with grudging satisfaction from his place behind Waterlight. All was as it should be. Four drones guarded the doors with pikes in hand, while blades and clevermen in their numbers assembled within. If their numbers were less than Queen Death might assemble, or their colors more muted and less ostentatious, still they made a brave show. A martial show, to his eyes. Even those who stood closest their queen were dressed in plain leathers, their ornament limited to richly embroidered borders, hair clasps of silver and steel.
A blade knelt at her feet, dark green finework at his sleeves a compliment to her dress, his eyes raised. Not pallax, not yet, though that one aspired to be. His adoration was as evident as his ambition.
Her consort ignored him. Guide’s back was straight, the proud lines of his face belied his age. He wore unrelieved black, so secure in his place that he might scorn ornamentation, standing directly to her left to place himself across her heart should the need arise, off hand dagger at the ready.
Between them in tableau, Steelflower. Night dark hair fell from a fillet of iron set with moonstones, her beautiful face cast down as she listened to the blade at her feet. She wore no elaborate dress to reveal her charms. It was not necessary. Every man knew what she was, and rather than modest she seemed determined. The severe lines of tight bodice and flowing emerald overcoat spoke of stern control, of the economies of a warrior queen who loves weapons better than jewels.
And forward where the first courtiers should be, where other ambassadors should stand… Thorn let out an inadvertent hiss.
Steelflower’s eyes fell upon him just as he felt Waterlight wince.
“These too are ambassadors,” Steelflower said aloud, “in so much as you are. And we do not disdain any who come under our peace.” She nodded with her chin to the young woman who stood in front, red gold hair as tightly bound as Steelflower’s over her black coat. “This is She Who is Wreathed in Plants of Victory, kinswoman to She Who Carries Many Things, who comes before me on behalf of that greatest queen of the Lanteans. And he you have met before, the Consort of Atlantis, who is also called Guide.” Her eyes fell on the third human, a little man who stood beside the Consort. “And a cleverman of Atlantis, He Who Is Son of a Famous Ruler.”
John Sheppard looked straight back at him. This one Thorn had seen before indeed. He had been their prisoner, and he had groveled at Steelflower’s feet as abjectly as any.
Whatever Thorn might have said was forestalled by Waterlight. “You treat with the humans of Atlantis?”
“I hear out any who come to me in peace,” Steelflower said, rising from her carved chair. “Is it not true that She Who Carries Many Things is a great queen, an adversary worthy of our interest? It is she who reduced the Asurans to nothing when they had spoiled many hunting grounds and left many hives queenless. If she sends her own consort and kinswoman to treat with me, should I not hear them?”
There was no murmur of dissent within the hall, Thorn felt with surprise. Even Waterlight was more curious than afraid.
And yet Steelflower answered him, though it seemed she spoke to all assembled. “Why not speak of what we all know? We must feed. A galaxy without humans would be to us a barren desert, and we should surely perish. What else awaits us at Queen Death’s hands? If she spoils the hunting grounds that sustain us all, how shall we live? Or is it that she will bite us to the bone thus, leaving all hives at her mercy? If she controls the only foodstuffs, who then shall gainsay her anything?” Steelflower’s eyes swept over the crowd. “That is not as it should be, not as the First Mothers taught us. To each her blades and clevermen, to each her children in the chrysalis. We do not answer to one alone. Each queen shall take her own course, and any man who disagrees is free to follow another queen who better suits him.” Her eyes rested upon Thorn’s. “Is this not so, He Who Was Honored by Firebeauty?”