“We have a hail,” the ship-master said, looking over his shoulder to his queen.
“One hive ship on our instruments,” the helmsman said, “One and one only. It is Revenant, belonging to Queen Death.”
“That is well,” Guide replied. “All is as it should be.” He looked at Steelflower. “What is your wish, My Queen?”
“Hail Revenant,” Steelflower said evenly. “And inform them that I have arrived to speak with my sister.”
Sable, the commander of the honor guard, winced inwardly. Let it never be said Queen Steelflower lacked audacity! She spoke as a superior queen to a lesser, or at least as one who would never acknowledge lesser status. Perhaps she would come as an ally, but not as a subject queen. And yet perhaps there had been too much bowing and scraping to Queen Death. She was, after all, not the only queen.
“Yes, My Queen,” he said.
“Twenty five minutes to reversion,” Major Franklin said precisely.
“Understood.” Sam Carter settled back in her chair. “Raise shields five minutes before we exit hyperspace.” She tapped her radio. “Colonel Sheppard? Is your team ready?”
“We’re getting in the jumper now,” Sheppard said clearly in her ear. “Me, Cadman, Keller, Ronon and Zelenka. We’ll be ready to go on your mark.”
“You’re going to have a very narrow window,” Sam said. “To get inside while they’re launching darts.”
“We’ve done it before.” Sheppard sounded confident. “We’ll cloak before we get out of the bay.”
Franklin looked at Sam. “If they’re cloaked our automatic systems won’t be able to sense them. And …”
Sam nodded. “Sheppard? You’ll have to do a purely manual departure. The moment you cloak we can’t see you.”
“Got it. Just open the bay doors for us and we’re good.”
Launch and recovery were the times the Hammond was most vulnerable. While her landing bays were energy shielded, those shields were incredibly fragile compared to her hull. And the bays were small. Thirty feet in height was nothing compared to the immensity of space. A pilot error of a few feet, of hundredths of a percent, would run a ship into the walls or into the delicate components within, which was why recovery and launch were generally done with the Hammond’s systems providing constant data feedback to the 302s or jumpers. It took a very skilled pilot indeed to turn all the safeties off and do it on manual.
Of course, Cameron Mitchell had recovered her in a spacesuit on manual, aboard the Odyssey. Not that it was an experience she’d ever like to repeat.
But Sheppard was probably the most skilled jumper pilot they had, and he’d have the jumper’s systems to assist. Sam didn’t even blink at letting him do it.
“Open the bay doors as soon as we’ve raised shields,” Sam said to Franklin. “Colonel Sheppard will take it out without assistance.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The shuttlecraft mated neatly with Revenant, the door irising open in a series of cascading movements to reveal those within. Queen Steelflower stood straightbacked, her chin high, and no trace of trepidation showed on her face. At her back, her Consort loomed tall, his immaculate leather coat falling to his ankles, his expression impassive.
Steelflower’s gaze raked the assembled blades. “I am Steelflower,” she said.
Revenant’s watch commander stepped forward, inclining his head deeply. “I am Iceseeker. It is my honor to escort you to the reception chambers where all has been made ready for you. My queen will join you shortly.”
Steelflower hesitated a moment, her skirts swaying. She was not dressed formally, but rather like a warrior queen in boots and short coat, its emerald folds only reaching her knees, stiff with embroidery.
Her Consort read her movement. “Our shuttlecraft will cast off and return to our ship,” he said. “Thereby to await Queen Steelflower’s pleasure.”
There was little the watch commander could object to in that. After all, they were two alone, as they had said they would be, and the crew of the shuttle would not figure in anything that came. “Of course.”
“Then lead us, commander,” she said, and her eyes fell on him like falling sparks. “We shall await your lady.” She followed him with her head high, her slender hand set to her Consort’s wrist in a gesture both graceful and courtly, as though she stood among her own kindred.
“Five minutes,” Franklin said, frowning at the board. “Raising shields, ma’am.”
Sam didn’t reply to that. “Sheppard? You’re good to go.”
“Copy that,” Sheppard said. “We’ll be in and out before you get the paint scratched.” He sounded high on adrenaline, ready to fight. Which was a good thing.
Sam opened the shipwide intercom. “Four minutes to reversion. All hands to battlestations. It’s showtime, people.”
*It is a trap,* Guide said, mind to mind, his hand brushing against hers as they stood within the reception hall.
*I know that well,* Teyla replied. Above, the low ceiling was arched with a tracery of supports scribing a perfect circle. At the center of it a low table held oath taking materials, while each of the six radial entrances was guarded by a drone in full battle gear, weapons at the ready. They carried formal pikes, not the more mundane stunners. There were of course no humans about, and for use upon another Wraith a bladed weapon would be more effective. Stunners could be shaken off and bullets survived, but severed limbs would not regrow.
*I doubt Queen Death is even aboard this ship,* Guide said, a pleasant smile on his face.
*As long as Rodney is, and likewise the ZPM,* she replied. “That, at least is true I think. These drones cannot hide such things from me.* She likewise gave him a courteous gaze. *And no, they do not yet plan to kill us.*
*Yet,* Guide said softly, a caressing note in his voice that was almost anticipation. He caught the hint of amusement in her mind. *Does that entertain you?*
*You remind me of John,* she said.
The Hammond’s bay doors slowly opened, revealing the blue of hyperspace. Outside the puddle jumper, in the landing bay, there would be claxons hooting warnings, but inside it was silent. Flashing yellow lights indicated depressurization.
“Coming out of hyperspace,” Major Franklin said in his earpiece. “Good luck, Colonel.”
“Thanks,” John said, glancing over at Radek in Teyla’s usual shotgun seat. “Here goes nothing.” He moved the indicators to full cloak.
Outside, there was a brief flash as they reverted to normal space, sublight engines engaging with a flare of white fire. The Hammond had emerged ninety degrees to the ventral of the two hive ships, and now she pulled up in a climb vertical to her own plane of entry, forward rail guns opening up on the nearer of the two ships.
John wondered briefly how Sam had made sure she was shooting at the right one, but that wasn’t his problem.
They rocketed toward the hive ship, looking for a moment as though they intended a collision, or at least a shield on shield pass that would strain every system, pulling away at the last second with only a few tens of meters between one shield and the other, rail guns spitting bright fire, the hive ship’s shields flaring blue in the void. The Hammond’s gunners couldn’t see them, so he’d have to dodge friendly fire too.
“Here we go,” he said, and as the Hammond reeled away, diving beneath the hive ship, the puddle jumper leapt forward.
The hive ship screamed. There was no other word for it, for the alarms that rang out high and urgent in every room and corridor.