Rodney waved an arm, frustrated. "Then why isn't she making a deal with these Wraith?"
John shook his head in exasperation, glaring up at the death ray/beaming thing in the ceiling. "We don't know that she isn't."
Teyla paced away from the door, frowning. "And I still cannot believe that she is what she claims to be, even if it is true that she came here through the Mirror. Why would the Ancestors who escaped to her reality deliberately recreate the Wraith? It makes no sense."
Rodney said impatiently, "It does, if you consider the plague; she said her people thought the `Creators' and the other race they tried to seed were wiped out by it. If it was at all similar to the plague that destroyed the Ancients in the Milky Way, we know how virulent it was, that they never discovered a cure." Rodney paced, warming to his theory. "If these Ancients thought the only way to pass along their DNA was to use the Iratus bug mutation, which they already knew could be combined with human DNA-" He stopped, facing them, pointing toward the sealed hatch. "If they controlled its development, bred out the need to feed off sentient beings, made it as human as they could without allowing it to be susceptible to the plague, they could have produced something like Trishen. A Wraith-like being with pronounced human behavioral characteristics who has the Ancient gene."
Teyla shook her head, looking away. "I hope you are right," she said quietly.
"And she didn't say her species couldn't feed on sentient beings, Rodney," John pointed out. "She said they didn't." He lifted his brows. "That's a big difference."
The Wraith were taking their time searching the roof, so Ronon went into the jumper's rear cabin, sitting on the bench to check his gun and sharpen his knives. Much as he would like to take on the whole group, he knew destroying the Mirror was more important.
Sheppard, Teyla Emmagan, and McKay had died for it.
Finally Zelenka ducked into the rear cabin, saying anxiously, "They are leaving the roof. There are only two left near the place where the others-Two, that's good?"
Ronon's mouth twisted in grim amusement. "That's good." He pushed to his feet, sliding his long knife back into the scabbard.
From the cockpit, Kusanagi said, "I can lift the jumper further up the shaft." Ronon looked through the hatchway to see the HUD pop up a skeletal outline of the space directly above the jumper, showing the straight shaft and then what looked like a large doorway, maybe two levels up. The image was fuzzy on the edges, the Mirror still interfering with the ship's scanning abilities. Kusanagi pointed. "There. That opening, maybe it would give you a quicker route to the roof."
Ronon nodded. "Try it."
While Kusanagi slowly guided the jumper up the shaft, Ronon let Zelenka fuss around checking his radio and making sure his air tanks were topped off. The odd thing was that Ronon thought Zelenka was doing it because he really wanted Ronon to come back alive, not because he was afraid of being left with no one to guard him. "You have enough guns?" Zelenka asked him finally, waving a hand around at the supplies and weapons stored in the overhead racks. "There are extras."
"I've got enough," Ronon said, but he took a few of the small explosives meant for throwing, the ones called "grenades."
Kusanagi found the opening, a shattered hatchway leading into a space that might be for unloading freight, and rotated the jumper so the ramp was facing it. Ronon took a last look at the life signs screen, committing the Wraith's current positions to memory. The handheld detector wouldn't work unless somebody with the Ancestors' blood, like Sheppard or McKay or Kusanagi, was close enough to touch it. But Kusanagi and Zelenka could follow his progress with the jumper's screens, and warn him if the Wraith were about to cross his path. Ronon had survived a long time without that kind of help, but he wasn't fool enough to turn it down when it was freely offered.
He waited in the rear cabin while Kusanagi sealed the cockpit door to keep the air in, then opened the ramp. All that was left of the hatchway into the freight bay was jagged metal and broken stone, leading into a dark dusty passage. Ronon didn't wait for the ramp to open all the way; he caught the edge of the hatch and swung across, landing on the platform. The metal creaked under his boots, but didn't give, and a moment later he was moving fast down the passage. He heard the ramp closing behind him, and Kusanagi's soft voice on the radio, whispering, "Be careful."
"Will you two sit down?" Rodney asked in exasperation.
"In a minute." John wasn't pacing because he was stir-crazy, he was pacing because he was trying to keep sore and strained muscles from stiffening up. If they had a chance to do anything, he wanted to be able to move. Rodney was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall, and Teyla, who did look stir-crazy, was pacing on the opposite side of the room from John.
They had poked all around the cabin, looking for a way to disarm the force shield. Rodney had used Teyla's knife on the rubbery wall-covering near the doorway, cutting through it to get to the controls to open and close the hatch. But those controls didn't affect the force shield, which was apparently generated by a separate unit somewhere on the other side of the wall. John figured that was why Trishen had used it to make their little prison; she had seen Rodney finesse the control panel for the ship's outer lock and had to know an inside hatchway wouldn't hold him long.
Rodney let his breath out, rubbing his face. "I don't suppose it's a good idea to try the rations she left. Or the water."
"It could be drugged." Teyla eyed the box with disapproval. "If she truly does not mean to feed on us, then she may have other designs."
Rodney frowned at her. "Drugged how?"
"It could turn us into zombies," John told him, picking a fate worse than death at random. His throat was painfully dry too, but he didn't think it was worth taking the chance.
Rodney contemplated the ceiling of the cabin in mock despair. "Yes, I'd worry about brain damage from the oxygen deprivation and the head injury, if I didn't know you were always like this."
John was watching Teyla. She had stopped pacing, and was rubbing her temple, her expression strained. She said abruptly, "I have been sensing Wraith, which is to be expected. But they seem.. closer now, than they did before. Very close."
"How close is very?" John asked. The cabin suddenly felt a lot smaller and even more cage-like. If Trishen had cut a deal with the other Wraith… "Inside the ship?"
"Wait, maybe you're sensing Trishen." Rodney shoved to his feet, steadying himself on the wall with a wince. "She could be in a cabin next to this one-"
"It is not her." Teyla shook her head, her lips pressed together. "I have never been able to sense her presence, even when she was standing in front of me." She looked at John, lifting a brow. "These Wraith are close, and angry.
John heard something outside and stepped to where he could see the sealed hatch in the outer compartment. A moment later it slid open and Trishen stepped in. John stood on his toes and craned his neck, trying to see if there were any more Wraith lurking in the passage behind her.
Trishen moved nearly to the force-shielded doorway. It was still hard for John to read her expression, but her body radiated tension. She looked at Teyla. "Were you telling the truth about the Wraith searching for new sentients to feed on?"
Folding her arms, Teyla eyed her deliberately. "To the best of my knowledge. There are not enough humans to support the number of hives, and on some worlds they have already culled entire populations. We know they grow increasingly desperate."
Trishen looked away, taking a sharp breath. "They're at the outer lock, trying to break into the ship." She pressed her hands together, as if steeling herself. "I don't have any weapons to stop them, and I can't repair the shields on the base ship, or the drive."