“You’re saying this would turn them all into Ford?” John asked.
“It very well might,” Carson said solemnly.
Jennifer cleared her throat. “I don’t think that’s necessarily true.”
John looked at her, his eyebrows rising. “Yes?”
“That’s one of the possibilities,” Jennifer said, biting her lower lip. “But certainly not the only one. I think it’s a pitfall we should be aware of. But there are less drastic modifications that could be made.”
“Not that wouldn’t have some effect on the human in question,” Carson said sharply, and Radek wondered if he were not thinking of the disastrous side effects of the Hoffan retrovirus, rather than strictly speaking the fate of Lt. Ford.
Carter put her head to the side keenly. “Do we actually know what side effects we’re talking about when we’re not discussing an exact formulation? Isn’t this all hypothetical at this point?”
“Yes,” Jennifer said, and Carson sighed but did not contradict her.
“Then how can we decide whether or not the side effects are too severe if we don’t yet know what they are?” Carter asked. “Isn’t that a question for on down the line?”
John sat up straight in his chair. “Look, we don’t know if this will work, and we don’t know what the side effects might be. The question is whether or not we find out. What’s the harm in getting some more information before we make the decision?”
Ronon stirred, uncoiling like a sleepy cat, but there was nothing lazy in his movements. “That’s not the question. The question is whether we work with the Wraith.” He looked around the table. “How many times now have we decided we’re going to make some deal with the Wraith? And every single time we’ve gotten screwed. Michael was a great idea. And then there was this hive we were going to ally with. And then there were Todd’s deals. The question is how many times we’re going to keep beating our head into the same wall before we get smart.” His eyes met John’s. “They’re Wraith. We can’t trust them. Every time we do, people die.”
Carson blanched.
Radek cleared his throat with a quick glance at Ronon. “I am not sure I am comfortable with this either. Ronon has a point that this has not worked well in the past. Over and over we have been sold on a medical solution, but it does not work or it makes things worse.” He thought he saw Ronon relax a tad. He had not expected anyone to back him up. He should have known better with Radek.
Teyla said nothing, just looked from one to another with her golden eyes.
“And if we don’t do this?” Jennifer asked. “If we just let this opportunity pass by? What does that get us? We need to find out if this is possible. Just because we have a retrovirus doesn’t mean we have to use it.”
Radek sighed. “That is the Oppenheimer argument. We will develop a nuclear bomb to see if we can. The problem is that once you have developed something you no longer have control of it. Once it exists it will be used. It will not be your decision, nor Colonel Sheppard’s. It will be the decision of the Air Force or the IOA, and your opinions will no longer carry any weight. There are times it is best to leave the genie in the bottle.”
“The genie doesn’t stay in the bottle once anyone knows it’s there,” Carter said. “A number of governments were working along parallel lines toward the bomb. It was just a question of who got it first. When something is possible, someone will figure out a way to do it. And if you’re lucky it’s you before it’s someone else.” She looked at Radek. “Would you rather it had been Hitler who got there first? Or Stalin?”
John cleared his throat. “That’s a point. Todd knows this is possible.”
“Thinks it is possible,” Carson corrected.
“Thinks it’s possible,” John agreed. “He may be right. If he is, and if this thing is viable, we’re better off having a piece of it than having no idea what Todd’s up to or how far this thing has gone. We can’t prevent him from doing this work without us.”
“We could kill him,” Ronon said. “Say we’re going to do the deal, get in close, and don’t make a mistake.”
“He is our ally,” Teyla snapped.
“He’s a Wraith,” Ronon said. “In case you’re forgetting.”
“I remember it well,” Teyla said, leaning forward in her chair. “But he has come to us in good faith. And you suggest we repay that with treachery. I am surprised you suggest something so dishonorable.”
“People!” John cut off Ronon’s reply, and he subsided into his chair in silence. “Right now we need Todd. We need the intelligence, and we need the shot at finding McKay. Assassinating Todd is not on the agenda.”
“Put it on there for next week,” Ronon growled.
John ignored it manfully, Radek thought. Instead he looked at Jennifer. “Dr. Keller, do you think this is worth pursuing? It’s you he’s asking for.”
“I do,” Jennifer said, though her face was taut and pale. “I’m willing to return to Todd’s hive ship as he asked and see if this line of research is promising.”
“And give the Wraith one more hostage,” Ronon said under his breath.
“I am perfectly capable of looking after Dr. Keller,” Teyla said pointedly.
“Ok,” John said. He didn’t look away from Jennifer. “It’s your mission and your call. Take a look at his research and see what you think. And we’ll go from there.” He glanced at Carson. “You’ll stay here. We need you if Dr. Keller is gone, and with your arm messed up, you’re still out of the field.”
Carson sighed. “If that’s how it is,” he said.
“It is our best chance,” Teyla said.
“I hope we do not regret this,” Radek said.
Chapter Fifteen
Quicksilver
They had moved the ZPM from the lab to the hyperdrive compartment, were slowly rewinding the cables that would knit it into the hive’s systems. Rodney watched as Stone and Nightheart brought another cable into play, looking from them to the power displays and back again. Everything was working as it should, the lights steady blue, the indicators that marked the new cables fading from the first white heat of the connection as the load evened out. There was only so much he could do to slow down the work, at least not without arousing suspicion, though it made him twitch to see how far they’d come already. It was a good thing that Ember had always urged caution; Rodney merely let himself be persuaded more often, or led them further down paths he knew would be dead ends. If — when — he got out of this, he would know more about hive ships than any other human — more even than Jennifer, and she’d almost become one.
He blinked at that, blindsided by memory. Jennifer. He could almost see her face, her dark blonde hair, the way her mouth tightened as she considered a problem — her eyes wide with fear as the hive seed engulfed her. Not the ideal frame, he knew that now: better a male, both for size and bone mass, and to preserve the breeding stock. The collision of memories, real and false, Rodney’s and Quicksilver’s, rocked him back on his heels, and he put out a hand to steady himself.
*Quicksilver?* That was Salt, his tone uncertain, and Ember came quickly to him.
*Are you all right?*
*Fine.* Rodney managed a snarl, felt concern flicker through Ember’s mind.
*When did you last feed?*
The question made his stomach roil, threatening dry heaves that would betray him. His feeding hand ached sharply, and he closed his fingers tight, waving the question away with his free hand. Ember’s frown deepened.