"Lady." Bonewhite's voice spoke from the console, and Alabaster turned to answer.
"Yes."
"We've found the problem. A failsafe was tripped, and Hasten is working to be sure it will not happen again."
"Surely we can get underway without it?" Alabaster said.
"Hasten believes it will merely fire again if it isn't replaced," Bonewhite answered. "Give us an hour, no more than two, and it will be done."
We don't have that time. Teyla swallowed the words, and saw Alabaster's back straighten. "An hour, Hivemaster. No more. We must reach Atlantis before Death's fleet."
"Yes, Lady," Bonewhite said, and the screen went blank.
“I would also very much like to know exactly how that component came to fail,” Teyla said.
Alabaster nodded. “As would I. If Ember is right….”
“Then this may not be the last failure,” Teyla said, her voice grim. And if they did not reach Atlantis in time — no, she wouldn't allow herself to think that, any more than she would believe that Guide would fail them in the end.
Chapter Twelve
Saboteur
The hyperdrive window opened and Just Fortune passed through. Ember felt the shiver as he bent over the failsafe dissected on his workbench, and Salt glanced quickly at the displays on the far wall.
“We should still be in time to the rendezvous.”
“Good.” Ember lifted a slender probe, touched the damaged fibers that served as nerves to carry signals to the cut-off mechanism. A spark flared, brighter and bluer than it should have been, and he frowned. “Here, take a look at this.”
“All right.” Salt stooped over the bench, shoving the heavy cords of his hair impatiently over his shoulder. He glanced at the tool Ember held, and chose a more sensitive instrument before touching the damaged ends. The same spark showed, and he looked up sharply.
“Just so,” Ember said.
“It couldn't have have been damaged when it was removed from the hull,” Salt began, and shook his head.
“I wouldn't expect heightened sensitivity,” Ember answered.
“No.” Salt glanced sidelong at him, the thought hovering in the back of his mind, and Ember articulated it for him.
“Yes, sabotage.”
“But why —?” Salt shook his head again. “I suppose there are men who do not wish to ally with the Lanteans.”
Ember paused, wondering if he cared trust the other cleverman. But Salt had been a stranger to the hive, too, and had come with him to Death's hive to work with Quicksilver. He knew what Salt thought of Queen Death's ways. “Or those who would prefer to see Queen Death our overlady.”
Salt hissed softly. “That is madness.”
“Can you say for certain that there are none who'd follow her?”
“I cannot.”
“Then.” Ember swept up the pieces of the mechanism, slid them into a storage cell. “Let them stay there until they're needed.”
“You're an optimist,” Salt said.
Ember bared teeth at him. “I wish to see whoever's done this punished.”
“You are the chief cleverman,” Salt said, “but you are still a cleverman. Do not bare your chest for feeding before you must.”
Sadly, he was right. Ember took a deep breath. “There will be proof.”
“But must you be the one to find it?” Salt touched his shoulder cautiously, off hand carefully brushing leather rather than hair or bared skin. “Whoever has done this — he will have status in the hive, you know that.”
“Yes,” Ember said. Certainly it had to have been a man of status, to penetrate the depths of the hive unquestioned. Or perhaps a cleverman of middling rank, but certainly any blade would have been noticed: the failsafes were deep in clevermen's territory, and, while the devices were of necessity accessible, still it would take time to damage the triggering fibers.
“Anyone could have done this,” Salt said, his thoughts running on the same lines. “In terms of technical skill, I mean.”
“Yes,” Ember said again, “but why would they? Queen Death might promise favor, but most clevermen, I think, favor Queen Steelflower.”
“She has treated us with honor equal to her blades,” Salt agreed. “Which might provoke a blade to favor Queen Death — but such a one would be noticed, wandering about in our territory, and I've heard of none such.”
“Nor I.” Ember stifled the thought that crept to the front of his mind. The only blades — the only people — who could move freely throughout the hive were the lords of the commander's council. The Hivemaster himself, the Chief Engineer, the master of the Darts, the First-Watch Captain: they were the most likely suspects, and he dared question none of them. At least not directly, he amended. He was certainly within his rights to seek answers among the blades, and if in the process he very carefully made inquiries about the council…. He would have to be very careful indeed, and there was very little time. “We'll do what we can,” he said, and hoped it would be enough.
Rodney's head snapped up as the door to the corridor outside opened. "What, are we interrogating me again?"
"Probably should," Ronon said, coming in with Radek at his side. "But they're letting you out."
"We need your help to prepare the city for launch," Radek said.
Rodney stared at him for a moment. "Launch? What are we doing, retreating? I mean, not that it might not be a good idea under the circumstances, but… really?"
"We're not running away," Ronon said.
"Colonel Sheppard believes it will give us more tactical options to be in orbit when we engage the Wraith fleet," Radek said. "He is the military commander, so who am I to argue? But it means we have a lot to do and very little time." He glanced at Ronon, who reached out with obvious reluctance to lower the force field on the cell.
Rodney forced himself to step out casually, as if he were merely deciding that now would be a good time for a stroll. "Does this mean you've decided I'm not secretly working for the Wraith?"
"No," Ronon said flatly. "Sheppard sent me to guard you."
"Guard me, right, like you're going to know exactly what I'm doing. If I were in league with the Wraith, there are a thousand ways I could sabotage our systems without you knowing it. Not that I am in league with the Wraith," Rodney added hurriedly. "I'm just saying."
Radek shrugged. "I know," he said. "For what it is worth, I recommended against your being released."
Rodney frowned, unreasonably stung. "Really loyal friend you are."
Radek threw up his hands in frustration. "Rodney, you were held captive by the Wraith!" He added a fervent oath in Czech. "You broke into our computers, let the Wraith into the city, and have caused as much trouble as it is humanly possible for one man to cause. We lost the ZPM. Good people died."
"It wasn't my fault."
"That is not really the point."
"I'm much better now," Rodney said, but he was aware of how weak the words sounded.
Radek rubbed his forehead. "Yes, well, I hope so. Because we will need your skills to prepare the city for launch in the time we have left, and Colonel Carter believes that at this point it is worth taking the risk."
Rodney brightened a bit. "She said that?"
"She does not believe you will sabotage the city," Radek said. "Please do not take it as a sign of romantic interest. No one has time for that."
"I'm just pleased that she has faith in me."
"Yes, well. I want you to go over the checklist for launch preparation with me, make sure we are leaving nothing out. Then you can help me try to optimize power for this. That way I will see what you are doing."