The loss of the East Pier was like a stutter, the loss of a cylinder, a missed beat in the steady rhythm of the city's systems. John shifted in the chair, searching for a workaround, and felt the city interpret his movements, adjusting the other engines to compensate. Distantly, he could hear Zelenka explaining that the actual engine was damaged, and felt its absence like a missing tooth. They could maneuver, but it was clumsy, on the verge of overbalancing one way or another; better to stay on the present line, he thought, and try to get rid of the current attackers.
The city agreed, offering trajectories, fire points; he dismissed the ones that targeted the Darts, lobbed another pair of drones at the hive. It, at least, was standing further off, apparently chastened, but the cruiser was still closing, following the Darts down. The city offered firing solutions, the changing vectors flicking through his fingers. Not yet, not yet, he thought. Three drones, ready in their silos…. They clicked into place, stones ready to throw, fireballs to launch like some comic book hero –
Now, he thought, and the silos opened, the equations elegant on his skin, flicking the drones out into the night to meet the cruiser. Its pilot saw, swerved wildly, scattering Darts as they wheeled out of its path, but the drones kept coming, homing in on the weakness the city saw in the cruiser's frame. They hit, three strikes in quick succession, and the cruiser's hull gave way, fire eclipsing the stars. The shock wave rolled across the shield, shaking the city, but leaving no damage in its wake. John grinned, and felt the city's satisfaction echo his own.
Atlantis was fully engaged now, maneuver engines glowing beneath the curve of the lower hull, shields protecting the fragile towers, sealing in the air. A swarm of Darts surrounded it, one of Death's hives following in their wake, and trails of light rose lazily from the central spire, swooped out to dot the hive with blooms of fire. Guide watched, outwardly impassive, but cold fear crawled along his spine. That was what he remembered from his youth, the Darts swarming even though they knew all but the luckiest would die: it was never skill that overwhelmed the Ancients' defenses, merely weight of numbers. Guide had been lucky then, and it was a lesson he would not forget.
Hasten turned away from his console, and came to stand beside him, off hand brushing Guide's shoulder in private communication. He was almost as old as Guide, old enough to remember at least the blades' stories, cautionary tales whispered in the crèche, and he kept his eyes resolutely from the battle on the screen.
“All our systems are at full readiness. If we were to attack now, we could overwhelm the Ancient city.”
“And then what?” Guide glanced sideways, one corner of his mouth curling up in something like a smile, but he could tell Hasten was not deceived. "We cannot defeat Queen Death, not with what we have.”
Hasten dipped his head. “No. But — it goes against my grain to see that city destroying our kin.”
“She is not our kin,” Guide said, but the words lacked force. He shook his head, denying his own fears. The Lanteans were not the Ancients — John Sheppard was no Ancient, though he might carry their genetic marker. And why had he not acted by now? Surely he knew how desperate his situation was.
“So she has said.” Hasten's tone was muted. “We should act, Commander.”
“We wait,” Guide answered, and turned away from his touch.
“Commander.” That was Precision, the other conversation unsensed, perhaps unnoticed. “Commander, if we were to send Darts in support of the Lanteans — surely that would not be too much.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Guide saw Alabaster cock her head, and answered before she could respond. “No. We had a bargain, which they have not fulfilled. They are counting on us to be desperate, but we must play a longer game.”
“If we don't back one side or the other,” Bonewhite said, “there will no longer be a game.”
“And why should we back the Lanteans?” Ease demanded.
“There can be no truce with Queen Death!” That was Ember, sharp and out of turn, and Alabaster bared teeth in a smile.
“The cleverman speaks truth,” she said. “The bridge is burnt.”
One of them was a traitor, Guide thought. Ember had warned him of the sabotage, shared his certainty that it was one of the council, and he believed Ember. Trusted Ember, though he had been betrayed by clevermen before. Bonewhite and Alabaster were waiting for him to speak, to make all right again, but he said nothing. Let the traitor act now, and Guide could deal with him — assuming always he did not have too many allies.
Hasten hissed softly. “To join with the Lanteans —”
“Is our only choice,” Alabaster said sharply. “And your queen's will!”
“But only the queen's will,” Ease said.
“And mine,” Guide said. He was almost sure now, Ease or Hasten or both together, and he shifted his weight, balancing on the balls of his feet.
“You are not queen here,” Ease said. “Nor is your daughter.”
Guide almost moved then, but he held his hand, knowing he would need full proof to keep the council on his side in Steelflower's absence. “Steelflower is queen,” he said, and saw Bonewhite shift uneasily. The Hivemaster knew the truth, of course — would he betray the fiction?
“This is a fool's game,” Ease said. “I put it to you all, lords of the council. Guide has overreached — again! — and we are trussed to pay the price for his folly. Our queen is vanished, who knows where, and whatever plan was made with the Lanteans has fallen to pieces. We must join Queen Death — we have no choice but to join her — and if we join her now, while the outcome of this battle is in doubt, we may win her favor.”
“This is Steelflower's hive,” Ember snapped. “And you do not speak for me.”
“I speak for Steelflower,” Alabaster began, and Bonewhite lifted his head.
“It is so, Snow's Daughter, but you cannot speak for her in this, any more than her Consort can.”
“Madness!” Ember said. “And I remind you all that someone has already tried to sabotage our ships, to achieve this same goal by less honorable means.”
“If it's for the council to decide, let it decide.” Guide's tone was silken, but he glanced quickly from one man to the next, trying to guess how they would jump. Ember and Alabaster were on his side — for an instant, he regretted bringing his daughter so soon into his intrigues — and Precision, and he thought Bonewhite, but the others….
“I am Steelflower's man,” Bonewhite said, with a sigh. “And Queen Death will not deal fairly with us, not if we brought her the Lanteans' queen and all her court to feed upon.”
“And I,” Precision said.
Hasten bowed his head unspeaking.
“Fools,” Ease snapped, and reached beneath his coat. Both Ember and Precision lunged from their places, putting their bodies between the weapon and the young queen, but Guide had been ready for that move. He leaped across the open platform, off hand rising to bat aside the weapon. He heard the beam shriek past him, felt its kiss along his ribs, and then he had Ease by the throat, sinking claws into the soft skin. He forced Ease's head back, forced his body back against the console, feeling a depth of hatred he had not suspected as they met skin to skin.
“Traitor indeed,” Guide said, as much for the others as for his own satisfaction. “What did she promise you that you would betray your queen?”
“Victory and her favor,” Ease gasped, defiant, “and the feeding grounds of Earth.”
“Which are not hers to give.” Guide set his claws, snarling, handmouth fastening hard, and Ease screamed in fury and despair. He drank deep, life flowing into him as Ease withered beneath his touch, let the husk fall at last to the deck. “Is there anyone else who questions our tactics?”