But she had lost men. Two of the Genii lay withered, and a Marine, and the Marine woman was staggering to her feet, blood covering one side of her face. Another Marine pressed a field dressing to the cut, and she settled her helmet over it, wincing. Lieutenant Sheffield was looking at her, and she forced herself to meet his eyes.
"Which way, ma'am?"
"The control room," Teyla answered. "I sense some Wraith ahead —" She stopped abruptly. "There are more Wraith behind us, too. We must find a way to cut them off. Through here."
They piled through the next hatchway, and she closed the door behind them. The ship would not respond to her, and there was no time to enforce her will; she turned her head away and fired into the controls. They exploded in a burst of spark and flame and she turned away to see Sheffield grinning.
"Ma'am, it looks like the next cross corridor's a strong point. A couple of us could hold off those guys behind us, keep them off your back."
And die doing it, Teyla thought. But there was no other way. "Yes," she said, and hurried on.
Ember bent over the controls, biting back a cold fury. This ship was old, too old for battle; it should be safe in orbit somewhere, where blades could learn to pilot and budding clevermen could learn their trade easing its death. To bring it here, stitched full of explosives — to demand that it fight — that was abomination indeed. He spread both hands flat on the console, heedless of his handmouth, seeking the cruiser's will. For a moment, there was nothing, and he caught his breath, afraid that it was too far gone, but then he felt it, the slow pulse that was not intelligent but not unliving, either. Feed, he whispered, you are starving. Feed. He felt it respond, fumbling toward the hive's greater life, and looked over his shoulder at the human cleverman.
"The umbilicals. Extend them."
"Yes, yes." The human hit the correct sequence, then reached for the levers, guiding the heavy cable across the few meters that separated the ships. "Okay, it says they are touching — they have set."
"Yes," Ember said aloud, and nudged the cruiser again. Feed, there is life for the taking…. He felt it fumble and then latch on, drawing power with more assurance. "That will cause them trouble."
"What exactly are we doing?" the human asked.
"I have enabled our ship to feed off Death's hive — to do what they were trying to do to us," Ember answered. "That will drain their power plant, and make it much harder for them to escape."
"I think you have annoyed someone," the human said, and pointed to the main display.
Ember snarled at the sight. Another cruiser was heading toward them, visibly damaged, but with forward weapons charged and ready. "They will try to knock us loose."
The human touched his ear. "Eva! We are coming under attack —"
The cruiser fired, the volley ragged, and Ember ducked in spite of himself. "Quickly —"
The decking rattled, the entire ship shuddering. Alarms blared — atmosphere leak, power loss, life support failure — and Ember grabbed the human by the shoulder. "We must get to your jumper —"
Another shot hit, and more alarms blared, gravity wavering for an instant before it was restored.
"If we can," the human said, grimly, but scrambled ahead of him up the narrow corridor.
Chapter Twenty-five
Queen to Queen
Smoke swirled around Waterlight like a living thing, twisting through the corridors of Queen Death's hive ship. Only Bronze was with her now. The last drone was dead, and Waterlight had watched Thorn twist before her, shielding her with his shredded body. The air was acrid and stank.
Ahead the bulkhead door was closed. “We must open it,” Waterlight said.
Bronze nodded. His hair had fallen from its clasp and fell over his shoulders, matted with blood and other things. “I will go first,” he said, his hand on the door override.
“I will let no more men die for me,” Waterlight said. “Because I am queen.”
Her hand was on his wrist, and so she knew what he did not need to say. Not because she was queen, but because she was Waterlight. Not a distant hope, a privilege and an ambition, but the friend of all his years since he had come aboard as a thin and half-grown fosterling, his Waterlight, his playmate turned princess, his only family.
“We will go together,” she said, with no word for this strange tenderness that stirred in her. “Whatever there is, we will face it together.”
He nodded and opened the door.
Less smoke but more bodies. A half dozen drones lay dead, and there were two humans as well, one withered to a husk while another bent over him. All dead, Waterlight thought, and then the bending one straightened.
It was a human woman, slight and dark, the muzzle of her weapon rising to track them in an instant.
And then her eyes widened with recognition, the point of the weapon dropping again, her relief shuddering through the air like a palpable thing. A worshipper? But would Death arm her worshippers thus? Yet her relief was almost audible, as though she had said their names aloud. As though she had spoken mind to mind.
"Who are you?" Waterlight said, but even as she spoke, she knew. The feel of the woman's mind was unmistakable, though her face was unfamiliar. Her stance was the same, her height, her way of moving. And her mind. “Steelflower.”
“I am Teyla Emmagan of Atlantis,” the woman said, and her weapon pointed to the floor, standing before them as though she feared nothing. And why should she? She did not see what humans saw, Blade and Queen, bloodthirsty revenants, but frightened younglings barely out of childhood, adult estate thrust upon them by war, stained by the blood of their kin shed to protect them.
“What are you?” Waterlight said. Steelflower and not….
“I am human,” she said. "And I am not. I am Teyla Emmagan of the line of Osprey. A cleverman in days past mingled his blood with that of my human ancestors. And I am Steelflower. I took the name and appearance of a young queen who was lost.”
Bronze frowned. “Why would you do that?” The stunner in his hand did not rise.
She held her hands out to the side. “What man would follow me otherwise?”
Steelflower. And not. A human woman, given the blood of Osprey by a renegade cleverman…. And in that moment the paths of the future and the past stretched out before Waterlight, clear as the path of sun on water, all the twists and turns made straight
“And my kinswoman still,” she said, “Steelflower or not. That cleverman was my mother's brother. Brother and sister there were, and you are of him and I of her, your grandmother and mine the same.”
Teyla blinked. That did indeed surprise her.
“You did not lie to me,” Waterlight said. “Though you meant to.”
“I did not lie when I offered you alliance with Guide,” she said.
Waterlight reached out her off hand, touching it to her wrist, queen to queen. “You are Guide's queen.” And how not? He could not rally men against Death without a queen at his side, no matter how she appeared or what she truly was.
“I am of Atlantis.”
“Who are Guide's allies,” Waterlight said. “But we are united in one thing.”
“We must end this,” Bronze said, his voice surprisingly steady.
Teyla smiled, and her eyes closed for a moment, watering at the corners. “We must,” she said. “Will you face Queen Death with me?”