"And I," the Wraith warrior said, "have no desire to ally myself with the Genii."
Ladon looked at him again, and swore. "Kolya's Wraith."
"Yes, I was Kolya's prisoner," the Wraith said. "And from him I learned never to trust a Genii."
"No more than we can trust a Wraith," Ladon snapped.
"Gentlemen," Woolsey said. "If we do not work together, Queen Death will surely destroy us all."
Ladon took a slow breath, then another, willing his heartbeat to subside. Woolsey was right, that was the damnable thing: with only the Lantean's Hammond and the Pride of the Genii, they had no hope of holding off Queen Death's fleet, and relocating Atlantis only postponed the inevitable. "I'll listen," he said, and the Wraith dipped his head slowly.
"As will I. Go on, Mr. Woolsey."
"Your man is unwell."
Jack looked up sharply at Alabaster's remark. Radim and Guide had been sniping at each other for the better part of an hour, and the Wraith was no closer to accepting the spy's information as accurate. Woolsey looked startled, too, and Radim frowned.
"He is," Radim said. "The condition is common enough among Wraith worshippers."
"I am aware of that." For the first time, Alabaster's voice held a hint of steel. "But in it I believe we have the opportunity to resolve several difficulties. You, Commander, wish confirmation of this news, and you, Chief Ladon, surely you do not wish your man to suffer?"
The silence was heavy, Wraith and human staring at her with suspicion. Jack couldn't see where she was going either, and said nothing.
"I can eliminate both problems," Alabaster went on. "I can — with your consent, Varelon — confirm this tale and provide some relief. And then we can return to truly pressing issues."
Provide relief? Jack thought, and Radim shook his head. "I cannot allow one of my men to be fed upon —"
"Chief." The spy gave Radim a shamefaced look, and the Genii leader closed his mouth unhappily. "I am willing. If you please, Lady."
"Wait just a minute," Jack began.
"It is not the same as feeding," Alabaster said, indignantly, "as Mr. Radim well knows."
Woolsey didn't look any happier, and Jack wasn't feeling all that good himself. But the Genii spy was on his feet, moving quickly around the table. Alabaster stood to meet him, her feeding hand flexing, and Jack flinched as she caught Varelon just below the throat. His head snapped back, eyes closing; Jack's hand twitched, but he managed to keep himself from reaching for his pistol. Woolsey looked distinctly green, and Radim wasn't looking at all. Alabaster bared teeth, but did not snarl, and Varelon did not wither under her touch. He swayed, staggered, and then she released him, letting him slump down into the nearest chair. He was pale, but the tremors that had racked him earlier had stopped.
Alabaster looked at Guide. "He speaks the truth, Commander."
Guide did snarl then, but Alabaster ignored him, and returned to her place, arranging her skirts neatly about her.
"I believe that we must accept this temporary alliance."
"Perhaps," Guide said.
Woolsey cleared his throat. "Mr. Radim, you came here to warn us of grave danger, and I assure you we are grateful for that."
Just not too grateful, Jack thought. We don't want to go overboard.
"And I agree that an at least temporary alliance against Queen Death is the only option that offers a reasonable chance for all our people to survive." Woolsey folded his hands on the tabletop.
"And when the alliance comes to its inevitable end?" Radim asked.
"All bets are off," Guide said, with something like a laugh.
Radim smiled fiercely. "Yes, indeed."
All right, Jack thought. We've got them to agree to work together, so now the trick is to get Radim out of here before anyone says anything about Hyperion's goddamn weapon. We do not need him to find out there's a weapon that destroys Wraith, particularly when we're going to destroy it….
Radim looked at Woolsey. "So now the question is what must be done in the extremely limited time left to us."
"We have —" Woolsey looked at his tablet. " — a little more than thirty-five hours. But I agree, there is a great deal to do."
Chapter Four
The Pride of the Genii
Woolsey and Radim returned to the original conference room, leaving O'Neill behind to continue talking with the Wraith. Woolsey was in two minds about that, but he told himself firmly that O'Neill was a competent and experienced negotiator. The Wraith seemed to respond better to military personnel, anyway — Todd had always seemed far happier to talk to Carter or Sheppard, and now O'Neill had stepped easily into those shoes. That just left him Ladon Radim to deal with.
They went through the motions of settling in, Woolsey offering refreshment, Radim accepting, exchanging barbed chitchat while they waited for the mess hall staff to arrive with a tray. The main thing now, Woolsey thought, as he poured a careful measure of skim milk into his mug, was to get Radim and his people to agree to join the attack, and — perhaps more important — get them out of Atlantis before they got any inkling of the existence of Hyperion's weapon. The Genii would have no compunction about using it, and Woolsey could understand their position.
"Under the current circumstances," he began, "it seems that it would benefit both our peoples to join forces."
A fleeting smile crossed Radim's face: as an opening, that was weak, and they both knew it. "And we would, of course, be willing to honor our agreements."
"Then we can expect the Pride of the Genii to join us." Personally, Woolsey agreed with Sheppard, the Ancient cruiser should have retained its previous name, but he wasn't about to offend Radim over something that small.
"Of course we'd be glad to," Radim said. "But we're somewhat hamstrung at the moment."
"Oh?"
"As you know, none of my people have the Ancient blood, the ATA gene." Radim smiled sweetly. "Without it, our ability to crew the ship is limited."
"We would, of course, we willing to loan you appropriate personnel," Woolsey said. "In fact, it might be helpful in any case, as we have had somewhat more experience in interstellar warfare."
Radim inclined his head. "A very generous offer, Mr. Woolsey, and one I would like to accept. But it doesn't change the fact that at some point we will need to handle the Pride ourselves. And for that, we do need this gene. Or the genetic therapy that your people have developed."
Woolsey spread his hands. "My understanding of that therapy is that it allows a recessive gene to emerge, to be expressed. It only works on people who have a copy of the gene. On anyone else, it's useless. And I am told that the ATA gene is very rare in the Pegasus Galaxy."
"So it seems," Radim said. "However, our scientists have been pursuing a different possibility, a therapy that would allow a functioning ATA gene to be inserted into an individual's DNA. Your technique would allow us to shorten the process considerably."
"Indeed," Woolsey said, in a tone calculated to express polite disbelief.
Radim gave a thin smile, acknowledging the unspoken skepticism. "You would be surprised, Mr. Woolsey, at how quickly biology has advanced on our worlds once we realized the key to our problem."
And, of course, they could steal from the Wraith, Woolsey thought. He knew better than to say that, however, and merely nodded.
"We believe we have isolated at least a variant of the ATA gene itself," Radim said, "If it can be activated — well, we would be more than happy to exchange the use of our warship for a sample."
"As you know, we on Atlantis," Woolsey began. The request startled him, and for a moment he was afraid he let it show. "We are an exploratory mission. It's something we simply didn’t bring with us. Our people were treated before they left the Milky Way."