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HONOR--An Atlantis scientist meets the Wraiths. Up close.

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    HONOR--An Atlantis scientist meets the Wraiths. Up close.

    HONOR.

    This is a Wraith centered story. I post it here since the archive is still down. It's a work in progress, but I promise to finish it.

    This story takes place in the Atlantis 'universe', however it does not contain any Stargate Atlantis characters. The Atlantis 'universe' belongs to the Stargate Atlantis franchise. The original characters in this story belong to me. I make no profit out of this, in the Milky Way or the Pegasus. It's only for fun.

    Rating, if we must have one, is PG, with one bad word, once. Some violence, but not graphic, or explicit; just implied. No smooching in the hive ship galleries.

    I am terrible at editing my own work, so forgive the booboos.

    EPISODE 1.

    Spoiler:
    HONOR
    A story by Traveler64




    “There are worse ways to die.”

    That what it—he—had said to me as I stumbled through the perpetual twilight of that planet, the two red moons glowing through the canopy of the forest like two lanterns. The world around me was filled with deep, confusing shadows, the light from above obscuring more than revealing the shapes and forms that closed in on me. I was thrashing through the ghostly maze of branches and shades with increasing panic, cursing aloud and unconcerned of alerting enemies and predators in this place where the Wraiths had culled the natives into small, frightened patches of humanity. The moons were shifting above, and with their waning and rise of the distant sun that was no more than a dark red orb in the maroon sky, the storm of wind funnels would come. It came only once in one hundred years, and my team of scientists had come through the stargate a day before to take measurements and data about how this deadly storm was created. It would strip the land of all vegetation; and any life that was caught above ground. My words to describe my predicament were choice and colorful, festooned with imaginative swearing and framed by a mantra: “You’re not dying here. Not yet. Not now.” This would be punctuated by desperate calls on the radio that failed to respond.

    It was at the end of a particularly long tirade that was particularly colorful in profanities, which I shouted into the radio to a dead world, that I heard the male voice telling me that dying in a blast of wind that shredded you into strips was not the worst. It had not been loud; more like what was known as a stage whisper.

    The panic and outrage of the prospect of such a stupid death—I had taken a detour an hour before to see some quartz formation that glowed rather prettily; way to go!—drained away in a sickening pool in the pit of my stomach. A flicker of hope shimmered at the bottom of that pit. Someone was out there; someone who was on his way to shelter; one of the very few natives still left. Perhaps himself delayed, but knowing where he was going. Over the millennia, since the Ancients had settled them here, the natives’ eyesight had adapted to that perpetual twilight and their vision was catlike. That had been of great interest to our doctor.

    However, something in that voice gave me pause. None of the people of that planet whom I knew and conversed with many times, spoke quite like this. There had been only a few words, hardly enough to judge anything by them, but it was the wistful tone that made me wonder. And the choice of words also struck me, although, again, there had not been many said. A man of that planet would not be wistful, but rather contemptuous of my weakling ranting; and certainly would not deliberate on the merits of one kind of death versus another. He would probably say something to the effect of ‘shut up and die.’ Not that this was a brutal people; or lacked compassion; but, their history at the hands (literally at the hand) of the Wraiths had suppressed and destroyed their softer side; if they ever had one. They were tough with themselves and tough with others.

    There was one more thing about what I had heard in the darkness of the forest--it was not the fact that I understood the language—I had gone through the stargate and the nanopulse implanted at the moment of crossing would have made it possible for me to understand. What had struck me as very odd was that I had no doubt that the words had actually been spoken in English; whoever was out there, he had gone through the stargate as well. While the scientist in me considered the evidence and welcomed it, the human instinct told me that there was danger there. I was also embarrassed that he had heard me ranting.

    I moved slowly now, feeling the pain in my legs and back. The drop in air pressure as the storm was gathering across the mountains and valleys over the horizon, cut my breath. I squinted and strained my eyes to see among the shadows.

    And I saw him in the form of a deeper shadow than the rest and a pale, ghostly orb above it that indicated a face framed in long hair, luminous in its whiteness.

    My breath stopped.

    A Wraith.

    A thin thought, like a warbling alarm formed in my mind as my breath returned. It—he—had seen me before I had seen him. He had listened to me and had watched me. Yet, he had not attacked. He had actually warned me about his presence.

    I stopped and looked carefully, trying to make him out. He was still, as if frozen in that pose, standing against the massive trunk of tree, the branches irradiating around him. His head was tilted forward, his face half hidden by the hair that fell down his shoulders and his chest. Some of his hair was tangled in the bark behind him, looking like a halo.

    His head lifted a bit. “I am in no position to harm you,” he spoke again. “You can easily harm me.” Those words, spoken as something of a challenge, were followed by an angry, frustrated hiss.

    I’ve seen Wraith from a distance; I’ve seen them in pictures and videos. I’ve never seen one close. I was certainly seeing this one closer than any human had the right to do and live.

    And there was no reason for this one to be where he was. The humans on this planet had been culled a month before. The Wraiths had gone leaving just enough behind to procreate and grow, ready for culling fifty years from now. True, the Wraiths were getting hungrier and more brutal in their culling as humans dwindled in numbers. At times, they finished off the population, or taken what was left with them to cut off the feeding ground for a rival hive. Still, there was no reason for them to come back to this planet so soon. And only a one?

    That sickening and unwelcome human fear fluttered again through me.

    “You are afraid even of a Wraith’s shadow,” he said in response to my fear. I have heard that they could tell fear in their victim; now I knew that it was true. I fingered my gun and pulled it slowly. Let him sense THAT!

    “You will not kill me,” he said.

    A very talkative Wraith. I started to hum a song in my mind to cover anything that the Wraith might detect.

    “You fight your fear well.”

    A very clever Wraith indeed. And why wasn’t he attacking?

    Instead of attacking he was… conversing. He was almost chatty, having suppressed even the slightest hint of a hiss in his voice.

    My fear drained away. I turned on the light at the tip of my weapon and directed it at him. I had kept it off because it would only confuse the shadows and darken my vision; and also, although a peaceful planet with inoffensive animals, I didn’t want to alert anything or anyone. And how clever I was… I allowed a Wraith to observe me at leisure. Way to go, girl!

    The light slipped over him. He was a Wraith, all right! One of the more impressive specimens, which told me that he was of a higher rank. Perhaps even a commander. He wore a long, black leather coat, exquisitely crafted with intricate work of silver and embossing. The hair, looking quite uncharacteristically disheveled, had once been braided and carefully combed. The face had long facets and the skin looked almost translucent. The wisps of hair of his chin were also braided. Absurdly, I wondered who did that for a Wraith. They were vain creatures—

    “Sorry to meet you like this,” he positively drawled.

    I put the light on his face and caught a—smile? Oh, great! Wraith humor.

    It was the face that confirmed to me that something was wrong. The skin was a pale gray, covered by a bluish sheen of humidity; and it was haggard, looking old although this was not an old Wraith and Wraith did not really show age. It looked fragile. I shone the light in his yellow eyes. It looked back at me with a feral glint in them. Defiant and arrogant, of course.

    “Satisfied?”

    “What’s wrong?” I asked rather foolishly, really. Yeah, right. Ask a Wraith ‘what’s wrong’.

    He didn’t answer.

    I shifted the light and the glowing circle slipped down.

    I saw what was wrong; and I shuddered, even if it was a Wraith. He had been impaled, the tip of the branch that had been sharpened for the purpose I had no doubt, protruding through the area of his diaphragm; if a Wraith had such a thing. Apparently it had not touched any vital organs. He had healed, of course, and healed around it. It pinned him to the tree.

    I heard a rattle of metal and shifted the light. He was chained to the tree, the links around his middle and his left arm, rather loosely I noted. His right arm was not chained—

    He lunged forward and in the split second it took me to move, his right arm flew at me to grab me, but it brushed against my chest and failed to grip me. The arm stopped midair, in front of my face.

    A stump where his hand should’ve been, pointed at me.

    (Go to episode 2)
    Last edited by Traveler64; 10 July 2008, 09:50 PM.
    HONOR. A story. http://forum.gateworld.net/showthrea...22#post8549622

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    #2
    HONOR

    a story by Traveler64

    EPIDSODE 2

    Spoiler:
    “Good God,” I whispered.

    A hissing bellow of utter frustration came from the Wraith.

    The feeling that came over me surprised me; it was instinctive, a natural reaction of one intelligent being for another. The Wraiths were what they were, what nature and the Ancients had made of them. I was not military, but a scientist, and my clinical study of everything alive or dead, gave me a detached view. They had no control, the same as humans had no control over the composition of their existence—water, carbon and electrical wiring of nerves. We lived off living things as well, but we were fortunate that we could subside on supposedly brainless life, like plants, or mollusks, if need be. A Wraith lived off the life energy of other intelligent beings; the more intelligent and defiant, the more satisfying. The higher intelligence quenched a deep thirst. Perversely, there was no alternative for them; if they wanted to remain Wraiths. And they liked being Wraiths.

    The feeling that surprised me was one of compassion, particularly startling since it was for a Wraith. But, someone had been particularly cruel and vengeful with this Wraith. It was doubtlessly in response to the Wraiths communal brutality and cruelty; but that brutality was only in the confines of their needs. They were so with each other.

    I would have no problem killing a Wraith; especially in self defense. But, I would not, nor would any of my team mates, go to the length someone had gone to torment this one.

    “Save your pity,” he hissed at me, apparently angered by my feelings. “We have none, and expect none.”

    “It’s not pity,” I countered rather quickly, and defensively. “It’s just not right.”

    “Perhaps I earned it.”

    Confession from a Wraith? Now I was curious, suddenly anticipating a deliciously cynical answer. “How?” I prodded.

    “I hesitated. I suddenly remembered that humans feel pain. That was a mistake.”

    Ah… A mistake; worse than a sin. “Never realized Wraiths had such fine feelings.”

    “That was my error.” The chains rattled.

    “A positively human error.” And I regretted saying it. I was taunting him.

    I went closer, although he could have killed me even without his feeding hand; and even though weakened by starvation. He was starving; slowly; painfully.

    “If I unchain you, can you free yourself from that branch going through you?” I asked.

    His pale yellow eye looked at me and considered me for a while. “What’s the use,” he hissed softly this time. “I cannot survive. As I told you, there are worse ways to die than from that storm coming. For a Wraith dying of hunger is the worst kind of death. There is nothing you can do for me.”

    The storm! I had forgotten.

    “There’s a cave nearby,” he said, having guessed the source of my sudden alertness.

    “Where?”

    His head nodded in to my left. “Go between those trees and follow the path until you reach the face of the cliff. You’ll see it. There’s an iron gate that closes over it. It was built by the humans who lived here log before we came.”

    “The storm is close,” I said. “Can I make it in time?” That last statement was feeble.

    “You must go now. It’s some distance from here.”

    I started towards the thicket of trees he had pointed to. The path was clear and I found the entrance a lot quicker than I expected. The gate was of thick cast iron, able to withstand the onslaught of anything. I went in. It was hewn out of rock, its depths unknown, a soft whisper of winds coming from some far chasm.

    I walked back to the gate and started to pull it shut. It growled on its hinges, the sound echoing.

    But, a thought nagged at me. I stood on the threshold and could not move back into the cave.

    This is going to be bad karma, I muttered. There was another half hour or more until the storm came. I ran out of the cave, and felt the air move. It was coming.

    “You came back?” the Wraith almost mocked when he saw me reappear in front of him.

    I shined my light on his chains. They were solid and the cuff on his left hand was tight. But… if I cut off a couple of branches—No, that would not work.

    “Don’t be absurd,” he said, rather softly. “You cannot free me. And it’s useless.”

    I didn’t answer him and circled the tree.

    “Just kill me, if you must do something,” he hissed, more like a purr than a hiss.

    “Haven’t you learned anything about humans yet?” I rumbled.

    “They’re stubborn to the point of stupidity.” His yellow eyes were on me. “Kill me. And then cut me out of these chains.”

    I threw him a long look.

    “I don’t want to be left in chains,” he said almost inaudibly. “Especially not in death. And the only way you can free me is if you cut me out of here. I’d rather be dead when you do that.”

    “I can’t do that!” I exclaimed.

    “What’s so difficult about it?”

    I decided to provide him with a bit of human wit. “I won’t kill you. Not until I freed you. Then, I’ll kill you. Human honor code.”

    “Humans are so complicated…”

    “And Wraiths are not?!”

    Did I see a smile?

    But he was doomed, he was right. He was in pain. I had heard that hunger for a Wraith was like burning alive. The sheen of humidity was from pain.

    “You better do something, one way or another,” he said. “The storm is here.”

    “Who did this to you?” I asked as I circled the tree again.

    “Your kind.”

    “My kind as in human or as in from Atlantis?”

    “As in human.”

    My calculations of the chain’s tangle completed I put out my hand and tugged at it. He let out a soft hiss. “Sorry,” I whispered. “Brace yourself.”

    He snorted.

    “So to speak,” I countered and put the muzzle of my weapon against one link of the chain that went around the side. I pulled the trigger and a flash of white light, followed by a sheaf of explosion split the air and the tree. The chain blew part and the tree splintered. I let out an obscenity as the impact of the tree opening from inside out propelled the Wraith forward. The force of the movement sent him to the ground, the branch that impaled him slipping out, ripping him open anew. He screamed.

    He fell against me, suddenly overwhelming me. Oddly, what stayed with me was his smell. I never thought of Wraith in such physical terms, and it surprised me, overcoming the shock of a Wraith on top of me. It was like nothing I ever smelled, but it was not unpleasant. It was mineral, more than organic. It was like hot metal, or cold stone… I realized that it had a dulling effect on me, like an anesthetic.

    He slipped off me and the feeling of being pulled into some twilight dissipated. He crouched low, free of the tree, the chains broken.

    My actions were before thought. I reached out, grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him to lie down. I reached into my bag and took out the first aid. With wads of paper, cloth and gauze I applied myself to stop the bleeding. I did it at arm’s length, not because I was afraid of an attack—that fear somehow was not there; but because I didn’t want to catch another whiff of his smell; not because it was repulsive. It was the very opposite—it seemed to penetrate the mind and play tricks with it.

    A pheromone… like a moth of the night.

    “You’re wasting your time,” he said, distantly. “The wound is very deep; and it won’t heal this time.”

    “You give up too soon.”

    He let out a little noise that seemed to signify sardonic disagreement. “It was worth it,” he spoke again, to the sky. “It was worth it if only to die quickly and without chains.”

    Suddenly, the wind howled over head and the trees shook.

    “I better die soon,” he said, “or the storm will catch you in the open and—“ He stopped. I saw his eyes move. “My hive has entered orbit.”

    “Crap…” I let out.

    He closed his eyes and willed himself to die. It took only seconds. That was all.

    I don’t know why I did this, but I started to pull branches over him, to cover him. I knew that the winds would scatter everything and tear it apart. But, somehow, I just had to do it.

    I delayed too long with this useless endeavor. The funnel of wind came down so suddenly, that there was no warning. The world crashed around me and a thousand pinpricks and blades pierced my skin. I screamed, the air pressure compressing my lungs. Through the howl around me I heard the thin scream of an insect; a very big and loud insect. Then I saw a veil of light sweep over me. And then there was nothing.

    (to be continued)
    HONOR. A story. http://forum.gateworld.net/showthrea...22#post8549622

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      #3
      HONOR
      a story by Traveler64

      EPISODE 3

      Spoiler:
      I woke up slowly as each sense, one by one, dragged me out of the kaleidoscope of hallucinations, pulling me out of a viscous pool of images and sounds that had never belonged to me. As each sense sent signals from the real world, I knew that I was awakening to reality. First it was my hearing. There was a hum around me and then a voice. “She’s waking up.” It was a woman’s voice, and it sounded small. At the same time I became aware of a weight on my neck and chest, pressing down heavily. “She’s getting stronger,” another voice said and through the wisps of fading delirium I detected resentment.

      The pressure on my neck eased and disappeared. I took in an involuntary breath and now I felt cold and warmth on my skin. I shivered. My lips felt dry and the taste in my mouth was metallic. And there was an odor clinging to my nostrils; a mossy smell that verged on sandalwood, but not quite it. Beyond it and around it was a dry smell of something old, like cobwebs in an attic. But there was also the smell of something organic, alive.

      I opened my eyes, my eyelids fluttering with uncertainty. The images of dark blues, shadowed indigos and deeply orange glows were blurred, misshapen. They moved and drifted; there was constant movement around me.

      My vision cleared inch by inch, from the center out. First, the high domed ceiling made up of luminous shards of blue and orange bloomed above me. Then the perimeter of my sight cleared to reveal far walls of intricate, vein like lattices encasing thin, translucent sheets behind which seemed to flow some liquid glowing orange. I turned my head slightly, painfully at first, seeking the owners of the voice. Two women (human, I determined with relief) came into view. They were both looking down on me. They were clad in indigo ankle long tunics bereft of any decoration or attempt to distinguish the female figure. Their hair was cut very short and both had what looked like a small tattoo at the root of their nose. They were young, both of them and the look in their blue eyes and pale faces displayed cautious hostility.

      I moved slightly and realized that I was stretched out on a pallet of some sorts, without a pillow or any linen, however not uncomfortable, the surface firm yet molding. I raised my arms, at first with difficulty. I was not in my uniform, but in a black garb of some sorts, with tight, long sleeves reaching halfway down my hands. Slowly, I turned my head the other way and hoped that this was another bit of hallucination. I saw the back of a rather massive Wraith walking away, disappearing within the coiling shape of a far corridor.

      At the periphery of the chamber I saw people—could not tell if they were humans or Wraiths--moving around, walking quickly, passing one another like ghosts. I looked around again--in some odd way it looked like the inside of a glass Tiffany lamp shade. I could swear that I could make out the dragonflies with luminous red eyes.

      I sat up and to my surprise there was no pain or weakness.

      The two women stepped back.

      I looked down the length of my body. I was indeed in a black shift, but it wasn’t the simple kind the two women had. It was molded to my figure and it had long strips of satin piping. Rather sexy, if this was a negligee; rather fetching if this was the dress I was going to wear that evening at the Opera… Or, rather grim if this was my funeral dress…

      “Where am I?” I asked the cliché question of all those who wake up in strange places surrounded by strange people.

      “In a Wraith hive ship,” the woman on the right said.

      I had guessed that much. The dart swooping over me and the light sucking me up was a hint. “That’s what I thought,” I said. “The Wraith Baroque décor gave it away.”

      The two women stared at me with disapproval. Probably covering up for their lack of knowledge about baroque, was my gallows humor thought.

      “What’s the name of this hive ship?” I played the ignorant fool. Somehow it felt safer at the moment. Certainly, it felt safer than revealing that I was the head scientist on Atlantis.

      “Name?” the woman on the left echoed. There was shock in her voice.

      “Yes, name. How do you distinguish one hive ship from another? Like, WraithShip Curly, vs. WS Moe…”

      They kept staring at me and their disapproval seemed to morph into definite outrage.

      I insisted: “Like is this the hive of Wraith Queen Boadicea, as opposed to Wraith Queen Victoria? Or—“

      “Silence!” the woman on the left snapped at me and I thought she was going to hit me. “How dare you, human?! One does not know the name of a Wraith and one is never spoken!”

      The woman on the right smiled thinly: “You’ll learn that soon enough, in spite of--” She stopped herself when the other woman threw her a warning look.

      “We haven’t been introduced,” I said brightly, to complete the picture of nit wit, acting like a participant in costume talking to other participants in costume at a SciFi Convention in California. “I am Wraithie Elvira.”

      The two women were naturally clueless to my shananigans, as they answered with the slightest tinge of politeness: “I am Dara,” the woman on the right said.

      “I am Moira,” the other also announced.

      I touched my face and my neck. “I thought I was caught in the wind. I was injured…” My voice trailed in a question.

      “Yes, you were badly injured,” Moira answered.

      “You healed very well, without any scarring,” Dara said. I didn’t like the tone of her voice.

      “It was very costly,” Moira added.

      I didn’t care for Moira’s tone of voice either.

      I looked at their resentful faces. “Who are you?” But, I knew the answer. I knew where I was. And it was not good.

      Dara spoke, tucking her hands inside the sleeves of her tunic like a monk. She pushed up her chin and said: “We are the most privileged of humans. We serve the Wraiths.”

      “And until you become one of us,” Moira said, “you are nothing but waste.”

      I took in a deep breath. “The chance of me becoming a Wraith worshiper washing Wraith ass is”

      Dara’s slap across my face stung.

      “You will learn to speak politely,” Moira hissed at me in a splendid imitation of her masters.

      “**** you!” That’s all that came out of my mouth. I also quickly calculated that since I was not residing at that moment in a cacoon, nor it appeared I had been inducted in the ranks of worshipers, I was destined for something else; not that it made me any more comfortable.

      They obviously didn’t understand that last word because they stared back at me. But they did understand the tone of my voice. Before I could react Moira produced a thin stick and touched me with the glowing end. A shock of pain went through me. It sent me back reeling and I fell on the pallet.

      Dara leaned over me and said: “I don’t know what my master plans to do with you, but as far as we’re concerned, you came last, so you are the last among us. You will learn to worship your master—“

      “Worship him my ass!” I lunged forward, the stick came at me again.

      But before it could touch me, a heavy hand pulled me back and the weapon flew out of Moira’s hand. There was a hiss behind me and I did not need to look to know that it was a Wraith. The two women retreated and as they did so, they bowed lower and lower. Then they stopped at a good distance from me. They seemed to listen to something I could hear. I tried to turn, but the hand on my shoulder seemed to paralyze my neck muscles.

      “Yes, my lord,” Dara whispered.

      The hand on my shoulder retreated. I turned. There was no one there. I knew Wraith moved fast and with stealth, but this was uncanny. And even more uncanny was that a Wraith had defended me against his own worshipers. At this point, I did not have anything flippant to say.

      I asked, although I knew the answer: “How did he move so fast?”

      They both looked blankly at me.

      “He had his hand on my shoulder and only a second later he was nowhere—“ I took in a deep breath as the look on their faces confirmed what I had thought—there had been no physical Wraith there; what I had felt, and what the two women had been listening to was his telepathic presence. It appeared that on their own hive ships, it almost took a physical form; or rather, they could make one’s mind ‘feel’, ‘hear’ and ‘see’ them as if it was real.

      “They all do that?” I asked, not hiding the awe in my voice.

      Strangely that seemed to mollify them. “Just the Lord Commander,” Moira said.

      Lord Commander… I took on an earnest face: “I didn’t know Wraiths used the title Lord…”

      Dara tightened her lips. “That’s how we address our masters. How they speak to each other is none of your business.”

      Ah…

      “You are to come with us,” Moira said, her voice suddenly dull.

      She had received another command. Dara leaned at the foot of the pallet and came back up with what looked like a folded black garment. Moira took it from her hands and unfolded it, letting its folds flow to the floor. I stared at it and I must admit consternation—it was a simpler version, but elegant nevertheless, of a Wraith’s black, leather coat.

      “Good God!” I let out. “That’s for me?”

      The hostile, grim look on the two faces answered me. Yes, it was for me. They took a while to outfit me—the coat had more than one layer, almost like a Japanese kimono and also had an intricate system of fastening of hooks, snaps and belts to keep it all in place. I had a feeling that having your fancy leather coat come apart while fighting would be quite mortifying for a Wraith. I’ll remember that… Once done with the dressing and grooming—my red hair, which seemed to fascinate the two women, had been brushed to a nice shine--and looking like a diminutive Wraith, I was led out of the chamber.

      (to be continued, EPISODE 4)
      HONOR. A story. http://forum.gateworld.net/showthrea...22#post8549622

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        #4
        HONOR
        a story by Traveler64

        EPISODE 4

        Spoiler:
        Walking through a hive ship while being passed by Wraiths in long black coats and long white hair, who ignored you was an experience indeed. Entering the command chamber filled with what seemed to be high ranking Wraiths, their commander standing ramrod straight at the console, and not being fed upon; now that was bizarre.

        I noticed that Dara and Moira left quickly, after they motioned to me to sit on a bench along the wall. They walked with their head down, their back bent, in a perpetual subservient pose. The more they bent, the more I straightened up, until I was walking as if someone had stuck a sword up my butt.

        I sat down for a while, observing my surroundings; but especially observing the Commander. If there was a queen on this hive ship, she did not command from this place. The Commander was, well… a WRAITH, the word all caps. Tall, clad in black, the hair and beard showing the usual vanity and care. He had a swirling tattoo around his left eye—it made me think of the Maori tattoos of New Zealand-- and some more markings around the other. His hair was not quite as white as the others and it was very long, falling like ribbons on his shoulders. His right hand, his feeding hand, had intricately worked guards on two of his fingers. And for goodness sakes! He had an earring! I supposed that among Wraiths, he was quite a ‘looker.’ If such a thing mattered among Wraiths; but then, why would he wear an earring and be so vain, if it didn’t matter? To be a Queen’s eye candy. I peered at him. Yup, the hive eye candy.

        And all this mental chattering and smart-alecky banter was really just mounting hysteria at my situation.

        I sat there for a long time. No one paid me any mind. I had no idea what they were doing, other than the obvious, which was to fly the ship. Except for the Commander, all the other Wraiths were in constant motion. That rapid motion and darting about gave me the distinct image of wasps.

        I stood up. No one seemed to even notice. I took a few steps towards the Commander. He kept looking over my head. I turned to see—right above where I had sat, covering the whole wall was a red screen with symbols and Wraith writing scrolling on it like flowing water.

        I had to speak: “Is her majesty, the queen, in her boudoir?”

        My voice, if not my words, had an effect; perhaps one that I should have forgone. All the Wraiths looked up at me, stopping whatever they were doing.

        Ah, a snack! I seemed to read on their stony faces.

        The Commander looked at me for a few seconds, his hands motionless on the controls. “This hive ship does not have a queen.”

        “Ah,” I muttered, considering what should be my next topic of conversation. I was feeling very hungry; and thirsty to the point of discomfort. Somehow, though, I didn’t feel comfortable with bringing up the issue of feeding in the presence of several very able bodied Wraiths who had just taken a good look at me.

        “What do you want of me?” I asked instead.

        The answer came immediately. “Nothing.” And after a pause: “At the moment.”

        I have a big mouth; that has been amply proven over time. I have been told so often. My big mouth didn’t fail me: “In that case, shouldn’t you pickle me, or something?”

        The answer was so earnestly spoken that under different circumstances I would’ve considered my interlocutor either very dull, or possessing a very dry humor: “That is not the Wraith way.”

        Really?

        “I don’t taste good enough for you, gentlemen?” I cringed at my own words.

        Was the Commander about to laugh? While expression on a Wraith’s face is hard to describe, their eyes are rather revealing, I was discovering. This one’s eyes narrowed a bit and glimpsed sideways, as if trying to hide something.

        “We’re not in dire need,” he answered.

        “Nice to know.”

        I sat back down. I was hungry, my stomach beyond just growling. There was actual pain. I’ve been in that hive for quite a while. In all this time, there had been no offer of food or drink. Surely, there was human food on board; the worshipers had to be eating! The suspicion began to bloom in my mind that Dara and Moira, the oh, so friendly Wraith worshipers, were forgetting on purpose to feed me. The Wraiths, especially the Commander, could not be bothered to think of such human details; first they were Wraiths, and second they were, well… male. Well, as opposed to their queen, who was female… but, looked like males in drag; while the male Wraiths looked rather confused.

        I flinched. The Commander’s catlike eyes were on me.

        “You are in need,” he said and much to my discomfort, he walked around the console and came up to me.

        “I am quite fine,” I said quickly.

        “You are hungry.”

        Okeedokee… don’t mention food; don’t mention hunger… “You don’t happen to have some crackers, or cereal, or an apple around this impressive ship, do you?”

        He looked at me for a second, tilting his head sideways in a manner that made me think of a praying mantis discovering prey. He tightened his lips in what looked like annoyance; or disgust; or cogitation; or all three. I thought I heard a thin hum in my brain, but it quickly went away.

        Dara and Moira came running in, but stopped on the threshold. There was a low hum and hiss from the commander which sent them running off. He turned on his heels, the hem of his long coat swirling and marched back to his console, looking rather indignant. I decided that he looked rather graceful.

        Dara and Moira returned very quickly, Dara bearing a tray with some odd looking fruits, or legumes, or… whatever they were. It was food. With it was a rather large tankard. I hoped it contained water.

        Moira looked me in the eye as she put the tray and tankard on the bench next to me. “I hope you like this,” she whispered at me. There was nothing nice in that whisper.

        “Thank you,” I said, loudly.

        “You’re taking away our food,” Dara hissed from the other side.

        “We can’t keep feeding you,” Moira added.

        A regular Abbot and Costello act…

        I wanted to answer something cutting, but I resisted. I still didn’t know what bothered these two.

        I picked up a rounded fruit with green and red scales and I turned it in my hand. “Did you poison this? It could save you having to feed me again.”

        They straightened up, bowed to me (for the benefit of their master, I am sure) and started to walk away. But, before they actually left, Moira turned and said, very quietly: “If we poison you, another one of us will die for you.”

        Dara added for good measure: “You are eating the food of three of us. There won’t be any until we land. And we don’t know when that will be.”

        I sat there with the fruit in my hand, staring at it. In spite of my flippancy, what those to had told me troubled me. This fruit—or whatever it was—was someone else’s portion; if I ate this, someone would go hungry. I did not doubt the truth in that; the frustrated, if not anguished tone in Dara’s voice was unmistaken. But, not eating it, as the Wraith was watching me, would generate more questions and probably trouble for the women. I took a nibble. It was sweet and rich; a bit cloying, but it was good. The very first bite abated the sharpest edge of my hunger.

        I wondered if it was rude to eat, like a human did, in front of the Wraiths.

        And then there was the question of the loo…

        The Commander stopped looking at me.

        I finished half the fruit and felt full enough—it was very nutritious—to consider saving the rest for Dara and Moira. I took a look in the tankard. It was a whitish, cloudy liquid. I sniffed. A fruity smell. I took a sip. It tasted like coconut. I took a couple of swallows and my thirst was slacked the way no water could. I put it down. More for Dara and Moira.

        My mind turned to the very troubling statement about ‘another will die for you.’ Now, that was both very, very troubling and, well, strange. How had I become such an important person for the Wraiths, that they would kill a worshiper if one crossed me? Or, why had I become such a pet?

        There was much I did not know about the Wraiths; there was much all humans did not know about them.


        (to be continued)
        HONOR. A story. http://forum.gateworld.net/showthrea...22#post8549622

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          #5
          Wow, you do a great job, go on! The last chapters are as good as the first two. I have the feeling that the narrator is about to discover a very disturbing truth about how comes she is still alive and not hurt from the storm, and why the two worshippers hate her so much...
          My Stargate Atlantis fanfictions - Wraith font
          Todd contacts Atlantis once more... (spoilers up to season 4) 1. Glimpse Into the Evil | 2. Of Wraith and Men (in progress)
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            #6
            Originally posted by Laura Dove View Post
            Wow, you do a great job, go on! The last chapters are as good as the first two. I have the feeling that the narrator is about to discover a very disturbing truth about how comes she is still alive and not hurt from the storm, and why the two worshippers hate her so much...
            Thank you! I am glad you like it. It's fun writing it.

            The resolution to this story would come pretty fast since I don't want to spend twenty episodes or so on it. I can't sustain that kind of loooooooooooooooooong story. So, fear not.
            HONOR. A story. http://forum.gateworld.net/showthrea...22#post8549622

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              #7
              Thank you! I am glad you like it. It's fun writing it.

              The resolution to this story would come pretty fast since I don't want to spend twenty episodes or so on it. I can't sustain that kind of loooooooooooooooooong story. So, fear not.
              I'm enjoying this, it different to everything I seem before, do we get at least a couple more chapter please, there's quick and there's loooooooooooooooong. Keep up this, the action pace is just right. I've got lots of questions. In fact I'm going to PM you.

              MCH
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                #8
                Originally posted by MCH View Post
                I'm enjoying this, it different to everything I seem before, do we get at least a couple more chapter please, there's quick and there's loooooooooooooooong. Keep up this, the action pace is just right. I've got lots of questions. In fact I'm going to PM you.

                MCH
                Thank you! First for reading it and second for the compliment, especially that it's different. It's not really 'fanfic' since I am not using any of the characters of the show, other than the concept of Atlantis and Wraiths.

                There are going to be at least--I project--three, if not four more chapters. I cannot put more than 2000 words in one post, so it might get more 'episodes.'
                HONOR. A story. http://forum.gateworld.net/showthrea...22#post8549622

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                  #9
                  *envious of T64s' writing ability*
                  Looking forward to the next installment Really love how descriptive your writing is.
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                    #10
                    Originally posted by toomuchcaf View Post
                    *envious of T64s' writing ability*
                    Looking forward to the next installment Really love how descriptive your writing is.
                    Thank you so much. When I read a story, I like to feel the place, really enter it; so, I guess this shows when I write. I just threw myself into this one.
                    HONOR. A story. http://forum.gateworld.net/showthrea...22#post8549622

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                      #11
                      Here is the next installment of HONOR, broken up in two parts (because one post can't take more than 2000 words. How primitive!)

                      Hope you enjoy it!

                      EPISODE 5

                      Spoiler:


                      There was much I did not know about the Wraiths; there was much all humans did not know about them.


                      I was filled with conflicting thoughts, fears and feelings. The reality of my situation was sinking in, the uncertainty of what was going on made my feel both angry and humbled—suddenly my great scientific mind and arrogance was doing me no good. The worshippers were reacting to me with a hostility and from some primeval gut that disturbed me and felt I could not cope with it. The Wraiths—the real threat—were as unpredictable as unknown, and certainly more complex than we, humans, wanted to believe or were willing to accept. It was foolish, if not stupid of us to demonize and simplify the Wraiths into a simple, two-dimensional creation that fit our notion of good and bad; right and wrong. For heaven’s sake! DNA was a multi-dimensional concept, it was certainly three dimensional—I was getting philosophical here. You combine the human, of the Ancient kind DNA, with some unknown insect that seemed to have a very developed societal structure and you got something very, very complex; and frightening; and… well… fascinating.

                      I stopped cold in the middle of my thoughts—fascinating?

                      I looked up. The Commander was looking at me. That golden green gaze on me felt like the touch of antennae. The human in me would’ve liked to say that that ‘touch’ was frightening or slimy; or disgusting. But it was not. Frightening, yes, at some level. Otherwise, it was… well… fascinating.

                      I steeled myself against that feeling and started to mentally hum a song that came to me—sitting by the side of the Bay, watching all the ships go by…

                      The Wraith took his gaze off me.

                      Perhaps he found me fascinating as well. Don’t be an idiot! Wraiths do not find humans fascinating. It’s good food, bad food; can braid my hair; cannot braid my hair. That kind of thing.

                      But, I am a scientist! I remembered while sitting there in a Wraith coat. I am not fascinated, but fascinated like in curious, interested, in a clinical, scientific way.

                      I took in a breath. So, if you’re interested and a scientist—which you are, and a darn good one—then explore, inquire, observe, examine, experiment and learn. I looked at the Commander, whose face was slightly turned away from me, towards another Wraith. Were they communicating?

                      I felt a ping in my heart—did they know I was from Atlantis?

                      Of course they did!

                      I stood up and walked up to the console. Slowly…

                      The Commander turned very still and waited, and there was a definite look of preying mantis on his face; yet, preying mantises did not show amusement; and bemusement.

                      “Commander,” I started and I realized that it lacked the flippant tone.

                      “You show respect for the Wraiths,” he said, his voice humming.

                      I took in a breath. A snarling Wraith is pretty impressive and frightening; that I could understand though. But a humming one? That was right down disconcerting.

                      I stiffened. “The same one shows for a python or a cobra,” I answered.

                      There was something of a smile. He liked my answer.

                      “If this means you think I am becoming one of your worshipers, I have to greatly disappoint you.”

                      “You addressed me as ‘Commander’ not ‘lord.’ A worshiper addresses us as lords.” His head snapped a little to his right and peered at me. “Humans from Atlantis do not make good worshippers.”

                      Ah… he knew I was from Atlantis. Not a surprise. And that put a big cold boulder in the pit of the stomach. That meant that he wanted more than me braiding his hair.

                      “We are your equal in power,” I retorted, in my idea of matching a Wraith’s legendary arrogance. As the humans of Pegasus would quip with a resigned shrug—the Wraith do not have to explain themselves to you.

                      “You make excellent enemies,” the Commander said.

                      I considered the statement and the rather finessed compliment, and the differentiation between the Milky Way humans and the herd of Pegasus humans. “Thank you.” I had conceded not because I agreed with his assessment of our superiority as a superior brand of human, but because a compliment from a Wraith should be taken at its face value and not tossed back with human philosophy. It was wiser that way; certainly more diplomatic. Especially since this was a Wraith and I was his captive. Prisoner?

                      I said: “Since you seem to have an appreciation of the Atlanteans that you do not have for the Pegasian (was that a word?), I have to assume that you are aware that Atlanteans do not abandon their people. They will search for me and find me; and you’ll have a fight on your hand. We do have a tendency to blow up hive ships.”

                      “We noticed.”

                      Suddenly, I remembered. My subcutaneous transmitter! Although, the hive ships were surrounded with a field that prevented transporting, perhaps they did not prevent signals from a transponder.

                      “It was damaged,” the Wraith answered my thoughts.

                      “They’ll still find me!” I don’t know whether I said it so loud out of conviction, or because I wanted to convince myself. “They knew where I was last, they were in orbit and you can bet your—“ I scanned him, “--your jewelry that they tracked your hive ship.”

                      The Wraith smiled—whether at my mention of jewelry, or my bravado. Probably both. I stayed myself mentally. Stop flaying like an idiot. Shut up! Be calm and behave like an officer; even if you’re not one, and just a scientist. Well, not JUST a scientist; the same as Rodney McKay was not just a scientist.

                      “We know that Atlantis can track us,” he said, casually, sounding not impressed. “Doctor Elena Vries,” he added, with an emphasis on the name peculiar to his kind. He seemed to roll the name in his mind. He had bothered to figure out my name. “It is most fortunate that you have joined this hive ship,” he added. “You could’ve been picked up by the rival ship. We were in battle above the planet. Those were our culling grounds and we were defending our rights.” He looked over my head to the luminous panel with scrolling letters. “They would not have dared if we had a Queen.”

                      I pondered. This Wraith said nothing that didn’t serve a purpose. “Why am I so fortunate?”

                      “The other hive would’ve had you for a tasty meal before you even realized where you were.” He tilted his head again to observe me; or consider me as a tasty meal. Humans could undress you with their gaze; in an odd way, Wraiths could do the same when considering how delicious you were. Not a good feeling.

                      I wasn’t going to ask why THIS hive didn’t want me for their desert.

                      “If they would’ve found anything alive or even with meat on the bone,” he added looking rather delighted with himself. “If we would not have picked you up, you would not be more than bones.”

                      A thought sparked in my head. “What do you want from Atlantis in return for me?”

                      “I have to consider that.”

                      “It was not a suggestion,” said quickly. “Atlantis does not pay ransom.”

                      He made a slight sound. “You have it wrong.”

                      “Wrong that they would not pay ransom or that I am a hostage for ransom.”

                      “Both. But more importantly, that you are a hostage for ransom. We gave you the gift of life in return for the honor you’ve shown us.”

                      I was flummoxed. Then I got it. Or thought I got it. “I found a Wraith tied to a tree with his hand cut off—“ Did the Wraith in front of me wince? “Was he from this hive?”

                      There was a long pause. “Yes.”

                      I honored a Wraith. THAT Wraith. I fell silent. How, I had no idea. Because I cut his chains? Because I tried to save him somehow?

                      “How?” I asked quietly.

                      “You helped him die; and die with honor, unchained, as a Wraith.”

                      I fell silent again, as the images passed through my mind.

                      It was he who broke the silence: “You did not approve of what had been done to him.”

                      I looked straight into the Wraith’s face. My thoughts circled quietly as I observed that while some Wraiths looked… well, bug like and disconcerting in their alien-ness, this one looked oddly refined and elegant. And tested by time, I could tell. He was arrogant, but the edges of his arrogance were smooth, like worn amber. And that was also the color of his eyes—amber.

                      My thoughts circled back to what he had said. “Killing Wraiths is part of war and self defense, but torturing and tormenting one to death—“ Did he see my shudder? Would he consider that weakness? Showing weakness to a Wraith was not a good idea.

                      “You understand more than you think,” he hummed.

                      “I’ve haven’t seen much concern for the dead among the Wraith, or the manner of their deaths,” I said. “I’ve seem them discarded like empty husks.”

                      “He was important to us.”

                      The scientist in me awoke. “How so?” I didn’t expect an answer. The Wraiths were reticent in many ways.

                      But, there was an answer. “He was to be a mate to the Queen of a powerful hive that would produce a Queen for my hive. There were long negotiations, for many centuries before we arrived here. This hive would’ve been our ally for as long as we would’ve had our Queen, offspring of their Queen. Now, they are enemies, as we broke the contract.”

                      Suddenly I had a hundred questions.

                      But, he turned to the console. “Later you may ask your questions.”

                      HONOR. A story. http://forum.gateworld.net/showthrea...22#post8549622

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                        #12
                        EPISODE 6

                        Spoiler:
                        No sooner that he spoke the words and the dynamic duo of Dara and Moira appeared. They bowed to me. “You are to come with us,” Dara said.

                        Moira picked up the tray of food and the tankard with a look of disapproval on her face and they led me down the twisted corridors of pulsating and glowing strangely organic metal. We emerged into a large chamber, so large that I had to look high above my head to see the domed ceiling. It was like a large courtyard surrounded by rising tiers of balconies behind which there were alcoves glowing with blue light. One such balcony and alcove was central, alone up the wall, like the royal box in an opera house. A winding staircase lined by what looked like living lanterns lit the way up to that alcove. Other staircases led to the galleries above.

                        Moira took me up those stairs, while Dara waited at the foot. At the top, Moira touched an intricate plate and a screen of a gossamer substance drew aside.

                        What I had called an alcove was a large chamber that seemed to have actually been decorated with symmetrical filigreed glowing blue panels framed by columns through which flowed a glowing orange liquid. Against the wall facing the balcony was a wide bench with arms. On either side there were two additional benches, smaller, recessed in the wall.

                        “You sit here,” Moira said. “That is your place.” She pointed at the smaller bench.

                        There was no question of the resent and jealousy in her eyes. She practically slammed the tray and tankard on the floor. She then helped me take off the leather coat and left me again in that rather sensually soft tunic. I was left sitting on the bench—kind of firm yet soft under me—with my arms draped over the arms. I watched her kneel in the middle of the floor and touched the floor with her palm. I looked up to the ceiling, my gaze attracted by the sudden round glow of blue light. Slowly, a cone of luminous blue vapor descended from the light, spreading out until it touched the floor in a wide circle, while columns of darker blue rose within the cone.

                        “The lord Wraith has commanded that we allow you to clean.”

                        “I’m fine here,” I said, firmly. I figured that cleansing had something to do with that blue cone of light.

                        Moira rounded on me. “Don’t make difficulties!” She pulled out the rod. “I’ve had enough of you!”

                        Apparently attracted by the sound of her voice, Dara came running.

                        “Get her here!” Moira snarled.

                        Before I could react, Dara was on top of me and the painful sting of Moira’s stick shot through my body. My limbs went weak and then unresponsive. They lifted me roughly and dragged me to the cone of light, while pulling off the tunic on the way. They shoved me into the circle of the columns and blue cone and I fell to the floor while crying out mutely.

                        But, what I felt next was like a wave of tranquility washing over me. Droplets of cool light circled me and touched my skin, a pleasurable tingle massaging me. I let out a sigh and slowly rose to let the mist cover me in a sparkling blue shimmer. I felt cleansed and good. I felt my heart beat slow down to a pleasant rhythm, my breath content.

                        But, it was short. Moira’s hands pierced through the mist and grabbed me. I did observe though, at some subconscious level, that she let her hands linger in the mist. A forbidden pleasure for her…

                        They clad me in a new tunic, equally soft and sensual and placed me on the bench.

                        “Happy?” Dara asked, the bite in her voice.

                        I didn’t bother to answer and turned my head to look over the balcony’s edge into the neighboring alcoves. Their arrangement was less elaborate, they were a lot smaller, but they contained the same throne like benches and glowing lights. The impression was that of a honeycomb.

                        As I looked, a thought came to me. I decided to apply all that crap I had learned in various leadership and conflict resolution courses and management training. I was going to confront the issue with Dara and Moira head on. I was going to bring it out in the open.

                        I turned to them.

                        “Dara,” I started. “Moira…” They looked at me. “I don’t know if this is the right form of address, I don’t want to offend you.”

                        They met me with silence.

                        “I am not here of my own choice,” I continued. “I don’t know why I am here, and I certainly don’t know why I am not dead and I am not either just a pile of bones stripped of all flesh on the planet below, or a dried up husk on the hive’s floor.”

                        More silence.

                        Right. Go on. “Whatever is going on, I have no idea. But if I offended you, or caused you problems, I know nothing about it.”

                        Still silence, but different somehow.

                        “If I have done something wrong, or I am causing you hurt and problems, please tell me.”

                        Dara swallowed hard, opened her mouth, but closed it. They both turned on their heel and walked away.

                        Just at that moment, the Commander appeared at the top of the stairs and entered the alcove. Moira and Dara bowed deeply. I let out my breath—if they had wanted to say something to me, and Dara seemed ready to do so, the Wraith’s appearance had stopped them; and the moment went away.

                        Moira and Dara went down to their knees and touched the floor with their forehead as he passed. He seemed not to see me, or rather he knew I was there and there was no need to look. As he neared the center of the alcove, my attention was drawn by a sudden rise in noise around me; a soft humming and rustling. Through the intricate workings of the balcony rail I saw a legion of worshipers stream into the courtyard below and disperse up staircases to the tiers of alcoves. The lower tier of alcoves lit with blue lights and I saw the telltale white hair of the Wraiths and their black forms. Worshipers attended to them, reminding me of worker ants attending, in some symbiotic arrangement, sleek and vain wasps. The sight fascinated me.

                        When I finally took my eyes off the scene, I found that Dara and Moira were taking off the Commander’s outer garments to reveal that he wore underneath black leggings, boots and a short tunic.

                        I wasn’t sure I wanted to see the next step—a Wraith stripped to his naked greatness. Yet… What the heck! But, before I could get used to the thought, Dara and Moira produced a sheet of lustrous black fabric and draped it over and round him as he shed the rest of his clothes and stepped into the cone of light where he became nothing more than a shadow inside the luminous blue mist.

                        He was there for a long time. In the meantime the chamber became silent, and I could see here and there, Wraiths seated in the semidarkness of their alcove, their head bent; perhaps asleep.

                        When the Commander came out, he was already in a floor length black tunic with long sleeves, hemmed in silver.

                        The Wraith at home. Le Wraith chez soi. Who would’ve thought…

                        I noticed that his walk was now more feline and his face seemed luminous. While the mist had done nothing to my glow, it appeared that it added sparkle to his complexion.

                        He sat down, his hands draped over the arms of his bench and turned his head to me.

                        “Shall we—as you humans put it—dine together? I believe that is a human custom.”

                        Oh, crap! That was the only thing I could think of.

                        Moira brought another tray and put it next to me. More fruit.

                        Perhaps I should’ve expected what came next. But, when it actually happened, or rather was about to happen, it shocked me to the point that I could not abide that was actually happening.

                        Two male worshipers appeared in the entry to the alcove leading between them a young, tall human who seemed to be in a daze, his eyes glassy. He looked strong and healthy; he looked like a sheep being led to a waiting wolf.

                        They led him to the Wraith and made him kneel, not to humiliate him, I thought, my clinical thought process rising like a defending shield, but so that his chest would be at the level of the seated Wraith’s hand.

                        The two male worshippers, Dora and Moira turned their back. Their neck was bent.

                        Perhaps I was expected to follow suit and turn away as well. But, I did not. I would not do what the worshipers did, although they were probably wiser than me. Instinct told me that it would be deadly for me to turn. Sixth sense told me that I needed to show strength.

                        In reality, even if I wanted to react, I could not. I was transfixed. Frozen.

                        The Commander put his hand on the man’s chest. He didn’t slam it, as I’ve seen in videos. He just placed it on the bare skin firmly. From where I sat I could only see the man’s back, his head held high, and the Wraith’s face, tilted forward over his victim. There was a moment of silence, like a deep breath, like the delicious moment before savoring the pleasure that would come. And then he purred. Yes, he purred. At first just a low murmur, then it got louder, like a great cat, a soft snarl behind the purr.

                        I did not move. I simply stared into the Wraith’s face and I was only marginally aware that the man in front of him was thinning out and the hair was turning white, attached to the skull as if to a mummy.

                        And then it stopped. The Commander took his hand away from the man who slowly started to topple. But before it could hit the ground, the two male worshipers quickly covered him, bundled him up and removed him. Moira rushed forward, kneeled and tenderly—yes, tenderly—wiped his hands with a white cloth. I saw the marks of blood on the towel. They left quickly, leaving me with the Wraith, deep silence all around us.

                        Every fiber of my body wanted to scream. But, the outer shell—my muscles and my skin—were frozen. I still held the fruit in my hand. Mechanically, in an act of defiance of my own horror and absolute fear, I took a bite of it.

                        The Commander looked at me. “You are strong,” he said quietly.

                        I started to tremble.

                        “Shall we continue our conversation?” he said. He sounded content.

                        HONOR. A story. http://forum.gateworld.net/showthrea...22#post8549622

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                          #13
                          Still as good as the previous episodes! You really know how to keep me stuck in your story. I love your depiction of the wraith commander, and I wonder why Elena was supposed to watch him feed... Because she was supposed to, wasn't she? Some kind of test maybe, to check her strength of will?

                          Keep writing.
                          My Stargate Atlantis fanfictions - Wraith font
                          Todd contacts Atlantis once more... (spoilers up to season 4) 1. Glimpse Into the Evil | 2. Of Wraith and Men (in progress)
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                            #14
                            Oh wow I don't know what to say- that last episode.

                            I think that this Wraith story is on par with some of the best Wraith fiction- I have read alot- and that is storys from our own fan fiction and the Fandemonium books ..... I got goosebumps. Excuse me Traveller64 I'm going to make a cup of tea ..... and ponder on what the Commander and his hive wants from the Lady From Atlantis......as a Queen?
                            .....an offering to another hive for a Queen?..... Finally who mutulated and killed the Wraith the Lady from Atlantis found on the planet?-Humans or wraith from the hive she currenetly on or the other hive they had the fight with?

                            MCH
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                              #15
                              Originally posted by Laura Dove View Post
                              Still as good as the previous episodes! You really know how to keep me stuck in your story. I love your depiction of the wraith commander, and I wonder why Elena was supposed to watch him feed... Because she was supposed to, wasn't she? Some kind of test maybe, to check her strength of will?

                              Keep writing.
                              Originally posted by MCH View Post
                              Oh wow I don't know what to say- that last episode.

                              I think that this Wraith story is on par with some of the best Wraith fiction- I have read alot- and that is storys from our own fan fiction and the Fandemonium books ..... I got goosebumps. Excuse me Traveller64 I'm going to make a cup of tea ..... and ponder on what the Commander and his hive wants from the Lady From Atlantis......as a Queen?
                              .....an offering to another hive for a Queen?..... Finally who mutulated and killed the Wraith the Lady from Atlantis found on the planet?-Humans or wraith from the hive she currenetly on or the other hive they had the fight with?

                              MCH
                              MCH and Laura Dove--Thank you so much for reading it so fast and for the compliments: your reaction is the greatest compliment.

                              The following episodes should be coming pretty fast since now I finally chose the path of the story; or rather, the Commander decided it. Funny how a character develops.

                              So, stay tuned!
                              HONOR. A story. http://forum.gateworld.net/showthrea...22#post8549622

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