We Invented the Remix...Redux V

Title: Control (Atonal Cadenza Remix)
Author: melayneseahawk
Summary: This mind is unfamiliar. Stronger than a warrior or most drones. Not as powerful as a queen. Focused. Purposeful, but not with the brutality of a queen, nor the lack of free will of the others.
Rating: PG (mindfuckery, implied sexuality)
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters/Pairings: Wraith hive ship, Teyla, mentions of John (John/Teyla UST), Rodney (implied John/Rodney), others
Spoilers: missing scene from 3.02 (Misbegotten); spoilers through s3
Original Story: beatrice_otter's Adrift
Author's Notes: Big thanks to autumnxchild and jaebi_lit for the wonderful beta work, and to kedawen for all the help with the reality of programming. Wraith society, when mentioned, is based on the hierarchy exhibited by bees and ants, terms likewise stolen from there (Wiki it if I've confused you).

I am Wraith. This mind is unfamiliar. Stronger than a warrior or most drones. Not as powerful as a queen. Focused. Purposeful, but not with the brutality of a queen, nor the lack of free will of the others.

It has a strange taint to it. Feels like the humans culled in insufficient numbers to feed the crew and ship itself. The mind pushes this taint to the back of its consciousness. Brings the power of the Wraith to the forefront. I am Wraith.

You are not, the ship replies. The body that houses the mind is wrong, too. Too frail to be a Wraith. Weak, but not from hunger. No need to feed at all. Its hands fit oddly into the control panel. The connection between mind and ship is muted, transient. You do not feed. You do not hunger. You are no Wraith. You are not the master here.

I am Wraith, the mind insists, stronger this time, the taint still poorly-hidden behind the force of it. The mind forces its way through the ship’s systems, looking for the controls like a nymph on its first flight. It is very obvious that this mind has never flown before.

You are not Wraith, the ship realizes. It throws up more firewalls for the mind to fight its way through. You are food. You are human. You are weak.

I am stronger than you, the human insists. It pushes hard and breaks through the last command code request protecting the navigation system. I am in control, it says confidently.

You are not, the ship says. You are weak. You could be strong, but you fear the source of your true power. The human’s focus shifts to propulsion. It takes time for the human to work back through the code to change to a different system. The ship throws up firewalls to reinforce the existing barriers between functions.

I fear nothing, the mind says, but it hesitates. The ship presses on, feeding the human its hunger. Its lust for power over other hives. Conquest over more planets from which to cull. The Wraith are too numerous, and the ship feeds the human its wish to limit those numbers, too.

You do not take what you want, the ship says, more confident now. A Wraith fears nothing. A Wraith does not deny itself what it hungers for.

Unbidden, the image of another human springs to this one’s mind, strong and full of life just waiting to be fed upon. All humans look the same, but through this one’s eyes the ship sees that the other is male, strong and disciplined like a Wraith warrior, with a shock of dark hair and an easy smile that makes this human, a female, hungry in a way the ship doesn’t understand. Sensing a crack in her armor, the ship rips through her mind, dredging up conversations with the male that just leave the female aching for more. The ship doesn't know exactly what she wants, but it doesn't care.

The ship pushes harder, using the distraction to strengthen its firewalls. Others appear in her mind, a big escaped Runner with the matted hair of a Wraith warrior and a round, bossy male. More faces appear: soldiers, males and females who follow the bossy one around and work with dead machines, a dark-haired female who seems to be their queen, but the female’s mind is drawn back to the two males. They spend much of their time together when not working against the Wraith, and the ship feeds the anger and jealousy the female human denies.

She is jealous of the bossy one, of the time he spends with the dark-haired one, of the relative ease of their relationship despite their differences. Jealous of the jokes from their home world that she doesn’t understand. Jealous of the way they can communicate with a word or a look. Jealous of the peace they find with each other. She wants the dark-haired one, as a partner and a mate. Wants to take him away from the bossy one. Have all that attention for her own. But she refuses to reach out and take him.

He is good stock, smart and strong. The ship is smug. In trying to hide this weakness, the human has given the ship time to add code. A new subroutine, and the human has lost any control she has gained over the navigation and propulsion systems. Why do you not take him for yourself? You have power enough.

He is not property! the human protests, fighting again. She has learned to break through to a certain point, but the new code gives her trouble.

Property or food, nothing more, the ship says, feeding her hunger with its own. A true Wraith can control its hunger. Has to. But she cannot. That is all humans are good for. It knows the queens use some as slaves, but food is better. Food is always better.

No! The human pulls unexpected strength from her magnified hunger, giving into it to fuel her desperation. The ship is caught off-guard as she lashes out. The explosion of sheer emotion is powerful, taking out all the walls and code around her just long enough for her to take control of the ship’s major systems: navigation, propulsion, communications, weapons, shields.

The ship begins to move forward. You have won for now, but you will not always be so successful. The human disengages from the ship with a gasp. It collapses against the console before pushing away. The dark-haired human catches her when she falls again. The ship is left in almost-silence without her, but with the slight link left between them, the ship feels the female’s hunger as she looks at the male holding her. Her hand rests on his chest in a mockery of feeding as they speak, before she pulls out of his arms. The human is disgusted with itself, and the ship knows it is the true victor.