Guide smiles mirthlessly, his head still turned away. "I believe it may be related to the hardiness of the Iratus that we Wraith descended from. Countless clevermen have experimented upon it as long as I can recall, yet I have yet to read any report of a cleverman successfully altering an Iratus permanently. However, I would hypothesize that whatever abilities we inherited from the Iratus do not allow us to completely undo changes to our genetic code. But that is neither here nor there, and I am no longer quite so quick to experiment upon myself again."

He gently touches the bulkhead with the tips of his claws, tracing memories in his mind's eye. It should be pearly shell and warm skin beneath his hand, not cold, unchanging metal, and it's only then that he realizes how long he's been kept away from the men he commands. It's only been less than a year in waking, yet it feels so much longer without the touch of a thousand brilliant minds placing their trust in him. "I know what I ask your people to do is not an easy thing," he says, turning his head back toward Kirk. "And though I am proud, I am not so proud that I will not seek out some way to simplify our current deals. Yet, you understand that there is as of yet an untold history between Wraith and Lanteans, do you not? You understand that I cannot allow that history to play itself out again here."