"John?"
Sheppard threw her a weary nod. "The others are still on Halcyon, as guests of our gracious hosts." He said, anticipating her thoughts. The word `guests' was laden with heavy sarcasm. "McKay asked me to pass this on to you, it's his preliminary field report." John offered her a data screen and she took it.
"Diplomacy taking its toll on you?" She managed a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood.
"And then some." Sheppard frowned. "I've learned a few things about these people, Elizabeth, and it's not promising."
She was paging quickly through McKay's report, scanning the gist of it. "Ancient constructions... Possible presence of a ZPM..." Weir paused. "Is this a good news, bad news thing?"
"Not so much of the good," John noted. "I wouldn't trust these people as far as I could throw `em."
She returned a wry grin. "Welcome to my world, Colonel." They walked away from the silent Gate. "Let's adjourn to the briefing room, and you can bring me up to speed."
A nod. "I think Beckett should sit in on this as well. His input could be useful."
Weir tapped her communicator headset. "Carson?"
A Scots brogue sounded in her ear. "Beckett here."
"Can you come up to the central tower?"
"Aye, I'm on my way."
Weir looked back at Sheppard and saw the hollow, troubled look in his eyes. "John? What did you see out there?"
"It's a long story."
Elizabeth steepled her fingers and remained silent throughout all of the colonel's report, now and then scrolling through the data screen's collection of digital images captured by Rodney McKay's camera, but content to let Sheppard find his way and tell them his impressions of Halcyon without interruption. A veteran of hundreds of conferences where a taciturn poker face was a basic requirement, Weir kept her own emotional reactions under tight rein, retaining a neutral aspect. Throughout her diplomatic career, in the days before the Stargate Program took over her life, Elizabeth had made a skill of listening to troubling discussions without revealing her own opinions. By contrast, Dr. Carson Beckett, the resident chief medical officer on Atlantis, bore his reactions with no artifice at all. The soft-spoken Scotsman cursed under his breath at some of Sheppard's descriptions of life on the other planet, shaking his head in disbelief.
"How can they exist like that?" Beckett asked. "Blood sports, and warfare as an organized team game? It's barbaric, that's what it is."
"There are several tribal cultures on Earth that used ritualized combat as a form of entertainment or to solve disputes," offered Weir, "but nothing on the scale you described, John."
Sheppard laid his hands flat on the table. "And from what I was told, the battle we witnessed was just a small-scale skirmish. A minor disagreement."
"It's not just that," added the doctor, "it's this racial ruthless ness that I can't stomach. I can't see how a culture so callous could survive for long."
"Cossacks, Romans, Vikings... All of those peoples had societies with customs that would seem horrible to us today," continued Elizabeth. "Of course, none of them had the level of technology present on Halcyon."
"Yeah. If there was ever a planet in line for a regime change, it's this one." Sheppard rubbed his face wearily.
"What about the Wraith issue, these `Hounds'?" Weir looked at a still photo of the aliens in battle armor. "Can we be sure that the Halcyons aren't just working with the Wraith? We've seen that before."
John shook his head. "No, you know the Wraith. They'd never accept a subordinate position to humans. I don't know how they've done it, but the Wraiths on Halcyon have been stripped back to a feral state. They're not much more than savages, kept on leash with those collars." He pointed at the picture. "It's the only explanation as to why the Hounds haven't risen up and torn them all to shreds."
"Do you think the Wraith know about Halcyon?" she asked.
"McKay seems to think not. The planet's way off in the sticks, a long hike from any Wraith territory we know of."
Elizabeth studied the data screen again. "Quite frankly, John, there's a part of me that wants to recall the team right now and lock the Halcyon address out of the dialing computer."
"Me too. But..."
"But indeed." She tapped the panel. "The fact is, as objectionable as we might find Lord Daus and his people, if there's even the very faintest chance that we could locate a zero point energy module on this planet, we have to investigate. Atlantis is running on one ZPM right now and it's designed for three. If we could get our hands on another..."
"And you think the Halcyons will just hand over a piece of Ancient technology to us, no questions asked?" Beckett shook his head. "They'll probably want to fight us for it, or something."
"They don't care about the Precursors... The Ancients," said Sheppard. "McKay told me their top egghead Kelfer dismissed the whole thing out of hand. It's likely they don't have the first clue about Ancient science. If they have a ZPM, they'd be more likely to use it as a paperweight. I get the feeling Daus and his gang wouldn't be too comfortable with the idea of someone being smarter than them."
"Egotistical and in denial, then? Sounds like a case for Dr. Heightmeyer."
"We should be thankful for small mercies. A society like this with access to Ancient science... I dread to think what could happen." Elizabeth considered the situation for a moment. "These people are arrogant, so we should use that. You said Daus accused you of being weak?"
"Several times. Hurt my feelings something terrible."
"Then let's play to that. If the Halcyons want to underestimate us, we should let them. If we don't disabuse them of that belief, we might be able to convince them to part with the ZPM-"
"If they have one," Carson broke in.
"-If they have one, and they'll be none the wiser. Daus will have us in his debt, and there's nothing people like him enjoy more than having someone owe them a marker."
Carson considered this for a moment. "Of course, if they realize we're trying to pull a fast one, they won't be nice about it."
Sheppard sighed. "Okay. So I'll Gate back and we'll bite our lips until McKay gets his look-see inside this dolmen. If there's a ZPM, we bag it, if not, we smile politely and go home."
"That's the gist of it, yes," said Elizabeth. "But I don't want another Genii situation with these people, John. If Daus starts demanding weapons or technology in exchange, tell him no. Food or medicine they can have, but nothing military in nature."
"Way ahead of you on that one."
Beckett tapped the table. "On the subject of medical aid, I'd like to add something."
"Go on."
The doctor sighed. "I'm going back to Halcyon with Colonel Sheppard."
John shook his head. "Uh-uh, no way. Remember the organized war and blood sport thing? I've got too many people on that planet as it is, I'm not taking another one."
"Another three, actually," continued Beckett. "I'm going to turn over the Atlantis infirmary to Dr. Cullen for the duration and take Holroyd and Kenealy with me. This illness you mentioned in your report, the `bone-rot'. The symptoms sound like something connected to malnutrition, maybe toxins in the water supply. If I'm right, it would be simple enough to address."
"Carson-" began the colonel.
"I'm not going to stand by if there are sick people out there and I can do something about it. It's my job, John. I have to try to help." He looked away. "Besides, saving the lives of their workers might make these nabobs a little more well-disposed towards us when the time comes."
Weir nodded. "I agree. Colonel Sheppard is right that there's a risk, but Carson is correct. The commoners are not Daus and his barons. If we can help them, we must."
John frowned again. "Fine, but I want to take a little extra insurance with me. A Puddle Jumper."
"I though we wanted these people to underestimate us," said Beckett. "Won't an invisible Ancient spaceship raise a few eyebrows?"
Sheppard gave him an arch look. "I'm not gonna do the `invisible' thing.
Not unless we need to, anyhow."
"Permission granted," said Weir. "Carson, gather your team and whatever supplies you need. John, Jumper Three is in the hangar and prepped for launch." Beckett left them alone, and Elizabeth touched Sheppard's jacket where a series of ragged rips were visible. "You might want to get a change of uniform while you have the chance."
"Oh yeah. Right." He blinked. "Sorry. I've kinda been in the moment for the last couple of days." John sighed. "How do you do it, Elizabeth? How do you look a scumbag in the eye and make nice, when all along you just want to deck him?"
"Thinking happy thoughts helps," she noted, "that, and hav ing a punching bag you can take out your annoyance on."
That raised the first smile Weir had seen from Sheppard since he came back through the Stargate. "Good advice. I'll keep it in mind."
She hesitated. "John, I know I don't have to say it, but I'm going to anyway, just for my own peace of mind. Tread carefully out there."
"Wanna go in my place?"
"What, and let Caldwell turn up on the Daedalus to find me gone?" Weir said lightly. "He'd be moving into my office in a hot minute." She smiled again, but it faded quickly. Elizabeth felt conflicted, and for once she knew it was showing on her face. "I think Daus has another agenda. Call it diplomatic instinct, but from what I hear from you and Rodney, I think you need to be prepared for another play from him."
Sheppard met her gaze and held it. "Don't worry. We'll be ready."
Advance. Parry. Lunge. Turn. Block. Strike. Strike. Parry. Strike once again.
Teyla moved through the training regimen with a flowing grace, her moves seamless and swift. Years of practice on Athos had turned the routine into something she could do by sheer reflex, the motions coming from memory ingrained in her muscles and nerves. The two short sticks in her hands hummed as they moved through the air of the courtyard, assailing invisible foes.
Sheppard had a name for these kinds of exercises; he told her they were called kata on his world, a word from the native language of the scientist Dr. Kusanagi back on Atlantis. Kusanagi's people, so John had explained, were known on Earth for a martial art called kar-ah-tey, although Teyla had never seen the bookish woman exhibit any prowess in it. Sheppard had shown her recordings, these dramatic presentations the Earthers called "movies", where men and women demonstrated this kar-ah-tey and other fighting styles called kung-foo and bok-sing, often in battles where they were hugely outnumbered or were forced to use eclectic common objects as weapons.
Many of the soldiers from Earth were also trained in these techniques, although none of them seemed to have the ability to balance on the tips of sword blades or skip across rooftops, like the fighters in the films. Teyla enjoyed sparring with them; the way they fought was fresh and it challenged her own skills. Similarly, she liked the occasional match against Ronon Dex. Where Teyla's stick fighting was all about grace and accuracy, the Satedan fought with power and speed. John Sheppard, by contrast, was a wary and careful opponent, looking for the swiftest way to bring the fight to a conclusion. Sheppard didn't glory in combat the way Ronon did; the colonel fought to win, not for the thrill of it. They were both very different men...
Parry. Back fist. Turn and sweep. Block. Advance. Cross and strike.
The clean, pure flow of the kata helped her clear her mind of distraction, of all the fears and concerns that had crowded her since they arrived on Halcyon. This was the first real moment of peace she had felt in days, the distant psychic murmur of the Wraith retreating as she found her focus. The woman let herself draw in, become centered.
She pivoted as she moved, her eye line crossing the cloistered corridors running around the edges of the quad. Teyla knew the palace guards were there, watching her without trying to be obvious about it. When she had asked a young trooper where she could take an hour of exercise, the look on the soldier's face was one half of shock, half of fascination. She heard him whisper to his comrades as she walked away, one word spoken like a prayer to ward off evil. Wraithkin.
The trooper had directed her here, to this training square. The large open courtyard itself was deserted; part of it was a short weapons range with steel target silhouettes in the shape of a man, and at the other points of the square were racks of wooden training swords, a jointed practice dummy and something like a climbing frame. Teyla moved in tight circles on a broad rectangle of yellow flagstones worn smooth by hundreds of years of sparring.
And rest.
She completed the exercise by bringing the sticks to her chest with a clack of wood on wood. Teyla panted, the air cool on her bare arms; and then there was a tingle at the back of her mind.
"Interesting," began Vekken, emerging from the shady side of the quad. "Your method has some similarities to the Halcyon two-dagger school from the Rekil Era. You seem very proficient."
Teyla watched him approach. "I led a large community on my homeworld. It is important to have the skills to back my leadership with force, if matters require it."
Vekken accepted this with a nod, pausing to examine the training weapons. "But you are no longer a leader? You serve Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard."
"We are colleagues," she corrected. "We work in unison." Teyla sensed the adjutant's verbal feint and parried it. "We have common goals."
The other man selected something resembling a quarterstaff, but with a curved hook at one end, like a herdsman's crook. "I often use this place to take exercise myself," he explained, removing his tunic. Beneath, Vekken wore light cotton clothing better suited to melee combat than his usual brocade jacket. He produced two glass bottles of water and offered her one.
Teyla took it and sipped warily.
"Still suspicious?" Vekken took a long draught from his bottle. "I would think you have nothing to fear from us now the Magnate has decided to be open with your commander."
"Would you give your trust easily in my place?" she replied.
Vekken gave a brief, rueful smile. "I would not." He weighed the staff in his hands. "You and I, Teyla Emmagan, we share an understanding that few others do. The touch of the Wraith upon us... It gives one a unique viewpoint, do you not agree?"
"That is one way to consider it." She moved to leave. "If you will excuse me-"
Vekken held out the staff to bar her way. "Ah, but there is a minor question of rules to address. You see, this square was allocated to me this morning, and you have used it without my permission."
"The soldier did not mention this."
"I imagine so. Normally, I would let the matter pass, but the soldiers are watching and it does not serve discipline for me to allow an infraction. You are on the quad," he tapped the flagstones with the staff, "and so I must take it from you. By force."
"Your rules?" Teyla sniffed. "I do not wish to fight you."
Vekken brought the staff up to a guard position. "Just a little friendly sparring, Teyla. Enough to satisfy protocol. Unless you wish to concede to me?"
She raised her sticks. "Very well. First to yield, then?"
He nodded. "First to yield." The staff flashed out at her and Teyla knocked it up and away, sidestepping and taking distance.
Vekken flipped the weapon around his hand and thrust it like a pike. Teyla dropped low and made a foot-sweep; she did it with little art, throwing an easy attack at the adjutant to see how he would react. Vekken dodged without effort and stabbed out again. The staff nearly caught the tip of her ear as the Athosian moved into a parry-strike-parry combination.
"Heh." The man pivoted and twirled his weapon overhead. "You are quick. More a warrior than a leader, I would warrant."
"And you are more a soldier than a royal aide."
Teyla tapped her sticks against one another and gestured for him to try again. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed movement; some of the guardsmen were gathering near one of the cloister pillars to observe them. She imagined they would be taking bets on the outcome.
The next attack came with frightening speed, and Teyla understood that Vekken
had been toying with her at the start. She took a blow on her right forearm that sent jolts of fire up her nerves, and by impulse she hit back with a double strike that met Vekken's ribcage on either side. He grunted and dropped back, an instant of surprise on his face, then gone.
"I'm curious," said Teyla, licking her lips. "The men in Daus's court, the barons like Noryn and Palfrun; you clearly have a greater martial skill than they, yet you seem to have no fiefdom of your own. Am I wrong?"
Vekken shook his head, shifting his stance. "No, you are correct. But I serve the Lord Magnate willingly. It is my place." He struck and Teyla parried again. "My family has always been tied to the fortunes of the Fourth Dynast."
She shifted and caught the staff in a tight grip, locking the two of them together. The muscles in her arms bunched as Vekken pulled against her. "Because you are Wraithkin, yes?" Teyla panted. "Does that forbid you from being a lord yourself?"
And there she saw a moment of unguarded truth from Vekken, the briefest flash of what was beneath his studied mask. Teyla took the distraction and hit him, scoring three quick blows. He struck back, the curve of the hook clipping her chin. Vekken tried to snag her with the hooked end and she barely skipped away.
"My clan has served as the protectors of the Magnate's line on Halcyon for generations," he hissed, "and I gladly continue that tradition, as will my children, and their children."
Teyla shook off the shock of the impact. "How... How can you be so sure that the Fourth Dynast will reign in the future? In a society like this, there will come a time when they will be unseated. It is inevitable."
"Lord Daus's authority will not be overcome. No-one on Halcyon can match his power."
She went back to a guard stance. "His army, you mean? How does he have so many Hounds at his command, Vekken?"
The adjutant did not answer; instead he came at her leading a storm of blows, and it was all Teyla could do to parry them away. She felt herself pushing back toward the walls, losing ground to the furious assault. He brought the staff down hard and she caught it in the cross of her sticks. "Yield!" he spat.
Stargate Atlantis: Halcyon Page 14
