Stargate Atlantis: Halcyon

by James Swallow

  The soldier shrugged, unruffled. "I dunno. I thought it might have electricity sparking off it, maybe." He fluttered his free hand. "You know. Bzzzt!"

  Rodney made a face. "You watch too many movies, Corporal. Back off a little." He touched a control pad next to the ZPM.

  "Wait. You're not going to unplug it, are you?"

  McKay blinked. "Well. Yeah."

  "Would that not be a bad idea, Doc? If you're on the money about this Wraith brain-jammer, then switching it off is going to make every one of those bozos on this planet go out of their heads, right?"

  He had a point; in his excitement, Rodney hadn't stopped to consider the consequences. Certainly, if the dolmen was anything like Atlantis's systems, it would have enough juice in the system to run for a short while without a ZPM, but once it ran down... What then? "Ah, nuts." For all the hateful things he had seen on Halcyon since they arrived, McKay couldn't even begin to contemplate the thought of turning the Wraith loose on the planet.

  Clarke frowned. "You reckon his lordship back in the palace knows how this thing works?"

  "If he does, then even if I disconnected the ZPM, he'd never let us take it. I was hoping we might find more than one here, but..."

  Erony came toward them. "Rodney? What are you doing?"

  He pressed the control to close the compartment. "Nothing. Just checking." He paused, and then looked the woman in the eye. "Erony, I need you to be honest with me about something. Don't give me any of that Jane Austen circumlocution. Does your father understand how the dolmen works, yes or no?"

  She opened her mouth to speak, but a sharp crackle of noise threaded into the chamber, silencing her.

  McKay's gut twisted in sudden fear. "That sounded like..."

  Clarke raised his rifle. "Gunfire."

  Linnian was there to greet them as Vekken's pilots docked the chattering gyro-flyer down with the Magnate's air-yacht. Sheppard felt a nasty little kick of dej i vu as they made their way across the landing pad. He glanced out over the canopy of green that stretched out for miles either side of the huge airship. It was shades away from the barren, broken ground of the war zone where the blues and tans had gone at it; the forest below was rich and lush, and were it not for a couple of barrage balloons tethered out in the distance, he might have been forgiven for thinking this was a wilderness untouched by human hands. John peered into the trees, looking for signs of movement and saw none. Was there another little war going on down there somewhere? He found himself thinking of Bryor and the other bluecoat conscripts he met on the battlefield. Had they survived to the end of the game, were they now somewhere else, dying in an equally pointless skirmish?

  Linnian saw the look on Sheppard's face. "This is a nature preserve, Lieutenant Colonel. The ecology is tightly controlled so that our hunters may venture into an environment as close to the wild as possible."

  "On my planet, preserves are where wildlife are put to keep them alive, not for people to hunt."

  "But your planet is very far away," noted Vekken. "Come. The Lord Magnate awaits us in the solarium."

  Sheppard threw a look at his people; the expressions on the faces of Teyla and Ronon were the same, both of them wary and uncomfortable with the recent memories the airship brought up. He noticed the Satedan giving long looks at the guards posted in the corridors as they moved through the hull spaces. The number of men on duty had clearly been doubled since Dex's unauthorized venture through the ship.

  Linnian took them up along the spine of the air-yacht to a wide glass dome on the prow of the vessel. It was open to the blue sky, a frame of green steel and smoked windows to lessen the glare of Halcyon's pale sun.

  Daus rose from a heavy velvet-covered chair as they entered. "Ah. Here we are."

  Sheppard forced a brittle smile. "Yeah, we have you right where you want us."

  The Magnate grinned. "Very droll, Lieutenant Colonel."

  John hesitated, and in that moment he felt something solidify in the back of his mind, the sudden crystallization of a thought that had been forming for days. He couldn't say how, but Sheppard instantly knew. He's playing us. Right now, to our faces. Ronon and Teyla seemed to sense it too; they knew their commanding officer well enough to take the cue from his body language. To hell with diplomacy. I'm not Weir, I shouldn't be trying to handle this like she would. Time for the John Sheppard approach.

  "Yeah, I'm a funny guy." The tone of his words killed Daus's insouciant smile dead. "You called, we came, so let's cut to the chase, your lordship. What do you have to say to me?"

  Linnian actually gasped; Daus's face was neutral. "Such bluntness. How refreshing." He helped himself to a drink. "Very well, Lieutenant Colonel, I'll match your directness, for the sake of expedience. As we speak, your Dr. McKay is doubtless venturing inside the structure we call the dolmen. Inside, he will learn that it is a device of great age, constructed by the Precursors to aid Halcyon in her battles against the Wraith."

  "A weapon?" said Teyla.

  "A shield," replied the Magnate. "A mechanism that operates on some higher science, fogging the minds any Wraith that venture here."

  "So that's how you keep the Hounds in line," Ronon said.

  "The dolmen's power is key, yes, but our choke-collars and the punishment training we submit the Hounds to plays a role as well. Unfettered by us they would merely be savage animals. We give them purpose, turn them to good use."

  "That's debatable," retorted Sheppard. "Why tell us this now?"

  Daus drained his wineglass. "I want there to be no falsehoods between us, Atlantean. I want you to understand me, understand Halcyon. To respect what we have to offer."

  Sheppard and Teyla exchanged glances. "And what is that?" she asked.

  The Magnate went to the dome, edging Linnian out of his path. "Some Wraiths, the ones we cannot break through our training regimens, are brought here to this enclosure. We set them free inside, and when our noblemen wish to sharpen their skills, this is where they come to hunt."

  Dex snorted. "More games. More blood sport."

  Daus continued. "There is one Wraith that lives in the preserve. I named him Scar." He smiled and tapped his face on the right side. "I once took his eye, you see. I was the only one to come close to catching him, and that was long ago. He has been out there for years, killing hunters and his own kind, surviving by sheer hate alone." The noble nodded to his adjutant. "Vekken has a theory that Scar might be some superior breed of Wraith, able to better resist the effects of the dolmen than his brethren. But I disagree. I think that Scar is merely stronger than all the others. And only the strong can survive. The weak and the powerless, those without allies like you, Sheppard. They are only prey for the hunters."

  "Was that a threat?" Ronon drew himself up, but Vekken was there in an instant, blocking his path.

  "Only a truth, Runner," said Daus, "only a truth."

  The colonel's radio gave a chirp of sound, and John reached for it. "Sheppard here."

  "It's me, Carson," came the reply. "Can you talk?"

  "Yeah," said Sheppard. "We're all friends here. Tell us what you got, Doctor."

  There was tension in Beckett's voice. "I set up a temporary clinic here in an old warehouse near the quays. We pulled in about fifty people at random, all age groups, both sexes. This `bone-rot', John, it's everywhere. These commoners, as they call them, they all have osteomalacia."

  "Sounds nasty."

  "Aye, it is. You'd know it better by another name Rickets. I'm guessing that we're looking at the long-term effects of vitamin deficiencies, carcinogens in the atmosphere, lack of calcium..."

  "Can you help them?"

  "That's the good news. Fabricating vitamin shots won't be hard. The tough part will be distribution, but yes, we can make these people better"

  Sheppard threw Daus a level stare. "Good work, Doctor. I'll check back with you later."

  "One last thing," said Beckett. "You should know that I'm pretty sure what the root cause of this aliment is, Colonel. N
o one down here in the lower city is getting clean water or uncontaminated food. From what I can determine, these people are living off the scraps from the nobles. It's a outrage." He sighed. "Beckett out."

  Linnian drummed his fingers on a brass rail. "Your healer is very candid in his views."

  "Yeah, that's what I like about him." Sheppard kept his eyes on Daus. "We could do something about that for you. We could show you how to make that problem go away overnight."

  "And what would you want in return?" Daus put down his glass. "I know your man McKay covets the secrets of the dolmen. Or would you try to de-fang our Hounds and our armies?" He sniffed. "Ask yourself this, Lieutenant Colonel; do you think that I would jeopardize the superiority of the Halcyon nationstate for the lives of a few commoners?"

  "Then what do you want to trade? Because you can be damn sure we're not parting with weapons or Jumpers!"

  Daus smiled at him, and it was like watching a knife draw out of its sheath. "Halcyon offers you her safety, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard. She offers you and your poor, lost Atlantean brethren a place to call home. All she asks is that you come under my dominion in return for such protection."

  "You're joking," snapped Ronon. "Us join you?"

  "Why not?" said the Magnate. "After all, your city is in ruins, is it not? You have no place to go, nowhere to call home. If Atlantis is no more, I would think that you would welcome a safe haven!" His voice rose as he spoke.

  "Unless, of course, the tales of the Precursor City's demise are not entirely accurate," ventured Vekken. "Imagine if that were true. Imagine what might transpire if the Wraith learnt of it."

  For one long second, John Sheppard balanced on the edge of his first diplomatic incident, his fist cocked and ready to knock the High Lord Magnate on his High and Lordly ass; but then he reeled it in and shook his head. "Thanks for everything, but you know what? We're through talking with you people." He turned his back on Daus and beckoned the others to his side. "Let's go."

  The Magnate called after him. "Think on my offer, Sheppard. I am a better friend to you than an enemy."

  The words were ringing in his ears as they reached the landing pad with Linnian panting to keep up. The colonel paused as the gyro-flyer's rotors began to spin up to speed and he tog gled his radio. "McKay, this is Sheppard, you read me?" Static answered him. "Rodney? Can you hear me? Clarke, Hill, anyone, respond!"

  "What is wrong?" asked Teyla.

  "I'm not getting anything from McKay..."

  Dex sneered. "More damn games?"

  Sheppard grabbed Linnian. "You. That thing is fast, right? Go tell your pilot I want him to firewall it. Take us to the dolmen, double-time!"

  They were in the air in moments and on the way; but despite their repeated calls, McKay's team remained silent.

  eyla's throat tightened as the gyro-flyer crested the ridgeline ringing the site of the dolmen. A sooty stream of black smoke extended from the stone arena and into the sky, a dark jagged arrow pointing down at the Ancient obelisk. The smoke issued from the smoldering remains of another flyer, the sleek lines and silvery rotor blades now nothing more than a crushed fist of metal. Even from the air, she could see the bodies of men in Fourth Dynast uniforms scattered about.

  She heard Linnian let out a small cry of shock. "My... My Lady?"

  Their aircraft rocked as the landing skis touched the ground and Sheppard was already at the hatch, flinging it open. "Fan out!" he shouted over the thrum of the slowing rotors. "Look for survivors!"

  Teyla had her P90 in her grip as she disembarked close behind Ronon. In turn, Vekken, Linnian and a couple of other riflemen trailed the Atlantis team. Vekken was snapping out orders to his own men as Sheppard moved forward, ducking to avoid the downwash from the flyer. Ronon had his pistol out, swinging it back and forth, searching for targets. She watched the Satedan pause to check the crumpled form of a fallen trooper. He looked up and caught her eye, making a throat-cutting gesture with the blade of his hand.

  "Who could have done this?" spat Linnian. "Who would dare? The dolmen is a prohibited zone, the rules of engagement disallow any actions here!"

  Ronon nudged the dead man's lance-rifle with his boot. "Clip's almost full. Whoever took these soldiers down was quick about it. He barely got a couple of shots off."

  "Hounds?" said Teyla, the word hard in her throat.

  "No," offered Vekken, "the wounds are from needle shot. Hounds carry melee weapons only." The adjutant moved away as the whole group spread out into a semi-circle.

  Teyla moved low, watching for any signs of movement. The area around the dolmen was largely open, what little cover there was coming from a low wall and stubby stone cubes dotted here and there. Her seasoned warrior's sense told her that what ever had happened had already passed them by, and they had arrived in the aftermath; but it never hurt to be cautious, and on too many occasions she had encountered scenes that appeared unthreatening on the surface, only to be proven otherwise.

  From the periphery of her vision she caught sight of a familiar blue uniform jacket and the khaki frame of an L85 rifle. Teyla's mouth went dry as she rounded a squat divider to find Corporal Clarke hunched over, his head lolling forward. His right shoulder was wet and dark with blood.

  She slung her P90 and knelt by his side. "Clarke? Clarke, can you hear me?" Relief flooded into her as she touched her fingers to his neck and found a thready but definite pulse.

  The soldier mumbled something and shifted, groaning.

  "Colonel," she shouted. "Over here!"

  Clarke blinked slowly and gave her an unfocussed look. "Think. I took one."

  Sheppard bounded over, tearing open the Velcro pocket of his medical pack. "Corporal, what the hell happened?"

  "Ambush," said the British soldier, his words thick and slow. "Blokes in. Grey fatigues. Put some of the buggers down, but... But there were too many..." His head lolled forward.

  "He's lost a lot of blood," Teyla noted, helping John bandage the man's wounds. She peeled back the slick material of the jacket and found ragged tears underneath.

  "We need to get him back to the helo, back to Beckett."

  Ronon came over at a run, his face grim. "I found Hill." He shook his head. "He didn't make it."

  Sheppard shot to his feet and swore. "Where's McKay?" he demanded.

  "Not here," continued Dex, "no sign of his gear, either."

  Teyla glanced up as Linnian approached. He had Lady Erony with him, and she was pale with shock, walking with her adjutant supporting each stumbling footstep. "Lieutenant Colonel," she called, her voice trembling.

  "Highness, please," Linnian was saying, "you must come with me..."

  She pushed away from the man. "Sheppard! They took him!"

  "Rodney?"

  "Yes!" Erony wobbled unsteadily. "It was an assault splinter. I don't know how they got through the cordon. They gunned down our escorts, then they turned Wraith weapons upon us." She had tears of anger in her eyes. "Dr. McKay thought they were here for me! He tried to defend me. They shot him with a beam pistol..."

  "A stunner," said Teyla.

  "But why him and not you?" Sheppard demanded.

  "Not just your doctor," said Vekken as he drew near. "Master Scientist Kelfer has also been abducted." He looked at Erony. "My Lady, did they attackers wear the gray?"

  She nodded. "As the codes decree. No tabards or identifying sigils."

  "So which of your lords or earls has gray coats?" said the colonel. "I don't take kindly to sneak attacks on my people!"

  "You misunderstand," said Vekken. "No barony or Dynast sports gray uniforms. Only when a clan wishes to make a covert play against another will soldiers don that color, so their identity remains hidden."

  Ronon snorted. "You've even got rules for that?"

  "Of course. It is uncommon, but not unknown for a minor noble house to take prisoners of war in order to exert leverage over another Dynast. Although it is quite audacious to strike at a guest of the Magnate."

 
; "You expect us to believe that this is some kind of power play? That doesn't track!"

  They finished bandaging Clarke's injuries and Teyla stood. "The colonel is right. Would not Lady Erony have been a more valuable hostage than Dr. McKay?" She still had the corpo ral's blood on her fingers, and the coppery tang of it made her blanch.

  Vekken gestured to his men to carry Clarke back to the gyroflyer. "You will pardon me for saying, but it is most likely McKay and Kelfer were taken because of their lesser value, not in spite of it. Erony's kidnapping, the capture of a Magnate heir, would have meant that Lord Daus would have had no choice but to declare a pogrom and eradicate the guilty parties involved. The two scientists do not warrant that scale of reprisal. A more equitable resolution may be found."

  "How genteel," Teyla replied, "and along the way one of our men is killed and another badly wounded!"

  "Halcyon soldiers have lost their lives here as well," said Vekken mildly.

  Teyla's eyes narrowed. "I wonder how keenly you feel for their sacrifice."

  Sheppard nodded. "For all we know, it was Daus who ordered this! Maybe that's why your boss wanted us out of the way for a while!"

  "You Atlanteans should be careful of making accusations while your fury is up," Vekken's jaw hardened. "I would advise you keep such ill-founded suspicions to yourself. If you give voice to that dishonorable slander within my earshot again, I will call you to answer for it at the tip of my sword."

  "Yeah, whatever," The colonel angrily turned away. "Get Hill's body. We're going back."

  Staff Sergeant Mason's face turned to a stony mask after hearing of Private Hill's death. Carson Beckett heard the SAS soldier's growled response to Sheppard when the colonel broke the news.

  "You find us the bastards who did it, boss," Mason said, "and we'll see they pay the bill."

  The intent behind the words went against everything that Carson stood for, but there was still the smallest part of him that empathized with the dour man. He knew military types like Mason of old, and he understood that the bonds between the soldiers of Special Forces units were particularly strong.