Halcyon

Chapter Ten

The Puddle Jumper moved quickly over the treetops, the gravity drive whining. To an outside observer, all that would have been visible was a sudden glimmer, there and then gone, a swift disturbance in the air as the cloaked spacecraft tracked back and forth in a grid pattern.

Sheppard kept his eyes firmly on the ship's head-up display, frowning at the flickering dots that showed Wraith life signs. "They keep appearing and disappearing…" He shifted uncomfortably; the tension and exertion of the day was taking its toll on him, his black uniform t-shirt damp with sweat beneath his ballistic body armor and webbing vest. John toggled a control to set the sensors to a deep penetration mode, and the display changed, showing a faint network of channels under the surface. "There are tunnels and caverns all over this part of the enclosure."

Ronon weighed a hand-held Ancient scanner in his grip. "That figures. This Wraith they call Scar, he wouldn't have lasted long in here if he didn't have some kind of safe haven."

The colonel's eyes narrowed. "They could have a nest down there, like termites, or something." He shuddered. "That whole Wraith-Bug thing makes my skin crawl."

Suddenly, Ronon gave a shout. "There!" He stabbed a finger at the trees. "Bring us around, there's a clearing! I saw something!"

Sheppard slowed the Jumper and drifted it gently around in an arc, keeping the blunt nose of the craft aimed forward where Dex had indicated. The Satedan had been right. "Good eye," noted John, spotting a figure in the dark blue of an Atlantis combat uniform sprawled on the ground. "Can't make out who it is, though…"

Ronon stuffed the scanner in the pocket of his coat and drew his particle magnum. "Drop the ramp, I'm going down there."

"Wait, I gotta land us first," The pilot put the ship into a hover, carefully rotating it as he gradually descended below the level of the leafy canopy. The open copse was small and setting the ship down in it would be like threading a needle.

"No time," snapped Dex, "she could be hurt." He reached past Sheppard's shoulder, slapping the glassine control that opened the Jumper's rear hatch. Before John could stop him, the other man vaulted out of the craft and threw himself down into the clearing.

Ronon landed hard and rolled to absorb the impact, the shock of it singing up through the bones in his legs. From the corner of his eye he had a moment of optical illusion, where the open portal of the Jumper seemed to be hanging in the air like a door in the sky; then Sheppard dropped the cloak and the drum-shaped ship was there, dithering like a hawk unsure where to settle.

He sprinted across the grassy clearing, vaulting over rocks and brush, towards the slack form he'd spotted from the air. The body was lying face down and curled away from him, head tucked beneath the crook of an arm. In split seconds, impressions crowded Dex's mind. It definitely wasn't a male, the body was too slim and the proportions were off. But the blue Atlantis jacket seemed too big, and it hung wrongly.

"Teyla!" he called, crouching low, moving to the slumped shape. Ronon grabbed the body's shoulder and turned it over. "Teyla?"

The Wraith female wearing Private Bishop's uniform screeched and threw herself at the Satedan, the shock of the corpse-white face and the sudden movement catching him unawares. Ronon snarled as the alien struck him, knocking his pistol from his grip. They rolled into one another and tumbled down a shallow incline, punching and clawing. Dex felt hot and fetid breath as the Wraith tried to bite him and he snatched at her crimson flood of hair, grabbing a handful and jerking it backward. Black claws raked his side, slicing into the material of his jacket, reaching through layers of cloth to his torso.

He struggled to hold off the wild creature's feeding arm, the Wraith howling and shrieking. Ronon brought his head forward and butted the alien on the nose, hearing the satisfying crack of breaking cartilage. In return, the Wraith tore at him with fresh rage, mad and hungry for his life energy. At last, Dex managed to bring his free hand up and flicked it out. A concealed mechanism in his leather wrist guard clicked, releasing a spring-loaded knife, keen and wide with a petal-shaped blade. With a snarl of effort, Ronon punched the weapon into the flesh beneath the Wraith's jawbone and up into its skull. The female gurgled and died.

Dex let the body fall and drew his short sword. More Wraiths were streaming out of the woods and dropping from the upper branches of the trees.

"Whoa!" shouted Sheppard, the Jumper gaining new and unwelcome passengers as it descended toward the ground. No sooner had Ronon jumped ship, so to speak, than there were Wraith throwing themselves from the tops of the forest canopy and on to the floating ship. A singularly ugly-looking male landed squarely on the bow and bellowed at him, banging a blunt-bladed halberd on the cockpit canopy. More thuds and bangs along the outside of the hull told the colonel that this Wraith bruiser wasn't alone. Gripping the throttle and yoke, Sheppard reversed the Jumper's fall and took her up again.

"Sorry to disappoint you," he told the creature, "but I don't pick up hitchhikers!" With a flick of his wrist the colonel shifted the output of the gravity drives, putting the port outrigger up to full reverse and the starboard to full forward velocity. The instant effect was to spin the Puddle Jumper around like a top. The forest and sky became a green and blue blur, and for one brief moment, the Wraith on the bow hung on before centrifugal force tore him away and flung the creature into the trees. Sheppard felt a moment of giddiness as he came back into a hover, but it passed. Without the powerful inertial dampeners the Ancients built into their ships, the maneuver he'd just pulled would have spread him along the inside of the Jumper like chunky salsa.

There was a flicker of motion on the canopy glass, and the colonel saw the monstrous grin of a hungry Wraith reflected there. One of them had got inside. He twisted in his seat as the alien went for him, claws out. The hatch, John, his mind screamed, you left the damn hatch down!

Sheppard stabbed at the on-off controller for the dampener, then slammed the throttle forward, instantly canceling out the gravity-neutral bubble inside the Jumper. The quick burst of velocity threw the Wraith intruder off its feet and sent it tumbling back down the length of the ship, sparks flying where it clawed at the decking, out the open hatch and away. The colonel felt the g-forces press into him, a suffocating leaden pressure all across his chest, compacting him into the pilot's chair. He managed to tap the dampener circuit again and the pressure evaporated.

"Whew." John blinked sweat away from his lashes, and after a quick check to make sure he was flying solo again, he brought the Jumper back around for a combat landing.

The frenzied Wraith came at Ronon in a hooting wave of teeth and claws, and he met them with energy bolts and the edge of his blade. With one single strike he took an attacker at the throat and the Satedan battle sword parted head from torso in a jet of black blood. He fell into the red haze of his rage, tapping into the hate that had carried him through all the years of his life on the run. The fury of it burned hot, a livid brand like the Wraith glyph etched into the flesh of his throat.

In the thick of the fight, Ronon was dimly aware of the Jumper landing, of Sheppard's cries and the chattering of his machinegun, but it was all second to his anger, which he turned on the Wraith in its full force. He had lost so much at the talons of these repellent freaks of nature, friends and family, a whole world, a life without battle. And perhaps now Teyla Emmagan, the only person among these Atlanteans with whom he had felt any real kinship.

But as abruptly as the ambush had begun, it ended. "Enough!" roared a voice, and the Wraith spat and disengaged, leaving Dex and Sheppard panting hard with adrenaline and exertion.

And there was Teyla, stumbling on shaky feet ahead of a hard-faced Wraith overlord, clutching at her neck where a heavy silver collar ringed it. Ronon bared his teeth in fury. There was a thick cable snaking away from the device to the Wraith's clawed hand, a steel leash of the sort one might use on an attack dog. "Drop your weapons," hissed the alien, "or the female dies."

The barrel of Sheppard's P90 sank a little but he held on to the gun. Ronon still had his particle magnum pistol in his grip, ready to use it. Dex locked eyes with the Wraith, measuring the ways in which he might kill it.

"You must be Scar," said the colonel, and pointed at his face. "The one eye is a dead giveaway. It's a cool name. I bet the lady Wraiths love it. Let me ask you, though. Have you ever seen The Lion King?"

"Drop your weapons," repeated Scar, "or Tey-lah will choke to death on her own blood." He did something to a control on the leash and Ronon heard cogwheels clicking. Teyla coughed and sank to her knees, pulling at the necklet.

"Let her go!" snapped Dex, taking aim at Scar's face.

"I can increase the pressure with a single touch of the dial I hold in my hand." The Wraith licked its lips. "Only you can save her. You know how."

The Athosian woman gasped as she tried to suck in air. Ronon heard Sheppard curse and saw the colonel unclip his gun and let it fall.

"And you," Scar told Dex.

Ronon's thumb moved toward the stun/kill stud on the magnum's grip. He was furious that this creature would try and use a warrior like Teyla as some kind of bargaining chip. He let the gun drop to aim at the woman. "You think you have an advantage. Maybe I'll take it away, shoot her myself. What would you do then?"

"Ronon!" said Sheppard in a horrified voice.

The Wraith studied him for a moment, and then laughed. The sound was a hollow rattle. "Humans. You are so entertaining. It is almost a pity that you are prey." Scar's eyes flashed with anger. "You cannot deceive me. You are different from the hunters, who care only for their idiotic games and status. You won't kill one of your own."

"Specialist!" Sheppard snarled, spitting out Ronon's former rank like a command. "Drop your weapons! That's an order!"

And the truth of it was, the Wraith was right. "Fine." He opened his hands, letting the pistol and the sword go. This alien was smarter than he had expected.

Scar laughed once more and touched the collar controller, letting Teyla breathe properly again.

She choked and wheezed, gulping in breaths. "I… Am sorry, colonel…"

"It's okay," said Sheppard. "Where's Bishop?"

Teyla threw Scar a venomous glare. "He is dead. They fed upon him."

The Wraith leader barked out guttural instructions in its own language, and the rest of its pack gathered up the Atlantis team's gear, bundling it into the parked Jumper. Scar plucked Ronon's heavy pistol from the hands of another Wraith and ran his fingers along the length of the breech, sniffing it.

"Why don't you take a look down the barrel while you're at it?" rumbled Dex. "I'll even hold it for you."

Scar came closer. "You are a Runner. A lucky survivor. Tell me, were you the only one we spared when my kindred culled your planet?"

His muscles tensed with a sudden violent impulse. "I'll kill you for that!"

The Wraith continued to stroke the gun, completely unconcerned. "No," it replied, "you will not."

The last thing the Satedan saw was the muzzle snap up to face him and a crippling blast of blazing red fire.

"Ronon!" cried Teyla, scrambling forward. Scar jerked her leash and she gagged, tripping over again.

The Wraith grimaced at the particle magnum and made a negative noise. "A brash and crude tool, much like its owner," he purred, tossing the pistol away to land near Dex's body.

"You son of a bitch," spat Sheppard. One of the other Wraith hit him in the back of the knees and he fell. The alien held him there with an iron grip. "You got what you wanted, you didn't have to shoot him!"

Scar whipped the stolen Beretta pistol from his belt and held it at Sheppard's head. "Energy weapons are so inelegant, do you not agree, human? A single bolt and your target is dispatched. Where is the sport in that?" He weighed the handgun in his grip. "But this… A ballistic firearm, yes? Chemical reactions projecting small metal warheads. You strike your prey with this, and they will not perish straight away." The pistol barrel dropped to Sheppard's chest, to his stomach. "Such ugly wounds left behind, plentiful with pain and suffering. The prey might take hours to die… And the taste is so much richer."

John tensed, waiting for the bullet to come; but instead he was dragged to his feet and thrust toward the Puddle Jumper. Scar came after him, pulling at Teyla. "What kinda mind-games are you playing?"

"No games," replied Scar, "only rules. Obey and the female lives. Disobey and you will watch her suffocate, before I turn you over to my pack."

"What do you want from us?" husked Teyla.

"The blood of the Enemy runs in your veins," he told the colonel, licking at the air. "I smell it on you. You will pilot this craft for me, and take us to the device the Ancients built on this planet."

"The dolmen?"

Scar smiled widely. "The dolmen, yes."

"John, you can't do it-"

Sheppard silenced Teyla with a morose look. "What choice do I have?"

"Go away!" snapped McKay, waving his hand in the face of the Halcyon technician hovering beside him. "Stop lurking around me, it's really very distracting!"

"Doctor," warned Kelfer, "he is merely there to render assis tance to you."

"Really?" Rodney turned from the console and made a face. "Well, how about he renders assistance by going away. Do something useful, get me coffee or something, but don't keep spying over my shoulder!"

Kelfer nodded to the technician, who said something rude under his breath and walked away. "We are merely keeping an eye on your progress, nothing more."

"Is that so?" He tap-tapped the silver Atlantis laptop that Kelfer's men had produced just after his arrival. "And were you `keeping an eye' on this when your monkeys tried to break my computer?"

The other scientist colored a little. "We were interested in your cogitator device."

Rodney's laptop had been taken along with the rest of his gear when Lord Daus's covert squad of soldiers had abducted him from the dolmen, but there were clear knife marks around the hinges where someone had manhandled it in a vain attempt to boot up the machine. "Yeah, well you almost broke it completely." He sneered, and pantomimed an idea occurring to him. "Kelfer, here's a thought. Try to stay with me on this one, I know you find it hard to deal with sentences that have a lot of words in them-but how about, in future, you people just leave stuff alone that you're too dumb to understand?" He pointed at the laptop and then the controls in the Hive Ship's nexus chamber. "That goes for anything, Earth tech, Wraith or Ancient! If you'd had that in mind, we wouldn't be in this mess today!"

"Forgive us," Kelfer bit out, sarcasm boiling from his words, "we poor fools on Halcyon do not have the breadth of experience of such a genius as you. Please do take pity on us, oh wise one, and grant us some your magnificent knowledge." The man came closer, his fists balling. "Or perhaps I will have you struck about the head until your disrespect for my high office is beaten from you!"

Rodney managed a weak grin, a little afraid that he might have gone a bit too far. "I don't disrespect your rank, Kelfer," he replied, "it's just you I can't abide." McKay turned his back on the Halcyon chief scientist and frowned at the read outs on his computer. Under other circumstances, he might have been enthused by the chance to tap directly into the core systems of a Wraith Hive Ship, with the chance to learn more about the aliens and their technology from the very source itself. Not so today, however; through the patchy interface he'd forged via the crude Halcyonite electronics to the Wraith organic matrix, Rodney had already passed by whole storehouses of data on weapons, drive systems and bio-ware. He was concentrating on the matter of the Hive Ship's complex hibernation systems, and with every keystroke the thought of his teammates was there in the back of his mind. McKay was sure that Daus would have Sheppard and the others killed if he decided it would motivate Rodney's efforts, and he didn't want to have that on his conscience.

The detached, clinical element of McKay's analytical mind found the Wraith fascinating in their own way. A lethal merging of the human organism with the malleable DNA of the predatory Iratus insect, they were formidable. The accelerated regenerative abilities they showed and the basic toughness of the Wraith were factored directly into the hibernation systems of the ship. It was highly unlikely a regular person could have survived for long in the torpid cold-sleep of the hive, but the Wraith on this craft had been dormant for millennia. These guys had been settling in for a nap around the same time that Rodney's distant ancestors were living in mud huts and trying to perfect that wheel thing.

But not any more. They were waking up, here and now, and not for the first time in the last eighteen months McKay was wishing the whole Atlantis expedition had never even happened. But, he reflected, the Wraith would have woken up again one day, especially with idiots like Keifer poking sticks into their nests. It was better that they were here in the Pegasus Galaxy to do something about it, than being none the wiser back on Earth until the day the sky turned black with Hive fleets. If only he could do something about this ship, right here and right now. The other, bigger, fate-of-the-human-race stuff he could get to later on.

Data streamed past his eyes, each line of dense Wraith code revealing more than the next, gradually compounding and confirming McKay's worst speculations. He had never wanted to be so wrong in all his life, and yet there it was. "Oh. Crap." The awakening Wraith were just the tip of the iceberg.

A wet hiss drew Rodney from his work and he turned at the sound of the nexus chamber's main hatch. He didn't think he could feel any worse about the situation, but as Vekken and Daus entered the control center, he realized that wasn't true at all. Suddenly his worries contracted to surviving the next few minutes without being shot or skewered with a sword.

The Lord Magnate said something low and fierce to Kelfer and then strode across the room, homing in on McKay. Other robed scientists and lackeys scattered to get out of their ruler's path, obviously afraid to be anywhere near him.

"Doctor," began the Magnate, with chilly, false humor, "please forgive the manner in which you were brought here. It was for your own protection, and for the good of the Halcyon nation."

For a moment, Rodney found himself thinking of someone else's well being instead of his own. "You ordered the raid on the dolmen. Those men in the gray were yours, and you let them shoot at your own daughter." The words had no weight. They were just a bald, hard statement of fact. McKay searched Daus's eyes and saw one tiny glimmer of emotion, but then it was gone so fast he thought he might have imagined it.

"Affairs of state often compel a man to do things that he might otherwise wish to avoid," offered the ruler, "as you now understand I must compel you."

"Why…" He shook his head. "Why didn't you just ask us for help? We would have come here freely, with dozens of people, we would have helped you deal with this! You didn't have to shoot me and threaten the lives of my friends!"

Vekken inclined his head. "What must your world be like, Doctor? Is it so open that no man must conceal his strengths from another? On Halcyon we cannot be so naked before the enemies of our clan."

"None must know of this vessel," said Daus. "It has been the most closely guarded secret of the Fourth Dynast. It is the root of our power."

"Does Erony know about it?" Rodney demanded.

Daus frowned. "Not the whole truth."

McKay felt disgust rising inside him. "You even lie to her."

A nerve in the Magnate's jaw twitched with repressed annoyance. "Do not dare judge me, outworlder. I hold your life in my grip." He pushed forward to peer at the computer. "What progress have you made in suspending the Wraith's awakenings?"

When the scientist didn't speak, Vekken made a show of revealing the hilt of his sword. "The Magnate asked you a question. You will respond to it. What progress have you made?"

The answer burst from him in an exasperated rush. "None! Okay? None at all, not a bloody bit!"

Kelfer gritted his teeth. "So much for your superior knowledge."

"Oh yeah, like you could do any better-" Rodney's words were choked off as Daus's arm came up in a flash of motion, and the Magnate's thick fingers gripped his throat. "Ack!"

"You dare to defy my will?" he roared. "Weakling, intellectual fool! I demand that you put the Wraith back to their slumber, and by the blades, you will do it!"

McKay coughed and wrenched himself free. He gave a ragged-throated cry. "I can't! Don't you understand, it's already too late!" Rodney turned to the laptop and drew a series of windows on to the screen. In turn, the largest of the glassy Wraith monitor panels illuminated with strings of alien text. "The hibernation system runs from a central command cluster, and once it reaches a point of, uh, critical mass, the hive cells start a total shutdown. We are too far along in the process to halt it." Rodney threw up his hands. "The truth is, you were too far along a year ago! Now there's no way to stop them all defrosting!"

Kelfer's face drained of color. "How… How long until they are all conscious?"

"It's a matter of weeks," he said bleakly. "By then, every single one of the hundred thousand or so Wraiths on board this ship will be awake and hungry."

There was silence in the chamber at Rodney's pronouncement. "Impossible," began Daus, and he turned to glare at Kelfer, searching for support to his denial.

The Halcyon scientist sat heavily on a makeshift chair and ran a trembling hand through his thinning hair. "Great blades," whispered Kelfer, "we are truly doomed."

"I'm not done talking yet," McKay said carefully. "There's more."

"More?" Kelfer yelped. "This nightmare grows worse?"

The main screen flickered and scrolled through a sequence of complex graphics. "I was running a search program I designed through the ship's logs, looking for information, stuff from the last entries before the Wraith crew went into cold-sleep and set the ship down on automatic. I found this." The display showed an image of an ovoid object, clearly of Wraith manufacture, drifting in orbit between two dragonfly-wing solar panels. "This is a beacon, I think. The Hive Ship left it in orbit before it made planetfall on Halcyon however many centuries ago. It went active recently."

"The Lieutenant Colonel was telling the truth," murmured Vekken, "there was a Wraith device circling our world."

Daus gave a curt nod. "Your leader Sheppard claims he destroyed this thing. If he did not lie, then of what import is it?"

McKay grimaced. "Quite a lot, if it sent out any signals to other Wraith Hives!" He pointed at the screen. "If that rang the dinner gong loud enough, then there's likely to be more ships on their way here, other Hive Fleets with thousands more Wraith." The scientist paused for breath. "You are, to put it very mildly, quite screwed."

"Scar!" spat the Magnate, wheeling around in an angry turn. "That filthy alien whoreson! He did this!" Daus advanced menacingly on Kelfer. "You allowed it to happen! It was your fault!"

Vekken saw the question on Rodney's face. "A Wraith, the one we named `Scar', we believe it was the commander of this vessel. There was an accident some time ago and it escaped from its hibernation capsule…"

"It was your blind tampering!" Daus thundered at the scientist. "We never did determine what havoc he wrought while he was loose on this ship! You assured me he did nothing!"

"I… I believed so…" Kelfer managed. The man was collapsing before McKay's eyes, his arrogance vanishing like vapor. "How could I have known?"

"Scar must have set a stealth program running," said Rodney, "we've seen that sort of thing before. It works very slowly, in the background. It can stay undetected for years. He must have set up a protocol to activate the beacon, and it took all this time just to get around to it."

"We captured the Wraith attempting to activate one of their screamer-ships," noted Vekken. "It could not be broken, so we deposited it in the hunt enclosure to become a training target."

"I should have killed him!" snarled Daus. "Killed him and coated his bones in gold for the trophy hall, then hung you from the gibbet, Kelfer!"

"There's no guarantee a signal was sent," Rodney broke in, trying to calm the situation, "the odds are fifty-fifty the beacon was even transmitting!"

Vekken was the only one who remained cool and emotionless throughout the whole display, never once taking his eyes from McKay. "What can we do to protect ourselves, Doctor? You are as much at risk as we."

Sheppard's words echoed in Rodney's mind. They were an off-world team, on terra incognita, and they were not, under any circumstances, to let it get out that the city of Atlantis was intact. But did that apply here? A moment ago McKay told these men that the Atlanteans would have helped them if only they had asked, and now the adjutant was doing just that. He swallowed hard. "First we have to deal with the Hive Ship here." Rodney gestured at the walls. "Back on Atlantis we have access to powerful explosive devices — "

"Back on Atlantis?" Vekken pounced on his words. "You said the city was destroyed. You lied to us."

Rodney shook his head. "Does that matter now? Listen to me, we have atomic weapons that produce destructive force through nuclear fission, bigger than anything you could create."

Kelfer gave a distracted nod. "I am aware of the theoretical science behind such munitions."

"We can detonate a nuclear device inside this ship and destroy it. You won't be able to live nearby for a few hundred years, but I'm guessing we're somewhere pretty remote right now, and it's a better option than a global culling."

Daus became very still. "What you suggest would mean obliterating a hoard of the most advanced technologies on our planet. Your plan would kill every potential Hound on this vessel."

Vekken nodded at his master's evaluation. "Overnight, the Fourth Dynast's military power would be reduced to nothing. Our clan would be inundated with challenges for the throne from every quarter, and we would not be able to answer them with superior force."

"Listen to me," said Rodney, forcing his voice steady. "If you do not destroy this ship, then your throne won't matter. The Wraith will cut across your planet like a plague of locusts and consume everything. You talked to me about compulsion, well, compel this." He advanced a step, and Vekken immediately blocked his way. "You don't have a choice, man! Give up this ship and your Hounds, or watch Halcyon die. You have no other option!"

"You are wrong," said Daus, the practiced conceit of a hundred generations returning to him, denying everything that he did not wish to hear. "I have you. And you'll find another way, or I will order you to be tortured until you die."

The Magnate swept out of the chamber with Vekken trailing behind him.

Rodney's hands contracted into fists and he shouted at the man's back in impotent, incredulous fury. "No! Don't turn away from me, damn it! Can't you understand? You're signing this planet's death warrant!"

"Keep the craft at a higher altitude," demanded Scar, watching Sheppard closely from the co-pilot's seat of the Puddle Jumper. "Do not deliberately attempt to alert the locals to our presence."

John said nothing but inwardly he frowned. "Whatever you say. It's your fare, I'm just the cab driver." Sheppard had been hoping there was an outside chance that a Halcyon defense gunner with and itchy trigger finger might spot the cruising ship and throw a little flak at it, but once they climbed to a couple of thousand feet, the guns the Dynasts used wouldn't even reach the fast-moving vessel. He had successfully deceived the alien about the functionality of the Jumper's cloaking device, claiming that it had been damaged by the shots from the Wraith beacon in orbit. Scar had shown a flicker of concern when Sheppard mentioned that the marker satellite was now nothing more than space dust, but the alien hadn't let it change his plans. On his orders, they were still flying northwards, describing a course that took them toward the site of the Ancient dolmen. John kept the throttle set at the middle detent, trying to lengthen the time of the flight while he worked out a plan of action.

So far, so bad, he told himself. Sheppard gave Scar a sideways glance. Something about a Wraith sitting there as comfortable as anything inside an Ancient ship was just… Well, wrong. It lay badly with the colonel on a bone-deep, instinctual level, and he wondered if there wasn't something in the ATA gene he carried, the genetic connection to the Ancient bloodline, that made him dislike being in such close proximity to a Wraith. For his part, Scar seemed quite unruffled by the whole experience. If anything, he was fascinated by the soft glow of the Jumper's control console, studying it closely like a human would scrutinize a bug under a magnifying glass.

Still, for all his apparent distraction, the Wraith never once slackened his grip on the controller box attached to Teyla's steel leash. The Athosian woman sat behind Scar, her shoulders hunched forward and her hands supporting the metal collar at her neck. Sheppard chewed down a surge of anger at the sight of his friend's mistreatment. For a moment, Teyla caught his eye and she forced a weak nod. Hang in there, he thought, I'll get you out of this.

And yet he hadn't been able to save Ronon. The Satedan was back down there, miles away now in the forest clearing, maybe dead, maybe alive. Of all the men he had ever met, John Sheppard had never known any person to have a survival instinct as strong as Ronon Dex did, and he just hoped that he could get through this and go back for the brusque ex-soldier. But with each passing second they were getting further and further away from Ronon, not to mention Beckett and the others; and as for McKay… This whole mission was coming to pieces around his ears, and here was John, forced to play dial-a-ride for a Wraith raiding party.

Scar snapped out a guttural yowl at the other Wraiths in the back compartment of the Jumper. They were skittish and nervous, hissing and clawing at one another like cats in a cage two sizes too small. Scar's growls quieted them down for the moment, and he noticed Sheppard watching him.

"They obey me," he noted. "Despite all the ill-effects of the device, they still have enough intelligence to know that."

"Uh-huh," John pretended to be indifferent. "So how come you can chew gum and walk at the same time, but not them? Why aren't you doing the monkey?"

"Your idiom is peculiar." Scar sniffed. "I am a simply superior. My cadre is of a more intellectual vein than the common Wraith."

A humorless smile crossed Teyla's face. "You sound like Daus and the other nobles. The hunters. They also like to think they are superior."

"In my case, it is truth and not self-delusion."

Sheppard shrugged. "If you say so."

He turned the Jumper to avoid the peak of a snow-capped mountain and in the distance he saw a white patch among the foothills. The dolmen was just visible as a slate gray dot sitting on a broad arena of bare stone. Almost the instant the ship turned to face the distant obelisk, the feral Wraith in the rear compartment began to whine. The colonel saw Scar flinch. His hand crept toward a control on the console. Perhaps he could pull the same gag he had with the hitchhiker, dropping the hatch and turning off the gravity dampeners -

"Do not be foolish," Scar's voice was low and loaded with menace. He had Teyla's pistol in his hand. "We have come this far without incident. I would prefer not to kill you while we are still airborne."

"Just stretching my fingers," he lied.

The closer they approached, the more it was clear that the dolmen was causing the Wraith-Scar included-physical pain. Sheppard shot Teyla a look that said be ready, and she nodded back.

"I would think you would not wish to approach the dolmen," the woman began, "does it not hurt you to be so close to it?"

"The agony is intense." Scar bit out the words through gritted teeth. "But now the machine runs weak. After ten thousand years, we can tolerate it this much." He jerked Teyla's leash and the woman grabbed at her collar. "I know you will attempt to defy me at this moment, as you think I am distracted." He worked the controller and the collar contracted a little. "You are mistaken. Obey me, human."

The Jumper's on-board computer had recognized the dolmen as a piece of kindred Ancient technology and brought up a scan of the monument. Sheppard saw a cutaway of the interior. It was a maze of molecule-thin antennae broadcasting disruptive energy patterns on the Wraith's psychic wavelength.

"Destroy it," growled Scar. "Now."

"What? No way!" retorted the colonel. "That thing's got a ZPM powering its core. The detonation of something like that would blow the planet apart!"

"Wrong," spat the Wraith. He extended a finger and pointed to a section of the dolmen. "Target your weapons drones here. It will collapse the construct and discharge the energy safely."

"How can… You be sure?" gasped Teyla.

Scar grinned cruelly. "I have killed more of the Enemy than I can count. Destroyed hundreds of… Of their craft. I know how to defeat them!" He tightened the collar another notch on Teyla's neck. "Do it now!"

The sensing mechanisms in the pilot's chair had already read Sheppard's train of thought and warmed a pair of drones for launch. The targeting cues on the head-up display framed the hit location on the dolmen, locking the weapons on. Every fiber in his being told him that this was not what he wanted to do, that this would be the absolute worst choice he could make; but there on the floor of the Puddle Jumper was Teyla Emmagan, dying by inches and gasping for one more breath of air. And John could not let her die.

"Firing," he grated, the word catching hard in his throat. Sheppard did not even need to touch a control. The two drones ejected from the Jumper's outrigger pods and spun away in brilliant corkscrews of yellow lightning. John brought the ship around hard, veering away at full throttle, making for the upper atmosphere. If the Wraith was wrong, they could quickly find themselves on the edge of a planet-sized fireball.

The watchful canopy display tracked the drones on their unerring course straight into the timeless gray stone of the obelisk. The matter-energy conversion matrix inside the complex Ancient missiles ignited and shattered the dolmen at the precise point Scar had indicated. Sheppard had been correct; a poorly aimed shot might have ruptured the contained bubble of spacetime inside the crystalline Zero Point Module, allowing exotic particles of a kind never seen in this universe to shatter and release an apocalyptic storm of energy. Scar, however, had not lied. The impact point of the drones flattened a monument that had stood untouched for a hundred centuries, and the broadcast array collapsed in on itself. In a single, star-bright flash of power, the ZPM discharged the last of its potency into the sky. Even though the module was nearly drained, the force of the release sent lances of static discharge racing around the planet, warping tidal forces and whipping tornadoes and storms into instant fury. People in the cities and in the High Palace unlucky enough to be looking in its direction were blinded by the glare. A plume of glittering light punched out into space, and then dissipated.

On the ground, the dolmen and everything around it for a twenty mile radius was a pale wasteland of burnt soil. Airships and gyro-flyers too close to the shockwave were ripped apart or blown from the sky. In some regions, tall towers and tenement buildings were felled by earth tremors. Birds died in mid-air and fell to earth in flocks. Fallout made of burnt ash swirled into gray cloud masses. There were thunderstorms and hurricanes the like of which had never been seen on Halcyon before.

But all these consequences were forgotten as the pervasive energy of the dolmen ceased across the planet. Freed of the maddening mental interference of the Ancient device, every corralled Wraith, every Hound in every pen and street on Halcyon was released from psychic bondage. Some died from the shock, others as their kindred turned upon them; but all were wild with frenzy, their minds reduced to uncontrolled, brutal, animalistic madness.

The shockwave of charged air that radiated from the energy plume hit the Puddle Jumper's aft and flipped it end over end. Sheppard's controls refused to answer as he worked the steering yoke. The ground below raced past the cockpit canopy to be replaced by the azure sky, then repeated, green and blue, green and blue.

He was aware of Scar and Teyla there beside him, of the monstrous snarling cries coming from the other Wraith; but these were things he had to tune out of his mind, concentrating hard on the play of atmosphere across the blunt hull of the ship and the stuttering pulses of thrust from the gravity drives.

"No," he said under his breath, "no, don't… Don't do it…" Sheppard always talked to a bird whenever he flew it. Some pilots thought it was an eccentric quirk, others nodded sagely and agreed it was the thing to do, as if they were somehow communicating with the craft like it was a riding animal. There was no doubt in John's mind that the gene-linked Jumpers were the closest thing to a ship that actually could understand you; but that didn't stop this one from ignoring him now.

All the primary flight systems in the vessel went off-line at once. Forward thrust went instantly to nothing, and the gravity coils that held the un-aerodynamic Jumper fuselage in the air ceased as well. The ship stopped tumbling and started falling, like the big green brick it resembled. They still had normal gravity inside the cabin, thanks to the fact that the inertial dampeners were on a different circuit to the thrusters, but all that meant was that Sheppard, Teyla and their Wraith passengers would have a comfortable ride all the way down to the point the Jumper smashed into the landscape and crumpled like a beer can.

Teyla blurred in the corner of his vision and she heard a cry of anger from Scar as the Athosian woman barreled into him, knocking the alien out of his seat and on to the deck. "Great time for an escape attempt," he said, not daring to take his gaze away from the crippled, half-dead control console in front of him. Sheppard racked his brains for the sequence of manual start-up protocols that McKay had drawn from the Ancient databases on Atlantis, running his hands over the glassy buttons and feathering the g-drive throttle. He got a brief flicker of light from the head-up display before it died again. John ignored a crash and howl of pain as something heavy-probably an angry Wraith-collided with a box of gear clamped to the bulkhead. The Jumper rocked and threatened to nose over into another tumbling spin.

They were high when the shockwave struck, but now that altitude was being chewed up by Halcyon's unforgiving gravity. If he could just get this thing into a hover, if he could just get out of the chair and help Teyla…

"Come on!" Sheppard slapped the control panel with the flat of his hand, and held a breath, running through the re-start sequence from the top. This panel, that button, then this switch, that one, that one, then here and the throttle.

The display on the canopy blinked on, off, and then on again. Suddenly he was looking at an altimeter blinking red for danger and a string of collision warnings. John slammed the throttle forward and the Jumper bucked like a bronco, shifting and swinging. He reacted without thinking about it, throwing the ship into a static vertical hover mode, pushing off from his seat, turning in place, ready to vault over the console to Teyla's assistance.

The Athosian woman collided with him and slammed Sheppard back down into his chair, reeling away. Scar was behind her, his pale greenish-white face twisted in murderous fury. He had the end of the steel leash in his hand, dragging on it. In the other was the pistol, aimed at John. "Pathetic," it snarled.

Sheppard blew out a breath. "That's all the thanks I get for stopping you from becoming a greasy spot on the countryside?"

Scar shoved Teyla into the co-pilot's seat and sat behind her. Over his shoulder, the other Wraith were strangely quiet, cowed by the fury of their master.

Teyla's tawny complexion was waxy and dull. The Hound collar was taking its toll on her. "I tried," she husked, speaking through a bruised throat.

John grimaced, angry that he hadn't been able to come to her aid.

The Wraith holstered the Beretta again. "Show me a map. "

"Knock yourself out," grated Sheppard as a topographical display formed on the glass in front of them. "Where next, the beach? Want to get a little sun, huh?"

Scar showed him a location, miles to the northwest in a hilly, unpopulated area. "Take us there, or-"

"I know the drill," he retorted, and guided the Jumper away. "What's out in the middle of nowhere that you're so interested in?"

But the alien merely sneered at him and sat back in its seat. John grudgingly pushed the ship up to cruising speed and scrutinized the display in front of him. The Puddle Jumper's sensor suite was focusing on the point where Scar had ordered him to go, running a comparison through its database to a faint energy trace it had detected. After a moment, the Jumper's computer provided him with a report. There was something out there, all right, something large; a Wraith starship.