Halcyon

Chapter Thirteen

As one, every monitor screen tied into the Hive Ship's internal optical sensor went blank, the views of the corridors and shadowed chambers hazing over into milky gray nothingness.

McKay saw it happen and his chest tightened. "Oh, that is not a good thing," he breathed, and his hand clutched at the empty holster on his thigh in reflex, grasping for a pistol that wasn't there.

The Lord Magnate's eyes were still distant and unfocussed, the harsh words of his daughter still echoing in his mind. Vekken flashed him a look and then grabbed Rodney by the shoulder. "The screens," he said urgently, "what is the meaning of that?"

"A Wraith who was the former commander of this ship is on board, a Wraith who knows more about how this ship operates than every person in this room." McKay shook off the man's grip. "You figure it out."

"He's going to attack."

"If we're lucky. If we're not, he'll switch off the gravity in here, or vent all the air to space or something equally nasty." Rodney thought it through. "Unless… Unless he needs access to this chamber to fully take control of the ship…"

But Vekken was already moving across the nexus chamber's atrium, calling out orders to his riflemen. "Close all the entry points to this room! Set up firing positions! Prepare for enemy incursion!"

The scientist cast around the chamber, watching Kelfer's people milling in an anxious knot. Those idiots have no idea what they're up against. Halcyon troopers were quickly falling into kneeling stances, aiming their steaming long-lance rifles at the iris doors leading out to the ship's other decks. On the upper levels he noticed more figures moving, carefully taking up positions. They were difficult to see because of the asymmetrical way the Hive Ship's bio-lumes threw chilly blue light about the walls.

"I failed her." The whisper came from Daus's lips.

"What did you say?"

"I failed… Her. Both of them." The Magnate did not look at him. He seemed smaller somehow, all of a sudden the bluster and fury gone from his body. "I wanted… Wanted strength."

"Now is not the time for a crisis of confidence," grated Rodney. He dithered over his laptop. The control protocols where still displayed there, the setting to unbalance the bio-reactor and complete the sequence Kelfer had died trying to input. He looked again into the face of the man who had killed the Halcyon scientist and could hardly believe Daus was the same person; that such a man could be broken by something as simple as the words of his daughter.

Riflemen on the main level of the nexus chamber called out their readiness to Vekken, and the adjutant acknowledged them, pausing to load the heavy pistol in his gloved hand. "Steady, men. You will hold this line in the name of the Fourth Dynast, in death or victory!"

"Death or victory!" came the chorus of replies.

Rodney grimaced at the zealous sentiment. "Please! All the gung-ho crap in the world won't keep those things out." His words died off, as it occurred to him that the men up there in the shadows on the highest levels of the chamber had not responded along with the others.

Among the scattered gear from his Atlantis kitbag was a compact flashlight and McKay snatched it up, turning the beam on the raised gantries. The halo of illumination caught a pale face hidden behind clawed hands, and behind it the yawning maw of an open vent shaft.

"They're already inside…" he gasped. "They're already inside!" The words became a shout as Scar's Wraith began their attack.

Stunner pulses rained down in bright streaks of white, knock ing riflemen from their cover by the hatches. Vekken was screaming out orders, firing blindly into the overhead walkways. His men reacted quickly, but the Wraith were already pouring down, some flinging themselves from the higher catwalks to pounce on their victims.

Rodney did a rare thing; he reacted without thinking about it, and dragged the bewildered Magnate out of the line of fire, forcing him into the cover of a bank of sputtering electromatic valves. He was at a loss to explain the sudden impulse that made him save the life of a man who was a killer and a tyrant.

He thrust the uncomfortable thought away. "A weapon! You've got a weapon, right? Use it!"

Daus drew his swordgun and looked at it as if he didn't recognize it. "How can I… So much. So much blood on my hands." He made a stifled sound like a sob. "Erony was right. Great blades, I did not hear her…"

McKay took the swordgun and gripped the gold-plated pommel, fingering the trigger mechanism. It was heavy and unwieldy in his grip. Nervously, he dared a look around the valve rack and saw the melee in full frenzy.

The Wraith moved through the nexus chamber like a tornado, killing and feeding, some of them struck down by rattling chugs of needle-shot and left by their fellows, others taking up the guns of their fallen human prey and smashing them against the consoles. Vekken fought with unchained violence, the curved half-moon blade along the breech of his pistol cutting into his foes, the gun howling with each shot he placed into the heart of a Wraith; but he was just one man, and the Wraiths, the freed Hounds, the newly awakened and the wild and untamed, they fell upon him and he vanished under a dozen screeching attackers.

Rodney let the swordgun go. It was useless in his hands, he realized. He had to run, get away from this carnage, find some other way to strike back at these creatures. To stay and fight would mean death, or worse.

He grabbed at Daus's thick, ornate tunic. "Time to go!" he snapped. "Before they find us, we have to get out of here!"

"Where would you go, prey?" asked an oily, menacing voice. "On my ship, tell me, where would you run to?"

"S-Scar," murmured Daus.

The Wraith commander circled around Rodney and the Magnate, apparently uninterested in the hoots of pleasure from his pack. He had a pair of ex-Hounds with him, their pristine silver armor now dirty and fouled. Scar cocked his head as he examined McKay, looking him up and down. The alien tapped his ragged tunic, indicating Rodney's Atlantis uniform jacket. "Another one. Another not-native. Wherever I turn I come across your kind. How interesting."

"Yeah, there's a lot of us," McKay found his mouth running away, babbling before he could stop himself. "Hundreds, thousands even, a whole army of, uh, us. You better not kill me, because there would really be trouble."

The other Wraith became calmer as Scar snarled out new orders. "Agreed. A kill is a waste of good nourishment." His eye narrowed as his gaze settled on Daus, the scar across his face dark with anger. "A waste of good vengeance."

One of the Hounds gripped Daus firmly and presented him to Scar. "It is you," husked the Magnate. "Still alive. Haunting me for my failures."

Scar sneered. "That is as good an explanation as any other. You cannot know how much it pleases me to find you here, Lord Daus." The alien poured scorn on the nobleman's title. "I wonder if you can understand the depths of hatred you engendered in me. The agony of living day after day with that accursed dolmen screaming in my head, doomed to watch my kindred made into primitives, fighting every moment to hold my psyche intact!" The raw anger coming from Scar was a palpable force, and McKay watched as he forced it from himself, grimacing with each breath. Rodney became aware of a horrific wound in the Wraith's chest, although Scar seemed to revel in the pain of it.

"You should be dead a hundred times over," Daus whispered. "Dead and dead and dead and dead…"

"Not before this," replied the Wraith, and his arm lashed out like a striking snake, ripping into the soft flesh of Daus's face.

Sickened, Rodney flinched away as Scar meticulously blinded the Magnate's right eye, ruining his face in the same manner that Daus had ruined the Wraith's on a hunt long since past. McKay felt his stomach rebel and swallowed hard, fighting down the urge to throw up. He lurched to a console and hung on to it, his head swimming.

"Now we are in balance," said Scar, over a strangled whimper from the nobleman.

Rodney blinked and his gaze fell on the control screen directly in front of him. He recognized it as part of the Hive Ship's sensor mechanisms, a monitoring station tied into the vessels array of passive detection systems. It could detect perturbations in various energy fields-magnetic, thermal, and gravitational-through reactions along organic gossamer webs, which trailed from the Hive Ship's spines in molecule-thin strings.

The console was juddery and kept failing to maintain a coherent image; Rodney could see where Kelfer's blundering experimentation had damaged the device, making its display foggy and riddled with ghost readings. A glow of light puckered into being on the glassy screen and something large registered on the gravity curve. The shape was ill defined but it was big, and it was moving somewhere out beyond the orbit of Halcyon's second moon.

"A ship." His heart sank as the words left his mouth. "A ship just came out of hyperspace."

He smelled the acid breath of the Wraith as Scar approached. "You are correct, prey. It seems my call for the Hives was heard after all. My kindred are coming to join the cull." The smile behind the words was chilling. "The fate of this world is sealed."

"It's sealed," frowned Ronon, running the flat of his palm along the leaves of the iris hatch. "No way we're going to get this open from here."

"Oh ye of little faith," retorted Sheppard, dropping into a crouch. "I brought a party favor from the Jumper before I came on board." From a pocket on his gear vest he pulled a small brick sealed in plastic and waggled it in the air. "C4."

"I thought you were bluffing when you told the Wraith you had explosives."

"Yeah, kinda. I just got the one." The colonel fixed the charge to the point on the hatchway where the detonation would do the most damage, and pressed a compact digital timer into the soft clay-like block.

"The gunfire inside has stopped," said Teyla, her voice still rough from her experience with the choke collar. She hefted a long-lance rifle she had appropriated from a fallen trooper. "We cannot tarry, colonel. Every moment Scar is in there, Halcyon is in danger."

"Fire in the hole!" The timer beeped. "Thirty seconds and counting." Sheppard waved them away. "Into cover, quick!"

Ronon checked the charge on his pistol and John slipped a full clip of ammunition into the P90. He glanced at Teyla and got a curt nod in return. "Hey, anyone got any flash-bangs left?"

Ronon nodded, producing a couple of stun grenades. "Two."

"Good," said Sheppard. "Use `em."

The Wraith began herding the survivors across the chamber to the starboard side, dragging injured riflemen from where they had fallen and shoving them together with the few panic-stricken scientists who had not been cut down in the earlier crossfire. Others picked at control panels, illuminated systems that had laid silent for hundreds of years. Long-dormant gun turrets and beam cannons along the Hive Ship's ventral hull twitched and came back to life, lifeblood flowing back into them as they began the first stages of preparation for a planetary bombardment. Scar watched the activity with callous smugness.

"Is it too cliche for me to ask what it is you're going to do with us?" said McKay, trying to keep a whine from his tone. "Or is that a question I would be better off not raising?"

"There are many mouths to feed on my ship." The Wraith said it almost as if he were bored with the whole experience. "The malign influence of the Enemy's device will have affected many of my kindred. They will need to replenish their strength in order to return to their former temperaments."

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't want to appear sickly when your buddies arrive, right? They might get the pick of the cull, and that would make you look a little stupid."

"Indeed." Ice formed on the word.

"Sorry. Sorry," McKay gulped. "Sometimes I babble when I'm nervous. Like now."

Scar eyed Rodney's laptop and the crude splice into the Hive Ship's systems. "What were you doing to my vessel, prey? Answer me."

"We… Wanted to…" McKay blinked, trying to think of a convincing lie and failing miserably. "Phone home?"

The Wraith commander snarled and came at him; but in the next second a wall of sound blasted out across the chamber and knocked all of them off their feet.

The charge did its work. The petals of the iris hatchway were either blown completely away or bent back in burnt, tattered shreds. Ronon leapt into the coiling smoke instants after the blast occurred, hurling the flash-bangs through the ruined doorway.

Inside, Rodney saw the familiar black cylinders arc through the hazy air and clatter across the deck. He spun away and covered his face with his arms just as the stun grenades blew. Brilliant magnesium-white flashes of light strobed inside the nexus chamber, throwing stark, sharp-edged shadows across the walls.

Ronon came in first, red bolts of energy issuing from the barrel of his gun. Sheppard took the right, laying down bursts of machinegun fire, and Teyla moved left, firing the steam-rifle from the hip in blaring chugs of discharge.

The ex-Hounds at Scar's sides were downed by the first broadside of shots, but the rest of the aliens reacted faster than the Atlantis team expected, shooting back with stunner rifles and blasters liberated from the Hive Ship's weapons pods. The flash-bangs had done the trick, however, and all the human sur vivors were flat to the floor or behind cover as the firefight raged across the control deck.

All except Rodney McKay, pressed up against a bone pillar that was barely wide enough to hide him. He glimpsed Scar, a blaster pistol in each hand, fanning stunner bolts back and forth, trying to catch the Atlantis team with a glancing hit. His mind raced. John and the others were turning the tide, but if that was another Wraith ship inbound, it wouldn't matter if they did win the day here. He could make out the sensor console from where he crouched; the mystery contact was coming closer, on a direct intercept course.

And if he could complete the reactor overload sequence Kelfer had started, by the time the other Hive Ship knew what was happening, it would be too late. The blast would engulf the other vessel. Two birds with one big thermonuclear stone.

But something seemed wrong, out of place. The silhouette of the new contact didn't move like a Wraith craft. Back on Atlantis, Rodney had pored over hours of sensor log footage of Hive Ships in the aftermath of the siege, hoping to find something of use if they ever came back. He knew how the Wraith slipped through space, and this craft wasn't doing that. It was coming in hard and fast, clearly primed for battle. The shape was all wrong, too, blocky and angular. It almost looked like the-

"Daedalus?" McKay's face split in a manic grin. "It's the Daedalus! Ha! We're saved! Weir sent them to get us!" But as fast as the bolt of euphoria raced through him, it vanished. No, we are not saved. The sensor return from the SGC Deep Space Carrier didn't show a ship about to mount a boarding operation or a rescue; Daedalus was on an attack vector, her rail guns running hot. To Colonel Caldwell and his crew, what they saw on their scopes was a Hive Ship preparing to annihilate a slew of defenseless ground targets. They'd have no idea that the Atlantis team were on board. Daedalus was looking at a clear and present threat to the planet Halcyon; and McKay knew Steven Caldwell enough to know that he wouldn't hesitate to shoot first and ask questions later.

"Sheppard! Anyone!" He shouted. "Warn them off! Tell Caldwell to hold his fire!" But the din inside the nexus chamber flattened his every word, the crash of gunfire blotting them out.

Then Rodney saw the radio where Daus had dropped it, sitting there in the middle of the deck as bullets and energy bolts criss-crossed in the air around it

It was mayhem in here. John moved from cover to cover, taking advantage of consoles or pillars where he could, squeezing off three-round bursts at anything that looked Wraith. He heard the thunder of a long-lance and the sound brought the madness of the bound battle back to his thoughts, the sudden recollection of the scream of shot and the blurry frenzy of one long firefight. This was worse, as if someone had taken that skirmish and rolled it up, stuffed in a can and shook it. Enemy fire was coming from everywhere and the colonel's mind screamed at him to just react, to protect himself; the primitive fight or flight reflex warred with the trained, expert solider part of his brain, the part that pushed him on, forward, that stopped him from being pinned down.

Teyla made an angry noise at the Halcyon steam-rifle in her hands, the breech hissing open as the last cluster of needle-shot fed from the ammunition hopper. Hot vapor and droplets of condensation coiled from the muzzle, and without hesitation she turned the long gun into a club, striking a Wraith attacker across the head with it. The barrel broke, but the alien fell and did not rise again. The woman swung low and scooped up a discarded swordgun and brought it back up in a battle stance.

Sheppard wasn't worried. Teyla Emmagan could have taken on a dozen Wraiths with just a butter knife and he still would have put his money on the Athosian; and today she had a fury in her eyes that he had only seen on rare occasions. Scar's abuse of her with that damned collar had brought Teyla's darkest anger to the surface.

The chamber was filling with a haze of acrid chemical smoke, flames licking from places where missed shots had shattered Wraith screens or caught banks of combustible Halcyon technology alight. There was a moment when John was sure he heard a voice crying out over the noise of gunfire — McKay, maybe? — but then a couple more ex-Hounds came snarling over the tops of the control panels at him, and Sheppard found himself side by side with Ronon, fighting to stay alive for another minute longer.

Each time Rodney dared to think about leaving his cover, energy bolts rained past him or Wraith in battle frenzy screeched by. I'm so close! He could almost reach out and touch the radio, just a few feet more, maybe.

"So near and yet so far," murmured Daus, cradling his bloody face in one palm. The Magnate sat slumped against a panel, watching McKay with his remaining good eye. "It will not save you." He shuddered through the words, morose and pained. "The truth only wounds."

"I have to get to the radio!" Rodney blurted. "No one has to die! If I can get to it, no one has to die, you understand?"

A shadow passed over Daus's face, and he dropped his hand, letting McKay see the ruin of his blinded eye. "No one has to die," he repeated, traces of the ruler's former iron will surging in his voice. "You are wrong." The Magnate propelled himself up from the deck with a hard shove and heaved his bulk across the chamber, falling through the crossfire toward Scar. The Wraith reacted a heartbeat too slowly and the two of them collided, spinning around in a vicious dance.

On all fours, Rodney scuttled out from behind the bone pillar and snatched up the military radio, his heart in his mouth as he dove back before the moment of misdirection was lost.

Daus's blood-slick hands clamped tight around the Wraith commander's throat and he pressed every last ounce of his weight into the alien. "This hunt ends here," he snarled, "for my world and my daughter!"

Scar choked and wheezed, his eye bulging as the Magnate strangled the air from him. His pistols lost, the Wraith flailed at the man's torso, ripping the elegant silks of his jacket to ribbons, slashing into the meat of his broad chest. Scar spat curses in his own language, fighting against the Halcyonite's strength.

"No more!" Daus roared. "No more death!"

"No more life!" the alien spat back, plunging the saw-edged feeding maw in his palm straight into the cuts above the Magnate's racing heart. Scar's muscles jerked in a spasm of ecstasy as the Wraith tore Daus's life violently from him. Normally, a single Wraith would take their time over a feeding, savor it and make it last, but now the alien wanted nothing more than to turn this arrogant human into a husk, a hollow sack of skin and bone.

Daus's death-grip about Scar's throat lessened as the muscle and flesh on his skeleton shriveled away, the flesh puckering and turning tissue-thin. His last breath carried one last word from his lips. "Erony,"

Scar threw the corpse off him and let loose a screeching roar. "We are the Wraith!" he bellowed. "We are the hunters and you are the prey! We-"

A figure emerged from the choking smoke. "You talk too much!" snarled Teyla, and lunged with the swordgun. Scar spun, tried to turn the blow, but the Athosian woman was too quick, fuelled by her fury, and she ran him through. Gasping, twitching, Scar fell hard against the control console, bleeding out his last.

Teyla spat. "That's an end to it."

Ronon and Sheppard came to her side. "Left any for me?" asked Dex, glancing around. The Atlanteans had survived, for the moment.

Sheppard pulled a face. "Let's not forget, there's still a bellyful of Wraith in the hibernation cells on this ship." He gestured to the Halcyonite survivors. "You people, get over here. We're gonna find a way off this ship, right now."

"You have a plan?" said Teyla, turning away.

"Oh sure," lied the colonel. "I'll let you know as soon as I've ironed out all the details." He waved at Rodney. "McKay! Stop messing with that radio, this is a rescue."

McKay paused with the walkie-talkie in front of his lips for just long enough to shoot Sheppard a withering glare. "Daeda lus, this is Dr. Rodney McKay, do you read? We are on board the Hive Ship, do not engage! I repeat, do not fire on the Hive Ship! "

The other team members approached the front of the nexus chamber, and there through the wide oval view ports above them the sliver shape of the SGC starship was visible as a glittering barb, turning to aim straight at them. "Daedalus?" repeated Sheppard. "How about that." He grinned at Teyla. "I told you I had a plan."

"I'm not getting any reply!" Rodney's voice was a terse yelp. "Maybe the radio's damaged, maybe the Hive Ship's interfering with the signal…"

To his credit, Sheppard grasped the gravity of the situation immediately and spoke urgently into his own radio. "Colonel Caldwell, do you copy? Wave off!"

"What's wrong?" Teyla asked wearily.

"Our own people are about to blast this ship, that's what's wrong!" Rodney blurted.

"Hah." The voice was thick and oily, a gurgling death rattle. Scar hung there, clinging to the console, Daus's discarded sword still buried in his chest in some mad parody of murder. "How entertaining. You prey seem to excel in killing one another."

Ronon turned his pistol on the alien. "What does it take to put this creep down?"

The Wraith had his hands on Rodney's computer. "I understand this device. So we. Will die together. You and I. My ship…" He nodded at the Daedalus as it came into range. "And yours."

"Stop him!" shouted Rodney.

Sheppard and Ronon opened fire, too late to stop Scar's finger tracing across the execute control.

Master Scientist Kelfer had made many mistakes during his studies of the Wraith craft. It had been his error that released the ship's commander, his errors that led to the uncontrollable awakenings of the dormant crew; but what Kelfer had understood was the horrific power that the alien vessel represented, and the lethal potential it possessed if it raged out of control. His overload program, hammered into the Wraith command matrix like a steel spike through bone, worked just as he had hoped it would.

In the Hive Ship's bio-reactor cores, chemical bladders filled with fluids to moderate and control the energetic effects of the power plant abruptly closed themselves off. Regulator valves and sphincters sealed tightly and outputs spiked. The coruscating energy, normally metered and synchronized to the Wraith vessel's moods and conditions, churned like magma. Crystalline monitors cracked and shattered, conduits full of plasma-like processing fluids split open and gushed superheated liquid across the chitin decks, warping the bone and cartilage forms that made up the structure of the starship.

Whole decks of the Hive Ship instantly vented to space, burnt through by hyper-acidic reactions. Oxygen and breathing gasses combusted, firestorms rushing up every corridor. Wraiths were boiled alive in the amniotic baths of their hibernation cells. Organic sense-gels and nerve ganglia crisped and disintegrated.

Then finally, some tiny, critical element inside the bioreactor perished, unleashing all the pent-up power of the Hive Ship's core in one single, fatal eruption of heat and radiation.

Erony stood alone on the lip of the shattered hillside, staring down into the huge bowl-shaped depression where the Hive Ship had stood only hours earlier, her face gray with the drain of emotion. Carson hesitated to approach her, and stood a few meters away, not wanting to intrude on her introspection, but conflicted by his need to help someone he saw was in pain.

Static crackled in his headset. Ever since they had landed back at the encampment, he had been unable to reach Sheppard or the others on the alien vessel. The hand-held radios only had a limited range, and if the Hive Ship was in orbit it was unlikely he would be able to get a signal to John and the others. He hesitated; perhaps if he went back to the Puddle Jumper, the shuttle's more advanced communications might do the trick.

"Such a great wound." Erony spoke quietly, almost to herself. "How can we heal such an injury as this?"

The noblewoman was staring into the gouge in the ground, but Carson wondered to which `wound' she referred. This one, or one more personal? "Healing's my specialty, love. I'd be glad to help." Beckett wanted to mean it, but in truth, he was already thinking of how to broach the subject of evacuation to the young lady. How was he going to frame it? There was no easy way to tell a princess that she might have to lead her people from their home planet to some other, alien place.

The doctor turned as he heard urgent footsteps approaching. Linnian, drawn and sweaty, scrambled across the scattered dirt toward them. "My… My Lady," he puffed, "the camp's telekrypter was intact… I contacted the capital and First Minister Muruw had news. A ship, Milady! The observatories spotted a second space vessel in orbit. He counsels your return to the city with all due alacrity."

Erony faced them both. "Another ship? Have the Wraith returned?"

Carson opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped before he could take a breath, and pointed. High in the sky, a piercing, brilliant pinpoint of light flared. A ripple of static joined it on the open radio channel, and Beckett's blood ran cold. A nuclear explosion? "Oh no," he managed.

"What is that?" said Linnian.

"They destroyed themselves," whispered Erony, "they did it to save our planet."

The doctor grabbed the noblewoman's arm, the shock of the flash racing through him, bringing fear in its wake. "Erony, listen to me! We have to get to safety!"

Her eyes met his. "Where might that be, Doctor? Tell me, what place is safe from the Wraith?"

Beckett tried to give her an answer, but he found he had nothing.

Then from the hissing static, a very different reply formed in his ear. "Atlantis team, respond." The voice was curt and businesslike. "Atlantis team, this Colonel Steven Caldwell. What is your situation, over?"

"Colonel Caldwell." Beckett's voice was heavy with fatigue. "I was afraid the next voice I heard would be a Wraith one. The locals spotted your approach and thought it was another Hive…"

"Sorry to disappoint you," Caldwell said dryly. "We got here as soon as we could. Looks like we arrived in time for the fireworks, though." The colonel frowned as crewmen darted about the Daedalus's bridge with portable fire extinguishers and damage control equipment. The shockwave from the detonation of the Hive Ship had flipped the carrier over and blown out the energy shields in a single surge of lethal power. Systems were down throughout the vessel and reports of injuries and hull breaches were still coming in.

"You blew up the Hive Ship?"

"Negative, Doctor, that ship did a fine job of destroying itself. Almost got us too into the bargain." Caldwell threw an aside to his executive officer. "Remind me to thank General Landry for insisting on those shield upgrades."

"Colonel," began Beckett, "we had people on that Wraith ship,"

"The operative word being `had', Doctor. Hermiod pulled every human bio-signature with the Asgard transporters before the explosion."

"Yeah, he's our new hero," Sheppard walked on to the bridge with McKay following behind. "I thought Rodney was gonna hug the little guy."

The scientist made a face. "He just has that weird Roswell vibe…"

Sheppard nodded to the Daedalus commander. "Great timing, as always, Colonel."

"Pulling your backside out of the fire is starting to get habitforming," replied Caldwell, turning his attention to a report from a junior officer.

"Next time we'll call Pegasus 911 instead." Sheppard ignored the jibe and patched into the communications circuit. "Carson. Tell Lady Erony the crisis is over for now. Scar's gone and so is his boatload of buddies."

"Did… Did we lose anyone?"

"Teyla's in sickbay, but she'll heal."

There was a moment of silence before Beckett spoke again. "Colonel, Lady Erony has asked me to inquire after Lord Daus."

McKay picked up a headset. "Let me, uh, talk to her."

"Rodney?" Erony's voice was brittle. "I am glad you… I am sorry for what happened to you. It was my fault, my carelessness with my words."

"No," he shook his head. "It's all right. I… I'm sorry. Your father…"

The bridge suddenly seemed confined and claustrophobic. "He is dead." The woman said the words flatly, any sentiment bled from them. A simple statement devoid of all weight and emotion.

"I'm sorry," repeated Rodney. "His death saved the rest of us.

When Erony spoke again, she was calm and proper, as befitted a high noble of the Fourth Dynast. "Thank you, Dr. McKay. In the absence of the Lord Magnate I must assume his duties for the interim. I will take my leave of you."

"Erony?" But she was gone, the channel silent.

The streets were lined with people as far as Elizabeth Weir could see. The queues snaked around the derelict dockside warehouses, out on to the main streets of the capital. Fuming omnibuses were halting every now and then to deposit more of them. She saw men and women of every age and ethnicity, children and teenagers. The only commonality they shared was the shabbiness of their clothes, the drawn look of a people who had grown used to being hungry all the time. The nineteenthcentury tone of the Halcyon capital was something new to Weir, a sight she'd only seen to date in history books and Victorian costume dramas; but the faces of the people were all too famil iar. She had seen that more times than she wanted, in Darfur and Kosovo, in Rwanda and Tikrit.

But there was a kind of hope here as well. She could sense it in the air, a mixture of anticipation and a little fear for good measure. Halcyon's people seemed to understand that their world had changed a great deal in the last few days, and it made them excited and scared in equal measure.

A huge poster across the flank of an elderly tenement building caught her eye. She could make out the remains of a massive artwork depicting the face of a portly, lordly man, but there were new leaves of heavy paper pasted over it. The jigsaw of pieces showed a young woman in regal finery, cupping a rifle in one hand and a basket of fruit in the other. But the new poster had been abandoned halfway through, and there were still ladders pressed up to the walls, as if they were waiting for the work to be completed.

"She made them stop," said Carson as he emerged from near the head of the line. "Apparently, when one of the reigning nobles dies, the first thing they do is paint over all the murals of the last fella." He shook his head. "Erony told them that her father's memory wasn't something they should just forget."

Weir nodded. "That's not an easy road to follow, especially after what took place under his leadership. She's taking responsibility for it, and that's a sign of a good ruler."

"Aye," agreed the doctor. "I've already heard talk that she's going to announce elections in the coming year. Democracy instead of monarchy. The nobles are going to have a very steep learning curve."

Elizabeth smiled. "And to think I just expected you to come back with some new diplomatic and trading contacts. Instead, you've sparked off a cultural revolution that will change life on this planet forever."

"It would have happened sooner or later," he noted, "people won't stand for tyranny forever. Hopefully this way there's been a lot less bloodletting."

"And at least we've made ourselves another ally in the Pegasus Galaxy. After all our recent troubles, I think we were due for a win, don't you?"

"Aye, but a ZPM would nae have gone amiss too. Shame about the dolmen. Rodney fair hit the roof when he heard that John had been forced to blow it up."

"Dr. Zelenka calculated that the energy release from the dolmen would have left it nearly dead by now, anyway." Weir added. "If the power source was waning, that would explain how Scar was able to resist the dolmen's influence."

"Couldn't we dig it out of the rubble? Those modules are tough, aren't they? There might still be some juice in there."

She shook her head. "That discharge you reported was probably the last gasp. If there is an intact ZPM under all that wreckage, it will more than likely be useless now."

They moved on toward the makeshift medical center, passing two heavy steam trucks. Beckett threw a nod to the nurse standing at the rear of the vehicles, checking off items of cargo on an inventory pad. "Thank you for authorizing this, Elizabeth."

Weir watched the pallets of gear come off the lorries. "Most of this was aboard Daedalus and earmarked for Atlantis re-supply, but I think we can spare it for someone in need. We can always send out for more. Erony's people don't have that luxury."

He nodded. "And now the Stargate has been reopened for travel, I've got the medicines I needed through from Atlantis."

"Are you making a difference, Carson?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "At last, I really think we are. Linnian's taken up the role of First Minister and he fits it well. The man's already talked with some of Caldwell's engineering crew about new irrigation plans, water supplies, that sort of thing. Changes are going to come, and for the better. With Daus and the Hive Ship gone, it's like the war is over. Finally."

Elizabeth looked away. If only it were that simple. In reality, Halcyon would find it hard to make its way through the transition from a military-based culture to one more focused on civilian life; and there still might be more Wraith on the way. But we're going to be here to help them.

Outside the warehouse-clinic, they came across Mason and Clarke, the two soldiers crouched and laughing with a couple of locals, a man with a prematurely wizened face and a youth in a brown robe. They were playing some kind of gambling game with polyhedral dice.

The dice rattled off the stone wall and Clarke scowled. "Oh, you bloody little-" The corporal caught sight of Weir and fell into a guilty silence. "Uh. Ma'am."

Mason came to attention. "Dr. Weir."

"At ease, gentlemen," she smiled. "Don't stop on my account. Cultural exchange is always a good thing. Who's winning?"

"Not me," Clarke frowned, adjusting the sling on his injured arm. "I think I left all my luck back in the Milky Way." He produced a chocolate bar from his ration pack and grudgingly handed it over to the younger man, who grinned. "Here you go. Don't eat it all at once."

Mason relaxed a little. "I thought you ought to know, ma'am, that I was briefed by one of the senior riflemen. They're still in the process of rounding up the last few Hounds that went garrity after the business with the dolmen and all. Lot of `em have gone to ground, though, so it might take a fair while to find the last few."

"Thank you, Staff Sergeant. I'd like you to liaise with Erony's men, give them whatever help we can to assist in the search."

"Thank you, ma'am. And about that other matter…"

"You can proceed at your own discretion. Carry on."

Weir and Beckett crossed the clinic, the doctor pausing now and then to check on the flow of patients moving through the program of booster shots. "What was that about?" he asked, indicating Mason with a jerk of his head.

"He requested permission to be the one to write the condolence letters to the families of Private Bishop and Private Hill."

"Ah. Of course." Beckett hesitated. "You know, every time we lose someone, I find myself asking the same questions. Is it worth it? Will we ever be able to tell the people back home what goes on out here? There's never going to be an answer for Bishop's mum and dad or Hill's wife and kids, is there? Just a Union flag on a coffin."

"Everyone who comes to Atlantis, who serves in the SGC, all of us know the risks we face." Elizabeth smiled at a small girl as she left the room, the bloom of a fresh inoculation on her pale shoulder. "We just have to hold on to the knowledge that what we do here really does make a difference."

The Ceremony of the Throne began before dawn, on board the Fourth Dynast's sumptuous air-yacht. In a break with protocol, Erony had closed the High Palace's grand audience chamber and ordered the rites to be performed on the wide-open decks of the airship's flyer bay. The broad space was cleared of aircraft, and now it echoed with the music of brass instruments and percussion. Banners hung from catwalks and gantries overhead, and stark flood lamps illuminated the temporary dais set up at the mouth of the launch bay. Beyond the yawning aperture, it was possible to see the distant hills of the Halcyon countryside, a soft yellow glow at the horizon heralding the oncoming sunrise.

Every noble house on Halcyon was represented here, from the highest in rank to those at the very bottom of the pecking order. By official decree as interim ruler of the planet, Lady Erony had declared that all honor engagements and wars of privilege were nulled. All hunt splinters had been recalled. Every rivalry, every long-standing enmity was made forfeit. Barons and dukes who before would never had stood in the same room without drawing blades upon one another were together here, side by side.

These rulings had sent a shock through every highborn court on the planet, but the reaction to them was weak compared to Erony's final demand on those who attended the ceremony. No weapons of any kind were allowed inside the hangar. Every knife, sword and pistol, every poisoned hatpin and derringer, push-dagger and dart, all of them were left behind.

"She may as well have asked us to attend naked!" said one noblewoman, a dowdy baroness whose stage whisper easily reached the ears of Dr. Weir.

To her right, spit-shined and handsome in his Air Force dress blues, Sheppard heard the comment and spoke out of the side of his mouth. "Let's be thankful that she didn't."

"Eyes front, Colonel," said Caldwell, also in full uniform. "You've got us into enough trouble on this planet as it is. Don't start making fun of the rich kids now."

As the official invite had stated, Doctors McKay and Beckett, Ronon Dex and Teyla Emmagan also joined the three of them. Ronon shifted uncomfortably under his greatcoat. He had promised Weir that he was unarmed, but she had her doubts that the big Satedan would ever put himself in a situation that he couldn't fight his way out of. For her part, Teyla was resplendent in a gossamer gown that her people had sent through the Gate for the occasion; she very much looked the part of an elegant leader, the dignity of the Athosian tribes strong in her eyes. Only someone who knew her as well as Elizabeth did could have seen the slight tensing in her jaw, the haunted glint in her eyes. Weir had only spoken briefly to Teyla in the aftermath of the Daedalus's rescue, but it was clear to her that she had faced a traumatic experience while on Halcyon. Beckett caught her eye and threw Elizabeth a brief smile; it was only Rodney who seemed distracted by all the pomp and circumstance. McKay couldn't keep his eyes off the ceremonial dais and the figure that now approached it, clad in a wide robe trimmed with dark green fur.

In her youth, on vacation in England, Weir had watched the Trooping of the Colour outside Buckingham Palace, and she had half-expected something of similar ritual and display to go on here; but Halcyon was a militaristic people at heart, and their culture mimicked a wartime mentality of blunt, direct action.

Erony climbed the dais and shrugged off the green robe, revealing an ornamental sword at her hip. A gasp rolled around the assembled crowd as she touched a belt buckle and let the weapon, scabbard and all, go clattering to the floor.

"I'm guessing that's not a part of the ceremony," murmured Sheppard.

When she spoke, Erony's voice was clear and strong. "The Magnate is Halcyon. Halcyon is the Magnate. So it is written in the codes of ascension, so it has been said time after time when one took this role. But in hundreds of years, those words have become meaningless. They are spoken and they have no weight. Today, this changes. Today, I become Lady Magnate of Halcyon and I declare it to be so." She stepped forward, advancing toward the ranks of assembled nobles. "From this dawn, there will be no more wars over petty words and trivial deeds." Erony crossed by the parties of Barons Palfrun and Noryn, sparing them an even look. "We will no longer support battles without honor or humanity. From this dawn, Halcyon will take up arms only in defense of herself, in defiance of the true enemy… The Wraith."

Weir caught her eye and offered her a supportive nod. Erony continued. "Many among us feel as I do, that for too long our people have been set upon a course of self-destruction, of violence for the sake of violence. Many of you have yearned for peace, but lacked the fortitude or influence to bring it to be. But now you have a voice. Now our people, noble and common, have a voice, in me." She looked away for a moment. "A learned man, an outworlder and my friend, told me of a truism from his home planet."

McKay shifted uncomfortably and looked at his shoes.

"Those who live by the sword, die by the sword. I say here and now that this will not be the fate of Halcyon! The currency of death no longer carries any coin in this realm." She walked back to the dais, to where a second, more ornate set of robes of office was waiting. "I take my father's mantle now, and I take from his memory his love for this world… But I leave behind his appetite for warfare and the callous brutality that it spawned." She carefully donned the robes of the Magnate. "Our society changes as this dawn rises. It will not be easy, but it will be for the better, and our new friends from Atlantis will help us find the way." The woman drew herself up to her full height, and she was the very picture of regal nobility. "I am the Lady Magnate Erony Daus, I stand without Dynast and for my people, as Mag- istrex of the Sovereign World of Halcyon and her dominions… And to any baron who might plan to use force of arms to usurp my place, know that my army is not of soldiers, of riflemen or accursed Hounds. My army are the commoners, and without them, our world will not turn."

Silence fell as the first rays of the sun drew honey colors over the landscape, the assembled barony reeling from the import of the speech. Elizabeth drew her hands together and applauded, quickly joined by each member of the Atlantis contingent; and soon the whole chamber resonated with an ovation as Lady Erony turned away and bowed before the new day.

The airship's course took it over the jubilant streets of the city, the rolling countryside and back to the Terminal, slowing to a droning hover over the massive hangar that housed the Halcyon Stargate.

Down on the deck, the Atlantis team were gathering themselves together next to Jumper Three, ready to take the ship back through the wormhole to their city. Caldwell was already up on board Daedalus, after finding a discreet corner from where to beam back to the starship. Quite rightly, Dr. Weir figured that the locals were edgy enough without seeing a man vanish to add to their misgivings. Knots of chattering nobles drifted around in their own little cliques, some perturbed by their new ruler's edicts, but many alight with the possibility they represented.

Sheppard fiddled with his collar and loosened his tie a little. "Ah. These formal gigs are just not my thing. Dress blues always make me feel like I'm going to the prom."

Weir eyed him. "And I was just going to say how well you scrub up." There was a hint of reproach in her voice.

He shrugged. "Plain and simple suits me better, y'know? I guess I fit better when it comes to seeing things in a more, uh, uncomplicated way."

She caught the inference. "Maybe I'll handle the diplomatic stuff from now," she smiled. "I'm not sure if inciting a radical restructure of a planetary monarchy was really what I had in mind when I gave you the green light."

"You have no idea how happy it makes me feel to hear that, Elizabeth. From now on, I'll just do all the point-and-shoot hero stuff." He shrugged. "Your job's too damn tough for a grunt like me."

Weir followed him into the Jumper. "Well, don't sell yourself short, John. You helped these people find a better way. That's something to be proud of."

"Yeah, I guess it is." He sighed and paused to think for a moment. "Hey, you think I'll get a statue or something?"

"Just don't expect a pay rise."

Ronon found Teyla at one of the portals along the side of the launch bay, the chill wind whipping at the folds of her dress. He coughed self-consciously and she turned, offering him a wan smile. "Ronon. Is it time for us to depart?"

"Sheppard's warming up the ship now. We should get aboard."

"Yes." She looked back out at the landscape. "It seems so peaceful down there. The countryside reminds me of Athos. It is hard for me to look out there and think of the horrors we saw. The fighting…" Her hand strayed to the faint line of bruising on her neck. "The Wraith."

"When I was a Runner, I passed through worlds that looked like this. Like you say, peaceful. Quiet. But the Wraith were always there in the shadows, poisoning it. Always just out of reach. I hate them for that, for taking that away from people." Dex frowned, his own feelings conflicted about their time on Halcyon. "After all that happened here, at least on this planet, we gave it back." He studied his friend for a moment, thinking on the scars that were visible on her, and those that were not. There was much they shared in common in that regard, thanks to the predations of the Wraith.

"For now," Teyla replied. "I hope they understand how much it costs to keep it." She turned away and tapped Ronon on the arm. "Time to go."

As the last members of the team ducked to enter the open hatch at the rear of the Puddle Jumper, a clatter of footsteps drew their attention. Beckett backed inside to allow Erony and her retinue to address everyone.

The Lady Magnate bowed to them. "My friends. We must go our separate ways and tend to our own concerns, but I hope this will not be the last time we meet." She inclined her head to Elizabeth. "Dr. Weir, thank you once again for your generous donations. With the information supplied to us by Dr. Beckett, we will be able to initiate a program of public works to eradicate the bone-rot once and for all." In turn she nodded to Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla. "You three fought like stormhawks in defense of my planet, despite the manner in which you were treated by my father. Your honor and courage will be a matter of record, and each of you shall be welcomed as warriors of highest rank when you next return. Halcyon is in your debt."

Weir took Erony's proffered hand and shook it warmly. "I've given an IDC transmitter to First Minister Linnian. You may feel free to contact us whenever you wish."

"And please, rest assured that the secret of Atlantis will not be revealed." The woman hesitated, and for a moment she lost her queenly air. "I wonder if, I might speak with Dr. McKay alone?"

"Oh. Sure." Rodney's cheeks colored a little, and awkwardly he followed Erony out of the Jumper.

She dismissed her retinue and then it was just the two of them. "I, uh," McKay frowned, fumbling at the right thing to say. "You look magnificent. Really… Royal."

"You are a good people, you Atlanteans," she told him, "and you are a good man, Rodney McKay. Your honesty opened my eyes, made me question when before I remained silent." She moved closer, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I owe you more than I can say."

"I didn't do anything," he said, frowning. "You took the leap. You stood up for what was right. You're the good person, Erony."

She looked away. "I find myself wondering… If things might have gone differently here, what future there might have been for you and I. The chances we might have had." Erony gently touched his hand. "But the world changes. I am Lady Magnate, and the business of state never rests. My life is no longer my own."

Rodney managed a smile. "You're going to be great. Halcyon has a golden age ahead of it."

She sighed, and then by turns she became regal once again, falling into the role of ruler. "I have only one more thing to ask you, Dr. McKay. I beg you to be honest with me in this, show me the same truth you have in all our dealings." The Lady Magnate looked him in the eyes. "Will the Wraith return to my world?"

He wanted to lie to her, to tell her everything would be fine and that she would live out her rule in peace and prosperity; but instead the truth fell from his lips in a hollow rush. "We have no way of knowing if a signal got out to any other Hive Ships. There's nothing to indicate the Wraith are going to come here, but…"

Erony nodded. "Then we will fight them when they come."

She left him there on the deck, lost for words, and walked off to join her people.

The Puddle Jumper described a lengthy arc through the dawn sky and turned inbound toward the hangar that concealed the Halcyon Stargate. Sheppard had an easy smile on his lips as he worked the ship's throttle and yoke like they were second nature.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Atlantis Air flight three," he grinned, "please put your seat backs and tray tables in a fully upright and locked position, and keep your hands and feet inside the Jumper until it has come to a complete stop…" He had to admit it; as harsh as things got, there was always something liberating about taking to the air, and no matter how far he traveled, no matter where John Sheppard went, getting some sky beneath his wings brought the world into sharp perspective.

"How are we getting back?" said Teyla. "The Stargate is sealed inside their bunker."

"Not any more," Sheppard replied. "Erony decided the Gate's been hidden away long enough." He pointed out the window. "Check it out."

Below them, the roof of the hangar complex cracked open and the massive silo doors retracted, dust and steam curling up from the mechanisms as they worked. From inside, a glitter of sunlight danced over an arc of brushed metal, and with the grinding hiss of a hundred pistons, the wide stone platform beneath the Great Circlet of Halcyon rose up into the dawn for the first time in hundreds of years.

The Stargate shone like a precious ring upon a cushion of limestone, the steely color of the naquadah bright against the shadows cast by the doors. At Sheppard's command, the dialing console flared and the symbol code for the city of Atlantis fed into the device, the electric blue chevrons locking in shimmers of chained power. The wormhole formed with a thunder of sound, the funnel of energy whipping into being, punching a hole through light-years of interstellar distance.

"Take us home, colonel," said Elizabeth, and Sheppard threw the ship into the shimmering pool of light.