Halcyon

Chapter Two

They emerged from the Stargate into the yellow sodium glare of harsh spotlights, and for a moment Sheppard had to fight back the reflexive twitch of his trigger finger. Then the beams turned aside and a set of bells and trumpets struck up a brief fanfare, the flourish echoing around them as Lady Erony walked forward.

"She must be important," McKay said from the side of his mouth, "she's got her own theme music."

Blinking away the afterimage on his retinas, the colonel glanced around and took in the place where they found themselves. The chamber was long and wide, open inside with illumination in tight clusters from the spotlights and thin window slits at the tops of the walls. There were aircraft hangars out at Nellis and Groom Lake that were large enough to hold a B-52 bomber with room to spare, and this place could have swallowed one of those easily. He imagined that a good pilot could have backed the Daedalus in here for a touchdown. The Stargate had pride of place, raised up on a wide dais and ringed with skeletal derricks. As he stepped forward, Sheppard heard faint whirring noises coming from the tops of the towers and looked up. He could see ornate horns like something from an old gramophone and huge glass-eyed, wooden-bodied cameras that were the size of a doghouse. Thick cables snaked away from them into the shadows. A broad pavement led down from the dais, marked every few meters by poles topped with elaborate ceremonial banners. Beyond those were indistinct shapes in the dimness past the pools of yellow light, broad cylinders of dull gray metal. More men with the same large rifles as Erony's party stood at attention in a semi-circle before them, heads bowed. The colonel noted that their uniforms, while similar in cut to those of Erony and her men, were of a different color and the tabards were reversed. Same army, different unit? he wondered.

There were giant cogwheels on pinions overhead, thick chains big enough to haul battleship anchors, and massive, silent pistons. Sheppard couldn't be sure, but he thought he could see the very slightest knife of daylight coming from a long horizontal join in the roof above. The Gate Hangar-he was already thinking of it as that, as it was way too big to be considered a Gate `room'-was hissy with steam and there was the unmistakable smell of oil and grease. This was a wrought iron edifice, heavy, boiler-plated and industrial; the absolute antithesis of the clean silver lines of Atlantis.

From the corner of his eye he saw Mason and the SAS troopers, Ronon and Teyla, all of them eyeing the shadows with the same air of wariness.

McKay looked at the ground under his feet and nodded. "Huh. We're standing on a natural stone platform. Looks like this place was built around it, or maybe it was brought here from somewhere else."

"The latter is the correct assumption," said Erony. "You are quite observant."

"I'm a scientist," McKay noted. "Observation is part of what I do."

"Indeed?" The woman gave him an appraising look, as if she were re-evaluating him. "Forgive me, but I do not have your name…

"Oh yeah, sorry," said the colonel. "I'm terrible with introductions. This is Dr. Rodney McKay."

"Greetings," said Erony, inclining her head.

"Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan, Staff Sergeant Mason, Corporal Clarke and-"

"Of course," Erony didn't appear to be paying attention to Sheppard any more, still studying McKay.

"— and, uh, Privates Bishop and Hill…" The colonel concluded.

"It is unusual for a scientist to be part of a hunt splinter on Halcyon," she continued. "Is this the first time you have been allowed to venture from your conclave?"

Rodney straightened. "Absolutely not. I'm a valuable member of a front-line team. In fact, I'd go as far to say that my expertise has often been the key factor in the survival of this, uh, this unit."

"Couldn't imagine life without him," added Ronon.

If Erony noticed the faint sarcasm in Dex's words, she gave no sign of it. "You will all accompany me, then. My adjutant Linnian has summoned a conveyor to take us into the capital." She gestured at the pavement. "This way."

"If I may ask, where did your Stargate come from, if it was not found here?" said Teyla, as they walked.

Erony spoke over her shoulder. "Star-Gate? That is what you call the Great Circlet? What a delightful term." She smiled briefly. "Yes, my ancestors brought our Circlet from an area in our polar regions, many generations ago, long before we had deciphered the sigils on the podium and learned the secrets of the portals it contained. It remains here now, inside the Terminal, held secure so that all on Halcyon understand that they are protected from any intruders it might admit."

Sheppard glanced up past the banners and got a better look at the oval-topped cylinders. Now he could see them for what they were; a cordon of gun turrets, short, stubby barrels of large caliber all pointing inward toward the Stargate. He had no doubt there were just as many on the other side of the Gate from where these stood.

Erony saw where he was looking and threw him a proud nod. "Invaders who come through the Circlet with malice in their hearts are not allowed far, Lieutenant Colonel." She pointed up at one of the flat concrete walls and Sheppard could just make out the discoloration of old blast damage. "The Wraith sent one of their screamer-ships here, when I was a small child. They paid for their impudence."

"So I see."

At the end of the pathway, two more troopers snapped their rifles to arms as a large elevator platform came level with them. Erony's second-in-command from the ice planet had gone on ahead and stood there now, waiting for them. He bowed. "High ness, all is prepared. The Lord Magnate has been informed of your return. He wishes to speak with you."

The group boarded the elevator and it began to ascend. "Just so," said Erony. "I will see him when we arrive at the High Palace."

"Forgive me if I correct you, My Lady, but the Lord Magnate desires otherwise. He wishes you to contact him via telekrypter prior to leaving the Terminal."

There was a flash of annoyance on Erony's face. Sheppard gave a wan smile. "Parents, huh?"

The elevator rattled as it rose out through the ceiling of the Gate Hangar and into bright daylight, past the upper tiers of the facility. Through the iron mesh of the shaft's walls the layout of the complex became clearer.

"Military base," said Ronon, noting the dispersed lines of blockhouses, the parade grounds and ranks of troops. Many of these wore the colors of the men on the lower levels, but many more were in different hues of blue, brown, red and purple.

"Cathedral," countered McKay, indicating the ornamental rows of statuary that studded the site. There were vast arches and spires more suited to a church, obelisks and what looked like complex shrines.

"I am not familiar with that word," said Erony. "What does it mean?"

"A cathedral… It's a place of worship, a building where you can venerate your religion…"

The woman let out a short laugh. "Oh, Doctor, do you seek to mock us? Please, Halcyon is not some backwater world of savages where we huddle in caves and pay homage to ephemeral deities! This is a society of rational, intelligent thinking. You will not find the delusions of religion here."

"You have no faith on this world?" said Teyla.

"Of course we do," said Erony, "but it is in our fellows, in our own humanity, our might." She said the words with the rhythm of a rote recollection. "Our faith is in our swords and our shields."

They continued upward until the lift halted at a raised plat form several stories above the ground level. They followed Erony out and Sheppard realized that they were standing in an elevated railway station.

"You will excuse me," said Erony, moving away with Linnian, "this will take but a moment."

When they were out of earshot, Sheppard turned to his team. "First impressions?"

"Technology level seems comparable with late 19th century Earth," began McKay. "Post-industrial revolution, preatomic, at a guess. Electricity, fossil fuels…"

Mason sniffed the air. "Steam engines." The soldier nodded at the single iron rail running off into the distance. "Me granddad was an engineer on the railway. Worked on the Pullmans. I'd know the smell anywhere."

"This is an armed people," added Teyla. "Everyone we have passed, even those down on the ground, they carried firearms or blades, often both."

Ronon rubbed his chin. "Swords and shields."

"Good eye," said Sheppard. "What else?"

Clarke was standing at the edge of the platform, looking off into the distance, still a little pale from being on the wrong end of a Wraith weapon. "Rolling hills out there, lots of farmland. Reminds me a bit of Wales, actually." He pointed. "Looks like a city over that way."

Sheppard removed his binoculars from his pack and looked in the direction Clarke indicated. Beyond the valley where the Terminal complex lay he could see towers in dark red stone rising behind the hillside, and there were tall chimneys belching black streamers of smoke. It was hard to tell at this distance, but there were objects drifting between the buildings, some slow-moving sliver-white ellipses, others quick glitters of wings as fast as mayflies. "Airships? Helicopters?" He wondered aloud.

"Something else," added Ronon. "Why haven't they asked us for our weapons yet?"

Teyla nodded. "Ronon is correct. Erony and her men have already seen them in action, yet they have not requested we surrender them."

"Maybe they just haven't got around to it yet."

"Or," said Bishop, "maybe they don't see us a that much of a threat."

"Let's keep it that way," agreed Sheppard, "we're guests, remember? Best behavior."

"They're going to want to know where we're from," said McKay, "the question is going to come up. Are we sticking with the `Atlantis got all blown up except for us' cover story?"

"They don't know we were talking to Atlantis back on M3Y-465. We'll play the cards we got for the moment. I don't think they know who we are at this stage."

"Of course," scoffed Rodney, poking a finger at the Velcro tab on his sleeve. "Our enemies will never recognize us now we've removed our insignia. That's about as good a disguise as a stick-on moustache. Why is it that we have to leave our patches behind every time we go off world, anyhow?"

"Regulations, sir," replied Mason. "Special operations. No identifying markings permitted on active duty."

McKay snorted. "I'd like to remind everyone that this planet is a kajillion light years from anyone who has even heard of Earth, let alone someone who might be able to recognize the flags of all nations."

"How much is a kajillion?" rumbled Ronon. "It sounds like a lot."

McKay ignored the sarcasm and kept talking. "Okay, sure, so we do have a patch that says `Atlantis' on it, and maybe we might want to keep where we come from a secret from some people, but who in the Pegasus Galaxy can even read it? I don't see the point."

"You're forgetting one thing, Rodney," said Sheppard.

"And what's that?"

"For all we know, on Halcyon a red maple leaf on a white background could be a symbol for `please eat me alive' in their native language." He threw a glance over his shoulder. "Why take the risk?"

The two soldiers behind McKay smothered snorts of amusement and looked away.

Lady Erony returned as their ride arrived at the platform. A long steel-gray bullet, the monorail train hissed and spat like a live thing, rolling to a clanking halt. Thick hatches of armor plate dropped open like drawbridges and men in red tabards scrambled around the hull of the machine, checking pipes and valves. The central carriages of the train were detailed with fine scrollwork etched into the dull metal. The lines and whorls of engraving were polished to a high sheen; but it was clear where parts of the conveyor had been panel-beaten back into shape after some kind of blunt impact, and there were disc-shaped patches here and there that might have covered bullet holes.

Inside there were lush carpets and crafted furniture of honeycolored wood. Gas lamps lit the interior, catching gold and silver threading all about them. In each corner of the carriage, ornamental bell jars contained raptor-like birds that had been stuffed and mounted. The hatches slammed closed and locked with a grunt of hydraulics.

"All aboard," muttered Mason, as the monorail launched away from the station and out over the countryside.

The train picked up speed quickly, the view through the windows blurring. Erony waved the Atlantis team to seats in the open carriage and nodded to Linnian. "Refreshments," she ordered, and the shorter man bowed in obeisance.

She took a device like a ticket dispenser from a nearby desk and cranked the handle; a tape of paper emerged and she scribbled on it with a stylus. "I would ask each of you to carry one of these with you while you are in our domain," said the woman, handing the first voucher to Ronon. "It is a permission from my Dynast, identifying you as a guest of the High Palace." Erony set to work on more of them, and handed them out to the group. Sheppard studied the machine-imprinted paper; the text on it was a series of bars and blocks. "Looks like Ancient script," he noted quietly to McKay.

Rodney nodded. "There's some linguistic drift, but I'd say it came from the same root." Then suddenly, as if a thought had occurred to him, the doctor took a seat and removed his laptop from his pack.

Linnian returned with a pair of servants in tow, each carrying trays of cups and small food dishes. Lady Erony helped herself to a few things and then gestured at her guests. "Please, partake. Volla Leaf tea is a personal favorite of mine."

Teyla took a wary drink and smiled. "Quite lovely." Despite the hard look Mason gave to Clarke, the corporal took a handful of bread-like things and ate them.

Erony's mood seemed to have changed; Sheppard could sense a false note of forced jollity there, and he wondered what had been said during her conversation with her father. "Lieutenant Colonel, I must ask. I have been studying your wargear and I find myself wondering. Where are your swords?"

"Ah, well, we don't really do the sword thing very much," he began.

"Speak for yourself," broke in Ronon, pulling his wicked blade from the scabbard on his back. "This is a Satedan battle steel. Each one is unique, tailored for the owner."

"I see," Erony nodded. "Ronon Dex is your blade champion, then?"

"Something like that," smiled the colonel.

Erony approached Dex without hesitation or fear, despite the fact that he towered over her. "I wish to hold it."

Ronon turned the sword in his grip and presented the hilt to her. Erony took it and made a couple of low practice swings. "Heavy, and yet it is finely balanced. Not an ornamental weapon, but a war-blade." She studied the sword closely, looking at the nicks in the edge. "Have you dispatched many Wraith with it?"

"I lost count."

The woman returned Ronon's property, and Dex nodded to Linnian's gear where it hung on a wall rack. "Interesting rifle."

"Show him," ordered the woman, and her adjutant bowed, passing the bulky steam-gun across.

Sheppard watched the interplay carefully. There was an odd kind of bonding going on here, the same sort of macho venera tion of gear he'd seen a hundred times among soldiers of every stripe — and yet it seemed slightly off-kilter to him, almost ritualized. In her own way, Erony was mapping out the hierarchy of his team against the martial rules of her people. Not just a pretty face, he opined silently.

Ronon had the rifle's chamber open. It had a rotating section in the middle, like a revolver, with slots for shells of different diameters. "Variable ammunition," he noted. "Useful."

"The long-lance can project a needle nest cartridge or a solid round as required," explained Linnian. "Net loads and volter shells may also be used."

"For stunning and capturing targets?" said Mason, without weight. Ronon and Teyla exchanged glances.

"Correct." The adjutant took the weapon back. "Perhaps we could arrange a visit to the Ducal Gun Enclosure for a live demonstration during your stay."

"What fun," murmured Teyla.

The monorail turned slightly and rumbled over a set of points, making the decking tremble. Sheppard caught movement from the corner of his eye and his arm shot out to grab one of the servants who had lost his footing. An ornate cup left the tray in the youth's hand and shattered against the floor.

The servant-he was just a boy in his mid-teens-cowered away from the colonel's grip as if he was expecting a blow to follow. The boy was wearing a necklet, like a Celtic tore, made from bronze.

Linnian made a harsh hissing noise with his teeth. "Clumsy!"

The boy looked at Sheppard with real fear in his eyes. "Sir, begging your pardon."

John let go of him, feeling uncomfortable. "No, it's okay, it was an accident." He managed a smile. "No harm, no foul."

Erony's adjutant seemed wrong-footed by Sheppard's reaction, but then his eyes turned flinty. "You are dismissed," he growled. The servant boy gathered up the cup fragments and fled the carriage. The Lady herself seemed to be unconcerned with the brief moment of drama, as if dealing with the hired help was beneath her.

"Forgive that dolt's error," said Linnian. "He will be chastised."

"There's no need for that," insisted Sheppard. "It was my fault. I must have startled him."

"We have rules," insisted the adjutant, "and they must be adhered to."

Lady Erony gave Sheppard a long look. "Ah, but now we appear too strict and harsh in the eyes of my guests, Linnian." She settled back in her chair. "We of Halcyon are of a hardy, determined stock, Lieutenant Colonel. You may view our world now and see a verdant and pleasing land but it was not always so. In our old history, Halcyon was a hard mistress, she fought us and made life treacherous. We grew up strong because of it and we learned that life works, not by the edict of some phantom divinity…" The woman glanced at Teyla, then away. "But because of rules. That which one can codify, one can master. Do you not agree, Dr. McKay?"

"Hmm?" Rodney looked up from his computer. "What? Oh, yes, I suppose."

"You will see that ours is a civilization based on a skein of regulations, honor codes and strict laws of status and chivalry. Codes that have kept our society in check and flourishing for millennia."

Once again, Sheppard was struck by the cadence of her words, as if they were something she had been taught to say, not something from her heart. Part of him knew that here and now was not the time to get drawn into a debate over politics, but he couldn't stop himself from replying. "We have our rules too, and liberty for all is pretty much the first one on the list."

Erony smiled warmly. "We have so much in common."

Teyla found her attention drawn to the landscape as it changed, trees and fields giving way to thickening strands of conurbation. As Colonel Sheppard and the woman Erony talked, the Athosian studied the outskirts of the city flashing by. Spider webs of cables hung over everything from tall poles, and tight streets of narrow homes ranged away in long, featureless terraces. The train moved so quickly that all she saw were snapshot images; children engaged in a game with bats and a ball; lines of washing flapping like flags; a small feline animal coiled over the warm spot on a rooftop; heavy steam-driven trucks rumbling along narrow alleys.

It seemed a grim and busy place, with nothing in kind to the tents and yurts of the village where she had grown up, no forests or rivers. Teyla fancied that the people of Halcyon saw their industry and their works as the most impressive thing on the planet, ignoring the simple beauty of the countryside outside the conurbations. It was very different from the way of the tribes of Athos, living close to the land and using their advancements to enhance that pastoral lifestyle, not supplant it. Teyla knew that she could never be at home in a place like this; she needed the sight, the touch and the scents of nature around her.

She saw Lady Erony from the corner of her eye as she took a sip of the rather bland tea and gave a musical laugh. Teyla's lips thinned. It was difficult for her to put her finger on the root cause, but there was something about the noblewoman that sat poorly with her. It wasn't rudeness or malice she sensed, not something so blatant as that. No, Erony just seemed to be a little… Patronizing. The Athosians were more than familiar with such behavior toward them, with people from other worlds considering them somehow backward because of their agrarian lifestyle. It was a mistake that even Sheppard's group had made the first time they met.

Teyla pushed the thought away. Perhaps she was being unfair in her assessment. After all, she had only just met the woman, and under less than ideal circumstances; still, it was difficult to shrug off her first impressions, the `gut feeling' that she had so often heard John speak of.

She looked back at the windows and noticed for the first time that there were mechanical shutters that could be lowered down over them. In case the nobles do not wish to look upon the less fortunate as they travel, she thought.

McKay suddenly bolted up from his chair and gasped. His computer was making a strident beeping. He threw a look left and right and then pressed up against the windows of the carriage. "I, I need binoculars! Quick, quick!"

"Is something wrong?" asked Linnian.

"You require a magnification device?" said Erony. "Here. You may use mine." She handed him a brass-plated monocular.

"Yes, excellent, thanks!" McKay darted looks at the laptop and then peered through the stubby telescope.

"Rodney?" said Sheppard, with a warning tone in his voice. He followed McKay to the window. The scientist was looking westward.

"Where are you? Come on…." McKay was talking to himself. "Where… Aha! There she blows!"

"Rodney!" Sheppard repeated, and this time with force. "You're acting weird and it's making me look bad in front of the nice Lady."

"Look at this," said McKay by way of an answer, thrusting the laptop into Sheppard's hands. John studied the screen. There were lines like sine waves and shifting bars denoting energy output. The patterns looked vaguely familiar. "You don't see it, do you?" said Rodney. "You got the gene and you don't even know what this is." He shook his head. "The ticket thingy, the text? It got me thinking. Ancient-style writing means exposure to Ancient culture in the past. Ancient culture in the past could mean Ancient artifacts lying around here and now."

"It's a power source?"

McKay was becoming more animated by the second. "Very faint, possibly nothing, but rather similar to a ZPM." Grinning, he pointed out the window. "Take a look."

Sheppard accepted the monocular and squinted through it. And there, beyond a ridge, isolated and distant, was a tall monolith in slate-gray stone. He'd seen the same style of construction on a dozen planets in the Pegasus Galaxy. Ancient architecture. A legacy of the people who built the Stargates. The obelisk was already moving out of sight as the monorail pulled away, but the shape of it was unmistakable.

And where there were Ancients once, there might be a Zero Point Module gathering dust. Suddenly, the stakes had changed in this little diplomatic jaunt. The ongoing search for a ZPM unit was one of the top priorities for Atlantis's off world teams, and there were standing orders that even the merest sniff of such a device had to be investigated. The power requirements for the city complex were massive, and only the advanced technologies of the zero point energy devices could keep Atlantis running at full capacity. If the team could get their hands on another one…

"You think they'll let us take a closer look?" McKay's voice took on a conspiratorial hush.

"I think we'll have to play friendly if we're going to get the opportunity," Sheppard noted.

Erony came to them and reclaimed her monocular. "You are interested in the dolmen, yes? It is a remnant of a people known as the Precursors, who pre-date all civilizations in known space."

"Yes, we, ah, we're familiar with them too. We call them the Ancients," said Rodney.

She smiled. "Ancients? You do have such charming names for things. Very… Straightforward. The dolmen is a site of some scientific curiosity, although the study of the past is not of primary interest to our learning council." Erony leaned closer, and Sheppard felt himself being edged out of the sphere of conversation. "I must confess to a fascination with these… Ancients, as you term them. Are you interested in them also?"

McKay grew smug. "Actually, I'm kind of an expert. The expert, you might say."

The monorail rocked slightly and began to lose speed. "Highness," said Linnian, "we are a few moments from the Palace platform."

Erony nodded. "Of course." She threw Sheppard and McKay the same bright smile. "We will talk more of these matters later. For now, there is a presentation to undertake."

The steam train deposited them in a glass-roofed station where another honor guard was waiting. They had a small band with them, who played out a longer version of the recorded fanfare that had announced Erony's return through the Stargate. Ronon flexed his fingers and waited for the caterwauling to stop. All this pomp and circumstance made him itchy.

The group crossed through a stone and steel archway and there before them was the High Palace. Dex tilted his head back to take in the whole height of it. The building was at least as tall as the central tower back on Atlantis, but in a strong, dark red hue and carved from huge blocks of stone. It was thickset in design, crested with minarets and crowned by large domes that ended in sharp spires. Gold and silver detail, too far up to see distinctly, glittered in the pale yellow light of Halcyon's sun. At other levels above and below them, walkways criss-crossed leading in and out of the edifice. Stanchions in the shape of lean warrior statues held them up in the air.

"Blimey," said Hill. "That's a palace, all right."

"Those domes look like the Taj Mahal or the Kremlin," noted McKay. The names meant nothing to Ronon, but the other Earthers nodded in agreement. "Interesting mix of architectural styles. There's some Ancient in there as well."

Dex let his practiced soldier's eye range over the building as they approached it. "Not just impressive," he noted, "good tactical design."

"Yeah," agreed Sheppard. "It's well hidden, but this place is as much a fortress as it is a palace."

"Plenty of locations for hard points. Revetments disguised as gardens. Fire corridors from the gun slits in the walls." Ronon looked up. "Any siege force you threw against this would break apart." He glanced at Sheppard and Mason, and saw the same thoughts in their eyes. This was a culture with its roots in warfare; and yet they had seen no evidence of battle or its aftermath. Dex took a deep breath of the Halcyon air, let it fill his lungs. After Sateda, after visits to dozens of other conflictscarred worlds, Ronon knew the reek of war intimately; and yet he couldn't sense it here. The disconnect between the martial manner of these people and this planet, with its sky clear of battle-storms, rang a sour note with the ex-soldier.

Lady Erony hadn't been wrong about the warmer weather here. The team had discarded their parkas and Dex unbuttoned his greatcoat, letting the leather swing open. He became aware of Erony's adjutant close at hand, sneaking surreptitious looks at him.

"Ask me," he said, without looking at the man.

Linnian licked his lips. "You… You are a Runner, yes?" With his collar turned down, the Wraith glyph on Ronon's neck was clearly visible. "I have heard of your kind, but I have never seen a live specimen before."

Dex spread his hands. "Take a good look."

"How have you survived against their stalkers?"

With a flick of his wrist, he drew his particle magnum and held it an inch from Linnian's face. "I'm fast," he said simply.

"Ronon," warned Sheppard. "Play nice."

Dex returned the pistol to its holster and Linnian grinned. "Impressive. I understand the Wraith place tracking implants beneath your flesh-"

"Sheppard's man dealt with those for me," he noted, tapping his shoulder. "Now they don't see me coming. They won't follow me here, if that's what you're afraid of."

The adjutant snorted and ran a hand over his neatly trimmed beard. "We don't fear the Wraith on Halcyon, Ronon Dex. The Wraith fear us."

Ronon listened to the man's bravado and looked away, wondering. Such a statement either made Linnian a fool, arrogant or both. As they fell under the shadow of the towering palace, something caught his eye. On one of the lower walkways, a unit of six soldiers in identical garb were walking back the other way, with a single man in a uniform like Linnian's leading the march. What held his attention was the battle dress they wore. It wasn't the ornate coats and hats of the other Halcyons, but articulated metal plate armor. Chain mail was evident beneath, but not an inch of bare skin was visible. The faces of the armored troopers were hidden behind ornately worked helmets that had been fashioned after the heads of snarling canines. The only things that gave them an identity were streamer-like scarves around their necks. The low breeze caught them, making them flutter like thin flags. The figures walked in mechanical lockstep behind their commander, away and out of sight.

Dex looked up again as they came to the entrance of the High Palace. Doors wide enough to fit a battalion through lay open before them, and it took a conscious effort on his part to stop his hand from straying the butt of his pistol once again.

"Welcome to the Grand Chamber of Audiences," said Erony with a flourish, as they entered a massive ballroom.

Sheppard blinked. "You get the feeling they're trying to impress us?" he asked McKay.

"With monarchies, it's all about the size of your castle," replied Rodney.

"I'll say. You could dry-dock an ocean liner in here." The hall was as big as the Gate Hangar, but it exchanged the industrial look for something that seemed more like the inside of a chocolate box. The ceiling was a huge mural of proud soldiers and pastoral scenes, suspended on thick marble pillars over a floor of wood so highly polished it could serve as a mirror. Between each pair of pillars there were cabinets made of finely worked iron and brass. Some of them were given over to the preserved pelts of animals that were no doubt long dead or hunted to extinction. Others had weapons laid out like artworks, guns and axes and daggers in lethal array. The one that caught the colonel's eye was filled with skulls of different shapes and sizes. Some were small, like the kind you'd find in a rat or a dog, others more obviously feral. There were a couple of downright alien looking ones as well, broad curved things, maws with spiky mandibles and something he caught a glimpse of that looked unpleasantly human.

McKay nudged him and surreptitiously indicated the other side of the chamber. Over there were full size hunter's trophies, huge beasts similar to grizzly bears arranged in mid-roar, wildcats atop fake rocks. "Looks like taxidermy is a popular pastime here," said Rodney quietly. John said nothing. He was looking at the animal heads mounted over the arches. He couldn't see it clearly, but one of them looked a hell of a lot like… Well, like a Wraith.

Dozens of men and women in regal finery and over-decorated military uniforms drifted here and there, pausing to bow as Lady Erony passed them by. A small legion of servants moved among the islands of chattering people, serving food and drink. Sheppard's nose wrinkled with the mingled scents of a hundred cloying perfumes.

The Atlantis team collected arch looks and outright stares from the Halcyon nobles as they followed Erony and Linnian up the long hall. Some of the expressions varied from obvious distaste to guppy-faced surprise. The colonel reminded himself that this was a diplomatic mission now, and he did his best to smile nicely at everyone who turned his way, trying to look pleasant and non-threatening. Still, he couldn't escape the return of a familiar sensation at the back of his mind; the recollection of childhood visits to the house of his elderly Aunt Betsy. A stern and rather unforgiving old lady, every trip to Betsy's house would result in little Johnny Sheppard being paraded in front of his aunt's blue-rinsed sewing circle, who would proceed to criticize everything about the lad and his misbegotten generation. This felt a lot like that.

"My father is the Lord Magnate," Erony was saying, "that means he is the sole authority on Halcyon and her dominions. He will attend momentarily." She swept her hand around. "He sits at the head of a court drawn from the noble families of all the Dynasts."

"And the Dynasts are what, exactly?" said McKay. "Barons and dukes, the holders of fiefdoms, landed gentry, that sort of thing?"

"Quite right," she replied. "Have you a similar manner of governance on your world?"

"Yes and no," said Sheppard.

At the far end of the hall was a raised section with couches and what was unmistakably a throne. Erony stepped up and wandered toward a curtain behind them. "I will return."

"So," Sheppard turned to McKay. "Nice digs, huh?"

"Sure," said the scientist dryly. "I'm just hoping they don't look at me and shout `Orf wiv `is 'ead!"'

"Are you kidding? I think Erony is taking a shine to you."

Rodney colored a little. "Don't be ridiculous!" He paused. "You think so?"

A ripple of raised voices drew Sheppard's attention away. "Trouble…" said Mason in a low tone, drifting closer.

Further down the chamber, two nobles-one in a tan uniform, the other wearing light blue — were degenerating into a shouting match. Both men were stabbing fingers in the air and making angry gestures. Sheppard knew instantly that physical violence was going to kick off between the pair of them in the next few seconds. They each had large swords at their hips and fat revolvers in jeweled holsters; it could turn very ugly very quickly. He stepped forward.

"Colonel," called Mason. "Reckon we shouldn't interfere, sir — "

Ronon gave a humorless smile. "Ten to one he starts a fight with both of them."

Corporal Clarke shrugged. "I'll take those odds."

"Pestilent!" snarled the noble in blue. "You, sir, are a gutless child without the courage of your convictions! I would run you through if I did not think it would dirty the floors of this august place!" He had his hand on the hilt of the sword and it clattered in its scabbard.

I'll be darned, thought Sheppard as he approached, that's what they mean by `rattling your saber'.

The noble wearing the tan uniform bared his teeth in anger. "You dare insult me so under the roof of our Lord Magnate? I will see you dead in the soil and your lands annexed to my fief!" The other man drew a length of bright steel blade from his own weapon.

"Hi there," said Sheppard brightly, interposing himself between the two men. He took their empty hands and pumped them both in a vigorous handshake. "I'm John, and I'm new around here, but I just wanted to tell you two guys what a great planet you've got. I love this palace. It's big, you know?"

"What?" said Blue, nonplussed by this sudden interruption.

Sheppard kept talking, careful to block the path of any potential violence between the nobles. He pointed upward. "And that root? Wow. Just wow. Honestly, that beats the Sistine Chapel hands down, am I right?"

"Now, see here-" began Tan, struggling to regain control of the situation.

"Hey," Sheppard put his arm around Tan's shoulder. "That guy in the painting, up there? Who is he? I'd love to know, `cos I'm a bit of a tourist at heart…" Suddenly he was guiding them apart, out of fighting range of each other.

"It… It is the former Lord Magnate Trahvis, leading the victors at the Battle of the Nine Loops…"

"Trahvis, huh? He was a mean-lookin' fella, wasn't he?"

"Stop!" snapped Blue. "There is an issue of honor here, and I will not be denied!"

The colonel made a conciliatory gesture. "Guys, hey. We're getting along so well here. Let's not spoil it."

But then the man in blue had his sword drawn and the blade hung in the air, a dangerous arc of glittering silver. "Step away, outworlder, or I will gut you as well-"

"You will do no such thing," said a smooth, cold voice. A man clad in the same black uniform as Erony approached them. He had olive skin and elfin eyes, and he walked with swiftness and grace. Something about him sent up warning flags in Sheppard's mind. He wasn't like these two poseurs. He moved like he was dangerous.

The reaction of the noblemen confirmed it. Tan bowed his head and Blue's blade drooped. "There is a issue of honor, Baron Vekken," repeated the swordsman.

Vekken nodded. "If that is so, it will be dealt with in a civilized manner, as the codes decree." His voice hardened. "It will not be dealt with through wanton bloodshed in the Magnate's residence, in front of the guests of his Highness's daughter."

"Of course," said Blue after a moment, sheathing his sword. "I beg the court's pardon. In the heat of my ire, I forgot my place."

Vekken inclined his head and looked to Sheppard. "Lieutenant Colonel, yes? I am Baron Aldus Vekken, personal adjutant to the Lord Magnate. Please, attend me so we may make formal introductions."

Sheppard threw a smile at the two cowed nobles. "You guys be cool, okay?"

Vekken lowered his voice as they walked away. "A word of advice, sir. Only the Magnate or his agents may intervene in disputes in the court."

"I just didn't want to see the party ruined," countered the colonel, "but boys will be boys, right?"

Vekken raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Indeed."

Teyla watched the colonel and the Magnate's man, unable to take her eyes off Vekken. The taciturn adjutant did not meet her gaze once, but she was certain he was aware of her scrutiny. He seemed different to the other Halcyons they had encountered up until now, and in some peculiar way she could not fathom, the man was familiar to her. The realization was unsettling for the Athosian woman and she flattened the disquiet in her chest, pushing it away. Too many things about this place were distracting her, and that would not do. For all the airs and graces these people displayed, the moment of swordplay just now showed her that violence was bubbling just below the surface of their courtly manners. The group would all have to be on their guard, in case the next burst of hostility was directed at a member of the Atlantis team.

Vekken stepped up on to the lowest of the dais's tiers and cleared his throat. When he spoke, it was with a clear and steady accent that carried to the back of the chamber. "Dukes, Barony and escorts, guests and attendants. Give your salute and your recognition to his Highness, the Lord Magnate Ranavar Daus of the Fourth Dynast, Peer of Peers, Magister of the Sovereign World of Halcyon and her dominions, Hero of the Tephite Campaign and the Hand that crafted the Lokrist Accord."

The curtain behind the throne parted and Erony's father emerged, smiling broadly. At once Teyla saw both the family resemblance to the young woman, and to the faces of the heroic figures painted on the ceiling. Daus, like so many men and women here, wore clothes of a military cut, but his differed with the addition of a large cloak and elaborate chains of office about his neck. Thickset but not stocky, the Magnate had the look of a man who had been a formidable fighter in his youth, now robbed somewhat of his power and stamina by easy living and the passage of time.

The ruler of Halcyon accepted a scattering of applause from his courtiers and embraced his daughter. Teyla expected him to take the throne, but he did not, walking down the steps of the dais toward the Atlantis team. Vekken moved with him, a constant and watchful shadow, and behind them came Erony and two other men.

"When she was a child, my dear daughter would often bring small animals to me for my attention," Daus smiled, "and to this day she continues to bring me new and fascinating faces." The Magnate made a kind of ritual salute at Sheppard. "Welcome to our world, my friends."

"Thank you kindly," said John. "I, ah, apologize if we're a little underdressed for the occasion. These are just our working clothes, and we wouldn't want to give you the wrong impression." He glanced at Mason and the other SAS troopers, the fragmented camouflage of their uniforms wildly out of place in the huge ballroom.

"Ah," Daus accepted this with a nod. "It is of no consequence. The wargear of a gallant soldier is as dignified as any finery in my eyes." He studied the group before him. "You are the Lieutenant Colonel, yes? Leader of this hunt splinter? Erony has given me your names and told me of your fight with the Wraith on the ice moon."

"Just another day at the office," said Sheppard.

The Magnate gestured to his associates. "You have already had the pleasure of meeting my child and my strong right arm Vekken. These others are my advisors, First Minister Muruw and Master Scientist Kelfer."

Teyla watched two very different expressions on the faces of the two men. The balding and burly Muruw seemed disappointed with the new arrivals, while the dark-skinned Keifer showed a flash of clinical interest.

"Master Scientist?" echoed McKay. "We should talk."

"One thing at a time, Rodney," said the colonel. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

McKay continued, spotting an opportunity. "Lady Erony mentioned a… a dolmen? I'd very much like to see it."

Kelfer frowned. "The dolmen is a site of historical interest and access is strictly controlled to prevent annexing. But perhaps something could be arranged."

"There is common ground already between us." Daus gave each of them a penetrating look. "It is fascinating to make new acquaintances. I confess, your garb and your wargear are unknown to us. Tell me, where do you hail from?"

Sheppard ignored the I-told-you-so expression on McKay's face. "We're originally from a planet called Earth, Teyla and Ronon here are from Athos and Sateda."

"Earth," the Magnate considered the name. "Is that a Genii colony?"

"Hardly," snorted Rodney, without thinking.

"The Genii aren't exactly top of our buddy list," Sheppard admitted. "We've had some disagreements with them."

Daus smiled again. "That pleases me to know, Lieutenant Colonel. Halcyon and Genii have crossed swords in the past, and if you were in their service, I'm afraid your welcome would quickly expire."

"They are a low-born people," added Muruw. "They trade in deceit and secrecy."

"You'll get no argument from me about that," agreed Sheppard.

"You said you were `originally' from this Earth," Vekken broke in. "Where do you reside now? On the ice moon?"

This is it, John told himself. "No. Up until recently, we were living in Atlantis."

There were gasps. "Atlantis? The lost city?" said Kelfer. "That's just a fiction. A Precursor story for children."

Teyla spoke up. "Not so. The city of the Ancestors, the Ancients, is no fallacy."

Daus tapped his chin. "You are the New Atlanteans… I admit, I have heard second-hand of such rumors from outworlders who trade with our hunters, but I gave them little credence." He shook his head. "Incredible. Today truly is a day for surprises."

Vekken stepped down and closed the distance with Sheppard. "But if this is so, if you are genuinely the ones who reawakened the City of the Precursors, then tell us. What of the dark tales we have heard of late being spread by the Wraith?" John tensed as the man gave him a threatening glare. "Is it true? Have the Wraith destroyed Atlantis?"

Sheppard swallowed hard. "They came in a dozen hive ships," he began, skirting the lie. "If they had taken the city, then they would have had access to all the knowledge of the people who built it."

Genuine shock showed on the faces of all but the Magnate. "You allowed the city to be obliterated?" spat Muruw. "A legend, sacrificed for your own lives?"

"Is it true?" pressed Vekken, never breaking eye contact with Sheppard.

"Enough!" snapped Daus, turning a harsh glare on his minister. "We will not scorn these people, we were not there on that day, and we cannot know what trials they faced. A dozen Wraith hive vessels… I have never heard of them grouping in such numbers." The Magnate stepped down to the floor with Sheppard for the first time, and the mood in the room shifted; clearly the symbolic gesture of coming down to their level carried great weight. Daus placed a firm hand on John's shoulder. "A tragedy." He spoke up so the whole chamber could hear him. "But we speak of the Wraith, the most ancient foe, the dread enemy of life! I would put my own beloved daughter's neck to the blade of my sword and burn this palace about me, if I were pressed to deny them!"

Sheppard flicked a glance at Erony, but her father's bold and gory statement didn't seem to trouble her.

"You are welcome to take respite here, Lieutenant Colonel," said Daus, moving away. "Perhaps this day will mark the start of a strong comradeship between your people of Earth and mine?"

"Sounds good to me, Your Highness," John forced a weak smile, glad to be away from the business of lying to the faces of complete strangers. These people seemed a little supercilious for his liking, but he didn't enjoy misleading them all the same. If there was anything that life had taught him, it was that lies and half-truths had a way of coming back to bite you in the ass when you least expected it.

"You fight the Wraith," began Ronon, "but this planet… It doesn't look like it's ever been culled." Sheppard knew what Dex was getting at; worlds where Wraiths regularly trawled for victims had distinct similarities, with broadly spread settlements or concealed cities to hide them from the alien predators. By contrast, Halcyon would be an open-air buffet for a fleet of Dart ships and cruisers.

Daus nodded. "There has not been a culling on this planet since before the Age of Unification. Such a thing has been unknown here in centuries."

"How have you stayed free of them?" asked Sheppard. "Erony's Wraith-hunting gang, that's not something they'd let go unanswered."

"My daughter's hunt splinter is but one of hundreds," the Magnate replied. "Each of the barony you see here has splinters of their own, to a greater or lesser extent. We stalk the Wraith on many worlds across our segment of the galaxy."

"You hunt them." Ronon said flatly, skepticism in his tone. "With gas-powered muskets and sabers."

"And steely hearts and unbreakable will," added Erony. "We do indeed."

Muruw gave a harsh chuckle. "My Lord Magnate, I fear our new friends do not understand the Halcyon way. They are too familiar with the terror and cowardice rife on other worlds, where men flee from the mere mention of the Wraith." He sneered at Ronon. "Runner, we of the Dynasts have been fighting the Wraith for hundreds of years and winning. We beat them at every turn. You ask why it is that Halcyon has not been culled? The answer is simple. Because they are afraid of us. They know that if they come to this world they will die."

Sheppard thought of Linnian; he'd overheard the adjutant's similar comment to Dex outside the place. Both he and Muruw seemed utterly convinced they were right. A scattering of brusque laughter and applause rippled out across the chamber in support of the First Minister's assertion.

"But what about the others?" said Teyla quietly. "What about the Wraith that you do not kill in battle?"

The Magnate's face became fixed, and Sheppard knew straight away that the question had tripped some taboo, crossed some kind of line.

Muruw's expression clouded. "Your concubine is an inquisitive one, Lieutenant Colonel," he said mildly.

"Teyla is not… that." Sheppard frowned. "She's a member of my team."

"Oh," said the Minister. "Forgive me. In our hunt splinters it is typical that the leader takes their favor from a cohort. Pardon the error of my assumption, if the matter is otherwise…" He gave a pointed glance at Dr. McKay instead.

Rodney blinked as Muruw's insinuation registered with him. "Oh, good grief, no!"

Sheppard's temper flared. "We don't… We're not… That doesn't apply to us, Minister." The balding man smiled thinly, and the colonel's annoyance rose. The guy was deliberately provoking him to deflect attention from Teyla's question.

Daus stepped away, moving up the tiers once more. "You will forgive me, but affairs of state preclude me from continuing this discussion. Erony, you and Duke Kelfer will attend to our guests, see that they have rooms in the visitor's wing. Make them comfortable." The Magnate threw a vague nod at the chamber and then he had turned his back on them, dismissing them completely.

"That's it?" said Bishop. "That's the audience? Huh. I was expecting something, you know, a bit more showy."

"Shut it," warned Staff Sergeant Mason.

Erony summoned a servant, who bowed and gestured for them to follow her. Ronon matched pace with Sheppard as they made their way from the hall. "I don't like this," said the Satedan. "They're hiding something."

"So are we," noted the colonel. "Let's just keep our eyes open, huh?"