Halcyon

Chapter Six

The open wormhole lit the Gate Room with soft, silvery light.

"I'm receiving Colonel Sheppard's IDC," said the technician.

Dr. Weir patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you, Keith. Go ahead and lower the force field. Have the guards stand down."

The invisible energy barrier enveloping the Stargate flashed as it fell, allowing unfettered egress through the metal ring. Weir was halfway down the broad staircase from the control room when John Sheppard marched through the Gate, his face unreadable. With a whoosh of displaced energy, the wormhole evaporated behind him. Elizabeth saw it instantly; the man's body language rang a warning bell in her mind. Questions crowded her thoughts. Why was he here in person, instead of just sending a radio message? Where were the rest of the squad?

"John?"

Sheppard threw her a weary nod. "The others are still on Halcyon, as guests of our gracious hosts." He said, anticipating her thoughts. The word `guests' was laden with heavy sarcasm. "McKay asked me to pass this on to you, it's his preliminary field report." John offered her a data screen and she took it.

"Diplomacy taking its toll on you?" She managed a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"And then some." Sheppard frowned. "I've learned a few things about these people, Elizabeth, and it's not promising."

She was paging quickly through McKay's report, scanning the gist of it. "Ancient constructions… Possible presence of a ZPM…" Weir paused. "Is this a good news, bad news thing?"

"Not so much of the good," John noted. "I wouldn't trust these people as far as I could throw `em."

She returned a wry grin. "Welcome to my world, Colonel." They walked away from the silent Gate. "Let's adjourn to the briefing room, and you can bring me up to speed."

A nod. "I think Beckett should sit in on this as well. His input could be useful."

Weir tapped her communicator headset. "Carson?"

A Scots brogue sounded in her ear. "Beckett here."

"Can you come up to the central tower?"

"Aye, I'm on my way."

Weir looked back at Sheppard and saw the hollow, troubled look in his eyes. "John? What did you see out there?"

"It's a long story."

Elizabeth steepled her fingers and remained silent throughout all of the colonel's report, now and then scrolling through the data screen's collection of digital images captured by Rodney McKay's camera, but content to let Sheppard find his way and tell them his impressions of Halcyon without interruption. A veteran of hundreds of conferences where a taciturn poker face was a basic requirement, Weir kept her own emotional reactions under tight rein, retaining a neutral aspect. Throughout her diplomatic career, in the days before the Stargate Program took over her life, Elizabeth had made a skill of listening to troubling discussions without revealing her own opinions. By contrast, Dr. Carson Beckett, the resident chief medical officer on Atlantis, bore his reactions with no artifice at all. The soft-spoken Scotsman cursed under his breath at some of Sheppard's descriptions of life on the other planet, shaking his head in disbelief.

"How can they exist like that?" Beckett asked. "Blood sports, and warfare as an organized team game? It's barbaric, that's what it is."

"There are several tribal cultures on Earth that used ritualized combat as a form of entertainment or to solve disputes," offered Weir, "but nothing on the scale you described, John."

Sheppard laid his hands flat on the table. "And from what I was told, the battle we witnessed was just a small-scale skirmish. A minor disagreement."

"It's not just that," added the doctor, "it's this racial ruthless ness that I can't stomach. I can't see how a culture so callous could survive for long."

"Cossacks, Romans, Vikings… All of those peoples had societies with customs that would seem horrible to us today," continued Elizabeth. "Of course, none of them had the level of technology present on Halcyon."

"Yeah. If there was ever a planet in line for a regime change, it's this one." Sheppard rubbed his face wearily.

"What about the Wraith issue, these `Hounds'?" Weir looked at a still photo of the aliens in battle armor. "Can we be sure that the Halcyons aren't just working with the Wraith? We've seen that before."

John shook his head. "No, you know the Wraith. They'd never accept a subordinate position to humans. I don't know how they've done it, but the Wraiths on Halcyon have been stripped back to a feral state. They're not much more than savages, kept on leash with those collars." He pointed at the picture. "It's the only explanation as to why the Hounds haven't risen up and torn them all to shreds."

"Do you think the Wraith know about Halcyon?" she asked.

"McKay seems to think not. The planet's way off in the sticks, a long hike from any Wraith territory we know of."

Elizabeth studied the data screen again. "Quite frankly, John, there's a part of me that wants to recall the team right now and lock the Halcyon address out of the dialing computer."

"Me too. But…"

"But indeed." She tapped the panel. "The fact is, as objectionable as we might find Lord Daus and his people, if there's even the very faintest chance that we could locate a zero point energy module on this planet, we have to investigate. Atlantis is running on one ZPM right now and it's designed for three. If we could get our hands on another…"

"And you think the Halcyons will just hand over a piece of Ancient technology to us, no questions asked?" Beckett shook his head. "They'll probably want to fight us for it, or something."

"They don't care about the Precursors… The Ancients," said Sheppard. "McKay told me their top egghead Kelfer dismissed the whole thing out of hand. It's likely they don't have the first clue about Ancient science. If they have a ZPM, they'd be more likely to use it as a paperweight. I get the feeling Daus and his gang wouldn't be too comfortable with the idea of someone being smarter than them."

"Egotistical and in denial, then? Sounds like a case for Dr. Heightmeyer."

"We should be thankful for small mercies. A society like this with access to Ancient science… I dread to think what could happen." Elizabeth considered the situation for a moment. "These people are arrogant, so we should use that. You said Daus accused you of being weak?"

"Several times. Hurt my feelings something terrible."

"Then let's play to that. If the Halcyons want to underestimate us, we should let them. If we don't disabuse them of that belief, we might be able to convince them to part with the ZPM-"

"If they have one," Carson broke in.

"— If they have one, and they'll be none the wiser. Daus will have us in his debt, and there's nothing people like him enjoy more than having someone owe them a marker."

Carson considered this for a moment. "Of course, if they realize we're trying to pull a fast one, they won't be nice about it."

Sheppard sighed. "Okay. So I'll Gate back and we'll bite our lips until McKay gets his look-see inside this dolmen. If there's a ZPM, we bag it, if not, we smile politely and go home."

"That's the gist of it, yes," said Elizabeth. "But I don't want another Genii situation with these people, John. If Daus starts demanding weapons or technology in exchange, tell him no. Food or medicine they can have, but nothing military in nature."

"Way ahead of you on that one."

Beckett tapped the table. "On the subject of medical aid, I'd like to add something."

"Go on."

The doctor sighed. "I'm going back to Halcyon with Colonel Sheppard."

John shook his head. "Uh-uh, no way. Remember the organized war and blood sport thing? I've got too many people on that planet as it is, I'm not taking another one."

"Another three, actually," continued Beckett. "I'm going to turn over the Atlantis infirmary to Dr. Cullen for the duration and take Holroyd and Kenealy with me. This illness you mentioned in your report, the `bone-rot'. The symptoms sound like something connected to malnutrition, maybe toxins in the water supply. If I'm right, it would be simple enough to address."

"Carson-" began the colonel.

"I'm not going to stand by if there are sick people out there and I can do something about it. It's my job, John. I have to try to help." He looked away. "Besides, saving the lives of their workers might make these nabobs a little more well-disposed towards us when the time comes."

Weir nodded. "I agree. Colonel Sheppard is right that there's a risk, but Carson is correct. The commoners are not Daus and his barons. If we can help them, we must."

John frowned again. "Fine, but I want to take a little extra insurance with me. A Puddle Jumper."

"I though we wanted these people to underestimate us," said Beckett. "Won't an invisible Ancient spaceship raise a few eyebrows?"

Sheppard gave him an arch look. "I'm not gonna do the `invisible' thing. Not unless we need to, anyhow."

"Permission granted," said Weir. "Carson, gather your team and whatever supplies you need. John, Jumper Three is in the hangar and prepped for launch." Beckett left them alone, and Elizabeth touched Sheppard's jacket where a series of ragged rips were visible. "You might want to get a change of uniform while you have the chance."

"Oh yeah. Right." He blinked. "Sorry. I've kinda been in the moment for the last couple of days." John sighed. "How do you do it, Elizabeth? How do you look a scumbag in the eye and make nice, when all along you just want to deck him?"

"Thinking happy thoughts helps," she noted, "that, and hav ing a punching bag you can take out your annoyance on."

That raised the first smile Weir had seen from Sheppard since he came back through the Stargate. "Good advice. I'll keep it in mind."

She hesitated. "John, I know I don't have to say it, but I'm going to anyway, just for my own peace of mind. Tread carefully out there."

"Wanna go in my place?"

"What, and let Caldwell turn up on the Daedalus to find me gone?" Weir said lightly. "He'd be moving into my office in a hot minute." She smiled again, but it faded quickly. Elizabeth felt conflicted, and for once she knew it was showing on her face. "I think Daus has another agenda. Call it diplomatic instinct, but from what I hear from you and Rodney, I think you need to be prepared for another play from him."

Sheppard met her gaze and held it. "Don't worry. We'll be ready."

Advance. Parry. Lunge. Turn. Block. Strike. Strike. Parry. Strike once again.

Teyla moved through the training regimen with a flowing grace, her moves seamless and swift. Years of practice on Athos had turned the routine into something she could do by sheer reflex, the motions coming from memory ingrained in her muscles and nerves. The two short sticks in her hands hummed as they moved through the air of the courtyard, assailing invisible foes.

Sheppard had a name for these kinds of exercises; he told her they were called kata on his world, a word from the native language of the scientist Dr. Kusanagi back on Atlantis. Kusanagi's people, so John had explained, were known on Earth for a martial art called kar-ah-tey, although Teyla had never seen the bookish woman exhibit any prowess in it. Sheppard had shown her recordings, these dramatic presentations the Earthers called "movies", where men and women demonstrated this kar-ah-tey and other fighting styles called kung-foo and bok-sing, often in battles where they were hugely outnumbered or were forced to use eclectic common objects as weapons.

Many of the soldiers from Earth were also trained in these techniques, although none of them seemed to have the ability to balance on the tips of sword blades or skip across rooftops, like the fighters in the films. Teyla enjoyed sparring with them; the way they fought was fresh and it challenged her own skills. Similarly, she liked the occasional match against Ronon Dex. Where Teyla's stick fighting was all about grace and accuracy, the Satedan fought with power and speed. John Sheppard, by contrast, was a wary and careful opponent, looking for the swiftest way to bring the fight to a conclusion. Sheppard didn't glory in combat the way Ronon did; the colonel fought to win, not for the thrill of it. They were both very different men…

Parry. Back fist. Turn and sweep. Block. Advance. Cross and strike.

The clean, pure flow of the kata helped her clear her mind of distraction, of all the fears and concerns that had crowded her since they arrived on Halcyon. This was the first real moment of peace she had felt in days, the distant psychic murmur of the Wraith retreating as she found her focus. The woman let herself draw in, become centered.

She pivoted as she moved, her eye line crossing the cloistered corridors running around the edges of the quad. Teyla knew the palace guards were there, watching her without trying to be obvious about it. When she had asked a young trooper where she could take an hour of exercise, the look on the soldier's face was one half of shock, half of fascination. She heard him whisper to his comrades as she walked away, one word spoken like a prayer to ward off evil. Wraithkin.

The trooper had directed her here, to this training square. The large open courtyard itself was deserted; part of it was a short weapons range with steel target silhouettes in the shape of a man, and at the other points of the square were racks of wooden training swords, a jointed practice dummy and something like a climbing frame. Teyla moved in tight circles on a broad rectangle of yellow flagstones worn smooth by hundreds of years of sparring.

And rest.

She completed the exercise by bringing the sticks to her chest with a clack of wood on wood. Teyla panted, the air cool on her bare arms; and then there was a tingle at the back of her mind.

"Interesting," began Vekken, emerging from the shady side of the quad. "Your method has some similarities to the Halcyon two-dagger school from the Rekil Era. You seem very proficient."

Teyla watched him approach. "I led a large community on my homeworld. It is important to have the skills to back my leadership with force, if matters require it."

Vekken accepted this with a nod, pausing to examine the training weapons. "But you are no longer a leader? You serve Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard."

"We are colleagues," she corrected. "We work in unison." Teyla sensed the adjutant's verbal feint and parried it. "We have common goals."

The other man selected something resembling a quarterstaff, but with a curved hook at one end, like a herdsman's crook. "I often use this place to take exercise myself," he explained, removing his tunic. Beneath, Vekken wore light cotton clothing better suited to melee combat than his usual brocade jacket. He produced two glass bottles of water and offered her one.

Teyla took it and sipped warily.

"Still suspicious?" Vekken took a long draught from his bottle. "I would think you have nothing to fear from us now the Magnate has decided to be open with your commander."

"Would you give your trust easily in my place?" she replied.

Vekken gave a brief, rueful smile. "I would not." He weighed the staff in his hands. "You and I, Teyla Emmagan, we share an understanding that few others do. The touch of the Wraith upon us… It gives one a unique viewpoint, do you not agree?"

"That is one way to consider it." She moved to leave. "If you will excuse me-"

Vekken held out the staff to bar her way. "Ah, but there is a minor question of rules to address. You see, this square was allocated to me this morning, and you have used it without my permission."

"The soldier did not mention this."

"I imagine so. Normally, I would let the matter pass, but the soldiers are watching and it does not serve discipline for me to allow an infraction. You are on the quad," he tapped the flagstones with the staff, "and so I must take it from you. By force."

"Your rules?" Teyla sniffed. "I do not wish to fight you."

Vekken brought the staff up to a guard position. "Just a little friendly sparring, Teyla. Enough to satisfy protocol. Unless you wish to concede to me?"

She raised her sticks. "Very well. First to yield, then?"

He nodded. "First to yield." The staff flashed out at her and Teyla knocked it up and away, sidestepping and taking distance.

Vekken flipped the weapon around his hand and thrust it like a pike. Teyla dropped low and made a foot-sweep; she did it with little art, throwing an easy attack at the adjutant to see how he would react. Vekken dodged without effort and stabbed out again. The staff nearly caught the tip of her ear as the Athosian moved into a parry-strike-parry combination.

"Heh." The man pivoted and twirled his weapon overhead. "You are quick. More a warrior than a leader, I would warrant."

"And you are more a soldier than a royal aide."

Teyla tapped her sticks against one another and gestured for him to try again. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed movement; some of the guardsmen were gathering near one of the cloister pillars to observe them. She imagined they would be taking bets on the outcome.

The next attack came with frightening speed, and Teyla understood that Vekken had been toying with her at the start. She took a blow on her right forearm that sent jolts of fire up her nerves, and by impulse she hit back with a double strike that met Vekken's ribcage on either side. He grunted and dropped back, an instant of surprise on his face, then gone.

"I'm curious," said Teyla, licking her lips. "The men in Daus's court, the barons like Noryn and Palfrun; you clearly have a greater martial skill than they, yet you seem to have no fiefdom of your own. Am I wrong?"

Vekken shook his head, shifting his stance. "No, you are correct. But I serve the Lord Magnate willingly. It is my place." He struck and Teyla parried again. "My family has always been tied to the fortunes of the Fourth Dynast."

She shifted and caught the staff in a tight grip, locking the two of them together. The muscles in her arms bunched as Vekken pulled against her. "Because you are Wraithkin, yes?" Teyla panted. "Does that forbid you from being a lord yourself?"

And there she saw a moment of unguarded truth from Vekken, the briefest flash of what was beneath his studied mask. Teyla took the distraction and hit him, scoring three quick blows. He struck back, the curve of the hook clipping her chin. Vekken tried to snag her with the hooked end and she barely skipped away.

"My clan has served as the protectors of the Magnate's line on Halcyon for generations," he hissed, "and I gladly continue that tradition, as will my children, and their children."

Teyla shook off the shock of the impact. "How… How can you be so sure that the Fourth Dynast will reign in the future? In a society like this, there will come a time when they will be unseated. It is inevitable."

"Lord Daus's authority will not be overcome. No-one on Halcyon can match his power."

She went back to a guard stance. "His army, you mean? How does he have so many Hounds at his command, Vekken?"

The adjutant did not answer; instead he came at her leading a storm of blows, and it was all Teyla could do to parry them away. She felt herself pushing back toward the walls, losing ground to the furious assault. He brought the staff down hard and she caught it in the cross of her sticks. "Yield!" he spat.

"Yield!"

"I will not!"

There was a commotion at the cloister, and then Ronon darted from the shadows, his pistol in his hand. "Didn't you hear her? She said no!" Mason and Bishop trailed behind him.

Vekken stepped away and gave Teyla a gracious bow. The glint of anger in his eyes was gone. "Of course. Forgive me. I sometimes become too caught up in the moment." He smiled at Dex. "Just a little good-natured sparring, Runner, nothing else. I did not intend to cause you undue concern."

Ronon gave Vekken a hard look, and then with exaggerated care, he holstered his particle magnum. "You okay?" he asked.

Teyla collected herself. "I am uninjured." Although that wasn't precisely true; she would have some interesting bruises by tomorrow.

Vekken replaced the staff on the rack. "Perhaps you might also consider a match of skills, Ronon Dex." He was casual with the offer. "I would be interested to see if you are as quick to defend yourself as you are the honor of Teyla Emmagan."

Ronon took a warning step toward the adjutant. "Any time you like-"

She put a hand on the Satedan's arm. "Ronon," she said firmly, "did you want something?"

Dex threw Vekken one last glare and then nodded. "Sheppard's back."

"Oh," noted the adjutant. "I shall have the conveyor station notified to have a train ready for him."

Ronon shook his head. "He's brought his own ride."

Teyla looked up as a familiar high-pitched whine reached her ears. Bishop pointed into the morning sky. "There he is, two o'clock high."

From out of the blue came the drum-shaped form of the Atlantean shuttlecraft. It circled overhead and then came to a halt before dropping gently to a landing in the middle of the training square. Teyla's mouth curled in amusement at the obvious surprise on Vekken's face.

Sheppard left Beckett to his people and stepped from the back of the ship. He instantly caught the vibe of dissipating tension in the air and glanced at Staff Sergeant Mason. The SAS soldier made a small gesture with his hand, and the look on his face said no problem, everything's cool.

Vekken was peering at the striated hull of the craft. "I've never seen an aerodyne like this. It has no rotors or engine intakes." He considered the ship for a moment. "This is Precursor technology, yes? Rescued from the ruins of Atlantis, no doubt?"

"Something like that," Sheppard replied, refusing to be drawn. "We call it a Puddle Jumper. We use it to travel through the Stargate when we don't feel like walking."

"Puddle… Jumper?" repeated Vekken. "That seems a curious appellation. For a vessel that travels through your Stargate, would not Gate-Ship be a more fitting name?"

"Have you been talking to McKay?"

Teyla looked over at him. "How did you get the Jumper out of the Gate Hangar?"

"I asked nicely," said Sheppard. "We had a little moment when they pointed all those gun turrets at us, but eventually they retracted the roof and let us go."

Ronon nodded at Beckett and his medical team. "What are they doing here?"

"A fine question indeed," said Muruw, approaching with a pair of guardsmen at his flanks. "I receive word via telekrypter that you have brought your own warship into our territory, and then discover it here, inside the very walls of the Magnate's home!"

"It's not a combat vessel," the colonel replied, "not exactly, anyhow."

"I see no weapons clusters," admitted Vekken, "and I am sure Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard would not be so foolish as to return to Halcyon with violence in mind."

"And yet he brings more soldiers with him," snapped Muruw.

"We're not military!" said Carson, stepping down from the Jumper. "Far from it! I'm Dr. Beckett, chief medical officer of… Of our team."

The minister's face crinkled in bewilderment. "Healers? Why have you brought healers? Is someone unwell? I assure you that the Fourth Dynast has excellent apothecaries in service to its courtiers."

"I'm sure that's true," said Beckett, "but we're not here for you and the rest of the lords of the manor."

Sheppard stepped forward. "What Dr. Beckett is trying to say is, we'd like to offer some help to your people. The folks down in the lower city."

"The commoners?" Muruw blinked.

"That's right. Carson here is about the best, uh, healer, this side of the Pegasus Galaxy. He might be able to assist with this `bone-rot' problem of yours."

`That aliment is no problem of mine," retorted the minister. "Only the dissolute, the lower orders suffer from it."

"Aye, well," broke in Beckett, "perhaps I can do something about that."

Muruw was about to protest further when Vekken spoke out. "What a generous offer, Lieutenant Colonel. I'm sure the Magnate would see the value in such an altruistic gesture. Don't you agree, First Minister?"

Something in Vekken's tone brought Muruw's protests to heel. "Yes. Yes, of course. The Magnate has the best interests of the common folk at heart."

Beckett looked to Sheppard. "I'd like to take the Jumper down into the lower city, then? Set up a temporary clinic, do some tests?" He shot a glare at Muruw. "If that's okay with your lordship here?"

"I will allow it," said the minister haughtily, and prodded the soldier standing next to him. "You men, go with them. See that nothing untoward occurs."

"Great," Sheppard replied. "Staff Sergeant Mason, why don't you and Private Bishop tag along too?"

"The military skills of your troopers will not be required," said Vekken.

John fixed a rigid smile on his face. "I don't doubt it, but Mason and Bishop here are, uh, fully qualified medical… guys. They're going to help Beckett."

"Indeed?" The adjutant seemed unconvinced.

Mason directed Bishop into the back of the Jumper. "Oh, yes, sir," said the gruff sergeant. "I'm well known for my sensitive bedside manner."

Beckett threw the colonel a nod. "I'll check in with you once we're set up."

"Sure you're okay flyin' that thing?" Sheppard called, as the drawbridge hatch began to close.

"Nae problem," said Carson, his face pale as he took the pilot's chair.

Teyla beckoned the assembled group. "We should stand back."

With a sudden trill of noise, the Jumper leapt up into the air, rising like an express elevator. It wobbled for a second, and then drifted away, out of sight.

"He breaks it, he bought it," said Sheppard from the side of his mouth. John looked around to see Vekken and Muruw both eyeing him with unmasked suspicion. "Thank you. Lord Daus won't regret this."

"Not unless Beckett crashes into a building," muttered Ronon.

"You may tell him that in person," said Muruw. "I came to inform you that His Highness has called you to an audience aboard his air-yacht. He is touring the enclosure forests at Carras over luncheon."

"Another war game?" Dex snorted. "I'll pass."

"Far from it. The Lord Magnate wishes to speak with you on issues of trade and treaty. He has decided that matters between your people and ours must be decided once and for all."

Vekken nodded. "I will have a gyro-flyer prepared immediately."

Sheppard hesitated. Suddenly, everything was going in the direction he wanted it to; so why was his gut telling him something different? Diplomacy, he told himself, it's a different kind of battlefield, John. Adapt to it. "I'll need to let the rest of my team know-"

"If you are referring to Dr. McKay, there is no need," Muruw interrupted. "While you were on the other side of the Great Circlet, he accepted the Lady Erony's invitation to view the site of the dolmen. Duke Kelfer is conducting him personally."

John looked at Teyla. "You know about this?"

She nodded. "Rodney was eager to go, so I agreed in your absence. Corporal Clarke and Private Hill went with him."

Sheppard clapped his hands together. "Okay. I guess we got a lunch date, then."

"Yeah," said Ronon in a voice that only John could hear, "but what's on the menu?"

"Oh, my." Rodney McKay blinked and ambled to a halt, his head tilted back to sight up along the length of the tall stone obelisk. Abruptly a thought occurred to him. "Ah! Pictures!" He fumbled in a pocket on his gear vest and removed his compact digital video camera, snapping open the viewfinder to shoot footage of the site.

Erony studied the device. "That… That is a kinescope?"

"A camera? Yes," McKay said, distracted. "This is interesting."

From behind them came Kelfer's voice; a bored drawl. "Really? It clearly takes little to hold your attention then, Doctor."

Rodney ignored him, using the camera to get close-ups of the text that patterned the sides of the memorial. The script was Ancient, all right, thousands of words of it, going all the way up to the top.

"How big you reckon it is, Doc?" said Clarke, resting his hands on his rifle's frame where it hung on its webbing. "Looks like that monument you Yanks got in Washington."

McKay gave him an irked look and pointed at his own face. "Canadian," he said, "not `Yank'."

Clarke didn't seem to hear him. "Wrong color, though. This one looks like its made of slate."

"Washington Monument," offered Hill. "My sister sent me a postcard of it once."

Rodney turned on them both. "Yes, thank you both for that astute piece of architectural analysis. Perhaps you'd both like to assist me further by shutting the hell up? I'm trying to concentrate here."

"Sorry, Doctor," said Clarke, and then added sotto voce; "Plonker."

"It really is quite breathtaking in its own way," said Erony. "I confess, I have visited here before and walked the circumference of the grounds and still found nothing to express its purpose." She took in the wide circular stage of gray stone on which the dolmen stood. "My father once spoke to me of records from the chaotic years, which spoke of the pillar's function, but I have never seen them."

"It is a burial marker, nothing more," insisted Kelfer. "Some remnant of the primitive people who came before Halcyon's current civilization, doubtless their vain attempt to signal some mythical sky-gods for salvation."

"Primitive? Not likely." Rodney gestured with his free hand. "Look closely at the cut of those stones, the precision of the inscriptions. Some caveman didn't carve those with a flint chisel. Whoever built this had to be an engineering genius just to make it that tall in the first place." He pocketed the camera and replaced it with a hand-held scanner, similar to the kind found aboard the Atlantean Puddle Jumpers. Wreathes of exotic radiation shimmered on the small screen, shifting and changing as McKay panned it over the landscape. "I was right…" He whispered. "The energy readings are so much clearer here. I'm detecting a power source, but there's more. I think this thing…" He paused and glanced up at the top of the monument. "I think this obelisk is actually broadcasting some kind of radiation."

Clarke's face paled. "Please don't tell me my hair's gonna start falling out."

"Not like that," said Rodney. "The pattern looks familiar, but I can't place it." McKay moved to where a low stone wall created an inner barrier around the dolmen and pulled his laptop from his backpack. "Let me hook this up."

"What are you doing?" asked Erony, but he waved her into silence. The scientist felt it; that old, familiar tingle of some thing coming together in his mind, the giddy little rush of prediscovery. There was nothing like it, that unexpected headswim that came when you cracked a thorny conundrum, when all the pieces of a problem suddenly went click and slotted into place. He'd tried to explain it to other people, to non-genius people like Sheppard and Weir. They didn't really get it, not like McKay did. Maybe Zelenka understood. Maybe. Just a little bit. But this sort of thing was what Rodney lived for, the days when science was better than sex.

Or so he liked to believe.

The laptop had an encrypted copy of much of McKay's own personal research database, terabytes of data stored on a modified hard drive, packed with every last bit of information it could hold about the Ancients, the Pegasus Galaxy, everything. He'd created an interface program that let the human tech of the computer talk to the comparatively godlike tech of the Atlantean scanner device, and as they communicated, he saw the answer a split second before the laptop found it as well.

"Yeah, that's it!"

"What's what?" said Hill.

"I knew I'd seen the energy waveform being transmitted from the dolmen somewhere else, so I cross-referenced the signal with the records database from Atlantis, and I was right," The words spilled out of him with barely a pause for breath. "There's a low-level interference pattern emitting from this thing, it's on a shallow band but the power output behind it is enough that its radiating out across most of the planet."

"Interference? You talking like electronic countermeasures, or something?"

McKay snapped his fingers. "Exactly, go to the top of the class. It's a jamming field. A dampening effect." He grinned. "And this is the cool part. The frequency it's operating at? It's only a hair's breadth from these readings Carson took of Wraith brain activity!"

"So, what, it's like a Wraith dog whistle, or something?"

"No, no, wrong wrong, dunce's hat for the corporal. If you want a bad analogy, it's more like a… A white noise generator, creating static on their psychic network."

"Dr. McKay, you really are the limit!" huffed Keifer. "These wild theorizations you spout have no basis in fact!"

"That's why the Wraith you have here are docile…." Rodney gulped, looking at the Halcyon scientist. "Well, relatively speaking. The Ancients obviously made this and left it here as a passive defense system for the planet. It affects the functioning of the telepathic ability of Wraiths." He halted, thinking it through. "It must work on their higher brain functions, which explains why your pet Hounds are so animalistic in nature." McKay glanced at Erony. "But it doesn't seem to effect humans, or people with Wraith DNA like Teyla or Vekken."

"I am so glad we have had this time to let you indulge your flights of fancy," grated Kelfer, gesturing to their armed escorts. "But now, I think the day is done. Take your kinescope images and make an end to it, McKay. Your tour is concluded."

"Oh no," Rodney waggled a finger in the scientist's face. "I didn't come this far just to take some stills and get a brass rubbing. We're going inside." He strode quickly to the dolmen and ran his fingers over the carvings.

Kelfer threw up his hands. "Inside? It is a solid stone pillar, you fool! How do you possibly expect us to get inside it?" The man broke off as he realized what McKay was doing.

Rodney found the right glyphs exactly where he expected them to be. Trust the Ancients to be precise and thorough in everything they created. It was a simple enough matter to push here, press here and there…

"For blade's sake, what-" The rest of Kelfer's words died in his throat as stone ground on stone, and a thick slab at McKay's feet shifted back into the structure of the dolmen. Puffs of age-old rock dust gusted into the air.

The look of utter smugness on Rodney's face was total and complete. "Oh look," he said condescendingly, "there's a doorway."

The entrance led down a shallow incline to an open area beneath the dolmen's base. It was a hexagonal room, lit by soft glows from consoles that still operated, thousands of years after they had been activated. McKay noted how Kelfer's face had taken on the shocked cast of a man utterly out of his depth. Hear that, Mister Chief Scientist? That's the sound of your preconceptions coming crashing down around you!

Lights in hidden recesses came on as they approached them. Clarke took point, having left Private Hill and the other Halcyon troopers outside. Rodney had seen the expressions of the riflemen; the dark tunnel into the obelisk frightened them. He glanced at Erony; her face was quite the opposite, lit from within by wonder and awe.

"The Precursors made this…" she husked.

McKay nodded. "Yup."

Corporal Clarke trained around the flashlight clipped to the muzzle of his assault rifle. "Looks just like Atlantis down here," he said quietly as Rodney came closer. "Built from the same kit."

He nodded again. "A lot of Ancient technology seems to be modular in nature. My guess is they could re-purpose hardware for whatever task they had at hand." There were dust covers of plastic-like fabric over a central podium in the room, and he pulled them aside. On the far wall, a glass screen reacted by illuminating a display of power curves and energy output gradients. The waveforms shown there matched the scans Rodney had taken outside. He touched a few controls experimentally and called up pages of blocky Ancient hieroglyphics. "Huh. These are Wraith biometrics. A full physiological work-up, it looks like."

"You were right, Dr. McKay," said Erony, from the far side of the room. She was examining a metallic pillar that included a bubbling liquid component. "You did not exaggerate that day in the Terminal."

Kelfer finally managed a huff of derision. "How is it that you are such an expert on the Wraith, then?"

"I've been inside their ships, I've been zapped by one of their culling beams," he said off-handedly. "I know more about the Wraith than any sane man should." Rodney bent over the con sole. "Believe me, it's not by choice."

The Halcyon scientist made the same noise again. "The… The dust in this chamber is clogging my breath. I will wait for you outside, after you have completed your little diversion, My Lady."

"Yeah, `bye," McKay spoke without turning. The hand-held scanner was drawing in streams of data from the dolmen's control system. He touched a combination of glassy keys and crossed to where Clarke was standing. "Step away from the panel." He threw a glance at Erony; she was entranced by a scrolling computer screen.

At a touch, a cylindrical compartment in the far wall grew a seam down its length and parted. Inside there was something that looked like a large g-clamp and nestled in its jaws was a roughly conical construction of rough-hewn crystalline rods. The object bathed the two men in a warm orange glow.

"Pay dirt," whispered Rodney. "A Zero Point Module. I love it when I'm right."

Clarke squinted at the ZPM. "So that's a space-alien superbattery then, is it? Oh."

"Oh?" McKay repeated. "You're looking at a controlled bubble of space-time feeding vacuum fluctuation energy from m-brane differential states, a device containing the power of a minor sun. What did you expect? Something with a coppercolored top?"

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

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

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

McKay blinked. "Well. Yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clarke raised his rifle. "Gunfire."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A weapon?" said Teyla.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sounds nasty."

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

"Can you help them?"

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

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

"One last thing," said Beckett. "You should know that I'm pretty sure what the root cause of this aliment is, Colonel. No one down here in the lower city is getting clean water or uncontaminated food. From what I can determine, these people are living off the scraps from the nobles. It's a outrage." He sighed. "Beckett out."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is wrong?" asked Teyla.

"I'm not getting anything from McKay…"

Dex sneered. "More damn games?"

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

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