Halcyon

Chapter Seven

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The soldier mumbled something and shifted, groaning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rodney?"

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

"A stunner," said Teyla.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Within the hour the Magnate had called a `court of greatest import', bringing together all the chattering noblemen and women that the Atlantis team had seen on their first arrival at the High Palace, filling the Chamber of Audiences once more. The ruler of Halcyon had grudgingly allowed Dr. Kenealy to accompany Hill's corpse back through the Stargate, before sealing the Gate Hangar; to prevent, in his words, "the escape of the culprits of this war crime".

The immediate fall-out from the attack on the dolmen meant that Sheppard was no longer willing to leave anyone in a position where they could suffer the same fate as McKay; as such, Beckett and Nurse Holroyd had been ordered-against Carson's appeals-back to the palace grounds where the Atlanteans could stick together. Only Corporal Clarke wasn't here, and even he was safely at rest inside the Puddle Jumper. Beckett appreciated the colonel's regard for his safety, but at the same time he was chafing at this inactivity. Every minute they stayed cooped up in this overblown castle was one less he could spend on helping the sickly commoners.

Lord Daus was in the midst of a portentous monologue about the events of the day, shifting back and forth between veiled allegations and fierce rhetoric. The assembled nobility looked on, whispering among themselves, the barons and baronesses in brash uniforms, the concubines in all their gauzy wedding-cake clothes. The doctor had the distinct impression that these people were just playing a role, paying lip service to something they took little or no real interest in.

At his side, Holroyd's eyes widened as she took in the parade of finery. "Look at those frocks. I'd bet the price of one of those would keep those families we saw in the lower city fed for months."

Carson nodded. "How the other half live, eh?" His gaze scanned the room and found Lady Erony, her adjutant Linnian not far from her side. She looked tired and unwell, staying close to the glass doors that led to the broad balcony outside the chamber.

The Magnate banged his fist on the arm of his throne, drawing Beckett's attention to him. It appeared that some of the higher-ranking noblemen were arguing, some blaming others for the events at the dolmen, accusing each other of conspiracy against the High Lord. Daus's voice rose. "Silence! We shall not have such harsh words spoken in the presence of our honored guests from Atlantis!" He gestured to Sheppard's party. "I will not have petty storms of blame tossed back and forth while our learned Duke Kelfer and the esteemed Dr. McKay are missing! No, we shall find them and recover them!" He threw a hard look at his subjects. "And then, only then, will I turn to questions of culpability and reproach."

"Honored guests?" repeated Teyla dryly. "If we are so honored, then why is it that Vekken's personal guard are watching our every move?"

"They're not there to protect us, that's for sure," noted Private Bishop. "I know minders when I see them."

On the raised platform, Daus drew himself up to his full height. "Mark this well. Those who are responsible for this heinous violation of territorial statutes will know the full weight of our laws."

Carson heard Ronon snort. "He's more annoyed that they broke the cordon around the dolmen than he is they blasted his daughter."

As Daus rumbled on, Beckett glanced back at Erony and he saw her shiver and grow pale. Abruptly, she turned and pushed her way out on to the balcony, leaving Linnian in surprise. The doctor frowned and walked purposefully across the chamber, moving past the adjutant.

"You cannot go out there," he began, trying to block his path. "Her Highness is taking some air and-"

Carson didn't allow Linnian to stop him. "Out of my way, wee fella," he snapped, in the commanding tone he used on children and troublesome patients. "I'm on duty." He went after Erony on to the open balcony and found her at the stone balustrade, breathing hard and sweating.

She turned. "What? Dr. Beckett?" Erony held up a hand. "Please, I would be alone-"

"Don't worry love, I'm not one of your hoity-toity pals who'd stick a knife in your back if they see you looking sickly. I'm a doctor, so you don't have to hide your weakness around me." He took her hand in a matter-of-fact way and checked her pulse. "You took a Wraith blast, is that right?"

"Yes," she gulped. "It was at quite close range."

"Aye, I've seen this sort of delayed reaction before. Sometimes the neural shock those things project takes a while to get out of your system." He examined her pale eyes. "You should be fine, though. You need to get some rest."

Erony sighed. "Your concern is most appreciated, Dr. Beckett. I am not accustomed to feelings of this sort." She looked away. "I pride myself on my fortitude, as all Halcyonites do."

Carson sensed an opportunity here and decided to pursue it. "Is that so? That's funny, because I've seen some people on this planet who have anything but fortitude. What they do have is a sickness that stems from neglect and pollution."

The woman eyed him. "You speak of the bone-rot and the commoners."

"Those people wake up sick every day, and so do their children. And unlike that Wraith blast, your so-called bone-rot won't wear off after a few hours."

"What is your point, Doctor?"

He pointed over the balcony, down at the city. "Those people keep your society alive, miss. But your fellows in there are letting them die by inches. I could help, if you'd agree to it. I can help the commoners set up vaccination stations, provide them with vitamin boosters, for starters."

Erony sighed again. "In the past, I have tried to bring the plight of the people to my father's ears, but he does not wish to dwell on it. He is like all nobles, Doctor, he despises weakness in all its forms. That is how the commoners are seen, as feeble and worthless. My father is only interested in strength."

Carson frowned. "I'm not talking to him, I'm talking to you. I'm sure that the Lady Erony has enough influence to do what I'm asking."

She was silent for a long moment; then she gave him a firm nod, as the color returned to her cheeks. "Very well," she said. "I will do this. I confess your comrade Dr. McKay has impressed upon me the need for directness above all else. Since the arrival of your party on my world, I find myself thinking… Differently."

"Aye, that's Rodney's influence all right." Beckett gave her a smile. "Thank you, miss. You won't regret it."

Erony paused for a moment. "Doctor, before you go, there is something I must tell you. My father will be searching for your friend as he promised, but he has not been entirely forthcoming about the manner in which it will take place."

"What do you mean?"

"Our codes of conduct are complex. In matters such as this where a prisoner has been taken in order to gain leverage over another, if the abductee is recovered then he who performed the rescue can legally hold the prisoner themselves."

Carson took this in. "You mean like a `finders, keepers' sort of rule?"

"If I follow your meaning, yes."

"Then I guess we'd better find him first."

The court was dissipating as Beckett caught up with Sheppard. John listened intently as the doctor relayed the content of his conversation with Daus's daughter.

"That changes things," said Teyla.

"Not really," said Ronon. "I was going to suggest we go find him ourselves anyway. Think about it; do we want to trust these people to bring back McKay in one piece?"

Sheppard nodded. "Rodney's part of our team and we don't ever let someone else go after one of ours. Teyla, Carson." He turned to them. "Get Clarke into the guest quarters and settle him there. Mason, you and Bishop make sure you keep them secure."

"What are you planning, John?" said Beckett.

"When those men in gray took McKay, they also took his gear. If we assume they're keeping them together, then there's a possibility we can track the power signature of Rodney's scanner unit from the Puddle Jumper. We find it, we find him."

"Assuming they haven't just tossed it in a ditch somewhere," said Carson, "assuming you pass over the right area. Assuming it's still switched on."

Sheppard shrugged. "Well, I never said it was going to be a cakewalk."

As they began to move away, Beckett halted the colonel. "John. I know you have immediate problems to deal with, but I have to say something. The bigger picture here on Halcyon is never going to alter unless there's some serious changes on this planet."

"So what are you asking, Doc? You want me to go all Braveheart and start a revolution? Can't wait to hear what Weir would think of that…"

"All I'm saying colonel, is that I don't think there's going to be an easy solution to all this."

Sheppard gave him a rueful look. "On that, Carson, you and I are in total agreement."

He took the Puddle Jumper up and out of the city sprawl at a deliberately low velocity, ignoring the shouts of alarm from the sentries on the battlements as the drum-shaped shuttlecraft whined past them. Once they were a few miles away, and Sheppard was satisfied that they weren't being observed, he opened up the throttle on the Ancient ship and turned the vessel on its tail. The drive outriggers glowed blue-white and the Jumper described a ballistic trajectory, rising rapidly up through the atmosphere of Halcyon.

Even in moments like these, when they were on dangerous ground, John found it easy to lose himself in the sheer thrill of flying the ship. He could manage most of the Jumper's flight profile without removing his grip from the two-part yoke that extended from the pilot's console; it was an Ancient version of something the military back home called a HOTAS — Hands On Throttle And Stick-a control mechanism that made sure a pilot never had to flail about searching for the right switch when a split-second decision was needed. But the Jumper was more than that. Each time Sheppard took the left-hand seat in this bird, he could feel the craft like it was a presence in his head. It was faint, the gentlest of touches somewhere in the depths of his gray matter, but on some level the genetic heritage that John shared with the Ancients connected him to the vessel in a way that nothing else could.

The Jumpers handled smoothly, too. They flew like a helicopter at low speeds, moving into a mode similar to a jet fighter at high velocity, and then to something akin to an F-302 in the vacuum of space. At least, that's what Sheppard thought. In the past, the colonel had compared notes on the Jumpers with Marine Corps pilots who'd flown Harriers, guys who had trained with the Navy on F/A-18A Hornets, even former Space Shuttle crew; each of them had a different take on the ships. He wondered if the control systems in the craft were smart enough to read his memories of flying Pave Hawks and F-15s and configure themselves to match. He wouldn't have put it past the Ancients to build these things that way.

The sky outside the canopy darkened from teal blue to black, and with a slight shudder, they transitioned from the atmosphere and into space. Sheppard slowed the ship's forward velocity to nothing and let them hang there in a geo-stationary orbit high over the capital city. He glanced over his shoulder. Ronon was hunched over a console at what was usually McKay's station, picking at keys on the panel.

"Give me a moment," said Dex, aware of his scrutiny. "I've watched him work these sensor arrays enough times, I can run them."

Sheppard flexed his fingers around the flight yoke. "Let's assume that the gray guys had a gyro-flyer for their egress," he said, thinking aloud. "Based on the top speed of the helos we've seen since we got here and the location of the dolmen, we should be able to narrow down a search area…"

Obediently, the Jumper's internal systems anticipated his requests and threw a display on to the inside of the canopy glass. It sketched a map in wire frame form, drawing a wide circle across Halcyon's central continent. "I love this ship," said John. He patted the console as if it was a well-trained dog. "Good girl."

A strident tone sounded from Ronon's seat and another layer of detail dropped in over the map. "Sensors are on-line," said the Satedan, "scanning for energy traces."

A couple of emerald green blips immediately appeared on the display, one dead center in the search pattern, the other in the heart of the capital city. "That's gotta be the Ancient tech inside the dolmen," Sheppard pointed at the first, "and that's Teyla. I left my hand-held scanner with her." His heart sank as the rest of the map remained barren. "Come on, Rodney, where are you?"

"Something could blocking the sensors," offered Dex. "They might be holding him underground, or they might have just destroyed his kit."

John shook his head. "Nah, unless they had him at the bottom of a mineshaft, we'd read it." He blew out a breath. "I'm going to take her up into a higher orbit. We may have to do this the hard way and run the sensors over the whole damn planet."

"You think they took him off world?"

"No, that's against their codes, remember? It's all about the rules."

The other man grimaced. "Their honor codes didn't stop them threatening us. You think they know that Atlantis is still in one piece?"

"Vekken is smart, I'll give him that, but he's just fishing. There's no way they could know that Atlantis survived the Wraith siege. I made sure I Gated to a neutral planet before I went back for the Jumper, and Kenealy did the same thing when he went with Hill's body. Our people know not to dial direct unless it's a matter of life or death."

Ronon looked away, his face creasing in annoyance. "This is a planet full of liars."

Sheppard chuckled. "You sound like my dad watching CSPAN."

The colonel worked the controls, and the Jumper drew further away from the surface, the pale blue of Halcyon's oceans and the green-brown of its landmasses turning beneath the ship's hull.

"There is another way we could do this," said Ronon, after a moment.

"At this point, I'm open to any suggestions," noted Sheppard.

"We should play these people at their own game."

John threw him a look. "What, we call in troops from Atlantis and fight one of their private little wars? I don't think so."

"That's not what I meant. Daus and his nobles think they're superior here, but we're the ones with the real edge. We could cloak the Jumper, go in and snatch his lordship… Or better yet, call in Caldwell and get the Daedalus to beam him up right in the middle of one of his pompous speeches. If he doesn't tell us what we want to know, we toss him out an airlock."

"That would be regicide. I'm not quite ready to go killing kings yet."

"I didn't say kill him," Ronon continued. "Throw him into space for a couple of seconds, then beam him back in. That'll make anyone talk. Might have to do it a few times, though. He looks like a sturdy guy."

Sheppard sighed. "We don't even know if Daus is behind it." But in all honesty, the colonel knew how lame his denial sounded.

"That's how we would find out."

John turned in his chair. "We are not doing the airlock thing, okay? End of discussion."

"Just trying to be helpful."

On the canopy display, a glowing red dot emerged from the far side of Halcyon's day-night terminator. "Wait a second. What is that?"

"A satellite?" Ronon glanced at the sensor console. "Daus's people put something in orbit?"

The colonel shook his head. "They don't have the technology to build rockets that would get up this far…" He studied the display. "It's smaller than the Jumper. It's definitely some thing artificial." Sheppard changed their heading and eased the throttle forward. "Let's go take a closer look."

The object grew from a glittering dot and began to take on a clear shape and form. Ronon rose from his chair to stand at Sheppard's shoulder as the colonel brought the Puddle Jumper up into a matching orbit. Dex studied the vaguely ovoid shape of the thing, his mind racing to place it. He had seen things like it before, a long time ago, in the skies over other worlds.

A pair of spindly solar panels turned as he watched it grow larger, catching a glimmer of pale light from Halcyon's star. Ronon could make out detail now, the fluted curvature of the object's structure, the peculiar asymmetrical contours like carved bone.

A shock of icy cold flooded his veins. "Wraith!" he snapped. "It's a Wraith satellite!"

Sheppard was already reacting, veering away as the readings on the Jumper's sensors changed. The Satedan had the fleeting impression of a flower blossoming as the alien machine opened to reveal a cluster of gun muzzles. Energy flashed and abruptly the blackness around them was bright with a deadly storm of photons.

The pilot threw the ship hard over, then back again, and the inertial dampers struggled to compensate. Ronon lost his footing and fell heavily into McKay's chair, grabbing the sensor console to steady himself. Dex had left the scanners running in full spectrum mode, and they were dutifully gathering data, rains of information trickling down the screen as the satellite re-oriented itself and fired again.

Glancing shots sent electrical surges through the glowing panels either side of the cabin, and an emerald pane spat sparks and went dead. Sheppard brought the Jumper around in a tight arc and the Wraith construct loomed large. Targeting cues bracketed the object on the heads-up display and John grinned. "I got tone." He squeezed a trigger bar and Ronon heard the snap-hiss of a drone launch. A pair of glowing missiles looped away toward the satellite, their odd squid-like profiles cutting an unerring course through the black.

Puffs of thruster gas jetted from the satellite as the machine attempted to dodge the incoming fire, but the drones split apart and came in at the Wraith device from two different points on the axis. The satellite was caught between them and shattered in an explosion of light and fragments. Pieces of bony matter and warped twists of metal clattered off the hull as the Jumper swerved away from the blast.

"dice shot," noted Dex.

Sheppard accepted the compliment with a nod. "I thought so.

Ronon blew out a breath, the adrenaline rush of the brief battle waning. He studied the sensor screen. The data there was dense and largely beyond his understanding, but there were parts of the readings that he could decipher.

"That was a close call," said the colonel. "Lucky for us you recognized that thing."

"It's a marker beacon," he noted, "a bigger version of that device we found in the tavern on M3Y-465."

"That doesn't sound promising. What's it doing here?"

"The Wraith use them to tag a planet. Their scout craft scope out systems where there might be large populations and then leave one of those behind. Hive ships come in later and do the actual culling."

Sheppard turned the Jumper's sensors to run a wide scan of the surrounding space. "No sign of any other vessels in the system. It can't have been put there recently."

Ronon frowned at the console. "Might be able to get a reading…" He hissed a particularly nasty Satedan curse under his breath. "Why couldn't he have made working this thing simpler?"

"You got something?"

"Wait!" snapped Dex. "I'm not as smart as McKay, I can't figure this out as quickly!" He was silent for a few moments, working through the data. At last, the console gave an answering beep. "Here. Radiation scan indicates that thing was at least ten thousand years old."

"It must have been dropped here when the Ancients and the Wraith were still duking it out for the galaxy," Sheppard opined. "Question is, has it been talking to any of its friends in the meantime?"

Ronon shrugged. It annoyed him that this was beyond his skills. "I don't know, I can't decipher this. Maybe Teyla…"

The colonel was silent for a moment. "All right, we're going back down. Daus will have to be told what we found. We can't detect Rodney from up here anyhow." The Jumper's engines rose in pitch as the spacecraft turned about and dipped back into Halcyon's gravity well. "We're going to have to find another way to get to him."

"One thing," rumbled Dex, "when we find McKay, don't tell him I said he was smarter than me. If you do, I'll break your legs."

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say."

Dr. Rodney McKay rolled awake and sneezed violently, his entire body contorting in a sharp spasm. His hands came up to his chest in claws and he gagged; the entire effect was as if he was attempting the comical impersonation of a rat. It was this unfortunate physical tic that had earned him the nickname `Rodent' from some of the more unpleasant pupils who had shared his time at junior high school.

Of course, that was in the days before he had left them all behind, before his teachers had finally had the intelligence to move him from the category of `bright' to `child prodigy' and then to `quite staggeringly clever'. So what if they said it had stunted his social skills, so what? He was smarter than them. The jocks and popular girls who had called him names, what were they doing with their lives now, huh? Living in some dreary suburban nowheresville with their stupid gas-guzzling SUVs, their drink problems, their spiraling debts and their two-pointthree ugly children, while Rodent-no, damn it, my name is Rodney'-got to make world-changing science, travel through wormholes, visit strange new worlds and get shot-

Get. Shot.

It all came thundering back to him and he blinked out of his half-aware daze. He remembered the heavy metal weight of the pistol in his hand, the way it bucked and snapped when he fired blindly at the men in gray fatigues. He remembered Erony screaming, calling out his name. And most of all, he remembered the blunt prow of the stunner pistol tracking toward him, the sliver weapon lit by the sullen green glow of its power cell.

Rodney went tense as his muscles recalled the horrific, heartstopping shock as the energy blast took him, consciousness flooding out as the unblemished floor of the dolmen's control room rose up to meet him. Then darkness, black and cold. And now here.

He blinked; his vision was blurry but it was improving with every passing second. Feeling with his hands, McKay found a wall and used it to get to his feet, fighting down the woozy after-shock as he dragged himself up it. The wall was cold and clammy, and it gave a little in the way that something organic might.

A deep breath; and then another. The air was chilly too, and there were mingled scents on it. Dust, eons and eons of dust beneath something appallingly familiar. A metallic stench, like battery acid.

The room he was in took on solidity as his eyes focused, and the blue-black walls of chitinous matter gave him the answer as to where he was. The most terrible, awful answer that he could have had. "No," he muttered, "no no no No NO!" Rodney threw himself at the narrow entrance to the dim little cell, his fingers digging into the web of thick, fibrous ropes that blocked the doorway. He pulled and shouted, fear rolling up inside him in a dark tide; at that moment he would have given anything to be in nowheresville, in junior high, anywhere but here.

McKay's cries echoed out along the corridors of the Wraith Hive Ship, ignored and unanswered.