Halcyon

Chapter Eight

Colonel Sheppard looked out through the Jumper's canopy at the Fourth Dynast blackcoats milling around outside the ship. They had emerged from the cloisters around the open plaza within moments of the ship landing there. John wasted no time getting Teyla inside and closing the hatch behind her. He wanted this conversation to be just between the three of them.

She was nodding as Ronon replayed the events of their short venture into orbit and back. The Athosian woman's expression hardened when Dex spoke about the Wraith machine they'd obliterated. John knew that look of old; he could read Teyla's feelings, the same thoughts that had clouded his mood now forming in her. He opened his mouth to speak and realized there was a Halcyonite rifleman standing just a meter or so away on the other side of the canopy glass. The trooper was staring directly at him, blankly intimidating with his lance-rifle held at arms.

Sheppard very deliberately turned his back on the soldier before he started speaking. The movie of the week on Atlantis last month had been 2001: A Space Odyssey, and John suddenly recalled the scene in the pod bay where the Hal computer had lip-read the plans of the human astronauts. He didn't want to chance that Daus trained his men with the same kind of skills. "With that satellite in pieces, any immediate danger is over," he began, "but clearly the bigger problem we've got to consider is if that thing has been broadcasting. There could already be Wraith Hive Ships in hyperspace and on their way here as we speak."

"That all depends on how long the satellite had been transmitting for," noted Ronon, "and we don't know for sure if it was. But given our usual fortunes, I wouldn't count on us being that lucky."

"Upbeat as ever," said Sheppard. "Teyla, you wanna chime in here?"

The woman took McKay's station and scrutinized the data captured from the Wraith device. "I have an idea how we might determine if it was in communication with other craft. From what I know of these marker beacons, they operate in a dormant mode, often for centuries, until triggered by a command from a Wraith vessel." She paged through the reams of information, searching for something. "Interstellar communications require a lot of power, John. These beacons run on solar batteries."

Sheppard got it. "Right, so transmitting a message would take a lot of energy. If the batteries are low, it's likely it sent out a dinner call." He smiled with gallows humor. "Like a Wraith equivalent of those neon signs by the highway-Good Eats, Next Exit…"

"Here," said Teyla, halting the flow of text. She pointed at a string of computer code. The tension in her shoulders visibly lessened as she read through the data. "I think you may be wrong about our luck, Ronon. According to this, the power reserves on the satellite were barely depleted. It was still in an information gathering mode when you happened upon it."

"If you're right, then it must have been activated recently," added Dex, "but why now, after thousands of years of drifting up there in silence? It doesn't make sense."

"We're missing a piece of the puzzle here," said Sheppard, "a big piece, and you gotta know that McKay's connected to it."

Teyla looked away. "If he still lives."

"If they wanted him dead, we'd be looking at his corpse," Ronon said flatly, "we know the nobles aren't squeamish about bloodshed and murder."

Sheppard sat and worked it through, thinking aloud. "If they just wanted a hostage, why take him?"

Ronon shrugged "He's the weak link, he can barely handle a weapon. He's the one I'd choose if I wanted a captive."

"I don't buy that. If they just wanted non-combatants, they could have tagged Beckett and the medical team. No, they took Rodney for what he knows. Or what he found out at the dolmen."

"We can't rule out that it was Erony who set him up," added Dex. "I don't buy Vekken's explanation as to why they left her behind."

Teyla shook her head in disgust. "The more I learn about these people, the less I understand them. Making false glory out of warfare and taking innocents for barter. On Athos, no tribe would ever be allowed to do such things."

"Hostage-taking is just another weapon."

A sharp tap on the Jumper's canopy drew John's attention. Vekken stood at the prow of the ship, peering in at them. The adjutant made no attempt to hide the lingering, appraising look he gave the interior of the Ancient craft. "Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard," he called. "I bring good news. Dr. McKay's whereabouts have been located."

"What? Where?"

Vekken inclined his head. "His Highness the Lord Magnate will provide you with the specifics, if you would accompany me."

The Magnate met them in the gardens where they had spoken before. Sheppard had to admit he was getting royally sick of being `summoned' every five minutes and submitting to 'audiences' at Daus's whim. He toyed for a moment with the idea of ordering Vekken to bring the ruler to them, just to throw a wrench in the works, but relented. It was their planet, and they expected the Atlantis team to play by their rules. He thought of Weir's advice about letting Daus remain convinced he had the stronger position, and chewed his lip. With each passing moment, it was getting harder and harder to play that role. As ever, First Minister Muruw was hovering at his leader's side, open contempt on his face.

John didn't wait for the usual florid phrase of greeting to spill from Daus's lips; he went straight for the jugular instead. "Where's McKay?"

The Magnate's eyes flashed with irritation at this breach in protocol. "Safe, for the moment. One of my most trusted hunt splinters has located him and determined that he is unharmed and in good spirits."

That's a lie if ever I heard it, thought Sheppard. `Good spirits' would be the last thing Rodney would exhibit if he'd been held prisoner. "We want our team mate back, right now."

"That is in hand," Daus replied, ignoring the implied or else in Sheppard's statement, "but in keeping with the codes of conduct, I am afraid that it would not be proper to merely hand him over to you without… Recompense."

"Proper?" grated Ronon. "You think just because you make war with a rulebook at your back that you can play games with men's lives?"

It was as if Dex had never spoken. "There must be a balance, Lieutenant Colonel. Give and take."

Sheppard folded his arms. "Fine. You want something in return for McKay's rescue, then how about this? I just shot down a Wraith marker satellite in orbit around your planet, thus saving your entire world from the arrival of a culling fleet. I figure that's a fair trade."

Muruw made an explosive snort of scorn. "Is that so? Then, pray tell, where is the proof of such a daring exploit? Please, do show us the evidence of your kill!"

Ronon pointed into the sky. "It's burning up in your atmosphere right now."

"Oh," the minister continued in an arch tone, "so then you have no trophy? Nothing that corroborates this wild claim? I am afraid that with empty palms you have no stock with which to trade."

John's hands contracted into fists. The man's patronizing tone was like nails down a chalkboard. "I could take you for a look, if you'd like," he retorted, "you might find it a little chilly up there, though." Ronon's suggestion about the airlock was starting to seem like a good idea.

Daus gave a languid nod of his head. "The people of Halcyon thank you for your bravery in their defense," he noted, "but I am afraid that this matter requires a different solution."

Inwardly, Sheppard sagged. "Let's hear it. What do you want?" This is going to be the Genii thing all over again…

"You recall the rogue Wraith I spoke of? The one we call Scar?"

"Yeah…"

"It is to my eternal disappointment that I have never been able to kill that creature, and our recent venture to the forest of Carras rekindled my hate for the beast. My proposal is a modest one, Lieutenant Colonel. Bring me Scar, dead or alive, and in return my men will see that Dr. McKay is safely returned to your company."

Sheppard blinked. "You want us to hunt the Wraith for you?"

"If you think you are capable," sniffed Muruw.

"That's all?" Ronon asked. "What's the catch?"

Daus smiled, showing teeth. "Ah, such bravery! But be warned, Runner. Scar is a deadly adversary. He has the blood of many hunters on his hands."

Sheppard exchanged looks with Teyla and Ronon. Each of them knew that there was more to this than the Magnate was letting on, but they had little choice. Once more, they were being forced to play along. "All right. We get you something you can have stuffed and mounted, you deliver Dr. McKay."

The Magnate clapped his hands. "Splendid! Muruw will provide you with charts of Scar's known feeding grounds. Best of luck, Lieutenant Colonel!"

Vekken watched the Atlanteans depart, letting the dagger-like glares from the Runner and the Athosian woman roll off him. He considered them both; the Runner was unapologetic about what he was, and in a way, he was to be admired for such honesty. But the man was crude and artless, and for all his prowess he lacked an understanding of combat's true grace and glory. Vekken understood that no amount of instruction would ever change Ronon Dex's mind. He was like the wild Wraith that way, too unstable to ever be made into Hounds, to be domesticated. On the other hand, the woman Teyla Emmagan was a contradiction. He found her attractive on the most visceral level and the adjutant had to admit that her skills were good; and yet, even though they shared the bond of the Wraithkin, he could not help but think of her as inferior. After all, she came from a planet of tribals who still participated in ridiculous deity worship rituals. Even though her master Sheppard had tried to dress her up in his people's uniform, she was still a primitive underneath. Vekken had hoped at the beginning that he might have been able to barter something to Sheppard in return for her indenture, but he saw now that this was unlikely. Sheppard was the strangest of them all, a peculiar mixture of the strong and the weak who had no right to call himself a soldier… And yet here he was, against all odds. Vekken looked up and the Lord Magnate beckoned him closer. He wondered if his master would order him to kill these Atlanteans today. The adjutant sensed that such a decision was very close at hand, and it surprised Vekken how contemplation of it troubled him. But then, he was not a man to challenge his master's commands; Vekken was, above all things, a weapon in the hands of the Magnate. He did not have the luxury of questions, of guilt, of hesitation.

He bowed low. "Your Highness?"

"Have a gyro-flyer track the Atlantean vessel's movements. I want you to keep yourself informed via telekrypter of all that transpires during their hunt."

"Your will, My Lord."

Daus considered him for a moment. "Tell me, Vekken. Do you think the Atlanteans will be able to fulfill my mandate? As a warrior, how do you estimate their chances of taking Scar?"

"A difficult question, Highness," admitted the adjutant. "They fight with competence, their weapons are formidable… But they find it hard to kill. The purity of that instinct is lacking in them, their leader most of all."

The Magnate bent close to Vekken, his voice falling to a low murmur. "Just so," he agreed. "I find myself hoping that the beast Scar will serve me today. I imagine that the Wraith will kill them all, and rid me of these outworlders."

Vekken felt a thrill of shock but did not show it. "If I may beg to say, Highness, but what will you do if they succeed in the hunt?"

"Ah," said Daus, sounding out the word. "In that event, it would be better that Sheppard's people never live to tell of it. After all, it would be detrimental to the well being of our society if our people believe that outworlders made so important a kill. Better that the nobility be seen to have done such a thing. Don't you agree?"

"As you command," Vekken replied.

The Magnate nodded again. "I do indeed."

The Puddle Jumper made it across the countryside in half the time of the fast helo that had taken them to the forest enclosure the previous day. Sheppard concentrated on flying the ship at tree top level while Ronon, Teyla and Private Bishop went through weapons checks in the back of the cabin. With poor grace, Staff Sergeant Mason accepted Sheppard's orders to remain with the injured Corporal Clarke and Beckett's team. He had insisted the senior man stay behind, putting his trust in the SAS soldier to keep the others safe while John's team went on their hunter's outing.

There was one other command Sheppard had given, this time to Carson, and it wasn't an order that sat well with him. Things were moving fast now, and despite Teyla's suggestion that the Wraith orbiter hadn't been broadcasting, the colonel didn't want to take that for fact. He gave Beckett the full story and reluctantly told him to get in contact with Atlantis. Weir had to be told what was going on here, and if that meant risking a radio signal through an open wormhole to the ocean planet, then so be it. He knew that Carson had the ear of Daus's daughter, and he trusted the doctor to use his influence to get a message through the Gate even if he didn't trust Erony. After all, the Magnate had decreed that nobody was allowed to travel through the Stargate; he hadn't said anything about beaming communications through it.

"Any sign of that chopper that was following us, boss?" asked Bishop, slamming an ammunition clip into his assault rifle.

The colonel glanced at a sensor-scope on the head-up display. "He's still out there behind us, runnin' his throttle at maximum in a vain attempt to keep up."

"Maybe you should cloak us," said Ronon, "give them a real fright."

Sheppard shook his head. "Nah, I'm saving that surprise in case we need it. Never hurts to keep an ace up your sleeve."

They made a quick circuit of the enclosure as Teyla pored over the paper map that Muruw had grudgingly given to them. "This document shows several locations where the Wraith Scar was sited." She pointed to the west. "That is the most recent."

"I'll look for somewhere to put us down." He slowed the Jumper, searching for a clearing.

Behind him, Bishop was peering at the hand-held scanner. "Red dots mean Wraiths, right?"

"Yup,"

"That's not good, sir. This thing looks like it's got the measles." The soldier held up the device; the small screen was speckled with shifting red symbols spread out over the entire area.

Ronon stroked his chin. "We could hit them from the air with the drones. That might thin them out a little."

Sheppard nodded. "Nice idea, but we have to bring this creep back intact, remember? Somehow I'm guessing Daus won't accept a bunch of Wraith cold cuts instead." A clearing appeared to port and he put the ship into a hover. "Here we go. I want a quick dispersal when we hit the dirt. Two fire teams; Ronon's with me, Teyla goes with Bishop."

He heard the noise and it brought him up short. The nerves in limbs went tight with anticipation, a reaction so ingrained in his physiology that it happened without conscious thought. The others with him snarled and yowled at one another, spooked by their pack leader's sudden change in manner. He turned his face to them and showed a mouth full of fangs, hissing sibilantly. They quieted, retreating, cowed into submission like the animals that they had become.

He looked up; yes, his senses had not deceived him. The sound that reached through the forest canopy was not the rhyth mic thrum of a propeller, not the noise from the human air vessels that came and went, dropping off fresh prey. This sound touched a chord inside him, it flashed on a memory from before. From the war. Before the long sleep.

Movement above. It appeared and disappeared through a gap in the trees, just the quickest flash of dark green metal, antigravity drives whining like insects to keep it up in the sky. Feral hate ran hot through him in a wave of recognition. An enemy ship. It was one of their craft, undoubtedly. A machine that belonged to the old adversary, the prey-race that had dared to defy the mastery of his species. So long ago.

Thoughts wheeled and turned in his mind, base desires to kill and feed warring with higher questions of how and why. He dismissed them all with a wave of his clawed hand, as if he were swatting at a nagging insect. Focus. He had to have focus.

His iron hard self-control flexed but did not break; on days such as these it was difficult to drive the haze from his mind, to concentrate on keeping his thoughts whole and alert. It would be easy to slip into the madness of the beast, just like these pitiful wretches around him. Not all of his kindred had the strength of will to fight off the static in their psyche for hour after hour, every single day. Many fell quickly, subsumed by their own animal natures, some too crazed even to recognize him for what he was, as their superior. Those they fed upon, as they were fit for nothing else. They kept his pack alive when the human prey was thin on the ground.

The ache of hunger came upon him. This was the hardest call to resist, the most basic desire of his species. He felt the tremble of the need in his arm, the fleshy gray petals of the feeding maw in his palm opening on their own.

The others backed away, whimpering. They were afraid that he would take one of them to sate himself. Instead he cocked his head, letting the white tails of his mane fall forward.

The Wraith blinked his one good eye and ran a casual finger over the ruined socket of the other, tracing a broad line of ruined tissue down his cheek. His kind healed fast, but the sword cut that had left that mark upon him had been deep and nearly fatal. He sometimes imagined that it was only his hate that had allowed him to survive such an injury; and now the same emotion propelled him forward, into the trees and after the noise of the aerial vessel.

His pack snarled and spat, loping after their scar-faced leader, picking up on his eagerness for a new kill.

The Jumper sealed behind them, the two teams split off from the landing site and made their way into the trees. Ronon's last glimpse of Teyla Emmagan was a curt nod of her head before she followed Private Bishop into the foliage. Dex gripped his particle magnum firmly in one hand, the hilt of his short sword in the other. Ahead of him, Sheppard made himself a compact silhouette, moving quickly but carefully with his P90 at his shoulder.

"Is there some kind of plan I should know about?" asked the Satedan. "Or are we just going to wander around aimlessly until we trip over some Wraith?"

"That is the plan," said the colonel, "although without the `aimless' part. We find the mark, we bag him. Simple."

"Simple," repeated Ronon, in a tone that make it clear he thought this was anything but. "I don't like following that fat aristo's orders."

"Oh, and I do?" Sheppard shook his head. "Believe me, this wasn't my first choice for getting McKay rescued either. Putting more people in harm's way…"

"Say we do this thing. What if Daus doesn't turn McKay over to us? What do we do then?"

The other man halted. "If that happens, I might revise my opinion on that airlock suggestion of yours. Until then, though, we play the hand we got."

Dex dropped into a crouch and fingered a broken plant stem protruding from the forest floor. He moved windblown leaves to uncover prints in the earth. "Wraith. These are recent. Less than a day old." Ronon pointed with his pistol. "Four of them, moving that way."

Sheppard toggled his radio. "Teyla, Bishop. We got tracks here. Four Wraith, heading in a northerly direction."

The Athosian woman halted in the shade of a tree. "I hear you, Colonel. Private Bishop has also discovered traces of Wraith activity. There are human bones here." She glanced at the ditch where the SAS soldier was standing. "It appears to be a midden."

"Copy that," came the reply. "Are you, uh, sensing anything?"

Teyla gave a slight shudder. "Yes," she said, at length. In truth, the buzz of Wraith telepathy had been slowly strengthening in her mind as they approached the enclosure, and now they were here on the ground, her preternatural sense of the predatory creatures was a constant companion. "I… I think he's watching us. There are several of them out there, but one… Just one…" She shook the thoughts away. "Be on your guard, Colonel. Scar must be close."

"Same goes for you. Shoot first if you make contact. Remember, we don't need this creep alive. Sheppard out."

Bishop moved forward. "You all right, miss?"

She nodded and set off again. "I will be."

The soldier gave her a wary look. "Can you, like, turn that off?" He tapped a finger on his temple. "I'm just thinking that if you can hear the bozos, they maybe they can hear you too."

Teyla shook her head. "I control it as best I can. Believe me, it is a `gift' I wish I was not forced to endure." She threw him a questioning look. "What is the meaning of that word you use for the Wraith?"

"What, you mean Bozo?" Teyla nodded and Bishop smirked. "Well, y'know, it's `cos of their faces. They're all pasty and white, aren't they? Like clowns." The smirk faded. "Never liked clowns, even when I was a nipper."

She was none the wiser. "The men in your cadre seem to have their own names for many things."

Bishop shrugged. "Well, it's tradition, isn't it? Psychological, yeah? Helps you to keep detached, eyes on the ball, that sorta thing. We got slang for lots of stuff."

Teyla eyed him. "Do you have names for people from Athos or Sateda? For Ronon and myself?"

"Uh." The way the soldier blinked told Teyla that the answer was yes. "It, uh. It's a gesture of respect, miss. We all got nicknames."

"What do you call us?"

Bishop looked sheepish. "Tina. And, uh, Bob. On account of how you look a bit like the singers, see." He gave a weak smile. "I'm not a big fan of the reggae bloke, but I do like that song she does, the one about the dancer-" He broke off.

Teyla heard it too; something moving in the undergrowth.

"Target," growled the soldier, all humor forgotten, bringing his L85 up to sight down the barrel. A gray shape detached itself from the shadow of a fallen tree trunk and threw itself at them. Bishop's rifle snarled and his shots caught the Wraith at the start of a leap, slamming it back down into the dirt.

"More!" snapped the woman, as other aliens burst from cover and came at them. Teyla had her P90 set in burst-fire mode and she unleashed ripping discharges of bullets into the Wraiths that raced at them. Glancing hits twisted one about and she was forced to hit him again just to put the creature out for good. She sensed Bishop draw closer to her, bringing their corridors of fire together.

Almost as quickly as they attacked, the Wraith were either dead or retreating.

"What the hell was that all about?" said the Private.

Teyla's brow furrowed as the sense of the feral minds brushed against her psyche. "He's out there… Watching. He's testing us. Measuring our skills."

"Contact!" cried Sheppard, as the first three Wraiths dropped from the trees overhead. On full automatic, he tore a fist-sized wound in the killer that went for his chest, blasting the alien around into a lethal pirouette.

The crackling howl of Ronon's energy pistol sounded through the air, two shots in as many heartbeats killing a second Wraith attacker before the beast's corpse could strike the forest floor.

The third was already sweeping in and went at the colonel with a massive club cut from a rough-hewn section of tree branch. Sheppard ducked and dodged a blow that could have caved in his skull, but the strike caught his P90 and the submachinegun spun from his grip and away. John went low as the alien reversed his attack and threw out two quick kicks to the knee, hard and accurate blows that would have shattered the bones of a normal human being. The Wraith gave a cursory grunt and threw itself at him, striking the colonel with a bodycheck that slammed the wind from his lungs. Sheppard cried out as the creature flattened him into the ground. Its face was just inches away from his, and the monstrous aspect of the Wraith was mad with wild hunger, strings of drool looping from its wicked snaggle teeth.

He fought back with the only weapon he could reach. Sheppard's combat knife came up in a blur and he buried the black carbon steel blade in the Wraith's eye socket, down to the hilt. The alien screamed and rolled away, clawing at its face. Dex threw him his P90 and John caught it, delivering the coup de grace to the howling creature with a single squeeze of the trigger.

Sheppard rocked back on his haunches. "Dang. That was a close one."

Ronon bent to recover the colonel's knife just as the staccato rattle of gunfire filtered through the trees. "Teyla!" snapped Dex.

"More of them, six o'clock!" shouted Bishop, pivoting on one knee to unleash another burst of fire at the advancing foe. His assault rifle's breech snapped open on an empty chamber and he tore out the ammunition clip. "Reloading!"

Teyla heard the call and turned to cover the soldier as the next wave of Wraiths ran at them. She lay down an arc of punishing fire, killing another and knocking back two more; but they were being hard pressed now, the pale-skinned creatures shifting to get behind them, blocking the route back to the clearing and the parked Puddle Jumper. Bishop slammed a new magazine into his weapon and continued shooting.

The Athosian felt her own gun run dry and quickly swapped out a fresh magazine of transparent plastic, the bullets inside rattling against one another. If these Wraiths had been armed with energy weapons, then this fight would have already been over, she realized. All they had were primitive clubs and axes with flint heads; but even those would be deadly if the aliens got close enough.

"What the hell?" She heard a note of panic in the soldier's voice and to her alarm, Bishop aimed away into the trees and fired shots at nothing. "Shadows!" he shouted. "Bloody shadows!"

"Private!" she shouted, "it's the Wraith, they're trying to deceive you! Playing tricks on your mind!" Teyla pulled him to his feet. "Concentrate!"

"Y-yeah," Bishop blinked, like he was waking from a doze. "I got it."

"Teyla! What's your situation?"

She grimaced at the voice from the radio, firing again. "Heavy Wraith contact, Colonel! We're cut off from the Jumper!"

"Find cover and dig in," replied Sheppard, "we'll come get you once we deal with our own pest problem."

Bishop jabbed a finger. "That way! Trees are thicker, it'll slow the buggers down!"

She let the soldier lead the way, sending out pulses of gunfire as the Wraiths came running after them, clambering along the branches of trees over their heads, shrieking and throwing stones. Teyla had never seen such behavior from the aliens before; the orderly and coldly vicious manner they usually displayed in combat was gone, replaced with wild and brutish attacks that bordered on frenzy.

The Athosian woman dispatched another Wraith, sending it wailing to the earth from a perch above; and then she felt it again. The pressure of one mind, hard and invasive inside her skull. Teyla could taste the raw need, and through the alien's senses it was almost as if she could hear the rapid hammering of her own heart. The Wraith the Halcyons called Scar was in her head, taunting her, and with abrupt shock she realized that he was laughing.

Alarm flooded her with adrenaline. "Bishop, no!" she cried, too late to stop him. The soldier took one step too far and stumbled. Beneath them the leaf-strewn ground gave way and disintegrated, a false trapdoor of weak wood and woven grasses yawing open. Teyla and Bishop fell into the concealed pit, tumbling against one another to land hard in the black, choking mud. She struck a half-buried stone and the light behind her eyes dimmed. Teyla's vision went to gray haze, then to blackness and silence.

"Back!" snapped Ronon, sending red streaks of energy past Sheppard and into the advancing rank of feral Wraith. Most of these creatures were barely equipped, their usual armor of chain mail and nacreous hides missing or stripped. That meant that logically they'd go down easier; the reverse seemed to be true, however. Sheppard gritted his teeth and fired on another. These untamed creatures were uncontrollable, moving without the first thought toward their personal safety, driven only by an insane hunger. Already, the colonel had seen some of the Wraith dropping back from their chase in order to savage their own fallen comrades, fighting amongst themselves to feed on their dead. John took the opportunity to introduce them to a couple of fragmentation grenades that he lobbed into the middle of the squabbling pack.

The diversion was enough to get them away, and back toward the safe ground of the Jumper. Without energy weapons, there was no way the marauding wild Wraith would be able to inflict damage on the Ancient ship. He sprinted into the clearing as Ronon cracked off shot after shot at the enemy. The Satedan's pistol was glowing hot at the muzzle. Sheppard tore the handheld from his pocket and stabbed at a pre-set code key string. In return, the Puddle Jumper's rear hatch dropped open to admit them.

"Teyla!" he shouted into his radio. "Teyla, Bishop, do you read me? We're at the Jumper!" Nothing but dead air answered him. He swore under his breath as Dex rounded the back of the shuttlecraft.

"Nothing else is moving out there," said Ronon, "at least not for the moment."

"Get in," snapped Sheppard. "I need to re-arm. Those creeps will be back."

Dex followed him inside as the hatch closed again. He stopped dead as he realized they were alone in the ship. "Where are the others?"

Grim-faced, the colonel threw a nod at the dense tree line.

The sudden silver-white flash of the wormhole's formation made Carson flinch back a little in surprise. The strange cloud of energy the Stargates emitted on activation reminded him of a plume of water, a geyser-like spring of light and color that seemed to unfold from the very air itself. Beckett had heard veterans of the SGC refer to the effect as a `kawoosh', as a nod to the sound it made as it crashed through molecules of stressed oxygen; try as he might, though, the doctor couldn't hang such a playful name on a discharge of exotic radiation that could engulf anything it came into contact with.

He fingered the combat walkie-talkie in his hand, switching the device to the pre-arranged channel for the mission, and in return he heard the hiss of static in his wireless earpiece that told him it was working. Nearby, Staff Sergeant Mason, his face impassive, approached the event horizon of the Gate as close as he dared. With each footstep, the mechanical turrets surrounding the Stargate whined and moved, steadily tracking Mason, ready to open fire if he flaunted Daus's commands and ran for the wormhole. The doctor counted at least a half-dozen cannons trained on them. Mason recovered a radio from his belt and weighed it in his grip. At last, he met Beckett's gaze.

"Go ahead," said Carson.

The soldier raised the radio to his lips. "Atlantis, are you receiving, over?"

Beckett half-turned as Lady Erony stepped up to the Gate Hangar's stone dais, her adjutant Linnian trailing two steps behind.

She gave a shallow nod. "I engaged the cipher on the podium personally. No record of this opening will be kept, as you requested."

From the corner of his eye, the doctor saw Mason give Erony the slightest of looks at her words. The SAS trooper's distrust of her statement could not have been plainer. In truth, Carson didn't like it any more than he did, dialing direct to Atlantis from Halcyon, but circumstances now meant that they had no other choice; and on the other side of that glimmering disc, Elizabeth Weir was waiting to hear from them.

He sighed and returned the nod. "Thank you, miss. Your discretion is appreciated."

"I have done this in defiance of my father's standing orders. He would be sorely displeased to learn of it." Erony studied him. "But then trust is a very rare commodity on Halcyon, Dr. Beckett, and I do not wish to lose what little I have already accrued with your people." She bowed a little and moved away. "Attend me when your communications are concluded."

Mason gave a small sniff of disdain. He had already made it clear to Carson that he laid the blame for McKay's abduction at Erony's feet, convinced that the girl was working for her father's ends. The doctor wanted the reverse to be true, but as she had said herself, trust was hard to find on this planet. He took a deep breath. By now, the duty officers in Atlantis's Gate Room would have alerted Elizabeth of Mason's signal, so at any second-

"This is Dr. Weir acknowledging receipt of transmission. We're ready to lower the shield at your discretion."

"Elizabeth, it's Carson here," he began, "don't drop the force field. This is just an update."

When she spoke again, Beckett heard the wary tone in her voice. "Okay, Carson, I understand. What's your status over there? We're at Condition Blue, over"

Beckett nodded to himself. After Kenealy had Gated back with Hill's body, the other doctor had been under orders to give Weir the full story on what had taken place on Halcyon since Sheppard had left with the Puddle Jumper, and that included Rodney's kidnapping. As part of new security protocols introduced on Atlantis, they had created a series of seemingly innocuous code phrases that could be inserted into radio communications to allow off world teams to send a warning that they were operating under duress. Condition Blue meant that Weir understood that Carson was on unfriendly ground, and she was ready to assist. The doctor searched his memory for a moment for the correct counter-sign. "It's, ah, Condition Yellow," he said. "We're okay here, for the moment."

Elizabeth relaxed a little-but only a little. She stared at the open Stargate, visualizing Carson on the other side, his expression taut with concern. Weir had gone over Kenealy's report a dozen times, scouring it for anything she could use. Other duties vital to the running of Atlantis had slipped as the situation on Halcyon had gotten worse, and she had to admit she was finding it hard to keep her mind on the job at hand while her friends were in harm's way out in the Pegasus Galaxy.

"Can you speak freely?"

"Aye, go ahead."

"I'm ready to come through myself to take up a role as negotiator. Perhaps I might be able to secure Rodney's release if I spoke directly with the Lord Magnate."

There was a pause. "Staff Sergeant Mason is firmly against that idea, Elizabeth, and I'm sure Colonel Sheppard would be to, if he were here. We don't want to bring another senior member of Atlantis staff in where they can take a shot at them. They might decide you're a better bet than McKay and go for you instead."

Weir glanced down from the control room to where a squad of men armed with heavy machine guns and assault rifles stood at the ready, poised to advance through the Stargate on her word. She hated playing the military card, but at this stage her options were very limited. "In that case, Carson, we can go for the more direct approach. Major Lorne and his unit are standing by." Elizabeth left that offer hanging, fully aware that Beckett would understand what she was hinting at.

A different voice broke in on the radio channel. "Mason here, ma'am. As much as I'd like to agree to that, it's my estimation that a show of greater force would be very bad for your Dr. McKay. We need to deal with this at our end."

"I hear you, Staff Sergeant." Elizabeth glanced at the Gate Technician to her right. "Keith, tell Lorne and his team to stand down. For the moment."

Beckett was speaking again. "Things are moving quickly here. Lord Daus has given us notice that his men have apparently located Rodney, although he hasn't shown any proof yet."

Weir frowned. "Apparently? If they found him, why isn't he back with you? Where's Colonel Sheppard?"

"On a hunting expedition." She listened carefully as Carson outlined the content of Sheppard's discussion with the Magnate and the trade of the rogue Wraith for the Atlantis team's scientist.

"And John went along with this?"

"Aye, although he was nae very happy about it." She heard the doctor sigh heavily over the radio link. "But that's not the worst of it. We potentially have a much bigger problem than McKay's capture. Sheppard detected and destroyed a marker drone in orbit over Halcyon. It was of Wraith origin, Elizabeth. They tagged this planet as a food source thousands of years ago. "

Weir felt her breath catch in her throat. Beckett's statement hung in the air, and everyone in the control room who heard it felt the same jagged little dagger of fear the word `Wraith' engendered. They had all been there, watching the storms of weapons fire against the city's shield dome when the aliens had laid siege to Atlantis, and all of them understood the ruthless threat the Wraith posed. She heard a soft, muttered curse from over her shoulder. Dr. Radek Zelenka had entered the control room without her noticing, and now stood there, his face pale behind his glasses.

Elizabeth clamped down on her own concerns and moved past them. "Do you know if the beacon was transmitting? Are there Wraith on the way to you?"

"We can't be sure. It's possible."

She tapped her hand on the console. "Then I want you back here. If Halcyon is under threat of Wraith attack, I don't want my people there a second longer than they need to be."

"That's not going to happen," he replied wearily. "Gate travel to or from this planet has been suspended, under penalty of being shot to pieces. Until that changes, we're stuck here. And even if we could go, I've still got work to do here. Elizabeth, a lot of these people here are dying."

"They'll all be dying if the Wraith come for them," muttered Zelenka.

She hated to admit it, but the scientist had a point.

"Carson, making those people healthy isn't going to count for anything if a Hive Ship drops out of hyperspace over their planet!" Weir's voice sounded in Beckett's ear and he looked at Mason once again. The SAS trooper was watching the gun turrets. "If we want to help the Halcyons, we need to think about evacuating them to another world! Let me come through and I can talk to Daus — "

"No, Dr. Weir," snapped Mason. "I can't allow that. I'm the ranking military authority here in the Lieutenant Colonel's absence, and I'm telling you this. Anyone who comes through that Gate will be a red smear ten seconds later."

"Staff Sergeant, do I have to remind you who is in command of this expedition?"

Beckett swallowed hard at the soldier's gruesome description, but he saw the sense in it. "Elizabeth, listen. He's right. They'll shoot you down and not even blink."

When Weir spoke again, it was with firm resolve. "Then in that case, Staff Sergeant Mason, I expect you to make sure Dr. Beckett and the rest of the team are kept safe until we can get all of you home."

"Orders received and understood, ma'am," replied the soldier.

"Carson?"

"Go ahead."

"Try to keep out of trouble. In the meantime, I'm going to see if I can get you another ride, understood?"

Beckett and Mason exchanged glances, an unspoken communication passing between them. There were some things that Weir wasn't willing to discuss on an open channel, but her meaning was clear.

"Understood," replied the doctor, the stress of the last few hours abruptly settling on him. "Halcyon out."

Elizabeth turned to Zelenka, to find the scientist already working at a control console, his hands flying over the glassy Atlantean keypad, then to a laptop, then back again. "Radek, can you pinpoint the-"

"Location of the Daedalus?" A semi-transparent screen shimmered and solidified into a display of the Pegasus Galaxy's interstellar region. Zelenka touched a control and three cursors illuminated. "This is us, Atlantis. This is Daedalus. This is the Halcyon star system."

Weir gave a small smile at the man's ability to anticipate her request; but then he was a genius, like so many of the experts that had come with her from Cheyenne Mountain. "It's within their hyperspace transit range. We may have another option after all." She gestured to the duty technician. "Get sub-space communications on line for me. Send a priority one flash message to Colonel Caldwell."

"On it," came the reply.

"How long do you think it would take them to make the journey?"

Zelenka licked his lips. "That all depends on the energy flux curve they've been operating on during this voyage. You see, if it's a high co-efficient, then there could be a ten to twenty percent variation in the muon-"

"A ballpark figure, Radek," she broke in. "I don't need the decimal places."

"Oh. Of course. Ball-park." He hesitated, considering. "Thirty, perhaps thirty-five hours."

Weir studied the screen. "Is there nothing they could do to shave some time off that?"

Zelenka shook his head. "Even if they run the drives hot, it still wouldn't make more than a couple of hours difference. Hyperspace travel doesn't work like conventional rockets. It is all gravity curvatures and boson intersections." He gave her a weak grin. "As a famous engineer once said, `you cannot change the laws of physics."'

"A famous engineer?"

"Yes. I believe he was from Moscow."

"Dr. Weir?" The technician called out. "I have Daedalus on the comm."

She tapped her headset. "Colonel Caldwell?"

The voice of the starship's commander crackled from a hidden speaker. "Doctor. You're lucky you caught us. We've been conducting experiments on the edge of a Jovian planet's atmosphere, using the hydrogen ram scoop array developed by Colonel Carter"

Even though she couldn't see him, Weir held up her hand for quiet. "Colonel, as much as I would usually be fascinated by such an interesting scientific endeavor, I'm afraid I have to ask you to cut it short. We have a situation in the Halcyon system, a few parsecs from your current location." She entered a data string on her computer. "I'm sending you galactic co-ordinates for the system on a side channel, along with everything we have up until now on the mission there."

"Let me guess," Caldwell said dryly. "Sheppard 's team is in trouble?"

"For starters."

At another time, Caldwell might have argued the matter with her or made an issue of Sheppard's involvement; but the professional relationship between Weir and the captain of the Daedalus had now grown to the point where each had a level of respect for the other, and to Caldwell's credit he accepted her orders without question. "Tell inc what I need to know, Doctor, and we'll be on our way."

"There's a good possibility that the planet Halcyon is under imminent threat of Wraith attack, and right now our people can't Gate off world. You are to proceed to Halcyon at full military speed and offer all assistance needed to Colonel Sheppard and his team… And be prepared to engage the Wraith in force when you get there."

She heard Caldwell take a deep breath. "All right. Daedalus concurs." After a moment, the colonel spoke again, quietly so that only Weir could hear him. "Elizabeth, that planet's a day and a half away even at full throttle. If the Wraith are heading there, we may already be too late."

"I know, Colonel," she admitted. "Good hunting, Daedalus. Atlantis out."