Stargate Atlantis: Halcyon

by James Swallow

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

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

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

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

  "What fun," murmured Teyla.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Is something wrong?" asked Linnian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "It's a power source?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "How have you survived against their stalkers?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Yes and no," said Sheppard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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