Stargate Atlantis: Halcyon

by James Swallow

  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."

&n
bsp; 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 cha
nged. 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."