Stargate Atlantis: Halcyon Read online

  "Okay," said Rodney, folding down his hood. "I'm going to put this out there, just say what we're all thinking. Culled. The people here were culled by the Wraith."

  Sheppard glanced at the ceiling. "They must have swept in with Darts and just beamed them straight up," he said, turning to Hill.

  Teyla suppressed a shudder, thinking back to of the awful screeches of Wraith Dart-ships buzzing through the air of her own village, trawling for human lives.

  "No doors are locked," noted Dex. "Must have been panic in the streets."

  "Blimey," whispered the Private.

  "Question is, how long ago?" Sheppard studied the floor. "There's a little snow in here. It couldn't have been more than a few days."

  Ronon sniffed at a discarded tankard. "Maybe less."

  "And so we come to the big questions," said McKay, crossing the room. "Are they still here? And why don't we discuss this in greater depth back on Atlantis?"

  "This is not the only settlement on the planet, Doctor," said Teyla, "there are several others within a few day's riding."

  "The Wraith would have taken this one first," noted Ronon. "It's closest to the Gate. Then moved out in a spiral, looking for any more."

  Sheppard frowned. "All right. I'm just about ready to call this one. As much as I hate to admit that Rodney might be right about something, we're gonna head back to Atlantis and come back here after sun-up in a Jumper. We can scope out the other villages and look for survivors."

  "There won't be any," said Ronon, with grim finality. "I've seen this before, on dozens of worlds. They don't leave people behind. The Wraith don't waste anything."

  McKay was leaning close to a support pillar, shining a penlight at a bony disc halfway up the length. "This doesn't look right..."

  "What is it?"

  "The design looks different from the other manufactured items here-" Without warning, the disc let out a whirring sound and unfolded like a skeletal flower.

  Teyla saw a shock of recognition on Ronon's face; in the next second Dex had his particle magnum in his hand. "Get away!" he snapped.

  McKay barely had time to duck before Ronon's pistol barked and a flare of bright energy blew the pillar and the disc into burning fragments.

  "You could've killed me!" wailed the scientist.

  Dex turned on Sheppard. "That was a Wraith sensor pod. They leave them in places they've harvested in case they miss anyone the first time around."

  Hill nodded, getting it. "So any poor sods who came home thinking they'd gone would set it off, and back they come."

  "Okay, that's it," said Sheppard. "We're not waiting around here to see if the Wraith want us for a dessert course." He toggled his radio. "Mason,"

  "Sir," came the reply. "Heard gunfire, do we have enemy contact, over?"

  "Could be. Get back to the Gate on the double, I'm scrubbing this mission."

  "Roger that,"

  Sheppard looked up. "Let's move."

  Teyla heard his order, but it seemed as if the words were coming from a very great distance. She felt dislocated, suddenly unconnected to the cold and ill-lit tavern. She could feel something, out in the ice and the snow, out there in the howling winds. A predatory sensation in the back of her mind, the pale shadow of something cunning and hungry. It wasn't the same glimmer of threat she had felt at the Stargate, there and gone, the very barest touch on her senses. This was different, strong and horribly familiar.

  "Teyla!"

  She found herself again and turned on Sheppard. "Wraith. They're already here."

  The clatter of assault rifles met them as they raced from the tavern. The wind carried the sound from the direction of the Stargate, gunshots joined by the shrieking cracks of Wraith stunner blasts.

  "Mason, report!" demanded Sheppard.

  "Heavy contact," grated the Staff Sergeant, "they must have flanked us, come back around past the Gate. We got no cover up here!"

  "Fall back to the village and regroup," ordered the colonel. He turned to the others. "Hill, you're with me. Ronon, Teyla, McKay, find something defensible, something with thick walls, and hole up there. If they got Darts and they catch us in the open..." John let the sentence trail off. He didn't need to spell it out.

  "If we could just make a run for the Stargate-" began Rodney.

  "And let them know Atlantis isn't a pile of radioactive rubble?" Sheppard shook his head. "Nope. We gotta deal with this here. Go!"

  He sprinted off with Hill at his flank, moving quickly from cover to cover in the lee of deep shadows. McKay's escape plan, while crude and direct-and not without a certain appeal, John had to admit-was out of the question. The Wraith siege of Atlantis, months ago now although it still seemed fresh in his mind, had ended with a magic trick that David Copperfield would have been proud of. The city's defensive shield had been turned into a cloaking device to fool the aliens into thinking Atlantis had been obliterated, but now each time an off world team ran afoul of a Wraith raiding party they were effectively on their own. They had to operate as if they were isolated survivors who had escaped the city's destruction, lest they tip off the aliens that Atlantis was still intact.

  And right now, that meant they had no easy way out of this.

  Gingerly, the adjutant ventured a question. "Highness, what would you have us do in this engagement? The troops await your orders."

  His commander remained silent for a long moment, observing the unfolding fray in the village through a bulky brass monocular. When the answer came, it was another question. "Who are these people? Their livery and wargear is of no manufacture I can place, not from the homeworld or a vassal planet."

  "I suspect they are Genii," offered the adjutant.

  The commander made a negative noise. "I know those skulks, and these people do not wage war like them." The exchange of fire became furious, reaching them in the cover of the tree line. "Genii warriors would run. These ones stand and fight. They have zeal."

  "Highness," said the man, "if you would forgive my temerity to say so, but their zeal will give them little support against such numbers of Wraith. The second group of the predators we observed even now approach from the far side of the village. These people, whomever they give allegiance to, will perish if we do not intervene. Is that your wish?"

  The commander snapped the monocular shut and met his gaze. "That would be poor form, don't you think? It would be impolite of us, to say the least."

  "Your will, Highness." The adjutant nodded and turned to his troops. "Charge your guns, gentlemen, and ready the horns."

  Sheppard and Hill met Mason and the other men at the edge of the township. White fire from Wraith guns sizzled down after them, flaring off the snow. Private Bishop had Corporal Clarke on his shoulder, helping his comrade scramble away. Mason was low behind them, spraying bullets from his L85 rifle. Sheppard and Hill fell against cover either side of the alleyway and set up corridors of gunfire, covering the retreating men. Bishop and Clarke scrambled past them, and the colonel saw the corporal's face slack and numb along the left-hand side, like a stroke victim.

  "He got clipped by a stunner," said Bishop, by way of explanation.

  "Bathtahds," lisped Clarke, `worz thun been drung,"

  "Fall back," snapped Sheppard, "we got you covered."

  Mason came after them, ducking low. "Reloading!" he shouted, ejecting the clip on the bullpup assault rifle.

  Sheppard and Hill kept up the pressure, taking down Wraith warriors with careful aimed shots to the torso. Mason joined in as the colonel's own weapon ran dry. He dropped behind a wooden barrel and levered off the empty magazine.

  "Sheppard!" Ronon's voice crackled from his radio. "Teyla found a place we can use as a strongpoint, west of you, a conical building."

  "Copy that, we're on our way." Sheppard called out to Mason. "You get that, Staff Sergeant?"

  "Clear as a bell, sir,"

  "Then let's go!"

  Moving and firing, the five of them made their way back into the village in an overwatc
h formation, two men covering the others as they dropped away from the Wraith advance. They turned the corner and sprinted the last few meters to the building Dex had described, half-dragging the injured corporal with them.

  Teyla was at the heavy wooden door, her P90 primed and ready. "Did you bring any guests?" she asked dryly.

  Sheppard nodded. "Afraid so. And they all want dinner." He cast a look around inside. The building was circular, with only one door but a number of slatted hatches in the walls. The air smelt of mould. "What is this place?"

  "A granary," said Teyla. "We are lucky it is summer. In winter this would have been full."

  "Summer?" echoed McKay. "That's summer out there?"

  Ronon crouched and gave Clarke a look over. "Don't worry, the pain will pass. Can you hold a weapon?"

  "Yeh," managed the soldier, his head lolling. "Jus' point me atta door."

  Mason directed the other men to firing positions at the slats and Dex approached the colonel. "So, how we going play this, Sheppard? You let them bottle us up, and-"

  "I'm working on it," he replied, cutting Ronon off. "We miss our call-in and Atlantis will send out Lorne and a rescue team."

  "That's not much of a plan."

  "Hey, I'm making this up as I go."

  Rodney snorted. "No change from normal there, then."

  "I see one," said Bishop. "End of the street, he's scoping us.

  "They won't try to wait us out," said Dex, "that's not how they do it. They'll rush us." He sneered. "Wraith like the direct approach."

  "Couldn't be more than a dozen of them clowns out there," noted Hill, "even counting those we put down."

  Sheppard looked around. "Ammo check. Anyone low?" He got a chorus of negatives from everyone except Teyla. The Athosian woman was stock still, sighting down the length of her gun. "Teyla, you with us?"

  She shuddered, and he saw the distant, fearful look in her eyes that he knew meant trouble. "John. There are more Wraith out there. A lot more. They know-"

  Teyla's words were drowned out in a howling chorus of blaster bolts as the aliens opened up on the stone building from all sides.

  "Return fire!" barked Sheppard. "Targets of opportunity!"

  Hot flares of muzzle flash stabbed out into the night, reaching toward the Wraith advance; but they were coming like a snarling tide, shrugging off glancing hits, furious in their attacks.

  Rodney unloaded his pistol into the enemy advance, firing off the whole magazine in what seemed like seconds. He felt a momentary surge of elation as one of the Wraith warriors went down, but then realized that the gun was empty. He fumbled desperately at a fresh clip, ducking behind Ronon as the Satedan ex-soldier sent shot after shot into the enemy attack. I should get a laser gun, too, he told himself, none of this stupid reloading stuff with those space blasters.

  The Wraith shots rang the granary like a bell, sending rains of powdery snow and wood fragments falling from the support beams. The breech of the Beretta pistol finally snapped shut and he brought it up to firing position, fighting off the trembling in his hands. "I am not going to die cold and scared," he whispered. "I am going to die of old age surrounded by nubile graduate students and my many Nobel Prizes." It had become a kind of mantra for McKay, a quiet little prayer he relied upon whenever things took a turn for the worst... And that seemed to be a regular occurrence these days. The first part changed depending on the circumstances; "cold and scared" had previously been "as Wraith snack food", "of suffocation", "in a nuclear fireball" and so on. So far, it seemed to have worked. So far.

  He started squeezing the trigger; and then he heard the reveille of a brass section. That's it, he realized, I've gone mad with the fear

  "What the bloody hell is that racket?" shouted Bishop.

  Something that sounded like a cross between a set of bagpipes and a trumpet was blaring out a clarion call across the snowbound valley, echoing back and forth over the village; then moments later it was joined by a crashing, thunderous fusillade of gunshots.

  "We got fire support," said Hill.

  "But from where?" asked Ronon.

  McKay craned over Dex's shoulder. "That's not Major Lorne..."

  Sheppard's face creased in unease. "Sounds almost like... Muskets, or a blunderbuss."

  "There!" Rodney pointed. Figures in heavy black greatcoats were rushing down from the tree line. Brocade and filigree on their clothing glittered in the moonlight, and thin wisps of steam trailed from packs on their backs. They wore high hats with dark face masks. Some carried long rifles, others bright spotlights with stark yellow beams, and a couple-well, a couple of them were playing long brass trombone-like contraptions.

  The new arrivals had the Wraith caught unawares, and the aliens broke off their assault on the granary, scrambling to regroup to meet the larger force. Mason and the others took the advantage and pressed forward out of the doorway, striking at the enemy as they disengaged.

  "Rodney, stay with Clarke!" Sheppard snapped and vaulted out with Ronon and Teyla behind him.

  McKay pressed himself up against the hatch slats and saw the Wraith break under the hammer of the hooded soldiers. There were ten of them that he could count, and they moved in drilled lines like Roman legions, shifting about and taking the Wraith down with quick, efficient moves. Each time one of them fired a shot, the blocky bulk of their rifles spat out a plume of vapor and snarled like a dog. He couldn't smell the acrid tang of cordite; instead he tasted wood smoke and steam.

  The hooded troopers made short work of the Wraith, some ripping into them with flights of flashing steel darts, other guns releasing slow-moving shells that stuck to Wraith battle armor and let off crackles of electric discharge. The men with the horns produced pistols with wide, bell-shaped maws and from these they fired expanding nets that enshrouded any Wraith who fled, pinning them to the ground.

  Then the aliens were all dead or subdued, and only the Atlantis team remained standing before the soldiers. The sounds of battle died away into the night and silence fell heavily.

  Clarke dragged himself to his feet and stumbled painfully outside, and McKay followed warily behind. "I am not going to die on this stupid Lapland planet," he began quietly.

  Sheppard could see from the corner of his eye that the P90 still had half a clip remaining, but he had no idea about any of the others in his team. If things were going to turn bad, it would happen in the next few seconds, and with a sinking feeling he realized that the choice would be all down to him.

  Two of the hooded figures detached themselves from the main group and took a couple of steps forward. The colonel's first impression was a flash of memory from a history book he'd read during officer training school. The uniforms looked like something from the Napoleonic era, hats like the Prussians wore, big shoulder pads and buttons, panels of etched armor plate and ornamental tabards. With slow and careful motions, Sheppard pulled down the hood of his parka and allowed the P90 to point at the ground, taking care not to let his finger stray too far from the trigger.

  One of the figures had more gold leaf and jewels encrusted on their uniform than the others, so it was a safe bet this was the person in charge. John could see lines of pressed metal medals down the right arm of the soldier, twice as many as any of the others.

  He gave his best winning smile. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force. We appreciate the assist."

  The lower ranked soldier tensed. "You will not speak until given - "

  A raised hand from the commander silenced him, and he gave a contrite nod. With equal care, the highly decorated figure released a series of clasps around the hood-helmet headgear and removed it. The cold wind caught a flurry of striking red hair and pulled it up like a pennant. Sheppard found himself looking at a young woman with a regal, composed air about her. "I am the Lady Erony of the Fourth Dynast. You may consider my intervention a gift."

  "I do," said the colonel. "I mean, thanks." John frowned a little. The tension didn't seem to be easing any. "If we t
respassed on your village, we're sorry-"

  "This?" sniffed Erony, with a faint air of disgust. "This is not our world. Surely you recognize our insignia? We are a hunting party from Halcyon, here seeking a lost splinter of our brethren."

  "We're kinda new to this part of the galaxy," Sheppard replied. "We, ah, we're from out of town."

  "Indeed?" said the woman. "And yet you have already made an enemy of the Wraith."

  "Well, you know them. They make an enemy of just about everybody."

  "True." Erony hesitated as her subordinate leaned close.

  The other man nodded at Ronon. "Highness, the darkskinned male. He bares the mark of a Runner."

  "So I see. I am intrigued." Erony studied Sheppard's team. "Your soldier is injured?" she asked, indicating Clarke. "I would offer assistance to him, if you wish."

  "Very kind of you," said Sheppard.

  She cocked her head. "The Wraith are the bane of life. Anyone who hunts them can be an ally of Halcyon."

  "My Lady," insisted the soldier, "we know nothing of these people, where they hail from or what they intend. If the Magnate -"

  She gave the man a hard look. "You will be silent, Linnian. This is my splinter, and I alone decide the play of the game." Erony looked at Sheppard again. "I grow so jaded with the hunt at times, Lieutenant Colonel, and there are so few new distractions these days. Your party will accompany us back through the Great Circlet to Halcyon."

  Sheppard blinked. "Well, that's a very nice offer-"

  A loud sneeze from McKay broke through his words. "Sorry," ventured Rodney. "I think I've caught a chill."

  Erony gave a small smile. "I'm sure your cohort will enjoy it there. Halcyon is far more temperate than this frigid sphere."

  "We have people waiting for us on the other side of the, uh, Circlet. They'll be expecting us to contact them."

  "Do so," said the woman. "Inform them that you are now guests of the Fourth Dynast. Make it clear to them that the Lady Erony does not give her invitations lightly, nor does she expect them to be refused." Her eyes flashed. "I trust we understand one another?"