Stargate Atlantis: Halcyon Read online

"We certainly do," said Sheppard, eyeing the ranks of hooded troopers outnumbering them.

  Weir leaned forward and folded her arms on the gallery rail, staring into the placid vertical pool of the open Stargate. "Halcyon? The name doesn't raise any flags in the database. What's your take on this, John?"

  Sheppard's voice was tinny in her radio earpiece. "Ronon says he's heard of these people, but only a few whispers. They're fighters, apparently, but they keep to their own turf. They sure made a mess of the Wraith out here."

  "Well, any enemy of the Wraith could be a friend of ours."

  "That's pretty much what Lady Erony said. They want us to go back with them. I'm thinking we should play along for the moment, just to be gracious."

  "They did just save your lives."

  "Yeah, and we don't want to get a reputation for rudeness in the Pegasus Galaxy, right?"

  "I concur, John. I have my hands full with the preparations for Daedalus, so I'm authorizing you to make official diplomatic contact with Halcyon's government on behalf of Earth. I think we're overdue to build some bridges out here."

  There was a hiss of static as he paused. "Elizabeth, I don't know if I'm exactly the right guy for the job..."

  "I'm certainly not going to ask Rodney to do it. You'll be fine, John. I know you can pour on the charm if you need to."

  She heard the smile in his voice. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Okay. I'll report back after we make some progress."

  Weir nodded. "Watch yourself, John. Come back safe."

  "Count on it. Sheppard out."

  The wormhole vanished into nothingness, the blue chevrons turning dark. It was a long moment before Elizabeth could turn away and return to her duties.

  Sheppard looked up as Ronon and Teyla approached him. "We have a go, so I guess we better put on our best shoes."

  Ronon threw a look at his footwear. "These are my best shoes."

  "How's Clarke doing?"

  "The stun blast is wearing off. He will be fine. Colonel, there's something we wanted to bring to your attention," said Teyla, a serious expression on her face. "While you were in communication with Atlantis, Lady Erony's men have been at work on the Wraith."

  "Define `at work'..."

  "They left a few of them alive," noted Dex, "they stunned them and trussed them up like cattle."

  "I heard some of them talking. They are taking the survivors as prisoners. After we go back to Halcyon with Erony, they will follow us with the captured Wraith."

  Sheppard's brow furrowed. "What would they want with live Wraith?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine," said Ronon, "but I don't like it."

  The colonel's answer died in his throat as Lady Erony walked over to the DHD where they stood. "You have conversed with your friends?" she asked.

  Sheppard nodded. "I've been given full diplomatic status, apparently. It's kind of a new string to my bow, but I'm hoping to do well with it."

  She began to enter a sequence of symbols on the oval podium. "Excellent. I will furnish you with a formal introduction to Halcyon's ruler after we arrive."

  The Gate flared with exotic energies and opened. "You can do that?"

  "Of course," said Erony, with a hint of amusement. "He's my father."

  hey emerged from the Stargate into the yellow sodium glare of harsh spotlights, and for a moment Sheppard had to fight back the reflexive twitch of his trigger finger. Then the beams turned aside and a set of bells and trumpets struck up a brief fanfare, the flourish echoing around them as Lady Erony walked forward.

  "She must be important," McKay said from the side of his mouth, "she's got her own theme music."

  Blinking away the afterimage on his retinas, the colonel glanced around and took in the place where they found themselves. The chamber was long and wide, open inside with illumination in tight clusters from the spotlights and thin window slits at the tops of the walls. There were aircraft hangars out at Nellis and Groom Lake that were large enough to hold a B-52 bomber with room to spare, and this place could have swallowed one of those easily. He imagined that a good pilot could have backed the Daedalus in here for a touchdown. The Stargate had pride of place, raised up on a wide dais and ringed with skeletal derricks. As he stepped forward, Sheppard heard faint whirring noises coming from the tops of the towers and looked up. He could see ornate horns like something from an old gramophone and huge glass-eyed, wooden-bodied cameras that were the size of a doghouse. Thick cables snaked away from them into the shadows. A broad pavement led down from the dais, marked every few meters by poles topped with elaborate ceremonial banners. Beyond those were indistinct shapes in the dimness past the pools of yellow light, broad cylinders of dull gray metal. More men with the same large rifles as Erony's party stood at attention in a semi-circle before them, heads bowed. The colonel noted that their uniforms, while similar in cut to those of Erony and her men, were of a different color and the tabards were reversed. Same army, different unit? he wondered.

  There were giant cogwheels on pinions overhead, thick chains big enough to haul battleship anchors, and massive, silent pistons. Sheppard couldn't be sure, but he thought he could see the very slightest knife of daylight coming from a long horizontal join in the roof above. The Gate Hangar-he was already thinking of it as that, as it was way too big to be considered a Gate `room'-was hissy with steam and there was the unmistakable smell of oil and grease. This was a wrought iron edifice, heavy, boiler-plated and industrial; the absolute antithesis of the clean silver lines of Atlantis.

  From the corner of his eye he saw Mason and the SAS troopers, Ronon and Teyla, all of them eyeing the shadows with the same air of wariness.

  McKay looked at the ground under his feet and nodded. "Huh. We're standing on a natural stone platform. Looks like this place was built around it, or maybe it was brought here from somewhere else."

  "The latter is the correct assumption," said Erony. "You are quite observant."

  "I'm a scientist," McKay noted. "Observation is part of what I do."

  "Indeed?" The woman gave him an appraising look, as if she were re-evaluating him. "Forgive me, but I do not have your name...

  "Oh yeah, sorry," said the colonel. "I'm terrible with introductions. This is Dr. Rodney McKay."

  "Greetings," said Erony, inclining her head.

  "Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan, Staff Sergeant Mason, Corporal Clarke and-"

  "Of course," Erony didn't appear to be paying attention to Sheppard any more, still studying McKay.

  "-and, uh, Privates Bishop and Hill..." The colonel concluded.

  "It is unusual for a scientist to be part of a hunt splinter on Halcyon," she continued. "Is this the first time you have been allowed to venture from your conclave?"

  Rodney straightened. "Absolutely not. I'm a valuable member of a front-line team. In fact, I'd go as far to say that my expertise has often been the key factor in the survival of this, uh, this unit."

  "Couldn't imagine life without him," added Ronon.

  If Erony noticed the faint sarcasm in Dex's words, she gave no sign of it. "You will all accompany me, then. My adjutant Linnian has summoned a conveyor to take us into the capital." She gestured at the pavement. "This way."

  "If I may ask, where did your Stargate come from, if it was not found here?" said Teyla, as they walked.

  Erony spoke over her shoulder. "Star-Gate? That is what you call the Great Circlet? What a delightful term." She smiled briefly. "Yes, my ancestors brought our Circlet from an area in our polar regions, many generations ago, long before we had deciphered the sigils on the podium and learned the secrets of the portals it contained. It remains here now, inside the Terminal, held secure so that all on Halcyon understand that they are protected from any intruders it might admit."

  Sheppard glanced up past the banners and got a better look at the oval-topped cylinders. Now he could see them for what they were; a cordon of gun turrets, short, stubby barrels of large caliber all pointing inward toward the Stargate. He had no doubt the
re were just as many on the other side of the Gate from where these stood.

  Erony saw where he was looking and threw him a proud nod. "Invaders who come through the Circlet with malice in their hearts are not allowed far, Lieutenant Colonel." She pointed up at one of the flat concrete walls and Sheppard could just make out the discoloration of old blast damage. "The Wraith sent one of their screamer-ships here, when I was a small child. They paid for their impudence."

  "So I see."

  At the end of the pathway, two more troopers snapped their rifles to arms as a large elevator platform came level with them. Erony's second-in-command from the ice planet had gone on ahead and stood there now, waiting for them. He bowed. "High ness, all is prepared. The Lord Magnate has been informed of your return. He wishes to speak with you."

  The group boarded the elevator and it began to ascend. "Just so," said Erony. "I will see him when we arrive at the High Palace."

  "Forgive me if I correct you, My Lady, but the Lord Magnate desires otherwise. He wishes you to contact him via telekrypter prior to leaving the Terminal."

  There was a flash of annoyance on Erony's face. Sheppard gave a wan smile. "Parents, huh?"

  The elevator rattled as it rose out through the ceiling of the Gate Hangar and into bright daylight, past the upper tiers of the facility. Through the iron mesh of the shaft's walls the layout of the complex became clearer.

  "Military base," said Ronon, noting the dispersed lines of blockhouses, the parade grounds and ranks of troops. Many of these wore the colors of the men on the lower levels, but many more were in different hues of blue, brown, red and purple.

  "Cathedral," countered McKay, indicating the ornamental rows of statuary that studded the site. There were vast arches and spires more suited to a church, obelisks and what looked like complex shrines.

  "I am not familiar with that word," said Erony. "What does it mean?"

  "A cathedral... It's a place of worship, a building where you can venerate your religion..."

  The woman let out a short laugh. "Oh, Doctor, do you seek to mock us? Please, Halcyon is not some backwater world of savages where we huddle in caves and pay homage to ephemeral deities! This is a society of rational, intelligent thinking. You will not find the delusions of religion here."

  "You have no faith on this world?" said Teyla.

  "Of course we do," said Erony, "but it is in our fellows, in our own humanity, our might." She said the words with the rhythm of a rote recollection. "Our faith is in our swords and our shields."

  They continued upward until the lift halted at a raised plat form several stories above the ground level. They followed Erony out and Sheppard realized that they were standing in an elevated railway station.

  "You will excuse me," said Erony, moving away with Linnian, "this will take but a moment."

  When they were out of earshot, Sheppard turned to his team. "First impressions?"

  "Technology level seems comparable with late 19th century Earth," began McKay. "Post-industrial revolution, preatomic, at a guess. Electricity, fossil fuels..."

  Mason sniffed the air. "Steam engines." The soldier nodded at the single iron rail running off into the distance. "Me granddad was an engineer on the railway. Worked on the Pullmans. I'd know the smell anywhere."

  "This is an armed people," added Teyla. "Everyone we have passed, even those down on the ground, they carried firearms or blades, often both."

  Ronon rubbed his chin. "Swords and shields."

  "Good eye," said Sheppard. "What else?"

  Clarke was standing at the edge of the platform, looking off into the distance, still a little pale from being on the wrong end of a Wraith weapon. "Rolling hills out there, lots of farmland. Reminds me a bit of Wales, actually." He pointed. "Looks like a city over that way."

  Sheppard removed his binoculars from his pack and looked in the direction Clarke indicated. Beyond the valley where the Terminal complex lay he could see towers in dark red stone rising behind the hillside, and there were tall chimneys belching black streamers of smoke. It was hard to tell at this distance, but there were objects drifting between the buildings, some slow-moving sliver-white ellipses, others quick glitters of wings as fast as mayflies. "Airships? Helicopters?" He wondered aloud.

  "Something else," added Ronon. "Why haven't they asked us for our weapons yet?"

  Teyla nodded. "Ronon is correct. Erony and her men have already seen them in action, yet they have not requested we surrender them."

  "Maybe they just haven't got around to it yet."

  "Or," said Bishop, "maybe they don't see us a that much of a threat."

  "Let's keep it that way," agreed Sheppard, "we're guests, remember? Best behavior."

  "They're going to want to know where we're from," said McKay, "the question is going to come up. Are we sticking with the `Atlantis got all blown up except for us' cover story?"

  "They don't know we were talking to Atlantis back on M3Y-465. We'll play the cards we got for the moment. I don't think they know who we are at this stage."

  "Of course," scoffed Rodney, poking a finger at the Velcro tab on his sleeve. "Our enemies will never recognize us now we've removed our insignia. That's about as good a disguise as a stick-on moustache. Why is it that we have to leave our patches behind every time we go off world, anyhow?"

  "Regulations, sir," replied Mason. "Special operations. No identifying markings permitted on active duty."

  McKay snorted. "I'd like to remind everyone that this planet is a kajillion light years from anyone who has even heard of Earth, let alone someone who might be able to recognize the flags of all nations."

  "How much is a kajillion?" rumbled Ronon. "It sounds like a lot."

  McKay ignored the sarcasm and kept talking. "Okay, sure, so we do have a patch that says `Atlantis' on it, and maybe we might want to keep where we come from a secret from some people, but who in the Pegasus Galaxy can even read it? I don't see the point."

  "You're forgetting one thing, Rodney," said Sheppard.

  "And what's that?"

  "For all we know, on Halcyon a red maple leaf on a white background could be a symbol for `please eat me alive' in their native language." He threw a glance over his shoulder. "Why take the risk?"

  The two soldiers behind McKay smothered snorts of amusement and looked away.

  Lady Erony returned as their ride arrived at the platform. A long steel-gray bullet, the monorail train hissed and spat like a live thing, rolling to a clanking halt. Thick hatches of armor plate dropped open like drawbridges and men in red tabards scrambled around the hull of the machine, checking pipes and valves. The central carriages of the train were detailed with fine scrollwork etched into the dull metal. The lines and whorls of engraving were polished to a high sheen; but it was clear where parts of the conveyor had been panel-beaten back into shape after some kind of blunt impact, and there were disc-shaped patches here and there that might have covered bullet holes.

  Inside there were lush carpets and crafted furniture of honeycolored wood. Gas lamps lit the interior, catching gold and silver threading all about them. In each corner of the carriage, ornamental bell jars contained raptor-like birds that had been stuffed and mounted. The hatches slammed closed and locked with a grunt of hydraulics.

  "All aboard," muttered Mason, as the monorail launched away from the station and out over the countryside.

  The train picked up speed quickly, the view through the windows blurring. Erony waved the Atlantis team to seats in the open carriage and nodded to Linnian. "Refreshments," she ordered, and the shorter man bowed in obeisance.

  She took a device like a ticket dispenser from a nearby desk and cranked the handle; a tape of paper emerged and she scribbled on it with a stylus. "I would ask each of you to carry one of these with you while you are in our domain," said the woman, handing the first voucher to Ronon. "It is a permission from my Dynast, identifying you as a guest of the High Palace." Erony set to work on more of them, and handed them out to the gr
oup. Sheppard studied the machine-imprinted paper; the text on it was a series of bars and blocks. "Looks like Ancient script," he noted quietly to McKay.

  Rodney nodded. "There's some linguistic drift, but I'd say it came from the same root." Then suddenly, as if a thought had occurred to him, the doctor took a seat and removed his laptop from his pack.

  Linnian returned with a pair of servants in tow, each carrying trays of cups and small food dishes. Lady Erony helped herself to a few things and then gestured at her guests. "Please, partake. Volla Leaf tea is a personal favorite of mine."

  Teyla took a wary drink and smiled. "Quite lovely." Despite the hard look Mason gave to Clarke, the corporal took a handful of bread-like things and ate them.

  Erony's mood seemed to have changed; Sheppard could sense a false note of forced jollity there, and he wondered what had been said during her conversation with her father. "Lieutenant Colonel, I must ask. I have been studying your wargear and I find myself wondering. Where are your swords?"

  "Ah, well, we don't really do the sword thing very much," he began.

  "Speak for yourself," broke in Ronon, pulling his wicked blade from the scabbard on his back. "This is a Satedan battle steel. Each one is unique, tailored for the owner."

  "I see," Erony nodded. "Ronon Dex is your blade champion, then?"

  "Something like that," smiled the colonel.

  Erony approached Dex without hesitation or fear, despite the fact that he towered over her. "I wish to hold it."

  Ronon turned the sword in his grip and presented the hilt to her. Erony took it and made a couple of low practice swings. "Heavy, and yet it is finely balanced. Not an ornamental weapon, but a war-blade." She studied the sword closely, looking at the nicks in the edge. "Have you dispatched many Wraith with it?"

  "I lost count."

  The woman returned Ronon's property, and Dex nodded to Linnian's gear where it hung on a wall rack. "Interesting rifle."

  "Show him," ordered the woman, and her adjutant bowed, passing the bulky steam-gun across.

  Sheppard watched the interplay carefully. There was an odd kind of bonding going on here, the same sort of macho venera tion of gear he'd seen a hundred times among soldiers of every stripe -and yet it seemed slightly off-kilter to him, almost ritualized. In her own way, Erony was mapping out the hierarchy of his team against the martial rules of her people. Not just a pretty face, he opined silently.