Stargate Atlantis: Halcyon Read online

  "Colonel," called Mason. "Reckon we shouldn't interfere, sir - "

  Ronon gave a humorless smile. "Ten to one he starts a fight with both of them."

  Corporal Clarke shrugged. "I'll take those odds."

  "Pestilent!" snarled the noble in blue. "You, sir, are a gutless child without the courage of your convictions! I would run you through if I did not think it would dirty the floors of this august place!" He had his hand on the hilt of the sword and it clattered in its scabbard.

  I'll be darned, thought Sheppard as he approached, that's what they mean by `rattling your saber'.

  The noble wearing the tan uniform bared his teeth in anger. "You dare insult me so under the roof of our Lord Magnate? I will see you dead in the soil and your lands annexed to my fief!" The other man drew a length of bright steel blade from his own weapon.

  "Hi there," said Sheppard brightly, interposing himself between the two men. He took their empty hands and pumped them both in a vigorous handshake. "I'm John, and I'm new around here, but I just wanted to tell you two guys what a great planet you've got. I love this palace. It's big, you know?"

  "What?" said Blue, nonplussed by this sudden interruption.

  Sheppard kept talking, careful to block the path of any potential violence between the nobles. He pointed upward. "And that root? Wow. Just wow. Honestly, that beats the Sistine Chapel hands down, am I right?"

  "Now, see here-" began Tan, struggling to regain control of the situation.

  "Hey," Sheppard put his arm around Tan's shoulder. "That guy in the painting, up there? Who is he? I'd love to know, `cos I'm a bit of a tourist at heart..." Suddenly he was guiding them apart, out of fighting range of each other.

  "It... It is the former Lord Magnate Trahvis, leading the victors at the Battle of the Nine Loops..."

  "Trahvis, huh? He was a mean-lookin' fella, wasn't he?"

  "Stop!" snapped Blue. "There is an issue of honor here, and I will not be denied!"

  The colonel made a conciliatory gesture. "Guys, hey. We're getting along so well here. Let's not spoil it."

  But then the man in blue had his sword drawn and the blade hung in the air, a dangerous arc of glittering silver. "Step away, outworlder, or I will gut you as well-"

  "You will do no such thing," said a smooth, cold voice. A man clad in the same black uniform as Erony approached them. He had olive skin and elfin eyes, and he walked with swiftness and grace. Something about him sent up warning flags in Sheppard's mind. He wasn't like these two poseurs. He moved like he was dangerous.

  The reaction of the noblemen confirmed it. Tan bowed his head and Blue's blade drooped. "There is a issue of honor, Baron Vekken," repeated the swordsman.

  Vekken nodded. "If that is so, it will be dealt with in a civilized manner, as the codes decree." His voice hardened. "It will not be dealt with through wanton bloodshed in the Magnate's residence, in front of the guests of his Highness's daughter."

  "Of course," said Blue after a moment, sheathing his sword. "I beg the court's pardon. In the heat of my ire, I forgot my place."

  Vekken inclined his head and looked to Sheppard. "Lieutenant Colonel, yes? I am Baron Aldus Vekken, personal adjutant to the Lord Magnate. Please, attend me so we may make formal introductions."

  Sheppard threw a smile at the two cowed nobles. "You guys be cool, okay?"

  Vekken lowered his voice as they walked away. "A word of advice, sir. Only the Magnate or his agents may intervene in disputes in the court."

  "I just didn't want to see the party ruined," countered the colonel, "but boys will be boys, right?"

  Vekken raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Indeed."

  Teyla watched the colonel and the Magnate's man, unable to take her eyes off Vekken. The taciturn adjutant did not meet her gaze once, but she was certain he was aware of her scrutiny. He seemed different to the other Halcyons they had encountered up until now, and in some peculiar way she could not fathom, the man was familiar to her. The realization was unsettling for the Athosian woman and she flattened the disquiet in her chest, pushing it away. Too many things about this place were distracting her, and that would not do. For all the airs and graces these people displayed, the moment of swordplay just now showed her that violence was bubbling just below the surface of their courtly manners. The group would all have to be on their guard, in case the next burst of hostility was directed at a member of the Atlantis team.

  Vekken stepped up on to the lowest of the dais's tiers and cleared his throat. When he spoke, it was with a clear and steady accent that carried to the back of the chamber. "Dukes, Barony and escorts, guests and attendants. Give your salute and your recognition to his Highness, the Lord Magnate Ranavar Daus of the Fourth Dynast, Peer of Peers, Magister of the Sovereign World of Halcyon and her dominions, Hero of the Tephite Campaign and the Hand that crafted the Lokrist Accord."

  The curtain behind the throne parted and Erony's father emerged, smiling broadly. At once Teyla saw both the family resemblance to the young woman, and to the faces of the heroic figures painted on the ceiling. Daus, like so many men and women here, wore clothes of a military cut, but his differed with the addition of a large cloak and elaborate chains of office about his neck. Thickset but not stocky, the Magnate had the look of a man who had been a formidable fighter in his youth, now robbed somewhat of his power and stamina by easy living and the passage of time.

  The ruler of Halcyon accepted a scattering of applause from his courtiers and embraced his daughter. Teyla expected him to take the throne, but he did not, walking down the steps of the dais toward the Atlantis team. Vekken moved with him, a constant and watchful shadow, and behind them came Erony and two other men.

  "When she was a child, my dear daughter would often bring small animals to me for my attention," Daus smiled, "and to this day she continues to bring me new and fascinating faces." The Magnate made a kind of ritual salute at Sheppard. "Welcome to our world, my friends."

  "Thank you kindly," said John. "I, ah, apologize if we're a little underdressed for the occasion. These are just our working clothes, and we wouldn't want to give you the wrong impression." He glanced at Mason and the other SAS troopers, the fragmented camouflage of their uniforms wildly out of place in the huge ballroom.

  "Ah," Daus accepted this with a nod. "It is of no consequence. The wargear of a gallant soldier is as dignified as any finery in my eyes." He studied the group before him. "You are the Lieutenant Colonel, yes? Leader of this hunt splinter? Erony has given me your names and told me of your fight with the Wraith on the ice moon."

  "Just another day at the office," said Sheppard.

  The Magnate gestured to his associates. "You have already had the pleasure of meeting my child and my strong right arm Vekken. These others are my advisors, First Minister Muruw and Master Scientist Kelfer."

  Teyla watched two very different expressions on the faces of the two men. The balding and burly Muruw seemed disappointed with the new arrivals, while the dark-skinned Keifer showed a flash of clinical interest.

  "Master Scientist?" echoed McKay. "We should talk."

  "One thing at a time, Rodney," said the colonel. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

  McKay continued, spotting an opportunity. "Lady Erony mentioned a... a dolmen? I'd very much like to see it."

  Kelfer frowned. "The dolmen is a site of historical interest and access is strictly controlled to prevent annexing. But perhaps something could be arranged."

  "There is common ground already between us." Daus gave each of them a penetrating look. "It is fascinating to make new acquaintances. I confess, your garb and your wargear are unknown to us. Tell me, where do you hail from?"

  Sheppard ignored the 1-told-you-so expression on McKay's face. "We're originally from a planet called Earth, Teyla and Ronon here are from Athos and Sateda."

  "Earth," the Magnate considered the name. "Is that a Genii colony?"

  "Hardly," snorted Rodney, without thinking.

  "The Genii aren't exactly top
of our buddy list," Sheppard admitted. "We've had some disagreements with them."

  Daus smiled again. "That pleases me to know, Lieutenant Colonel. Halcyon and Genii have crossed swords in the past, and if you were in their service, I'm afraid your welcome would quickly expire."

  "They are a low-born people," added Muruw. "They trade in deceit and secrecy."

  "You'll get no argument from me about that," agreed Sheppard.

  "You said you were `originally' from this Earth," Vekken broke in. "Where do you reside now? On the ice moon?"

  This is it, John told himself. "No. Up until recently, we were living in Atlantis."

  There were gasps. "Atlantis? The lost city?" said Kelfer. "That's just a fiction. A Precursor story for children."

  Teyla spoke up. "Not so. The city of the Ancestors, the Ancients, is no fallacy."

  Daus tapped his chin. "You are the New Atlanteans... I admit, I have heard second-hand of such rumors from outworlders who trade with our hunters, but I gave them little credence." He shook his head. "Incredible. Today truly is a day for surprises."

  Vekken stepped down and closed the distance with Sheppard. "But if this is so, if you are genuinely the ones who reawakened the City of the Precursors, then tell us. What of the dark tales we have heard of late being spread by the Wraith?" John tensed as the man gave him a threatening glare. "Is it true? Have the Wraith destroyed Atlantis?"

  Sheppard swallowed hard. "They came in a dozen hive ships," he began, skirting the lie. "If they had taken the city, then they would have had access to all the knowledge of the people who built it."

  Genuine shock showed on the faces of all but the Magnate. "You allowed the city to be obliterated?" spat Muruw. "A legend, sacrificed for your own lives?"

  "Is it true?" pressed Vekken, never breaking eye contact with Sheppard.

  "Enough!" snapped Daus, turning a harsh glare on his minister. "We will not scorn these people, we were not there on that day, and we cannot know what trials they faced. A dozen Wraith hive vessels... I have never heard of them grouping in such numbers." The Magnate stepped down to the floor with Sheppard for the first time, and the mood in the room shifted; clearly the symbolic gesture of coming down to their level carried great weight. Daus placed a firm hand on John's shoulder. "A tragedy." He spoke up so the whole chamber could hear him. "But we speak of the Wraith, the most ancient foe, the dread enemy of life! I would put my own beloved daughter's neck to the blade of my sword and burn this palace about me, if I were pressed to deny them!"

  Sheppard flicked a glance at Erony, but her father's bold and gory statement didn't seem to trouble her.

  "You are welcome to take respite here, Lieutenant Colonel," said Daus, moving away. "Perhaps this day will mark the start of a strong comradeship between your people of Earth and mine?"

  "Sounds good to me, Your Highness," John forced a weak smile, glad to be away from the business of lying to the faces of complete strangers. These people seemed a little supercilious for his liking, but he didn't enjoy misleading them all the same. If there was anything that life had taught him, it was that lies and half-truths had a way of coming back to bite you in the ass when you least expected it.

  "You fight the Wraith," began Ronon, "but this planet... It doesn't look like it's ever been culled." Sheppard knew what Dex was getting at; worlds where Wraiths regularly trawled for victims had distinct similarities, with broadly spread settlements or concealed cities to hide them from the alien predators. By contrast, Halcyon would be an open-air buffet for a fleet of Dart ships and cruisers.

  Daus nodded. "There has not been a culling on this planet since before the Age of Unification. Such a thing has been unknown here in centuries."

  "How have you stayed free of them?" asked Sheppard. "Erony's Wraith-hunting gang, that's not something they'd let go unanswered."

  "My daughter's hunt splinter is but one of hundreds," the Magnate replied. "Each of the barony you see here has splinters of their own, to a greater or lesser extent. We stalk the Wraith on many worlds across our segment of the galaxy."

  "You hunt them." Ronon said flatly, skepticism in his tone. "With gas-powered muskets and sabers."

  "And steely hearts and unbreakable will," added Erony. "We do indeed."

  Muruw gave a harsh chuckle. "My Lord Magnate, I fear our new friends do not understand the Halcyon way. They are too familiar with the terror and cowardice rife on other worlds, where men flee from the mere mention of the Wraith." He sneered at Ronon. "Runner, we of the Dynasts have been fighting the Wraith for hundreds of years and winning. We beat them at every turn. You ask why it is that Halcyon has not been culled? The answer is simple. Because they are afraid of us. They know that if they come to this world they will die."

  Sheppard thought of Linnian; he'd overheard the adjutant's similar comment to Dex outside the place. Both he and Muruw seemed utterly convinced they were right. A scattering of brusque laughter and applause rippled out across the chamber in support of the First Minister's assertion.

  "But what about the others?" said Teyla quietly. "What about the Wraith that you do not kill in battle?"

  The Magnate's face became fixed, and Sheppard knew straight away that the question had tripped some taboo, crossed some kind of line.

  Muruw's expression clouded. "Your concubine is an inquisitive one, Lieutenant Colonel," he said mildly.

  "Teyla is not... that." Sheppard frowned. "She's a member of my team."

  "Oh," said the Minister. "Forgive me. In our hunt splinters it is typical that the leader takes their favor from a cohort. Pardon the error of my assumption, if the matter is otherwise..." He gave a pointed glance at Dr. McKay instead.

  Rodney blinked as Muruw's insinuation registered with him. "Oh, good grief, no!"

  Sheppard's temper flared. "We don't... We're not... That doesn't apply to us, Minister." The balding man smiled thinly, and the colonel's annoyance rose. The guy was deliberately provoking him to deflect attention from Teyla's question.

  Daus stepped away, moving up the tiers once more. "You will forgive me, but affairs of state preclude me from continuing this discussion. Erony, you and Duke Kelfer will attend to our guests, see that they have rooms in the visitor's wing. Make them comfortable." The Magnate threw a vague nod at the chamber and then he had turned his back on them, dismissing them completely.

  "That's it?" said Bishop. "That's the audience? Huh. I was expecting something, you know, a bit more showy."

  "Shut it," warned Staff Sergeant Mason.

  Erony summoned a servant, who bowed and gestured for them to follow her. Ronon matched pace with Sheppard as they made their way from the hall. "I don't like this," said the Satedan. "They're hiding something."

  "So are we," noted the colonel. "Let's just keep our eyes open, huh?"

  he was running. Always running. Her limbs pistoned as she threw herself forward, heedless and unguided through the monochrome landscape. The hills and the twisted, skeletal trees rose up around her, black shadows falling across the dirty white ice that coated the ground. She sensed the wind on her bare arms, her neck and face; it should have been razor sharp and frigid, but her body was flooded with warmth and she felt clammy with sweat. The snow fell in a steep-angled blizzard, washing over her. It was wrong.

  She was running. The sky was hollow and dark, the icy rains crossing it like a screen full of static. Where was she going? Did she even know where she was?

  Emerging here and there from the snowdrifts were yellowed hummocks of cured hide and canvas, some whole, others ripped open and flapping in the wind. The tents were arranged in a familiar pattern, in the way of the tribes of Athos; but this was a dead village, torn into shreds and murdered in the frozen gloom. There were no bodies. There never were.

  She hurtled through the encampment, unable to stop, her pumping legs refusing to give up the headlong pace. In the black out there she could hear the murmur of alien voices, growls and shrieks, animalistic noises. It was wrong. They encircled her even as s
he fled them, distant and echoing.

  She was running. The ground around her spilt and splashed beneath her boots, the snows disintegrating into puddles, melt water pools shrinking and retreating into the dark. Where the ice withdrew she saw that the things that looked like tents, trees, hills, were nothing of the kind. They changed without changing, the earthen ground they clung to turning hard and obdurate. Faded grasses merged into hard stone cobbles, and streets grew up around her. Tall tenements that vanished into the night sky, high chimneys throwing clotted gray ashes from their mouths.

  She stumbled and fell, striking the rough-hewn paving stones, scarring her hands; but there was no pain. It was wrong.

  With effort she propelled herself to her feet and saw the children there beneath the sickly, sputtering light of a yellowed street lamp, dancing and laughing around the crooked iron pillar. The shrieking, screaming chorus was getting closer, looming along the pitch-black alleys that radiated away from where she stood.

  She called to them, but her throat went tight and rebelled against her, stopped her from making a single sound. The children turned their backs, bats and ball in their hands, making play against a red brick wall, jostling one another.

  The tremor of the silenced cry shot through her body in a shocking electric wave. Did they not hear? Could they not see to the shadows, the pale-faced things loping and stumbling, closer and closer?

  She faced the darkness, the uncountable snarling horrors, ready to fight them; but her training failed her. As if a dam had breached and the reservoir of all her warrior skill had been drained away, she could bring up nothing to battle the beasts with.

  It was wrong. She saw them now, the straggle-haired and corpse-pallor killers shambling into the halo of weak lamplight. They were different; the monstrous arrogance in their eyes was gone, replaced by a bestial, brutish manner. They howled like graywolves.