James Swallow - Halcyon

A deep breath; and then another. The air was chilly too, and there were mingled scents on it. Dust, eons and eons of dust beneath something appallingly familiar. A metallic stench, like battery acid.

The room he was in took on solidity as his eyes focused, and the blue-black walls of chitinous matter gave him the answer as to where he was. The most terrible, awful answer that he could have had. "No," he muttered, "no no no No NO!" Rodney threw himself at the narrow entrance to the dim little cell, his fingers digging into the web of thick, fibrous ropes that blocked the doorway. He pulled and shouted, fear rolling up inside him in a dark tide; at that moment he would have given anything to be in nowheresville, in junior high, anywhere but here.

McKay's cries echoed out along the corridors of the Wraith Hive Ship, ignored and unanswered.

Colonel Sheppard looked out through the Jumper's canopy at the Fourth Dynast blackcoats milling around outside the ship. They had emerged from the cloisters around the open plaza within moments of the ship landing there. John wasted no time getting Teyla inside and closing the hatch behind her. He wanted this conversation to be just between the three of them.

She was nodding as Ronon replayed the events of their short venture into orbit and back. The Athosian woman's expression hardened when Dex spoke about the Wraith machine they'd obliterated. John knew that look of old; he could read Teyla's feelings, the same thoughts that had clouded his mood now forming in her. He opened his mouth to speak and realized there was a Halcyonite rifleman standing just a meter or so away on the other side of the canopy glass. The trooper was staring directly at him, blankly intimidating with his lance-rifle held at arms.

Sheppard very deliberately turned his back on the soldier before he started speaking. The movie of the week on Atlantis last month had been 2001: A Space Odyssey, and John suddenly recalled the scene in the pod bay where the Hal computer had lip-read the plans of the human astronauts. He didn't want to chance that Daus trained his men with the same kind of skills. "With that satellite in pieces, any immediate danger is over," he began, "but clearly the bigger problem we've got to consider is if that thing has been broadcasting. There could already be Wraith Hive Ships in hyperspace and on their way here as we speak."

"That all depends on how long the satellite had been transmitting for," noted Ronon, "and we don't know for sure if it was. But given our usual fortunes, I wouldn't count on us being that lucky."

"Upbeat as ever," said Sheppard. "Teyla, you wanna chime in here?"

The woman took McKay's station and scrutinized the data captured from the Wraith device. "I have an idea how we might determine if it was in communication with other craft. From what I know of these marker beacons, they operate in a dormant mode, often for centuries, until triggered by a command from a Wraith vessel." She paged through the reams of information, searching for something. "Interstellar communications require a lot of power, John. These beacons run on solar batteries."

Sheppard got it. "Right, so transmitting a message would take a lot of energy. If the batteries are low, it's likely it sent out a dinner call." He smiled with gallows humor. "Like a Wraith equivalent of those neon signs by the highway-Good Eats, Next Exit…"

"Here," said Teyla, halting the flow of text. She pointed at a string of computer code. The tension in her shoulders visibly lessened as she read through the data. "I think you may be wrong about our luck, Ronon. According to this, the power reserves on the satellite were barely depleted. It was still in an information gathering mode when you happened upon it."

"If you're right, then it must have been activated recently," added Dex, "but why now, after thousands of years of drifting up there in silence? It doesn't make sense."

"We're missing a piece of the puzzle here," said Sheppard, "a big piece, and you gotta know that McKay's connected to it."

Teyla looked away. "If he still lives."

"If they wanted him dead, we'd be looking at his corpse," Ronon said flatly, "we know the nobles aren't squeamish about bloodshed and murder."

Sheppard sat and worked it through, thinking aloud. "If they just wanted a hostage, why take him?"

Ronon shrugged "He's the weak link, he can barely handle a weapon. He's the one I'd choose if I wanted a captive."

"I don't buy that. If they just wanted non-combatants, they could have tagged Beckett and the medical team. No, they took Rodney for what he knows. Or what he found out at the dolmen."

"We can't rule out that it was Erony who set him up," added Dex. "I don't buy Vekken's explanation as to why they left her behind."

Teyla shook her head in disgust. "The more I learn about these people, the less I understand them. Making false glory out of warfare and taking innocents for barter. On Athos, no tribe would ever be allowed to do such things."

"Hostage-taking is just another weapon."

A sharp tap on the Jumper's canopy drew John's attention. Vekken stood at the prow of the ship, peering in at them. The adjutant made no attempt to hide the lingering, appraising look he gave the interior of the Ancient craft. "Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard," he called. "I bring good news. Dr. McKay's whereabouts have been located."

"What? Where?"

Vekken inclined his head. "His Highness the Lord Magnate will provide you with the specifics, if you would accompany me."

The Magnate met them in the gardens where they had spoken before. Sheppard had to admit he was getting royally sick of being `summoned' every five minutes and submitting to 'audiences' at Daus's whim. He toyed for a moment with the idea of ordering Vekken to bring the ruler to them, just to throw a wrench in the works, but relented. It was their planet, and they expected the Atlantis team to play by their rules. He thought of Weir's advice about letting Daus remain convinced he had the stronger position, and chewed his lip. With each passing moment, it was getting harder and harder to play that role. As ever, First Minister Muruw was hovering at his leader's side, open contempt on his face.

John didn't wait for the usual florid phrase of greeting to spill from Daus's lips; he went straight for the jugular instead. "Where's McKay?"

The Magnate's eyes flashed with irritation at this breach in protocol. "Safe, for the moment. One of my most trusted hunt splinters has located him and determined that he is unharmed and in good spirits."

That's a lie if ever I heard it, thought Sheppard. `Good spirits' would be the last thing Rodney would exhibit if he'd been held prisoner. "We want our team mate back, right now."

"That is in hand," Daus replied, ignoring the implied or else in Sheppard's statement, "but in keeping with the codes of conduct, I am afraid that it would not be proper to merely hand him over to you without… Recompense."

"Proper?" grated Ronon. "You think just because you make war with a rulebook at your back that you can play games with men's lives?"

It was as if Dex had never spoken. "There must be a balance, Lieutenant Colonel. Give and take."

Sheppard folded his arms. "Fine. You want something in return for McKay's rescue, then how about this? I just shot down a Wraith marker satellite in orbit around your planet, thus saving your entire world from the arrival of a culling fleet. I figure that's a fair trade."

Muruw made an explosive snort of scorn. "Is that so? Then, pray tell, where is the proof of such a daring exploit? Please, do show us the evidence of your kill!"

Ronon pointed into the sky. "It's burning up in your atmosphere right now."

"Oh," the minister continued in an arch tone, "so then you have no trophy? Nothing that corroborates this wild claim? I am afraid that with empty palms you have no stock with which to trade."