James Swallow - Halcyon

"My Lady," said the adjutant with a sniff. "I think this visit is at an end. We should return to the palace."

Erony blinked hard, and pulled back her veil, giving Beckett her full attention. In her distraction, she had almost forgotten the very excuse that she had used to journey down here. "Doctor, forgive me, I am remiss. I came here to give you urgent news of Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard and your friends."

Beckett's face paled. "What's wrong?"

"My father has observers following their hunting venture from the enclosure's observation towers. Gunfire was reported in several locations, after which the group was lost to sight. The observers also reported increased Wraith activity in the area." Her lips thinned. "I fear for the safety of your comrades."

The older soldier, the one called Mason, spoke into the communications device on his tunic. "Jumper Three, this is Mason, respond. Colonel Sheppard? Do you copy my transmission?" The communicator hissed back at him.

"They're out of range," said the trooper with the bandaged arm. "Could be in trouble, Staff."

Beckett looked at her. "Erony, this has gone far enough. We cannae stand by and do nothing. You have to help us put a stop to all this."

She answered without stopping to consider it. "I will."

"Highness!" protested Linnian, but she ignored his outburst.

"You," she said, pointing at one of the blackcoat riflemen. "Disarm yourself and take Dr. Beckett's place here. You will do whatever his nurse tells you to, and render whatever assistance she demands, as if the words came from my lips. Is that clear?"

The rifleman bowed. "By your command, Milady."

Erony turned to Beckett. "Come with me, Doctor. Bring one of your warriors, if you wish. My gyro-flyer is a racing model, and with it we can reach the enclosure with great speed."

Her adjutant spluttered. "My Lady, I must protest! This is most irregular!"

"Linnian," replied the woman, putting every ounce of her noble will behind the word, "relay my instructions to the pilot and do not tarry."

"But-"

"Now."

The man threw Beckett an acid stare, bowed, and then scuttled away.

"Clarke," snapped Mason, "keep watch here, got it? You don't hear back from us by nightfall, you evac the civvies and get your arse through the Stargate."

The soldier saluted. "Yes, Staff."

"Thank you, Erony," said the doctor.

She gave her sick and ailing subjects a last look and then nodded. "Follow me."

The Puddle Jumper moved quickly over the treetops, the gravity drive whining. To an outside observer, all that would have been visible was a sudden glimmer, there and then gone, a swift disturbance in the air as the cloaked spacecraft tracked back and forth in a grid pattern.

Sheppard kept his eyes firmly on the ship's head-up display, frowning at the flickering dots that showed Wraith life signs. "They keep appearing and disappearing…" He shifted uncomfortably; the tension and exertion of the day was taking its toll on him, his black uniform t-shirt damp with sweat beneath his ballistic body armor and webbing vest. John toggled a control to set the sensors to a deep penetration mode, and the display changed, showing a faint network of channels under the surface. "There are tunnels and caverns all over this part of the enclosure."

Ronon weighed a hand-held Ancient scanner in his grip. "That figures. This Wraith they call Scar, he wouldn't have lasted long in here if he didn't have some kind of safe haven."

The colonel's eyes narrowed. "They could have a nest down there, like termites, or something." He shuddered. "That whole Wraith-Bug thing makes my skin crawl."

Suddenly, Ronon gave a shout. "There!" He stabbed a finger at the trees. "Bring us around, there's a clearing! I saw something!"

Sheppard slowed the Jumper and drifted it gently around in an arc, keeping the blunt nose of the craft aimed forward where Dex had indicated. The Satedan had been right. "Good eye," noted John, spotting a figure in the dark blue of an Atlantis combat uniform sprawled on the ground. "Can't make out who it is, though…"

Ronon stuffed the scanner in the pocket of his coat and drew his particle magnum. "Drop the ramp, I'm going down there."

"Wait, I gotta land us first," The pilot put the ship into a hover, carefully rotating it as he gradually descended below the level of the leafy canopy. The open copse was small and setting the ship down in it would be like threading a needle.

"No time," snapped Dex, "she could be hurt." He reached past Sheppard's shoulder, slapping the glassine control that opened the Jumper's rear hatch. Before John could stop him, the other man vaulted out of the craft and threw himself down into the clearing.

Ronon landed hard and rolled to absorb the impact, the shock of it singing up through the bones in his legs. From the corner of his eye he had a moment of optical illusion, where the open portal of the Jumper seemed to be hanging in the air like a door in the sky; then Sheppard dropped the cloak and the drum-shaped ship was there, dithering like a hawk unsure where to settle.

He sprinted across the grassy clearing, vaulting over rocks and brush, towards the slack form he'd spotted from the air. The body was lying face down and curled away from him, head tucked beneath the crook of an arm. In split seconds, impressions crowded Dex's mind. It definitely wasn't a male, the body was too slim and the proportions were off. But the blue Atlantis jacket seemed too big, and it hung wrongly.

"Teyla!" he called, crouching low, moving to the slumped shape. Ronon grabbed the body's shoulder and turned it over. "Teyla?"

The Wraith female wearing Private Bishop's uniform screeched and threw herself at the Satedan, the shock of the corpse-white face and the sudden movement catching him unawares. Ronon snarled as the alien struck him, knocking his pistol from his grip. They rolled into one another and tumbled down a shallow incline, punching and clawing. Dex felt hot and fetid breath as the Wraith tried to bite him and he snatched at her crimson flood of hair, grabbing a handful and jerking it backward. Black claws raked his side, slicing into the material of his jacket, reaching through layers of cloth to his torso.

He struggled to hold off the wild creature's feeding arm, the Wraith howling and shrieking. Ronon brought his head forward and butted the alien on the nose, hearing the satisfying crack of breaking cartilage. In return, the Wraith tore at him with fresh rage, mad and hungry for his life energy. At last, Dex managed to bring his free hand up and flicked it out. A concealed mechanism in his leather wrist guard clicked, releasing a spring-loaded knife, keen and wide with a petal-shaped blade. With a snarl of effort, Ronon punched the weapon into the flesh beneath the Wraith's jawbone and up into its skull. The female gurgled and died.

Dex let the body fall and drew his short sword. More Wraiths were streaming out of the woods and dropping from the upper branches of the trees.

"Whoa!" shouted Sheppard, the Jumper gaining new and unwelcome passengers as it descended toward the ground. No sooner had Ronon jumped ship, so to speak, than there were Wraith throwing themselves from the tops of the forest canopy and on to the floating ship. A singularly ugly-looking male landed squarely on the bow and bellowed at him, banging a blunt-bladed halberd on the cockpit canopy. More thuds and bangs along the outside of the hull told the colonel that this Wraith bruiser wasn't alone. Gripping the throttle and yoke, Sheppard reversed the Jumper's fall and took her up again.

"Sorry to disappoint you," he told the creature, "but I don't pick up hitchhikers!" With a flick of his wrist the colonel shifted the output of the gravity drives, putting the port outrigger up to full reverse and the starboard to full forward velocity. The instant effect was to spin the Puddle Jumper around like a top. The forest and sky became a green and blue blur, and for one brief moment, the Wraith on the bow hung on before centrifugal force tore him away and flung the creature into the trees. Sheppard felt a moment of giddiness as he came back into a hover, but it passed. Without the powerful inertial dampeners the Ancients built into their ships, the maneuver he'd just pulled would have spread him along the inside of the Jumper like chunky salsa.