James Swallow - Halcyon

There was a flicker of motion on the canopy glass, and the colonel saw the monstrous grin of a hungry Wraith reflected there. One of them had got inside. He twisted in his seat as the alien went for him, claws out. The hatch, John, his mind screamed, you left the damn hatch down!

Sheppard stabbed at the on-off controller for the dampener, then slammed the throttle forward, instantly canceling out the gravity-neutral bubble inside the Jumper. The quick burst of velocity threw the Wraith intruder off its feet and sent it tumbling back down the length of the ship, sparks flying where it clawed at the decking, out the open hatch and away. The colonel felt the g-forces press into him, a suffocating leaden pressure all across his chest, compacting him into the pilot's chair. He managed to tap the dampener circuit again and the pressure evaporated.

"Whew." John blinked sweat away from his lashes, and after a quick check to make sure he was flying solo again, he brought the Jumper back around for a combat landing.

The frenzied Wraith came at Ronon in a hooting wave of teeth and claws, and he met them with energy bolts and the edge of his blade. With one single strike he took an attacker at the throat and the Satedan battle sword parted head from torso in a jet of black blood. He fell into the red haze of his rage, tapping into the hate that had carried him through all the years of his life on the run. The fury of it burned hot, a livid brand like the Wraith glyph etched into the flesh of his throat.

In the thick of the fight, Ronon was dimly aware of the Jumper landing, of Sheppard's cries and the chattering of his machinegun, but it was all second to his anger, which he turned on the Wraith in its full force. He had lost so much at the talons of these repellent freaks of nature, friends and family, a whole world, a life without battle. And perhaps now Teyla Emmagan, the only person among these Atlanteans with whom he had felt any real kinship.

But as abruptly as the ambush had begun, it ended. "Enough!" roared a voice, and the Wraith spat and disengaged, leaving Dex and Sheppard panting hard with adrenaline and exertion.

And there was Teyla, stumbling on shaky feet ahead of a hard-faced Wraith overlord, clutching at her neck where a heavy silver collar ringed it. Ronon bared his teeth in fury. There was a thick cable snaking away from the device to the Wraith's clawed hand, a steel leash of the sort one might use on an attack dog. "Drop your weapons," hissed the alien, "or the female dies."

The barrel of Sheppard's P90 sank a little but he held on to the gun. Ronon still had his particle magnum pistol in his grip, ready to use it. Dex locked eyes with the Wraith, measuring the ways in which he might kill it.

"You must be Scar," said the colonel, and pointed at his face. "The one eye is a dead giveaway. It's a cool name. I bet the lady Wraiths love it. Let me ask you, though. Have you ever seen The Lion King?"

"Drop your weapons," repeated Scar, "or Tey-lah will choke to death on her own blood." He did something to a control on the leash and Ronon heard cogwheels clicking. Teyla coughed and sank to her knees, pulling at the necklet.

"Let her go!" snapped Dex, taking aim at Scar's face.

"I can increase the pressure with a single touch of the dial I hold in my hand." The Wraith licked its lips. "Only you can save her. You know how."

The Athosian woman gasped as she tried to suck in air. Ronon heard Sheppard curse and saw the colonel unclip his gun and let it fall.

"And you," Scar told Dex.

Ronon's thumb moved toward the stun/kill stud on the magnum's grip. He was furious that this creature would try and use a warrior like Teyla as some kind of bargaining chip. He let the gun drop to aim at the woman. "You think you have an advantage. Maybe I'll take it away, shoot her myself. What would you do then?"

"Ronon!" said Sheppard in a horrified voice.

The Wraith studied him for a moment, and then laughed. The sound was a hollow rattle. "Humans. You are so entertaining. It is almost a pity that you are prey." Scar's eyes flashed with anger. "You cannot deceive me. You are different from the hunters, who care only for their idiotic games and status. You won't kill one of your own."

"Specialist!" Sheppard snarled, spitting out Ronon's former rank like a command. "Drop your weapons! That's an order!"

And the truth of it was, the Wraith was right. "Fine." He opened his hands, letting the pistol and the sword go. This alien was smarter than he had expected.

Scar laughed once more and touched the collar controller, letting Teyla breathe properly again.

She choked and wheezed, gulping in breaths. "I… Am sorry, colonel…"

"It's okay," said Sheppard. "Where's Bishop?"

Teyla threw Scar a venomous glare. "He is dead. They fed upon him."

The Wraith leader barked out guttural instructions in its own language, and the rest of its pack gathered up the Atlantis team's gear, bundling it into the parked Jumper. Scar plucked Ronon's heavy pistol from the hands of another Wraith and ran his fingers along the length of the breech, sniffing it.

"Why don't you take a look down the barrel while you're at it?" rumbled Dex. "I'll even hold it for you."

Scar came closer. "You are a Runner. A lucky survivor. Tell me, were you the only one we spared when my kindred culled your planet?"

His muscles tensed with a sudden violent impulse. "I'll kill you for that!"

The Wraith continued to stroke the gun, completely unconcerned. "No," it replied, "you will not."

The last thing the Satedan saw was the muzzle snap up to face him and a crippling blast of blazing red fire.

"Ronon!" cried Teyla, scrambling forward. Scar jerked her leash and she gagged, tripping over again.

The Wraith grimaced at the particle magnum and made a negative noise. "A brash and crude tool, much like its owner," he purred, tossing the pistol away to land near Dex's body.

"You son of a bitch," spat Sheppard. One of the other Wraith hit him in the back of the knees and he fell. The alien held him there with an iron grip. "You got what you wanted, you didn't have to shoot him!"

Scar whipped the stolen Beretta pistol from his belt and held it at Sheppard's head. "Energy weapons are so inelegant, do you not agree, human? A single bolt and your target is dispatched. Where is the sport in that?" He weighed the handgun in his grip. "But this… A ballistic firearm, yes? Chemical reactions projecting small metal warheads. You strike your prey with this, and they will not perish straight away." The pistol barrel dropped to Sheppard's chest, to his stomach. "Such ugly wounds left behind, plentiful with pain and suffering. The prey might take hours to die… And the taste is so much richer."

John tensed, waiting for the bullet to come; but instead he was dragged to his feet and thrust toward the Puddle Jumper. Scar came after him, pulling at Teyla. "What kinda mind-games are you playing?"

"No games," replied Scar, "only rules. Obey and the female lives. Disobey and you will watch her suffocate, before I turn you over to my pack."

"What do you want from us?" husked Teyla.

"The blood of the Enemy runs in your veins," he told the colonel, licking at the air. "I smell it on you. You will pilot this craft for me, and take us to the device the Ancients built on this planet."

"The dolmen?"

Scar smiled widely. "The dolmen, yes."

"John, you can't do it-"

Sheppard silenced Teyla with a morose look. "What choice do I have?"

"Go away!" snapped McKay, waving his hand in the face of the Halcyon technician hovering beside him. "Stop lurking around me, it's really very distracting!"

"Doctor," warned Kelfer, "he is merely there to render assis tance to you."

"Really?" Rodney turned from the console and made a face. "Well, how about he renders assistance by going away. Do something useful, get me coffee or something, but don't keep spying over my shoulder!"