James Swallow - Halcyon

Whatever answer she might have given him was forestalled as Linnian returned to the cabin. There was a commotion visible in the compartment beyond and Beckett felt his stomach lurch as the flyer dropped toward the ground. "My Lady, one of our observers spotted the body of the Runner from the air. We are descending to make a closer inspection."

"The body?" Carson pushed out of his chair, aware of Staff Sergeant Mason coming up with him. "Is he alive?"

"That is not clear. You should remain on board until we-"

"Not bloody likely, mate," grated Mason, and shoved the adjutant aside as the aircraft's landing skis bumped against the ground.

Beckett grabbed the strap of his medical kit and hauled it after him, following Mason as the SAS soldier cut a wedge through the wary Halcyonite troopers.

The staff sergeant roared out orders to the riflemen with such force behind them that the conscripts jumped to obey him without even thinking, their years of unquestioning service to their superiors conditioning them for instant obedience. Mason led Beckett through a stand of knee-high grasses, a clearing that slanted down toward rocks and tall trees. The rattle of the gyro-flyer's rotor blades beat at his back in throbbing pulses of wind.

"Watch it!" snapped the sergeant, pulling the doctor to one side to avoid a headless corpse sprawled on the ground. "Clean kill," Mason noted dispassionately.

Carson grimaced at the decapitated Wraith and moved on, catching sight of a slumped shape in leather and buckskin. "There! Over there!"

Ronon Dex's complexion was sallow, and Beckett pressed a finger to the carotid artery in the man's neck. Something fluttered weakly against his fingertip and Carson blew out a breath. "He's alive."

"Been shot," noted Mason, pointing at the concentric rings of scorching on Dex's tunic. The soldier recovered something from the grass; Ronon's pistol. "With this, I reckon." Mason peered at the weapon. "Set for stun, looks like. Lucky for him."

The doctor stood and shouted at Linnian's men for help. Quickly, they had Ronon inside the flyer and Beckett jammed an injector full of stimulants into the meat of the Satedan's thigh.

Dex moaned and his eyes fluttered open. "Who…?"

"Ronon, it's Dr. Beckett. Take it easy, laddie, you've been out for who knows how long."

The Runner growled and hauled himself up. "Give me room," he snarled. "Where… Where's the Wraith?"

"What Wraith?" said Erony.

"Scar!" he spat. "Wanted to kill me. Didn't see me switch modes on the gun. He has Sheppard and Teyla."

Mason frowned. "Where's Private Bishop?"

Ronon shook his head. "Dead."

"We came here as soon as we could," continued Carson. "Colonel Sheppard had a Puddle Jumper, do you have any idea where it is?"

"No." Dex leaned heavily against a seat and shook his head, fishing in his pocket. He produced the hand-held scanner that he had taken from the Jumper. "Track the ship with this."

Carson took the device. "Aye, that would work…" The doctor's words trailed off as he glanced down at the screen on the Ancient scanner. Trails of energetic waveforms like electroencephalograph patterns flexed across the panel, becoming more energetic by the second. The device gave out a warning chime and the readings went off the scale. At the same instant, Beckett heard a cry of alarm from one of the riflemen still outside the grounded flyer.

He turned in time to see a brilliant flash wash through the portholes on the starboard side of the aircraft. Linnian reeled backward, clutching at his eye.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Mason, "a nuke strike?"

Erony's face went deathly pale. "The… The dolmen…"

A thunderous wall of displaced air rolled over them from the tree line and suddenly the flyer was rocking on its skids, buffeted by a hurricane-force wind.

Carson fell hard against Erony and heard inhuman screams filling the flyer's cabin. His blood ran cold as he realized that it was the Hounds that were howling, the clawed nails of the armored Wraith tearing at their steel helmets and twitching in fury.

With a screech of bending metal, the Wraiths peeled back the howling canine faces of their headgear and revealed their own terrible aspects. Carson had never seen such an expression of utter, animal hate on a Wraith as he did now; the vicious arrogance of the aliens he had witnessed before was absent, and it its place was something base and malignant. He felt as if he were seeing the black hate for all life at the heart of every Wraith, incarnate there in their eyes.

They exploded into violent motion. Moments earlier the cabin of the royal flyer had seemed wide and open; now it was a cramped killing floor, the two mad Wraiths eager to murder every human inside. Carson heard the sickening crack of a broken neck as the nearest of the Wraiths punched into the spine of a riflemen caught fleeing for the open hatchway. The other launched itself at Linnian's cowering form in the aisle beside the starboard seating. Heedless of his own injuries, Ronon Dex crashed into the Wraith and wrestled it away, smashing through ornate stained-glass lamps on the cabin walls.

The report from a long-lance rifle bellowed inside the flyer and Carson tasted acrid steam in the air. The nearer Wraith screeched and attacked the rifleman who had fired at it, ignoring the collection of needle-shot embedded in its chest. The discharge was horribly loud inside the cabin and Beckett's hearing rang with the echo.

He grabbed Erony's arm. "Is there another hatch?"

"This way!" she nodded, pulling him toward the back of the gyro-flyer.

Carson hazarded a glimpse over his shoulder, and immediately regretted it. The Wraith dispatched the rifleman with a ripping slash from its claws, but it did not stoop to feed upon the soldier. Instead, it came over the opulent velvet chairs like a raptor. Beckett swung his medical bag at it, but the Wraith was moving with insane speed, and it batted him away. Carson lost his footing and collided with a support stanchion. The alien punched Erony, knocking a push-dagger from her grip, and the woman skidded back against the curved inner walls of the compartment. Beckett heard the Wraith give out a shrieking hiss. Orange fire flashed at the periphery of his vision and brass car tridges glittered as someone discharged a weapon, but Carson's attention was locked on the angry Wraith as it made ready to claim the Halcyonite noble as another victim. Beckett reacted, all the frustration and annoyance of the past few days forming into fists. "Get off her, ya scunner!" he shouted, and punched the attacker hard in the rib. "Picking on girls, eh?"

He regretted the words the moment he said them. The Wraith yowled like a wildcat and spun about, pouncing on him. The air in Beckett's lungs came out of him in a whoosh as the alien slammed him against the carpeted decking, lighting sparks of pain behind his eyes. Foul, acidic breath caressed his face and the Wraith showed its teeth, hissing.

Carson was not an aggressive man, but he had grown up in a tough neighborhood, among those who liked to live up to a belligerent reputation, and he understood very well the principles of violence. Beckett brought his shoulders forward and butted the Wraith hard on the nose, with a satisfying crunch of bone. The alien reeled back, put off by such a sudden attack from its prey and hesitated a moment too long.

From behind him, staff sergeant Mason jerked the trigger of his L85 assault rifle and blew the creature off its feet with a stuttering discharge of bullets.

Carson rolled over and came face to face with the second Wraith, its neck twisted at an incorrect angle. Ronon Dex was hunched nearby, panting and sweating.

Erony came to him and helped Beckett into a chair as Mason and the riflemen dragged the dead Hounds out of the flyer. He looked up and found Ronon watching him. The Satedan had the ghost of a smile on his lips.