James Swallow - Halcyon

"No more!" Daus roared. "No more death!"

"No more life!" the alien spat back, plunging the saw-edged feeding maw in his palm straight into the cuts above the Magnate's racing heart. Scar's muscles jerked in a spasm of ecstasy as the Wraith tore Daus's life violently from him. Normally, a single Wraith would take their time over a feeding, savor it and make it last, but now the alien wanted nothing more than to turn this arrogant human into a husk, a hollow sack of skin and bone.

Daus's death-grip about Scar's throat lessened as the muscle and flesh on his skeleton shriveled away, the flesh puckering and turning tissue-thin. His last breath carried one last word from his lips. "Erony,"

Scar threw the corpse off him and let loose a screeching roar. "We are the Wraith!" he bellowed. "We are the hunters and you are the prey! We-"

A figure emerged from the choking smoke. "You talk too much!" snarled Teyla, and lunged with the swordgun. Scar spun, tried to turn the blow, but the Athosian woman was too quick, fuelled by her fury, and she ran him through. Gasping, twitching, Scar fell hard against the control console, bleeding out his last.

Teyla spat. "That's an end to it."

Ronon and Sheppard came to her side. "Left any for me?" asked Dex, glancing around. The Atlanteans had survived, for the moment.

Sheppard pulled a face. "Let's not forget, there's still a bellyful of Wraith in the hibernation cells on this ship." He gestured to the Halcyonite survivors. "You people, get over here. We're gonna find a way off this ship, right now."

"You have a plan?" said Teyla, turning away.

"Oh sure," lied the colonel. "I'll let you know as soon as I've ironed out all the details." He waved at Rodney. "McKay! Stop messing with that radio, this is a rescue."

McKay paused with the walkie-talkie in front of his lips for just long enough to shoot Sheppard a withering glare. "Daeda lus, this is Dr. Rodney McKay, do you read? We are on board the Hive Ship, do not engage! I repeat, do not fire on the Hive Ship! "

The other team members approached the front of the nexus chamber, and there through the wide oval view ports above them the sliver shape of the SGC starship was visible as a glittering barb, turning to aim straight at them. "Daedalus?" repeated Sheppard. "How about that." He grinned at Teyla. "I told you I had a plan."

"I'm not getting any reply!" Rodney's voice was a terse yelp. "Maybe the radio's damaged, maybe the Hive Ship's interfering with the signal…"

To his credit, Sheppard grasped the gravity of the situation immediately and spoke urgently into his own radio. "Colonel Caldwell, do you copy? Wave off!"

"What's wrong?" Teyla asked wearily.

"Our own people are about to blast this ship, that's what's wrong!" Rodney blurted.

"Hah." The voice was thick and oily, a gurgling death rattle. Scar hung there, clinging to the console, Daus's discarded sword still buried in his chest in some mad parody of murder. "How entertaining. You prey seem to excel in killing one another."

Ronon turned his pistol on the alien. "What does it take to put this creep down?"

The Wraith had his hands on Rodney's computer. "I understand this device. So we. Will die together. You and I. My ship…" He nodded at the Daedalus as it came into range. "And yours."

"Stop him!" shouted Rodney.

Sheppard and Ronon opened fire, too late to stop Scar's finger tracing across the execute control.

Master Scientist Kelfer had made many mistakes during his studies of the Wraith craft. It had been his error that released the ship's commander, his errors that led to the uncontrollable awakenings of the dormant crew; but what Kelfer had understood was the horrific power that the alien vessel represented, and the lethal potential it possessed if it raged out of control. His overload program, hammered into the Wraith command matrix like a steel spike through bone, worked just as he had hoped it would.

In the Hive Ship's bio-reactor cores, chemical bladders filled with fluids to moderate and control the energetic effects of the power plant abruptly closed themselves off. Regulator valves and sphincters sealed tightly and outputs spiked. The coruscating energy, normally metered and synchronized to the Wraith vessel's moods and conditions, churned like magma. Crystalline monitors cracked and shattered, conduits full of plasma-like processing fluids split open and gushed superheated liquid across the chitin decks, warping the bone and cartilage forms that made up the structure of the starship.

Whole decks of the Hive Ship instantly vented to space, burnt through by hyper-acidic reactions. Oxygen and breathing gasses combusted, firestorms rushing up every corridor. Wraiths were boiled alive in the amniotic baths of their hibernation cells. Organic sense-gels and nerve ganglia crisped and disintegrated.

Then finally, some tiny, critical element inside the bioreactor perished, unleashing all the pent-up power of the Hive Ship's core in one single, fatal eruption of heat and radiation.

Erony stood alone on the lip of the shattered hillside, staring down into the huge bowl-shaped depression where the Hive Ship had stood only hours earlier, her face gray with the drain of emotion. Carson hesitated to approach her, and stood a few meters away, not wanting to intrude on her introspection, but conflicted by his need to help someone he saw was in pain.

Static crackled in his headset. Ever since they had landed back at the encampment, he had been unable to reach Sheppard or the others on the alien vessel. The hand-held radios only had a limited range, and if the Hive Ship was in orbit it was unlikely he would be able to get a signal to John and the others. He hesitated; perhaps if he went back to the Puddle Jumper, the shuttle's more advanced communications might do the trick.

"Such a great wound." Erony spoke quietly, almost to herself. "How can we heal such an injury as this?"

The noblewoman was staring into the gouge in the ground, but Carson wondered to which `wound' she referred. This one, or one more personal? "Healing's my specialty, love. I'd be glad to help." Beckett wanted to mean it, but in truth, he was already thinking of how to broach the subject of evacuation to the young lady. How was he going to frame it? There was no easy way to tell a princess that she might have to lead her people from their home planet to some other, alien place.

The doctor turned as he heard urgent footsteps approaching. Linnian, drawn and sweaty, scrambled across the scattered dirt toward them. "My… My Lady," he puffed, "the camp's telekrypter was intact… I contacted the capital and First Minister Muruw had news. A ship, Milady! The observatories spotted a second space vessel in orbit. He counsels your return to the city with all due alacrity."

Erony faced them both. "Another ship? Have the Wraith returned?"

Carson opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped before he could take a breath, and pointed. High in the sky, a piercing, brilliant pinpoint of light flared. A ripple of static joined it on the open radio channel, and Beckett's blood ran cold. A nuclear explosion? "Oh no," he managed.

"What is that?" said Linnian.

"They destroyed themselves," whispered Erony, "they did it to save our planet."

The doctor grabbed the noblewoman's arm, the shock of the flash racing through him, bringing fear in its wake. "Erony, listen to me! We have to get to safety!"

Her eyes met his. "Where might that be, Doctor? Tell me, what place is safe from the Wraith?"

Beckett tried to give her an answer, but he found he had nothing.

Then from the hissing static, a very different reply formed in his ear. "Atlantis team, respond." The voice was curt and businesslike. "Atlantis team, this Colonel Steven Caldwell. What is your situation, over?"