James Swallow - Halcyon

"Colonel Caldwell." Beckett's voice was heavy with fatigue. "I was afraid the next voice I heard would be a Wraith one. The locals spotted your approach and thought it was another Hive…"

"Sorry to disappoint you," Caldwell said dryly. "We got here as soon as we could. Looks like we arrived in time for the fireworks, though." The colonel frowned as crewmen darted about the Daedalus's bridge with portable fire extinguishers and damage control equipment. The shockwave from the detonation of the Hive Ship had flipped the carrier over and blown out the energy shields in a single surge of lethal power. Systems were down throughout the vessel and reports of injuries and hull breaches were still coming in.

"You blew up the Hive Ship?"

"Negative, Doctor, that ship did a fine job of destroying itself. Almost got us too into the bargain." Caldwell threw an aside to his executive officer. "Remind me to thank General Landry for insisting on those shield upgrades."

"Colonel," began Beckett, "we had people on that Wraith ship,"

"The operative word being `had', Doctor. Hermiod pulled every human bio-signature with the Asgard transporters before the explosion."

"Yeah, he's our new hero," Sheppard walked on to the bridge with McKay following behind. "I thought Rodney was gonna hug the little guy."

The scientist made a face. "He just has that weird Roswell vibe…"

Sheppard nodded to the Daedalus commander. "Great timing, as always, Colonel."

"Pulling your backside out of the fire is starting to get habitforming," replied Caldwell, turning his attention to a report from a junior officer.

"Next time we'll call Pegasus 911 instead." Sheppard ignored the jibe and patched into the communications circuit. "Carson. Tell Lady Erony the crisis is over for now. Scar's gone and so is his boatload of buddies."

"Did… Did we lose anyone?"

"Teyla's in sickbay, but she'll heal."

There was a moment of silence before Beckett spoke again. "Colonel, Lady Erony has asked me to inquire after Lord Daus."

McKay picked up a headset. "Let me, uh, talk to her."

"Rodney?" Erony's voice was brittle. "I am glad you… I am sorry for what happened to you. It was my fault, my carelessness with my words."

"No," he shook his head. "It's all right. I… I'm sorry. Your father…"

The bridge suddenly seemed confined and claustrophobic. "He is dead." The woman said the words flatly, any sentiment bled from them. A simple statement devoid of all weight and emotion.

"I'm sorry," repeated Rodney. "His death saved the rest of us.

When Erony spoke again, she was calm and proper, as befitted a high noble of the Fourth Dynast. "Thank you, Dr. McKay. In the absence of the Lord Magnate I must assume his duties for the interim. I will take my leave of you."

"Erony?" But she was gone, the channel silent.

The streets were lined with people as far as Elizabeth Weir could see. The queues snaked around the derelict dockside warehouses, out on to the main streets of the capital. Fuming omnibuses were halting every now and then to deposit more of them. She saw men and women of every age and ethnicity, children and teenagers. The only commonality they shared was the shabbiness of their clothes, the drawn look of a people who had grown used to being hungry all the time. The nineteenthcentury tone of the Halcyon capital was something new to Weir, a sight she'd only seen to date in history books and Victorian costume dramas; but the faces of the people were all too famil iar. She had seen that more times than she wanted, in Darfur and Kosovo, in Rwanda and Tikrit.

But there was a kind of hope here as well. She could sense it in the air, a mixture of anticipation and a little fear for good measure. Halcyon's people seemed to understand that their world had changed a great deal in the last few days, and it made them excited and scared in equal measure.

A huge poster across the flank of an elderly tenement building caught her eye. She could make out the remains of a massive artwork depicting the face of a portly, lordly man, but there were new leaves of heavy paper pasted over it. The jigsaw of pieces showed a young woman in regal finery, cupping a rifle in one hand and a basket of fruit in the other. But the new poster had been abandoned halfway through, and there were still ladders pressed up to the walls, as if they were waiting for the work to be completed.

"She made them stop," said Carson as he emerged from near the head of the line. "Apparently, when one of the reigning nobles dies, the first thing they do is paint over all the murals of the last fella." He shook his head. "Erony told them that her father's memory wasn't something they should just forget."

Weir nodded. "That's not an easy road to follow, especially after what took place under his leadership. She's taking responsibility for it, and that's a sign of a good ruler."

"Aye," agreed the doctor. "I've already heard talk that she's going to announce elections in the coming year. Democracy instead of monarchy. The nobles are going to have a very steep learning curve."

Elizabeth smiled. "And to think I just expected you to come back with some new diplomatic and trading contacts. Instead, you've sparked off a cultural revolution that will change life on this planet forever."

"It would have happened sooner or later," he noted, "people won't stand for tyranny forever. Hopefully this way there's been a lot less bloodletting."

"And at least we've made ourselves another ally in the Pegasus Galaxy. After all our recent troubles, I think we were due for a win, don't you?"

"Aye, but a ZPM would nae have gone amiss too. Shame about the dolmen. Rodney fair hit the roof when he heard that John had been forced to blow it up."

"Dr. Zelenka calculated that the energy release from the dolmen would have left it nearly dead by now, anyway." Weir added. "If the power source was waning, that would explain how Scar was able to resist the dolmen's influence."

"Couldn't we dig it out of the rubble? Those modules are tough, aren't they? There might still be some juice in there."

She shook her head. "That discharge you reported was probably the last gasp. If there is an intact ZPM under all that wreckage, it will more than likely be useless now."

They moved on toward the makeshift medical center, passing two heavy steam trucks. Beckett threw a nod to the nurse standing at the rear of the vehicles, checking off items of cargo on an inventory pad. "Thank you for authorizing this, Elizabeth."

Weir watched the pallets of gear come off the lorries. "Most of this was aboard Daedalus and earmarked for Atlantis re-supply, but I think we can spare it for someone in need. We can always send out for more. Erony's people don't have that luxury."

He nodded. "And now the Stargate has been reopened for travel, I've got the medicines I needed through from Atlantis."

"Are you making a difference, Carson?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "At last, I really think we are. Linnian's taken up the role of First Minister and he fits it well. The man's already talked with some of Caldwell's engineering crew about new irrigation plans, water supplies, that sort of thing. Changes are going to come, and for the better. With Daus and the Hive Ship gone, it's like the war is over. Finally."

Elizabeth looked away. If only it were that simple. In reality, Halcyon would find it hard to make its way through the transition from a military-based culture to one more focused on civilian life; and there still might be more Wraith on the way. But we're going to be here to help them.

Outside the warehouse-clinic, they came across Mason and Clarke, the two soldiers crouched and laughing with a couple of locals, a man with a prematurely wizened face and a youth in a brown robe. They were playing some kind of gambling game with polyhedral dice.