James Swallow: Halcyon

The dice rattled off the stone wall and Clarke scowled. "Oh, you bloody little-" The corporal caught sight of Weir and fell into a guilty silence. "Uh. Ma'am."

Mason came to attention. "Dr. Weir."

"At ease, gentlemen," she smiled. "Don't stop on my account. Cultural exchange is always a good thing. Who's winning?"

"Not me," Clarke frowned, adjusting the sling on his injured arm. "I think I left all my luck back in the Milky Way." He produced a chocolate bar from his ration pack and grudgingly handed it over to the younger man, who grinned. "Here you go. Don't eat it all at once."

Mason relaxed a little. "I thought you ought to know, ma'am, that I was briefed by one of the senior riflemen. They're still in the process of rounding up the last few Hounds that went garrity after the business with the dolmen and all. Lot of `em have gone to ground, though, so it might take a fair while to find the last few."

"Thank you, Staff Sergeant. I'd like you to liaise with Erony's men, give them whatever help we can to assist in the search."

"Thank you, ma'am. And about that other matter…"

"You can proceed at your own discretion. Carry on."

Weir and Beckett crossed the clinic, the doctor pausing now and then to check on the flow of patients moving through the program of booster shots. "What was that about?" he asked, indicating Mason with a jerk of his head.

"He requested permission to be the one to write the condolence letters to the families of Private Bishop and Private Hill."

"Ah. Of course." Beckett hesitated. "You know, every time we lose someone, I find myself asking the same questions. Is it worth it? Will we ever be able to tell the people back home what goes on out here? There's never going to be an answer for Bishop's mum and dad or Hill's wife and kids, is there? Just a Union flag on a coffin."

"Everyone who comes to Atlantis, who serves in the SGC, all of us know the risks we face." Elizabeth smiled at a small girl as she left the room, the bloom of a fresh inoculation on her pale shoulder. "We just have to hold on to the knowledge that what we do here really does make a difference."

The Ceremony of the Throne began before dawn, on board the Fourth Dynast's sumptuous air-yacht. In a break with protocol, Erony had closed the High Palace's grand audience chamber and ordered the rites to be performed on the wide-open decks of the airship's flyer bay. The broad space was cleared of aircraft, and now it echoed with the music of brass instruments and percussion. Banners hung from catwalks and gantries overhead, and stark flood lamps illuminated the temporary dais set up at the mouth of the launch bay. Beyond the yawning aperture, it was possible to see the distant hills of the Halcyon countryside, a soft yellow glow at the horizon heralding the oncoming sunrise.

Every noble house on Halcyon was represented here, from the highest in rank to those at the very bottom of the pecking order. By official decree as interim ruler of the planet, Lady Erony had declared that all honor engagements and wars of privilege were nulled. All hunt splinters had been recalled. Every rivalry, every long-standing enmity was made forfeit. Barons and dukes who before would never had stood in the same room without drawing blades upon one another were together here, side by side.

These rulings had sent a shock through every highborn court on the planet, but the reaction to them was weak compared to Erony's final demand on those who attended the ceremony. No weapons of any kind were allowed inside the hangar. Every knife, sword and pistol, every poisoned hatpin and derringer, push-dagger and dart, all of them were left behind.

"She may as well have asked us to attend naked!" said one noblewoman, a dowdy baroness whose stage whisper easily reached the ears of Dr. Weir.

To her right, spit-shined and handsome in his Air Force dress blues, Sheppard heard the comment and spoke out of the side of his mouth. "Let's be thankful that she didn't."

"Eyes front, Colonel," said Caldwell, also in full uniform. "You've got us into enough trouble on this planet as it is. Don't start making fun of the rich kids now."

As the official invite had stated, Doctors McKay and Beckett, Ronon Dex and Teyla Emmagan also joined the three of them. Ronon shifted uncomfortably under his greatcoat. He had promised Weir that he was unarmed, but she had her doubts that the big Satedan would ever put himself in a situation that he couldn't fight his way out of. For her part, Teyla was resplendent in a gossamer gown that her people had sent through the Gate for the occasion; she very much looked the part of an elegant leader, the dignity of the Athosian tribes strong in her eyes. Only someone who knew her as well as Elizabeth did could have seen the slight tensing in her jaw, the haunted glint in her eyes. Weir had only spoken briefly to Teyla in the aftermath of the Daedalus's rescue, but it was clear to her that she had faced a traumatic experience while on Halcyon. Beckett caught her eye and threw Elizabeth a brief smile; it was only Rodney who seemed distracted by all the pomp and circumstance. McKay couldn't keep his eyes off the ceremonial dais and the figure that now approached it, clad in a wide robe trimmed with dark green fur.

In her youth, on vacation in England, Weir had watched the Trooping of the Colour outside Buckingham Palace, and she had half-expected something of similar ritual and display to go on here; but Halcyon was a militaristic people at heart, and their culture mimicked a wartime mentality of blunt, direct action.

Erony climbed the dais and shrugged off the green robe, revealing an ornamental sword at her hip. A gasp rolled around the assembled crowd as she touched a belt buckle and let the weapon, scabbard and all, go clattering to the floor.

"I'm guessing that's not a part of the ceremony," murmured Sheppard.

When she spoke, Erony's voice was clear and strong. "The Magnate is Halcyon. Halcyon is the Magnate. So it is written in the codes of ascension, so it has been said time after time when one took this role. But in hundreds of years, those words have become meaningless. They are spoken and they have no weight. Today, this changes. Today, I become Lady Magnate of Halcyon and I declare it to be so." She stepped forward, advancing toward the ranks of assembled nobles. "From this dawn, there will be no more wars over petty words and trivial deeds." Erony crossed by the parties of Barons Palfrun and Noryn, sparing them an even look. "We will no longer support battles without honor or humanity. From this dawn, Halcyon will take up arms only in defense of herself, in defiance of the true enemy… The Wraith."

Weir caught her eye and offered her a supportive nod. Erony continued. "Many among us feel as I do, that for too long our people have been set upon a course of self-destruction, of violence for the sake of violence. Many of you have yearned for peace, but lacked the fortitude or influence to bring it to be. But now you have a voice. Now our people, noble and common, have a voice, in me." She looked away for a moment. "A learned man, an outworlder and my friend, told me of a truism from his home planet."

McKay shifted uncomfortably and looked at his shoes.

"Those who live by the sword, die by the sword. I say here and now that this will not be the fate of Halcyon! The currency of death no longer carries any coin in this realm." She walked back to the dais, to where a second, more ornate set of robes of office was waiting. "I take my father's mantle now, and I take from his memory his love for this world… But I leave behind his appetite for warfare and the callous brutality that it spawned." She carefully donned the robes of the Magnate. "Our society changes as this dawn rises. It will not be easy, but it will be for the better, and our new friends from Atlantis will help us find the way." The woman drew herself up to her full height, and she was the very picture of regal nobility. "I am the Lady Magnate Erony Daus, I stand without Dynast and for my people, as Mag- istrex of the Sovereign World of Halcyon and her dominions… And to any baron who might plan to use force of arms to usurp my place, know that my army is not of soldiers, of riflemen or accursed Hounds. My army are the commoners, and without them, our world will not turn."