But something seemed wrong, out of place. The silhouette of the new contact didn't move like a Wraith craft. Back on Atlantis, Rodney had pored over hours of sensor log footage of Hive Ships in the aftermath of the siege, hoping to find something of use if they ever came back. He knew how the Wraith slipped through space, and this craft wasn't doing that. It was coming in hard and fast, clearly primed for battle. The shape was all wrong, too, blocky and angular. It almost looked like the-
"Daedalus?" McKay's face split in a manic grin. "It's the Daedalus! Ha! We're saved! Weir sent them to get us!" But as fast as the bolt of euphoria raced through him, it vanished. No, we are not saved. The sensor return from the SGC Deep Space Carrier didn't show a ship about to mount a boarding operation or a rescue; Daedalus was on an attack vector, her rail guns running hot. To Colonel Caldwell and his crew, what they saw on their scopes was a Hive Ship preparing to annihilate a slew of defenseless ground targets. They'd have no idea that the Atlantis team were on board. Daedalus was looking at a clear and present threat to the planet Halcyon; and McKay knew Steven Caldwell enough to know that he wouldn't hesitate to shoot first and ask questions later.
"Sheppard! Anyone!" He shouted. "Warn them off! Tell Caldwell to hold his fire!" But the din inside the nexus chamber flattened his every word, the crash of gunfire blotting them out.
Then Rodney saw the radio where Daus had dropped it, sitting there in the middle of the deck as bullets and energy bolts criss-crossed in the air around it
It was mayhem in here. John moved from cover to cover, taking advantage of consoles or pillars where he could, squeezing off three-round bursts at anything that looked Wraith. He heard the thunder of a long-lance and the sound brought the madness of the bound battle back to his thoughts, the sudden recollection of the scream of shot and the blurry frenzy of one long firefight. This was worse, as if someone had taken that skirmish and rolled it up, stuffed in a can and shook it. Enemy fire was coming from everywhere and the colonel's mind screamed at him to just react, to protect himself; the primitive fight or flight reflex warred with the trained, expert solider part of his brain, the part that pushed him on, forward, that stopped him from being pinned down.
Teyla made an angry noise at the Halcyon steam-rifle in her hands, the breech hissing open as the last cluster of needle-shot fed from the ammunition hopper. Hot vapor and droplets of condensation coiled from the muzzle, and without hesitation she turned the long gun into a club, striking a Wraith attacker across the head with it. The barrel broke, but the alien fell and did not rise again. The woman swung low and scooped up a discarded swordgun and brought it back up in a battle stance.
Sheppard wasn't worried. Teyla Emmagan could have taken on a dozen Wraiths with just a butter knife and he still would have put his money on the Athosian; and today she had a fury in her eyes that he had only seen on rare occasions. Scar's abuse of her with that damned collar had brought Teyla's darkest anger to the surface.
The chamber was filling with a haze of acrid chemical smoke, flames licking from places where missed shots had shattered Wraith screens or caught banks of combustible Halcyon technology alight. There was a moment when John was sure he heard a voice crying out over the noise of gunfire — McKay, maybe? — but then a couple more ex-Hounds came snarling over the tops of the control panels at him, and Sheppard found himself side by side with Ronon, fighting to stay alive for another minute longer.
Each time Rodney dared to think about leaving his cover, energy bolts rained past him or Wraith in battle frenzy screeched by. I'm so close! He could almost reach out and touch the radio, just a few feet more, maybe.
"So near and yet so far," murmured Daus, cradling his bloody face in one palm. The Magnate sat slumped against a panel, watching McKay with his remaining good eye. "It will not save you." He shuddered through the words, morose and pained. "The truth only wounds."
"I have to get to the radio!" Rodney blurted. "No one has to die! If I can get to it, no one has to die, you understand?"
A shadow passed over Daus's face, and he dropped his hand, letting McKay see the ruin of his blinded eye. "No one has to die," he repeated, traces of the ruler's former iron will surging in his voice. "You are wrong." The Magnate propelled himself up from the deck with a hard shove and heaved his bulk across the chamber, falling through the crossfire toward Scar. The Wraith reacted a heartbeat too slowly and the two of them collided, spinning around in a vicious dance.
On all fours, Rodney scuttled out from behind the bone pillar and snatched up the military radio, his heart in his mouth as he dove back before the moment of misdirection was lost.
Daus's blood-slick hands clamped tight around the Wraith commander's throat and he pressed every last ounce of his weight into the alien. "This hunt ends here," he snarled, "for my world and my daughter!"
Scar choked and wheezed, his eye bulging as the Magnate strangled the air from him. His pistols lost, the Wraith flailed at the man's torso, ripping the elegant silks of his jacket to ribbons, slashing into the meat of his broad chest. Scar spat curses in his own language, fighting against the Halcyonite's strength.
"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…"