As the rage flared up within him once again, sweat poured from his brow. Not only did he have to constantly suffer the indignation of being forced into the profession of a lowly farmer, but it was also hot. The soil on his own world had been dry since the month before, when what little he saw of the monsoon rains had failed his own people for the second year in a row. Jehk hated worrying about the weather. He hated being forced to dig rocks out of the farmers' lands. Such things were beneath him. Jehk hated the noises of war and the smells of blood and death that seemed to still waft all around him from days ago. The smells of what remained of the battle tempted him terribly with the prospect of becoming a soldier again, but he had already decided to bide his time and wait for the right moment.
He picked up the shovel once more and attempted to call up from within him a show of feigned indifference. He was determined not give the men guarding him and the other prisoners of war around him the satisfaction of knowing they had made him suffer.
The sound of what suddenly reminded him of a waterfall filled the dusty plains around him. Jehk and the other prisoners looked around in confusion, trying to find the source of the sound. In the distance he saw frightened villagers running from a stand of trees, behind which he knew the Ancestral Ring of the Ancients was located. In an instant he understood its significance: another attack on the village nearby was imminent. He would soon have his freedom!
In an inspired rage, Jehk heaved his shovel at the nearest guard, knocking him out cold. Before the others farther toward the edge of the field could catch him, he promptly tackled the guard on the edge closer to the Ancestral Ring and ran past him, eager to rejoin his comrades.
As he ran along the path toward the trees and the Ring, the sound suddenly disappeared. It had only been a few seconds, but Jehk knew that the Ring had closed. He could only fathom that perhaps his people had sent only a small party to rescue him, but as he approached the Ring, he saw strangers.
Jehk stopped in his tracks and stared. Those strangers were certainly not his people. The guards that he had left in his dust were about to catch up to him, but he was determined to not let this opportunity to escape go to waste. Jehk ignored the strangers and pressed a sequence of symbols on the dialing device connected to the Ring. Before the guards could tackle him, he promptly ran through the Ancestral Ring to meet his destiny on his homeworld.
But as he appeared on the other side, he expected to be greeted as a hero by flocks of reverent villagers. He instead witnessed something he had never expected to see. With a sinking feeling in his gut that he had never felt before, he forced himself to walk through the burnt grass, then the burnt wood structures and the broken mud-brick homes that were once the homes of the people in his village, searching for a sign of life that would allow him to deny what he already suspected had happened. But there were no sounds save for the occasional crackle of burning wood.
Jehk dropped to his knees and wept. These people had been his friends, his family. The shriveled, dry corpses of a few of his fellow soldiers littered the ground not far from the Sacred Dome, where they had obviously died defending the people who would have taken shelter there. He was sure that the people that would have hovelled there during the attack had begged the Gods for forgiveness and mercy, but to no avail.
The Wraith had fed upon his fellow soldiers, who had bravely died in a vain effort to save rest of his village from becoming fodder for the invaders. They hadn't even died with the respect and honor accorded to one who dies in the line of duty defending his noble village from their true enemies, enemies like the villagers that had captured him. His friends and comrades had died for no other reason than to be consumed thoughtlessly by demons.
Rage began welling within him. Tears burned his eyes and blurred his vision to the point where he lost track of time completely. Even hours later, or perhaps it had been days later, he could still not see clearly enough to notice through his grief that another group of people had also traveled through the Ancestral Ring, only to find the same unexpected scene that he had encountered.
A comforting hand appeared on his shoulder, startling him. He jumped up in alarm to find a group of eight people armed with weapons he didn't understand surrounding him.
"It's all right," the man who appeared to be the leader spoke, trying to offer him some comfort. "We're not here to hurt you. What happened to these people?"
"It could only have been the Wraith," Jehk replied, numbly.
"My name is Acastus Kolya. I am a Commander of the Genii, and want to make you an offer."
Jehk looked up at him, confused. "What kind of offer?"
Kolya took a knee next to Jehk's prostrate form. "Your name is Jehk Crola, is it not? With your help we can destroy our enemies, including the Wraith. If you tell me what you saw, our weapons can help you make them pay dearly for what they've done."
Jehk eyed him suspiciously, not sure what to make of Kolya's offer. Kolya drew a folder sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it for Jehk to see.
"I have come across some reports that you were captured by the village of Tressada. I have also heard reports that strangers have been seen there. Did you see this man when you were there?"
Kolya held up the sheet of paper and Jehk could see what he recognized as the
expert markings of an artist drawn upon it. Upon the paper was drawn an expertly
rendered image of a man's face. In fact, it was the same face as one of the strangely-
dressed strangers he had seen traveling through the Ancestral Ring just before his escape.
Kolya smiled as he saw the telltale signs of recognition appear on Jehk's face. His look confirmed the reports, that he had indeed seen Colonel John Sheppard in that village.
