A/N I have managed to edit most of the next chapter already, so if you're lucky I might be able to update this quicker than I expected. Read. Enjoy. Review!

Teyla ran from the village, watching over her shoulder as the women crowded in around Sheppard's prostrate form. How could women behave this way? A woman's instinct was to nurture and protect, not attack and denigrate. Even she, as a warrior, had never struck an innocent. These women clearly felt no compunction about harming those they felt had flouted their laws. She only hoped Sheppard had the good sense not to cause any more trouble until she could get back with help.

Once far enough away from them not to be overheard, she contacted Ford and McKay. 'Rodney, Aidan,' she called frantically, trying to keep her shot emotions in check.

'Teyla?' Rodney's voice came back though her radio. 'What's wrong?'

Surprised by his level of insight, she called back to him, 'We must fall back to the jumper. Immediately.'

'What, why? Where's Sheppard?' he demanded.

She rolled her eyes. Why was it that Rodney could never just do as she asked him? 'Just fall back to the jumper, Rodney. I will explain everything when I meet you there.'

'Understood,' Ford grunted in response, and the radio fell silent.

She raced on, ignoring the low branches and undergrowth that pulled at her hair and scraped her skin. They stung, but not nearly as much as the sense that she had failed the major.

When she reached the jumper, Ford and Rodney were already waiting for her.

'This better be good,' McKay grouched. 'I'd almost locked onto the power signature, and that thing is so random it could take me hours to find it again!'

Ford just stared out of the back of the jumper, into the woods. 'Where's the major?'

'He is still at the village,' Teyla explained, trying to catch her breath as she pressed at the pain in her side the run had caused, attempting to alleviate it.

'Why?' the lieutenant grunted, picking up on the urgent tone of her normally dulcet voice.

'They have taken him prisoner,' she said, holding his fierce gaze.

McKay's face fell in shock. 'What? Why didn't you say that before?'

'We have to get back there and free him,' Ford insisted, barging his way toward the rear ramp.

'It will do no good,' Teyla warned him, restraining him with a firm hand on his arm. 'They are many, and I believe they are more than capable of defending themselves. They handled our guns as if they were familiar with such projectile weapons. If we return in anger, all we will do is put the major's life in danger, and probably our own.'

'And if we leave him, what then?' Ford asked, his anger barely under control.

'Major Sheppard ordered me to return to Atlantis and inform Dr Weir of his situation, and that is what I intend to do. You two are coming with me,' Teyla insisted, planting herself in his path.

Finally understanding this was Sheppard's orders, Ford gave way to her.

'What? We can't just leave him here; he could be dead by the time we get back!' McKay protested, trying to urge the lieutenant on.

'They seemed to think he had done something wrong and should be punished until he understood their ways. I do not believe they intend to kill him,' Teyla assured him.

'What'd he do?' Rodney asked. 'He wasn't trying to hit on them was he?'

Teyla shook her head. 'I do not know what caused them such offence. He simply spoke to them...but they did say that as a man he had no rights there.'

'What do you mean, no rights?' Ford asked.

'I do not know, but there were definitely no men in that village, not even older men who could not hunt. The only males there were babies still in need of nursing.'

'That's odd,' Rodney mused, looking like he was trying to work it out.

'Yes it is, but I do not believe this is a matter we can deal with alone. You must fly the ship back to the Stargate and we will report back to Dr Weir, just as the major ordered.'

'Look, you want a pilot, Sheppard's your man. I can still barely get this thing to go in a straight line.'

'You do it well enough to get us back to the Stargate, but we must go now, Rodney. We're wasting precious time.'

'Perhaps I should stay and keep an eye on things,' Ford suggested, but once again, Teyla used all her strength to delay him.

'Aidan, I do not think it is safe for any man to set foot near that village. It was almost as if they were looking for an excuse to keep the major there, and if they wanted to detain him, then they would surely do the same to you. I believe that is why Major Sheppard feels Dr Weir is the best person to handle this situation, as do I. Now, let us return to Atlantis and allow Dr Weir to settle this matter.'

McKay swallowed hard, nodding as he hurriedly took up the pilot seat. Though the take off was rocky, he steered them safely up over the trees and on toward the Stargate.

oooOOOooo

Why can I smell dirt? Sheppard wondered as he gradually came to his senses. Then, he realised he could not only smell it, but taste it. That, along with an iron tang he recognised as blood. Spitting out the bitter mixture, he sat up and tried to fathom out where he was. The ground felt damp beneath his backside, and the leg of his trousers cloyed to his skin where he'd been lying on it, suggesting he'd laid on the soggy floor for some time.

The memory of how he'd ended up unconscious came back to him slowly. Oh, yeah. The bench pressers, he thought, rubbing the back of his neck as a deep throbbing pain set in. As he stretched it to relieve the discomfort, he gradually became aware that the only light source available was coming from above him. He was locked up underground.

'You are a stranger to this village,' a voice said from somewhere behind him.

Sheppard started, having thought he was alone in there. On turning, he found a middle-aged man lurking in a shadowy corner.

'Oh, hey. I didn't see you there,' he apologised.

'No. No one has seen me for days now.'

Sheppard raised his eyebrows a little, trying not to dwell on how ominous that sounded.

'What are you being punished for?' the man asked, dispensing with the small talk.

Sheppard took in the man's dishevelled appearance; his long, ragged beard and hair, and his threadbare clothes, and wondered how hard his life had been for him to look that way. 'Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not really sure. I was talking to what I assume was the village elder –'

'You spoke to Allanae?' The man looked horrified. 'You do not speak to her. No man is permitted to speak to her.'

'Excuse me?' Sheppard squinted, planting his hands on his hips. 'No man?'

'That's punishable by five lashes.'

The major's stomach lurched. 'Oh, I don't think so. You see, my people are going to be back here soon to sort this whole misunderstanding out. So...what did you do?'

'I struck her,' the man replied flatly.

Although a little shocked by the thought of this man hitting a woman, Sheppard supposed he could understand it considering the way she behaved.

'She spat on me, and I could not stand to see her anymore,' the man explained.

'And what'll you get for that,' Sheppard asked, figuring that had to be worth at least ten lashes.

'Death.'

He said it so matter-of-fact that Sheppard presumed he'd misheard. But there weren't many other words that sounded quite like that one. 'I'm sorry, did you say 'death'?' he asked, still hoping to be proved wrong.

The older man nodded. 'They are due to carry out my sentence soon, when the sun has risen to its height.'

'And you're okay with that?' Sheppard pressed. He detected no hint of anxiety in the man's tone, something he couldn't comprehend. If they'd passed a death sentence on him for something so relatively trivial, he'd be climbing the walls...quite literally if it meant getting out of there.

'When you get to my age and you are no longer considered useful, it's a blessing. Believe me, most men look forward to the release death offers.'

'Most men? Where are your men folk?' Sheppard asked.

'We are held captive in an encampment away from here.'

'Held captive. Why?'

'We work to keep the village running. We farm, we build, we do anything required of us, but we are not considered worthy to live among them.'

'I'm guessing you don't get paid for your work,' Sheppard ventured.

The way the man looked at him, as if payment was a completely foreign concept, told him they didn't. 'They give us food, and if we work hard enough we escape punishment. But it grows harder for me to keep up with the others with each passing year. I am too old to be useful now. I often go hungry or feel the sting of the lash.'

'That's slavery. They can't do that to you,' Sheppard breathed. 'Every man is entitled to his freedom.'

His cellmate shrugged his bony old shoulders. 'It's the way it has been for centuries. We have not known anything different in our lives.'

'What about the babies I saw out there in the village, the male ones. Do they come to your camp when they're old enough to leave their mothers?'

The man shook his head. "The youngsters are kept away from us, imprisoned at another camp where they are taught the rules of Medulsan life until they are old enough to come here and work. It has been many years since I was moved to the work camp; now I am old and of little use I have finally found a way out if there.'

Frowning, Sheppard looked him over again. The man couldn't be more than mid-sixties in age, hardly old by modern standards, yet he talked like his life was over anyway. 'No one's getting killed today. Not if I can help it.'

To Sheppard's surprise, the man lurched up to his unsteady legs and hurried across to him, catching hold of his arms. 'You must not interfere, or the same –' His voice trailed off as he looked at Sheppard, then a weak smile twitched onto his face. 'No...no...They will not kill you...not yet.'

Sheppard didn't like the way he'd suddenly changed his mind after getting a closer look at him. It reminded him of the way the women of the village had eyed him earlier. 'What do you mean? What's going on –?'

A shadow fell across them both and Sheppard looked up to see a woman opening the hatch above them. She was attractive in an unkempt way, her long, raven black hair looking like it had rarely seen a brush, and her tanned skin a little grubby in complexion. He didn't remember her from earlier, but there had been a lot of faces to take in. She glared at them both, her eyes fixing on him and staying there for longer than seemed necessary. Then, she pulled back and disappeared for a moment. The next moment, a handmade ladder dropped into the cell. 'Out. Both of you,' she ordered, running her eyes down to Sheppard's boots, then back up to his face again with something verging on a look of approval. It made his skin creep, but he averted his gaze so he didn't have to acknowledge it.

The older man caught hold of his arm again. 'Please...no heroics on my account. I'm ready to die,' he insisted.

The woman arched an eyebrow and smirked down at the major. 'You would be wise to follow the old man's advice,' she informed him.

Unable to promise that, Sheppard stepped back and allowed his cellmate to climb up before him. Once he was clear of the top, Sheppard followed him up.

The sunlight at the surface was dazzlingly bright and hot compared to the pit he'd just risen from. At first, he couldn't see much as he shielded his eyes against the glare. A shove in the back set him on his way, and once he'd grown accustomed to the light, he saw the woman his cellmate had called Allanae standing before him, with just about everyone else from the village crowding in behind her.

In front of her sat a bloodstained wood block, and beside it stood one of the burlies who had attacked him earlier. She clutched what looked like the bluntest, filthiest scimitar he'd ever seen in her thick fingers.

Oh, no. This is not goin' down this way, he thought, as Allanae raised her hands to silence the group's excited babbling.

'Today, we will witness the justice that comes to those who defy our laws,' she announced. 'Men have to know their place; defiance such as Balfor's and that of this man, Sheppard, will not be tolerated on Medulsa.'

Balfor. At least he had a name for the guy before they lopped his head off and rendered it redundant. Call it a quirk, but he always preferred to know who he'd let down; it gave him something to dwell on in his free time. Only now, as he scanned the crowd again, did he realise there were men there, not many, twenty-five at most, and all were on their knees with guns at their backs. What the hell kind of screwed up place was this? He made a mental note that this was absolutely the last time he ever, EVER, gave his gun up as a show of good will.

Allanae stepped up in front of Balfor. Just the merest hint of sympathy crossed her expression a moment before she spoke, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by sombre authority.

'Balfor, you have assaulted a village elder. You understand and accept the consequences of such an act?'

As if they sensed his growing outrage, Sheppard suddenly felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder, pushing him downward. He didn't want to kneel, but the knife tip now scratching the skin beneath his left ear persuaded him he should comply. He couldn't see who was restraining him, but she had a formidably strong grip, and to add insult to injury, he spotted it was his own knife at his neck, another mocking reminder of his naivety.

Balfor nodded silently that he understood his sentence, allowing himself to be shoved forward to the block and kneeling behind it without protest. Without further instruction, he laid his head on its rough and randomly hacked surface, content to await his fate.

Sheppard felt the pressure of the knife reduce, the hand holding it simply resting lazily on his shoulder now. Well, that was this woman's first mistake as far as he was concerned. Moving that knife had given him room to manoeuvre. He wasn't about to sit back and watch a man hacked to death within only a few feet of him and do nothing about it. That wasn't in his nature.

Balfor's executioner took her mark beside him, raising the scimitar high above her head to take a full swing at her target. This was his moment. With the weight of the heavy sword above and behind her, Sheppard sprang up and threw himself into her, tipping her off balance. They fell in a heap, the major prising the weapon from her hands before anyone else reached them. Suddenly, he felt weight crushing in on him, squeezing the air from his lungs, and he realised several of the heavies were on top of him, grabbing the sword and ripping it away from him before he could launch any kind of defence. Hands clawed at his arms, and he struggled to crawl free from the seething pile of bodies until sheer numbers overwhelmed him. Eventually, they forced him face down on the dusty ground, his arms pinned behind his back by someone now sitting their full weight on him to restrain him, while another held his legs. After struggling some more, he admitted defeat. He might not have saved the guy, but at least he'd tried.

After restraining his arms and grabbing a fistful of his hair, the woman with the black hair dragged him back up to his kneeling position.

Allanae staggered toward him, her face pale with shock, momentarily too incensed by his behaviour to speak. Eventually, she found her tongue. 'Why...why would you do that?' she demanded.

'Because what you're doing here is wrong,' he growled, gritting his teeth as the woman holding him gave his hair another tug. 'Someone has to show you that.'

'These are the rules by which our people have lived and thrived for many hundreds of years,' she gasped, apparently wounded by his comment. 'How dare you come here and proclaim to know better than us?'

'Don't care how long you've been doing this, it's still wrong,' Sheppard hissed, getting a knee in the kidney for his troubles from his enthusiastic captor.

'I told you to stay out of this matter, stranger,' Balfor called to him. 'I am ready to leave this shameful existence.' He still knelt beside the block, calmly waiting for his executioner to regain her composure and her weapon.

'Silence,' the dark haired woman ordered them both.

'This will not do,' Allanae grumbled, looking back over her shoulder at Balfor and the expectant crowd. 'The ceremony has been broken – perhaps the gods saw fit to spare him. I cannot continue in the face of such questions. I need time to think about what should be done.'

'But Allanae,' the woman restraining Sheppard protested. 'You surely will not let this one's crimes go unpunished?'

'Five lashes for the new man,' the elder said with a dismissive wave of the hand as she walked away.

'He was due five anyway,' she reminded her.

'Then, give him ten.'

Sheppard grimaced as the woman pulled his head back, pressing her mouth to his ear to say, 'Perhaps this will teach you some respect, Sheppard.'

As he was dragged centre stage, he managed to strain a look at his antagonist; unconventionally pretty she might be, but she had the hardest eyes he'd ever seen. He burned that face into his memory for future reference. This one was dangerous – he needed to keep an eye on her.

Casting him to the floor, she cut his hands free, then two other brutishly large women caught hold of his wrists, pulling his arms straight out at his sides.

He glanced up and saw Balfor give him one last horrified look before turning away, unwilling to watch the display of control these women were about to demonstrate. Sheppard screwed his eyes shut and waited for the inevitable bite as the sound of flying leather cut through the air behind him...