Chapter 4
Teyla watched the three men walk away from the jumper with a mixture of longing to be with them and relief that she could stay in the nice, cool, climate-controlled jumper. She sat on the bench seat, legs straight out and a hand supporting her belly. She brought in then let out a long breath, finding it increasingly difficult to do normal things – like breathe regularly – as her baby grew and pushed organs up out of the way, crowding her lungs. For someone who could call on her body at a moments notice and know it would not betray her, this uncomfortable… ungainliness was hard to accept. Once toned muscles were softening into the suppleness of impending motherhood.
Her eyes drifted closed as her body demanded some rest now that it wasn't battling the heat and humidity. She automatically reached out for mind of her developing child. He was growing fast, his brain maturing far quicker than the rest of him. She smiled as he moved within her, a ripple of movement echoed on the surface of her distended belly. As she communed with him, a vague wash of comforting images, he settled down, drowsingly content to move newly formed fingers and toes slowly. She smiled at the notion that he was intrigued by the new movement.
A short time later she roused, her back complaining at the awkward angle. She heaved herself up, taking a few steps to the front of the jumper then back. She arched her back, rubbing the base of her spine, trying to ease the tense muscles. The green wall of foliage was lit gold by the setting sun. Teyla frowned as she glanced at the timepiece on her wrist. She must have rested longer than she thought. It had been over an hour since her team had left.
A thought sent a hand to her radio, but she stopped. No, they would contact her if they were in trouble. They were doing this for her, no need to interrupt. Another deep breath had her pacing again. Suddenly the jumper was too confining and despite her promise to John, she left the jumper breathing in the warm air.
It was considerable cooler than before, though the humidity had not let up. Her hair stuck to her forehead and neck, and sweat rolled maddeningly between her breasts. She felt better, though, for being out in the open, and she took a meandering course in a wide circle around the cloaked jumper.
They had parked on the other side of the ridge overlooking the town. The embankment curved around to her right, not far from her present position. As she stood near the edge, she had a fantastic view of the harbor and the sea beyond. The setting sun was behind her, gilding the tops of houses and down below the tips of the masts were on orange and gold fire. The sea further out was shaded into different tones of blue, beginning with the palest egg-shell blue closest to the beach far below her. As the water deepened, the shades of blue became darker and more vibrant. Waves purled up on the shore below, white foam gilding the crests.
The sun set quickly, twilight deepening even as she walked back to the jumper. A brisk breeze sprang up, cooling her damp skin. She pulled the shirt away from her body, allowing the air to circulate. Once back at the jumper, she sat in the control chair up front for a few moments letting the soft cushioning relax her back. Her fingers tapped at the armrest, trying to keep from activating her radio. Surely they should have found the place by now, and talked to Madesh.
The twilight had leached into full dark as she finally gave into her anxiety and activated her radio. "John, this is Teyla. Please come in."
"Go ahead, Teyla. What's up? Everything okay?" Loud music and voices nearly drowned out his voice.
"Yes, I am merely concerned for you and the others. It is night, and you haven't come back yet. Colonel Carter will be dialing in soon."
"Yeah, I know, Teyla. Sorry about this. Took a little longer to get to the place than I'd hoped. We're here now."
She started to speak when a sudden tightening of the muscles in her abdomen caught her painfully unawares. She didn't want John to be concerned so she took a deep breath and responded. "Any…any word on my people?"
"I haven't been able to get to the bar yet. As you can hear it's pretty busy. Must be a game on," he joked.
Another sharp pain had her biting her lip to keep from making a sound, so she was unable to reply when John added, "We'll call you as soon as we know anything and are on our way back. Sheppard out."
Teyla breathed deeply through three more contractions, teeth clenched against the sharp muscle spasms. She tried to recall what Dr. Keller had told her about her due date. She wasn't anywhere close. Why was she having these? When no more pain followed the last one, she relaxed completely. That was when she remembered the doctor telling her about Braxton-Hicks contractions. Liable to occur during the second trimester, most women barely felt them. Barely feel them, my ass, she thought cynically, rubbing her belly.
A sound outside the jumper had her tensing again, this time in alertness. Someone was coming through the undergrowth from the direction of the town. She swiveled the chair slowly, afraid to make any noise or even much movement even though she knew the jumper was cloaked. She expected to see full dark beyond the reach of the cabin lights, and was surprised to see a ghostly white light outside, lighting up the clearing. A dark figure had come through the wall of foliage, following the path Ronon had cut earlier.
She scanned the interior for any usable weapons as she slowly rose from her seat. The person outside slowed down as they reached the outline of the jumper in the grass. Teyla's breathing increased, her nostrils flaring at each inhale. Her warrior senses were kicking in, her eyes picking up details with heightened acuity. She rolled forward slightly, balancing on the balls of her feet.
The man outside, for she saw now it was a male figure, stood for a moment, eyeing the flattened grass. He moved slowly forward, stopping at the terminus of the ramp. A calculating glance up and he was placing a foot onto the ramp itself. Teyla moved then, going for the knife strapped to her calf. She also reached under the co-pilot seat and grabbed the sidearm hidden there by Ronon. She crouched into a fighting stance as the man moved past the cloak and saw the interior of the craft.
"Saul? Saul Logan?" Teyla cried out in astonishment, the hands holding the weapons dropping to her side. "What are you doing here on Jakurand?"
"Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagan." Saul sent a half-hearted bow her way. He was dressed in a bright red and turquoise striped shirt over loose yellow pants. Curly gray hair brushed his shoulders, and bright blue eyes peered out at her from under beetled brows. "I was expecting you, however, you were not expecting me." A nasty smile curved his lips as he looked her up and down, eyes lingering on her obvious pregnancy. "You've been busy, I see."
Her spine stiffened at the insult in the words as well as his tone. Her weapons came up again and he laughed. Her lips tightened to a flat line. "Saul, you were once a good friend to my father, always bringing the best stories, songs, and performances to my people. In the honor of that friendship, tell me what you want and why you are here." She began to get a bad feeling about the whole situation, a sneaking suspicion that there was really no information about her people to be had.
"Honor? Is everything about honor to you people?" He snorted, looking away for a moment. "Do you have any idea what your father did to me? How he looked down on me because of my profession?"
"My father would never do such a thing. He was a good man." She let the gun fall to her side, but kept the knife pointing up. Teyla had never trusted the traveling performer, but whether her father trusted him or not he never showed it. She remembered him always being open and friendly with everyone.
"You were a little girl. You wouldn't know the insult he paid me by never inviting me to share his tent or even a meal." The older man was getting worked up, his hands trembling and his eyes wide. "I'll have you know, I've dined with kings and princes."
"Well, I'm glad for you, Saul, however you still have not answered my question." She was reluctant to bring her weapons up again. He was still a friend of her fathers, despite his lack of insight into her people's customs. They never invited anyone to stay unless they were marrying into the clan.
Saul threw his head back and gave a funny laugh, while taking a small step closer. "Oh, yes, what am I doing here? Well, when I heard that someone was looking to get their hands on a few of the Lanteans, namely their number one team, I remembered an old friend. An old friend who had a daughter who was part of that team." An ugly smile creased his face. "This certain someone was willing to pay very handsomely for the…privilege of having them brought before him."
"I assume, then, that this 'Madesh' you spoke of does not exist?" Teyla raised her chin defensively, re-gripping the knife down by her side.
"Merely a codeword to inform those lying in wait that they have the right people." He took another step closer, within arms reach. Teyla brought up the gun and he froze. "When I did not see you with your compatriots, I had hoped you were merely waiting back at the transport. News of your missing people would surely bring you here." He paused and studied her. "Someone else wants to see you."
"Why?" Her mouth was grim line. To use her in such a fashion simply to get to John and Rodney!
"Why? Have you not been listening? The money, my dear, enough to set me up for life." He reached out and grabbed the gun, forcing her arm up.
She struck out with the knife, but he blocked that with his other arm, revealing a long blade. She shifted her attack lower, aiming for vital organs rather than neck and head. He closed in, ripping the gun out of her hand and tossing it aside. She counter-attacked by throwing her weight onto him, careful to keep the blades away from her stomach.
Teyla then swiveled away, reaching out with the knife and catching his upper arm. He yelled and tried to hit her with his fist. She jerked back, and to balance threw a foot behind her. It caught on a small case sitting to the side, and she lost her carefully preserved balance, falling backward to land painfully on her back.
The older, but surprisingly agile man leapt to the attack. She tried to roll away, but was caught between the bench and another box of emergency supplies. It rolled to land on her leg, bruising it painfully. Saul disarmed her quickly and held his own blade to her throat.
"Don't resist and things will go easier for you." He nodded to her belly. "You wouldn't want any…harm to come to your child, now would you?"
Teyla sneered up at him from her position on the floor. "Harm him and you die."
"A little late for the threats don't you think." He reached out his other hand and pulled the box away from her, spilling some of the contents. "Get up!"
She got to her feet with difficulty, the bruise on her thigh throbbing painfully. Her hands were wrapped protectively around her stomach, the child within quiescent. The gun was in Saul's hand now, aimed at her, and he sheathed his own knife and pocketed hers. When she had gained her feet, he motioned with the gun toward the open hatch.
"If you think I will go with you peacefully, you are quite mistaken." Her eyes bored into his with fervent promise.
He shrugged. "I never expected this to be easy."
Her eyes widened as they spotted the large fist coming straight for her face.
OOOooooOOO
With a gasp, Teyla sat straight up, coming to consciousness all at once. Her first thought was for her child, and her hands felt all over the protruding flesh, hoping to feel movement. She almost lost it when he did finally kick, denting the skin, and pushing her hand away. She struggled to contain the tears that wanted to flow. Tears of relief, tears of frustration, and tears of sadness that all of this was due to her intense desire to find her people. If she hadn't insisted on following up every little lead, no matter how insignificant, her team would be all together, not possibly attacked, hurt, and taken prisoner.
When she had control of her emotions again, she looked around. Bare wooden walls met her eyes. Light came from a couple of large candles on a small desk. It was a small, sparely furnished room. The most comfort was the bed in which she lay. A rough plank ceiling was above her, and she heard running footsteps and voices overhead. A loud, unintelligible command sent the footsteps to the other side.
The other side of what? she thought, as she pushed back the thin blanket covering her. She still had all her clothes, although the knife strapped to her other thigh had been removed. They had not found, however, the stiletto hidden in the back of her bra. That gave her some measure of comfort as she removed it and placed in a more easily accessible spot. Her radio was also missing.
As she rose to her feet, her body became aware of the unsteady nature of the floor. It swayed back and forth, sometimes dipping abruptly. So, a ship, she thought grimly. She'd been on a ship before, and fortunately did not suffer from seasickness like some people did. It did take her a moment to adjust to the different way of moving, and she staggered somewhat as she made her way to the door.
Locked, of course, she cursed as she pulled at the handle. Banging on it brought nothing save a tender hand, and a splinter. She dug it out, and sucked on the sore spot, glaring at the door. After a few minutes of that futility, she moved about the room, searching for anything that was to be found. She pulled the bed apart, the small desk yielded another splinter, and the wardrobe gave her a small pile of dirty clothes. She pushed the foul smelling things away from her as her stomach roiled with sudden nausea.
Finally, her body demanded that she rest. She had lost track of how long she'd been awake, and sat down on the edge of the bed, hissing when she bumped the bruise on her leg. She sucked on one of the splinter wounds, wondering almost sulkily why everything was made of un-sanded wood. Did they have such callused hands that they never got any spikes of wood in their flesh?
The earlier activity above had calmed, but started up again as she sat. The motion of the ship calmed to subtle rocking, and she figured they'd made port of some kind. Footsteps outside her door had her rising to her feet, hands held loose at her sides. The lock was undone and the door thrown open to reveal a brace of relatively clean looking sailors dressed in white cotton shirts and beige pants. Leather boots came up to their knees and wide belts circled their waists. They both wore swords at their hips and both had firearms pointed at her, guns that looked suspiciously Genii.
"You will come with us." The one on the right waved his gun, motioning her out into the hall.
Her lips tightened a fraction as she debated making a break for it. A slight movement of her child made the decision for her. She decided to go peacefully and quietly. Hopefully to an answer of who had her and what they wanted. One of the guards preceded her down a narrow hallway painted a surprisingly cheerful yellow and white. She spied a small kitchen off to the right, a delicious smell causing her stomach to rumble.
The man behind her pushed her gently with his gun, moving her along a little quicker. They climbed a set of steps and she inhaled gratefully as she rose into the open air. The quality of light told her it was close to dawn and a brisk breeze blew in her face. She hadn't realized how stuffy it'd been below. She looked around, noting an island off one side of the ship, the volcanic peak rising far above them. The deck of the ship was busy, sailors scurrying to and fro, some washing and scrubbing the deck, some tightening ropes, and some swabbing out what appeared to be cannon.
She didn't have time to look any closer as she was guided to the far end, and let into a large cabin that seemed to spread the width of the ship. Generous multi-paned windows faced the island and caught the dawn light, reflecting it into the room. A large desk was off to one side, and as she moved closer she saw it was covered with maps and charts. A large leather bound book was lying right on top, open to show the writing format to be similar to a journal.
The room was empty, and she resigned herself to some more waiting. She stood close to the windows, looking at the island. It looked somewhat recognizable as the strengthening daylight brought details into clearer focus. A tight column of smoke rose from partway down the mountain. A boat rowing toward the ship caught her attention. It was full, several sailors rowing hard against the waves curling up to the white beach. A young woman sat in the front, looking somewhat bedraggled and worn. Her wrists appeared to be tied together and she kept glancing apprehensively at the men behind her. Blonde hair caught in a ponytail blew around a familiar face.
Before she got too anxious, hoping it wasn't who she thought, Teyla looked around for some way to see the other woman closer. She glanced around, and with a cry pounced on a sizeable brass spyglass. She extended it and put an eye to it. Her shoulders drooped as she saw that it was indeed the person she thought it was.
"Oh, Dr. Keller, what are you doing here?" she said to herself, eyes closing in consternation. Colonel Carter must have sent a team through when Atlantis couldn't contact them. Where were the others, then?
The sound of the door opening behind her had her swinging around, eyes opened, as she wondered what new threats lay in store. A man had entered covered in a dark cloak that shielded his face, falling in graceful folds to the floor. He walked forward, still in shadow until he was only a couple feet from her. Teyla backed up against the windows as sudden, unreasonable fear tightened her stomach. Instinct sent her arms curling around her protruding abdomen and she raised her chin defensively.
Pale, long fingered hands rose to the hood of the cloak and pushed it back revealing a shock of short gray hair and a white hybrid face with slit-pupiled eyes that gazed at her coldly.
"Hello, Teyla." The last time she'd heard that rough voice was as a bug crawled up her restrained body, determined to feast on her life's blood.
"Michael?"