I am SO sorry for being so tardy to update! RL has been crazy then I was gone for a week to the Stargate Convention in Vancouver! (too much fun). Anyway, will try to get back on schedule here! ;) Hope someone out there is still interested in reading this!
Somehow, even without a P-90, Lorne still felt comforted by the nine mil holstered securely under his arm and hidden by the waist length coat that he wore. Concealed, it met Halling's "inconspicuous" criteria, but still was readily available to the Major should things go south on this mission.
"It would be best to let me talk with Elena," Halling muttered as they approached a modest building on the outskirts of the village. "She knows me and therefore will trust you enough to speak in your presence, but I suspect the trust will end there."
Lorne nodded. "Yeah, no problem." He took a deep breath as he followed Halling into the building. It felt weird to be off world without his team, but he understood Halling's reasoning, even if he had to order and damn near hog tie his men to stay put. A bitter smile twitched one side of his mouth, if only briefly. Lorne had worked under the command of many men in his career, but none of them rivaled Colonel Sheppard in the intense loyalty he seemed to spark in the men under his command. But then again, the Colonel was very approachable, likeable, a hell of a natural leader, and regarded the lives and welfare of his people above anything else. Lorne had heard the words "never leave someone behind," many times, but Sheppard was the living embodiment of them. Pulling his thoughts back to the present Lorne focused his sights on an older woman. She stared at Halling, whose nod of recognition was deep.
Dismissing herself from the man she was speaking with, the woman slowly walked towards them. She looked to be in her sixties, and moved with a slight limp and stiffness.
Her eyes, deep set in weathered wrinkles were sharp and Lorne got the feeling that very little went unnoticed by her. She stopped before Halling and touched foreheads with him.
"Halling. It has been many seasons."
"Elena," Halling responded. "It gives me joy to see you well."
Elena laughed quietly. "Not as well as I used to be, but I manage." She stepped back from him and looked directly at Lorne.
"This is my friend," Halling gestured, "Lorne."
Elena nodded at him. "Lorne."
Lorne put on a friendly smile. "Ma'am."
"What brings you to Medarka?" She stared one more moment at Lorne before returning her gaze to Halling.
"We must speak with you, Elena," Halling lowered his voice. "It is a matter of great importance."
Almost immediately, Elena turned and gestured towards a small room in the back of the building. As they entered, she closed the door behind them. Walking back to Halling she stared him squarely in the eye. "Tell me what has happened."
Halling drew in a deep breath. "Teyla and some of Lorne's people have been taken by the Wraith."
Elena dropped her head. "That saddens me greatly for Teyla was an honorable friend, much as her father once was."
"We have not given up hope in finding them," Halling insisted quietly.
She looked up, her eyes full of sadness. "Your chances of that are slim, my friend."
"I know," Halling answered.
"And you came to me because you thought I might know something that would help you in your search?" Her words were a question, but her tone of voice was not.
"Yes," Halling admitted. "Elena, I would not have come to you, but…" he sighed. "This is not just Teyla, but also Lorne's people, who have proven themselves many times as true friends not only to the Athosian people, but to all the humans in this galaxy."
Lorne kept his gaze neutral as he returned the direct look she gave him. They stared at each other for a long moment, before she nodded.
"What world were they taken from?" She asked.
"I do not know the name, only the address," Halling responded.
Elena walked to a small table in the back of the room and grabbed a piece of yellowed parchment along with what looked like a crude form of a pencil. Halling followed her, took the pencil and quickly scribbled out the gate symbols.
Elena looked at the address for a moment before shaking her head. "I do not recognize this world, but I will place some discreet inquiries to see if I can find out anything for you." She looked away from the parchment and back at Halling. "How may I reach you?"
Lorne looked up at his tall companion who exchanged hesitant looks with him.
"Elena," Halling started before meeting her gaze again. "It is difficult to reach us, but we can return. You need only tell us when."
Her gaze narrowed for a minute, as if she was gauging his answer before she responded. "Two days time. By then if I do not have an answer for you, there is no answer I can find."
Halling bowed his head deeply at her. "Two days. My thanks to you, Elena."
She nodded back before stepping around them and returning to the common room.
Left alone, Lorne squinted at Halling. "Think she'll be able to help us?"
Halling's gaze was directed towards the common room, but his look was distant. "If anyone can find out what we need to know, Major, she can."
--
John stood quietly at the back of the cell, watching, his body taunt as a half dozen Wraith guards along with Harry, walked towards their cell.
"Great." McKay lamented quietly, "here we go again…"
John's nod was barely perceptible as his gaze never left Harry. The door to their cell opened and Harry spent a moment staring at John before he turned and pointed at Patch.
"You." Harry cocked his head. "My queen wishes to see you fight again."
John shifted his gaze from Harry to Patch. Seething hatred burned in Patch's one good eye as, surrounded by guards, he left the cell. Halfway down the hallway, Patch's entourage was joined by another group of guards with one more prisoner; Patch's opponent presumably.
John walked up to the cell bars, settled his arms on a horizontal branch and watched as the two opponents were led into the Round. "Interesting to see how this goes…" John commented absently.
"Do you believe he will win?" Teyla asked quietly.
John shrugged before his gaze narrowed. "Our lives would be a lot easier if he didn't."
"Do not count on that, John Sheppard." Della's voice interrupted John's thoughts and he turned his head towards her. He remembered her words of warning when they first arrived.
The one with the eye patch: he is good in the Round… very good….
John slowly shook his head as he watched Patch's opponent take a sword and step back. Even from this distance, John could see the hesitation in the man's bearing. "Doesn't look good," he muttered.
"This won't take long," Ronon answered evenly, apparently observing the same thing. "Can't wait to meet this guy in the Round."
John never took his eyes from the Round. "I'm hoping to avoid that scenario…" his voice trailed off as Patch and his opponent traded blows before once again circling each other. John shook his head as Patch delivered a fast series of high and low shots before deftly disarming his opponent. With one, swift move, he ran the man through, killing him instantly.
"Son of a bitch," John muttered.
Patch spun towards the queens and stabbed his sword deep into the sand before letting go. Head held high, he glared defiantly at them.
One of the queens stood and hissed loudly at him before two guards roughly grabbed Patch and hauled him from the arena.
"That's living dangerously," John commented. "For all he knew, the queens would've killed him for that."
"Is that why you chose to cripple your opponent and not kill him, John Sheppard?" Della asked quietly.
Slowly, John turned his head towards her. He stared intently at her neutral expression for a moment, before returning his gaze to the Round as Patch was led back towards the cell. "Had to win. Didn't have a choice." He answered abruptly. "Wasn't going to risk their wrath by killing him."
"Well our buddy Patch doesn't seem to care," Rodney interjected.
"He does not." Della backed away from the cell crossbars. "I do not believe he cares if he lives or dies."
"Great," John sighed. "That makes him all the more dangerous."
"All the more reason for me to kill him," Ronon added.
"Not if we can avoid it." John flashed a warning glare in Ronon's direction. "Staying alive is our first priority."
As Patch was shoved into the cell, John subtly inched closer to Teyla, but Patch left them alone. He slid to the ground in the far corner without so much as a glance in their direction.
Commotion in the hallway grabbed John's attention and he turned, watching as a group of downtrodden humans, escorted by a group of Wraith guards, pushed several crude looking carts down the hallway. The first cart stopped in front of the first cell in the aisle while the rest waited behind. In almost a trained manner, the occupants pushed and shoved their way into a line, each receiving a crude bowl of something John wasn't relishing tasting and a cup of what he hoped was water. John's nose twitched as, even from a distance, he could smell the putrid food.
"That smells disgusting," Rodney whispered vehemently.
"It keeps you alive," Della answered. "The strong find a way to survive on what is given us. Beware of your cell mates. The strong always are first in line and receive the most food, the weakest last and least."
John nodded as the next food cart was taken to the next cell; the one right before theirs. "Let me guess: Patch is always first in line?"
"Yes," Della sighed. "He will not surrender that position easily."
John shrugged. "He wants to be first, that's fine. But, we'll be right behind him."
"Somehow, I don't think his friends are going to like that," Rodney snapped.
"Rodney is right, Colonel," Teyla interjected, "we will have to earn our position."
John shrugged. "If we do, we do. But if we're going to survive, we're going to need adequate food and water." He gave Teyla a determined look before glancing at Rodney and finally Ronon. "Whatever it takes," he finished quietly.
Warily, John walked towards the entrance, his team right behind him. As Della predicted, when their food cart arrived, Patch and his group pushed their way through the other prisoners right up to the entrance. John put on the strongest expression he had and returned Patch's glare. John held his ground as Patch walked up to the doorway, but when his cohorts tried to follow him, John and Ronon immediately blocked their path, Teyla right with them. The prisoners reacted exactly how he thought they would so John was ready when the first roundhouse punch came at him. Ducking, he avoided the blow before he doubled up his fist and punched his opponent as hard as he could, stunning him. Teyla dispatched another with a roundhouse kick, and Ronon practically threw his opponent into two more, sending them all staggering. Tense, John waited a moment, looking for any other prisoner to challenge them, but when none did, he motioned Rodney over to their group and turned back towards the food cart.
Standing silently nearby, bowl of food and cup of water in his hands, Patch watched them quietly, making no move to help his cronies. Silently, he turned and walked away. John stepped behind his team, letting them go first before he took his rations and followed them back to their corner of the large cell. As he carefully eased himself to the ground, John's gaze caught Della's.
"Well done," she said quietly, "they will not challenge you again… at least for a little while."
John took a small sip of his water and watched as the last in line received their food. True to Della's word, the last few prisoners in line received very little food or water. Dejected and obviously weak, they turned away hording their meager rations.
Steeling himself against the smell, John dipped his fingers into the brownish, gruel like substance and scooped some into his mouth. Next to him, Rodney did the same, only to cough and wince.
"I can't eat this," he said quietly.
"Yes, you can," John answered. "You have to."
"Right. Eat bugs, worms or whatever to live," Rodney snapped, "but I'm not military here!"
"McKay." John interrupted sternly. "Don't think about it. Just eat."
John glanced at Teyla who, eyes closed, was quickly eating her ration, then to Ronon who was eating quickly, his expression stoic. Taking a deep breath, John scoped more of the food into his mouth. He swallowed. "Eat, McKay." He repeated, his voice still stern.
"Right," Rodney answered before he turned back to his own food.
Looking for something to distract him and his team from their meal, John turned his attention to Della who returned to sit close by, her own ration in hand. "That was the third match today. Don't these queens have anything better to do?"
"The fighting comes and goes in spurts." Della answered as she ate. "The queens will order many matches then leave for days and weeks at a time before returning and ordering more."
"I don't get this alliance," Rodney interjected, "especially now, with their food shortage. They're way too suspicious to trust each other."
Della snorted. "They do not. There has been fighting and deaths, but these remaining queens are very strong in their own right. As long as the alliance benefits each of them, they will keep it. In my time here, two queens of this alliance have died. It is said one was killed by humans who were occupying the Ancestral city. The other was betrayed by these queens and killed."
John fought to keep his expression neutral at Della's mention of his people.
"Each one waiting for the others to fight," Rodney observed bitterly. "Even the victor would be weakened and the others would go in for the kill. As long as each one of them knows that, none of them will start a fight with the others. It's a stalemate."
John shook his head. "Interesting alliance." Setting aside his bowl, he downed there rest of his water and tried to relax, saving his strength.
With nothing else to say, Della turned away from them and slid to the back wall of her cell her attention turned to her ration.
John glanced around, reassuring himself that each of his team members, including Rodney, had finished their rations. He didn't have much to say, so he settled into a brooding silence as his mind worked over the task of finding a way to escape. In the back of his mind, he knew Elizabeth and the others would be looking for them, but they had no idea where in the galaxy to search. John signed quietly and looked up, meeting Teyla's penetrating and knowing gaze.
"We will find a way, Colonel," she said quietly.
--
Elizabeth met Lorne and Halling at the top of the gate room stairs. In spite of her solid and strong mask, she knew her voice still held a note of pleading. "Anything?"
"Elena asked us to return in two days time," Halling answered. "If she can secure any information for us, she will have done so by then."
Elizabeth resisted a frustrated sigh. "Two days?"
"There's still a chance, ma'am," Lorne added quietly. "At least there's a possibility she can help us."
Elizabeth nodded before smiling thinly at Halling. "Thank you."
Halling bowed his head. "Teyla is the leader of our people. There is nothing I would not do to bring her home." A slight smile turned up one corner of his normally stoic mouth. "And your people… you have done much for us, Dr. Weir. Any help that I can offer, I would gladly give."
Elizabeth's smile deepened slightly, as gratitude warmed it. Often times, she dwelled on all the problems they had and the mistakes and enemies they'd made, until there was no room left in her thoughts for the good they'd done and the allies they'd gained. Sometimes… sometimes she just needed a nudge; a reminder of the good things, their friends, and all the people they'd helped.
"We will find them, Dr. Weir," Halling added quietly. "I am sure of it."
Elizabeth nodded and held tightly to her determination. She glanced at Lorne, whose expression mirrored hers, before she looked back at Halling. "Yes, we will."
--
John sighed quietly as sleep eluded him. He was tired, bone tired but the hard wall, the stifling heat… the danger he could sense all around him, all of it kept him from sleeping. He turned his head slightly and met Ronon's quiet gaze. Somehow, John knew the big man wouldn't be sleeping either. He turned his head the other way and saw Rodney's half open eyes and while Teyla's eyes were closed, he suspected she wasn't asleep either.
A muffled sound from the other side of the cage caught his attention and he looked past Teyla to see Patch grab one of the women and all but throw her on the ground before he followed her down. It didn't take a genius to see what was coming. Without really thinking, John found himself on his feet, Ronon right next to him. They crossed half the distance of the cell before some of Patch's comrades stepped into their way. From the corner of his eye, John could see Ronon stop nose to nose with another prisoner while he focused his attention on the man in front of him. "Move," John's voice was low and full of the anger he felt in his gut but the man didn't budge.
John turned his head slightly and cocked a humorless brow at Ronon before he buried his fist in the man's gut. At the same time, Ronon floored the other man with a wicked right cross. But, John only got two steps before a blow across his cheek staggered him. Somehow he managed to duck the left hook that followed it and raised his fist, only to see the man go down from a leg sweep by Teyla. It all happened so fast that Patch barely had time to react, before John roughly kicked him off the woman and stepped on his arm, grinding his combat boot harder against the bone every time Patch flinched. After a couple of struggles, and a hard kick in the ribs, Patch gave in and stopped fighting.
"Bastard!" Patch gasped.
"Funny," John quipped darkly. "I was going to say the same thing." He glanced at Teyla, who helped the woman sit up and then at Ronon who held one of Patch's boys by the throat and half off the ground, all the while throwing the look of death at the others who apparently decided they didn't need to be crossing the big man at this particular moment.
"What now, hero?" Patch sneered.
"Dunno," John stepped down harder. "I haven't decided if I'm going to let you go… or break your arm just for spite." He ground Patch's arm in the hard ground for good measure, watching as Patch flinched and paled against the pain.
"Sheppard," Rodney's voice shook slightly and John turned to see five Wraith guards hurry towards the cell.
Slowly, John stepped back, letting Patch go as the guards entered the cell. Two pointed stunners at Ronon who still held fast to his victim. Ronon looked at John who nodded slowly, before throwing the man on the floor and backing up. The guards swiftly removed the women from the cell and left. John slowly looked back towards Patch, meeting his burning gaze with a spiteful one of his own. If they hadn't been on their guard before, they really were now. Patch wouldn't forget what happened and John knew he'd have to be doubly aware to protect his team whenever Patch decided to even the score. Part of John cursed himself for getting involved, but it was only a small part. There was no way he would've sat by and watched Patch force himself on the woman, no matter what the situation was.
"Thought you said no unnecessary risks," Ronon muttered.
John looked at his tall friend, reassured by the approving look in Ronon's eyes. He quirked a brow. "I changed my mind."
"You do realize he's not going to just let this go, don't you?" Rodney whispered.
"Didn't have a choice." John stared hard at Rodney, who looked away and silently nodded; his expression voicing his agreement, even if his voice didn't. As Patch turned away and joined his comrades, John leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the ground.
