Author's Note: I would like to thank my beta reader, Nika Dixon, for her guidance. Any mistakes here are purely my own.

If you've made it to chapter 4 and haven't left a review yet then please do, I'd love to hear from you. For those who've been waiting patiently for the next instalment I have only one thing to say. Real life. Need I say more. I promise that Chapter 5 is on the drafting board but with Christmas coming fast, I'll make no promises about its completion.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Stargate Atlantis or the characters. The only thing that is mine are any original thoughts or characters that you may find here.

Chapter 4

Awareness came back slowly. First there was the insistent pounding in her head of a hundred angry horses stampeding. Then if that didn't make her feel bad enough there was the nausea threatening to engulf her. Her eyelids rebelled at her attempts to open them. She was tempted to give in and allow herself to slide back into oblivion until she heard a groan coming from her left. Who was that? She wished that her head would stop pounding so that she could think straight. Did I bring someone back to my room? Her muddled thoughts drifted back to the previous night and the dinner with Doctor Sol Harneg. I only had one glass, I can't be drunk, can I? Her mind drifted to the next thought. God, I didn't let Sol come back to my quarters, did I? She shuddered at that thought and knew she should open her eyes to find out but the thought that she may have done something she would regret scared her.

She heard the groan again and forced her eyes open. Her own groan slipped past her lips as the bright daylight upped the ante on her throbbing head. She quickly slammed her eyes shut against its harshness. She knew she should open her eyes again. She had to know who was in her room with her. She remembered going to bed the night before and was sure she'd been alone. She shielded her eyes with her hand as she slid her eyes back open and turned her head to the left ignoring the effect the movement had on her nausea as best she could.

Her eyes widened at the sight before her. "Lieutenant Jenkins?"

His face turned towards her, as pale as she suspected her own was.

"What are you..." she stopped as her surroundings finally registered and she realised she was no longer laying in the bed in her quarters at the encampment. "What the...". Words were failing her as she tried to understand what had happened.

She looked across at Jenkins again to see him attempting to sit up. Through sheer determination he succeeded shortly before turning away as he lost the battle with his stomach. Elizabeth nearly followed suit in sympathy. "You okay, Lieutenant?"

"Think so, ma'am." replied Jenkins.

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure, ma'am." replied Jenkins, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. "I remember being on watch and hearing something. I checked it out but I couldn't see anything, thought it must've been an animal or my imagination. Guess it wasn't no animal."

"Guess not." Elizabeth carefully pulled herself into a sitting position and took in the room around her. She spotted a prone figure a few feet away laying face down, wearing an Atlantis uniform. "Major Lorne?" Her attention moved to the others beyond him. Some stirring, some still unconscious. She recognised some of them as the Dalerian historians from the encampment. All looked like she felt. "Whatever happened, Lieutenant, it appears that they took everyone at the encampment."

She moved over to Major Lorne's side. His eyes were still closed and he showed no sign of stirring. "Lieutenant, give me a hand with the Major."

"Yes, ma'am"

They rolled Major Lorne onto his back revealing the dried blood down one side of his face and the dark bruise forming near his hairline. Jenkins touched his fingers to his CO's throat. "He's alive. Pulse is strong."

"Good. Do what you can for him, I'll check the others." She pushed herself upright groaning as the movement reminded her of her headache.

"Ma'am? Where are Clarke and Wilson?"

Weir looked around the group but couldn't see either man. "I don't know, Lieutenant. Let's hope that they managed to avoid capture." Despite the confidence she tried to instil into her words she feared that their absence indicated something far worse.

Jenkins returned his attention to his CO and did what he could to make him comfortable. Weir moved amongst the others finding that were all recovering from the effects of whatever drug they had been given. She found Doctor Harneg propped up in the corner of the room, his head buried in his hands. Squatting down next to him she put a hand on his arm to attract his attention.

"Are you okay?" asked Weir.

Harneg lifted his head to look at her, his happy disposition from the night before gone as if it never existed. "It is I that should be asking you that question. I trust I am not the only one that feels as if too much Jenai wine has been consumed."

"I only wish that were the case, Doctor." replied Weir. "Do you know what happened last night?"

"I have no memory beyond settling into my quarters for the evening. I assume that you know of nothing different"

Weir nodded as she looked around the room again. "Two of my men are absent. I only hope they got away and raised the alarm but other than that, no, I know nothing more than you."

"I am sure that Councillor Brille will ensure that we are quickly found. He is most keen to make a good impression on the people of Lantea. You provide our best hope for solving the mysteries of the Ancient legends."

ooOoo

A gentle wind blew through the encampment by the old Ancient city, stirring the dust into small eddies as it swirled between the tents and pushed against the loose flaps. Maybe it was the breeze that caused him to stir. Or maybe it was the dust it blew into his face. He used his hand to shelter from it as he cracked open his eyes to slits. A groan escaped his lips as the brightness of the day stung his eyes, spiking the pain in his head. He lay still for a moment, listening for the sounds of movement around him and finding none. Only the sound of canvas snapping in the breeze could be heard.

Sargeant Clarke pushed himself into a sitting position, steadying himself against a dizzy spell that did nothing to quell the sensations in his stomach. He rubbed at his head trying to clear his scattered thoughts. He remembered the stinging sensation. Remembered grabbing at his neck and finding the dart stuck in his skin. His instincts told him something was wrong. Very wrong. He looked at his surroundings but he could only see part of the encampment. But what he saw was... empty. Silent.

Looking towards the sky, he noted the sun's position. It was a couple of hours above the horizon. People should be up and moving about getting breakfast and readying themselves for the day. It should not be silent. And he should not have been lying in the dirt between the tents but he had been. With a sense of urgency, Clarke pushed himself to his feet grabbing for a tent rope when another dizzy spell struck. It was worse this time, bringing with it the nausea and what little of his stomach contents there were. Wiping at his mouth, Clarke pushed himself upright and turned towards the food tent. If anyone remained then he should find them there preparing the breakfast or clearing up. Clarke found the silence unnerving. He reached down for his 9mm wanting to take comfort from the protection that it offered only to find his hand brushing against an empty holster. He checked the ground but his weapon was nowhere to seen. Someone had taken his weapon and left him unconscious. He needed to find out what had happened after he passed out.

He looked into each tent as he went, finding them empty. The bedding had been pulled aside in a hurry but there was no sign of the occupant. No sign of a struggle even. His CO's tent was different. The bedding lay in a tangled heap on the floor along with a 9mm. His CO would never leave without his weapon. Especially not when off-world. He picked up the weapon, checking it. No bullets had been fired. Whatever had happened it had been fast not giving the Major a chance to get a shot at his assailant.

He kicked aside the bedding but found nothing more. No P-90 and no radio. He turned to leave and spotted the reddish-brown discolouration marking the end of the mattress. It felt dry to his fingers but he was sure that it was blood. The thought that his CO had fought their attackers and was possibly injured as a result spurred him on. He turned quickly ignoring the dizziness his movement caused and left the tent continuing on towards the food tent, sure that he would find it just as empty.

His feet caught on something bringing him to his knees. He grunting as the impact sent another spike of pain through his head adding to his misery. He moved to push himself to his feet stopping when his hand brushed against something softer than the surrounding ground. Looking down he saw a leg and the boot he had tripped on. The boot was standard military issue and belonged to his team-mate, Sargeant Pete Wilson. Clarke felt for a pulse and sighed, lowering his head when he found none. He straightened as he buried his emotions, aware that he needed to get back to the Stargate. Atlantis needed to know what had happened, not that he really knew but he could guess.

He pushed back to his feet after removing his friend's dog tags and started towards the Stargate. He figured he could make it in five hours, four if he pushed himself. Reaching the edge of the encampment he paused and studied the terrain, looking for danger. Seeing nothing to alarm him Clarke jogged out into the open, setting a fast pace.

ooOoo

The timber cart slowly worked its way up the rise leading to the Ancient city, its wheels creaking under a full load of supplies. The Dalerian driver sat astride the muscular animal that pulled it along, controlling it with the gentle touch of a long stick. Behind him sat two younger men dressed in the black uniform that marked them as Enforcers.

The cart seemed to hang suspended for a moment at the top of the rise before it began its descent.

"It is as impressive as I expected." remarked the dark-haired man as he stared at the Ancient buildings laid out below them.

His companion spared him a glance before returning his attention to the tented city. "Maran, should not the camp be up and preparing for the day ahead? I can not see any smoke rising from the kitchens."

Maran turned his attention towards the tents. "Curious." A movement on the horizon caught his attention. A lone figure was moving quickly away from the encampment and away from the Ancient city. "Rider, can not this beast go faster?"

"The ride will be rough and uncomfortable, sire." replied the driver.

"I do not care, old man. We must get to the encampment quickly. I fear that something is wrong."

"Yes, sire." replied the old man, flicking the long stick over the animals hind-quarters. The animal uttered a low guttural noise before increasing its speed.

Maran felt himself slip on the wooden seat as the cart bounced over the rough track. He latched onto the side-rail to steady himself and continued to watch the lone figure disappearing over the horizon as he ignored the grunt of complaint from his companion.

Maran jumped down from the cart as it pulled to a stop outside the tent encampment. The silence that greeted him was un-nerving and unnatural. The encampment was home to fifteen of their best historians and their support staff as well as the visiting Lanteans. Someone should have heard their arrival and come to help unload the supplies of food brought in by the regular delivery.

Maran signalled for the driver to remain where he sat. Not waiting for an acknowledgement he entered the encampment followed by his companion. They searched quickly through the tents starting with the closest. It wasn't long before they found the body of the Lantean. One side of his uniform was coated in blood and the insects had already started to buzz around looking for an easy meal.

"Councillor Brille will not be happy with our news."

"No he will not, Garius. Check the sleeping quarters while I check the other tents. "

Maran continued to study the body for a moment, noting the defensive wounds on its hands before pushing himself to his feet and heading for the food tent. He found the body of the camp chef in the kitchen area. Unlike the Lantean, his death had come as a surprise. Blood had pooled around the puncture mark on the side of his throat just behind and below the ear. He reached out and closed the dead man's eyes before turning away and continuing his search. He found two other bodies, both members of the support staff. Both killed in the same way.

Maran stepped back into the sunshine and looked towards the horizon where he had seen the lone figure. He turned back when he heard Garius approaching. The look on the other man's face told him what he needed to know. "Councillor Brille will need to be informed. They have taken only the Lanteans and the historians, butchering those that are of little value to them or too much trouble. You must go back and tell the Councillor what we have seen. The trail is several hours old but he will no doubt send out a tracking team."

"And what will you do?"

Maran looked back towards the horizon. "I will bring back the one that survived the night. The Councillor will wish to speak with him."

TBC

A/N: Poor Weir, will Lorne regain consciousness and keep her safe? Or will Weir have to protect them both? And what is an Enforcer? And will he manage to catch up with Clarke before he makes it back to the gate and Atlantis? To find out you'll have to wait for the next instalment. You know the drill, if you want more chapters then leave a review with the author. I hear she responds well to all comments and may even write faster knowing that someone out there is actually reading this stuff.