CHAPTER 7: SITUATION NORMAL: ALL FOULED UP (PART 1)

DEFENSE FACILITY: PRESENT DAY

Lt. Colonel Sheppard tripped over a stray pebble. Felt his balance move forward at an abrupt pace, and then his knees buckled beneath his weight. Aiming for the pillar to the right, he broke the fall with his shoulder and slid down to the floor in a kneeling position. Holding on to the support for dear life.

He cursed the lethargic sensation gripping his body.

Whatever the intruder had used in the chasm, it still crawled through his system like a slug. It had weakened him so much so, that resistance was just as hard as fighting a Wraith stunner.

Nevertheless, the Colonel within was stronger than this.

John leaned his forehead against the concrete column. Closed his eyes and dug down deep. One knee crawled along the pillar until his boot was flush with the floor. Growled as he pushed off, and then breathed a sigh of relief when he stood entirely on his feet. He still held onto the pillar in a hug, using it as a brief recess. Opened his eyes and lifted his chin to gaze about the area.

Overhead, the ceiling curved like a barn's top. Whilst titanium pipes gored three broad, stone slabs that spanned the length of the prison facility. Retained in this section, situated three tiers of concrete blocks, which mirrored the size and shape of cargo containers. Yet, instead of doors, shimmering blue energy fields, parallel to an event horizon, fenced its occupants.

From behind, the female guard urged him on with a coarse thrust for the umpteenth time. He had a funny notion she relished her duty a tad too much. Regardless, he obeyed and walked on.

His legs and arms quivered like jelly. Whereas his head felt like he had the weight of a freight train on his mind. He smirked at the examination, glad a doctor's degree never piqued his interest. Then his gazed locked with McKay's marionette form, and the smirk disappeared like footprints in the sand.

Ahead, they entered section C to a horrifying scream.

Sheppard winced and focused on the décor, and noticed a familiar face occupying the cell to his right. Two friendlies to be precise, as his superior's prostrate body appeared beside the Lt Colonel.

A fierce anger burned in his chest fuelling his need to act. But, she warned him to move on, follow the protocol initiated before the mission.

Every pair were to hold out until the Daedalus did a layover two days from now. Unless, by some miracle, someone in the team had avoided capture. Then reinforcements would save their collective asses from whatever awaited them in this dungeon.

A knot formed in his stomach.

Perhaps their sentencing led towards a more lenient path. He swallowed down the bitter taste in his mouth. On the other hand, they probably favoured earth's mediaeval beliefs. Torture by crude weaponry. The scream was convincing enough. Likewise, that silver shell sure looked as if it came from the era.

A shiver snaked its way down his spine. Hands dampening with the prospect. He had gained enough experience in the Pegasus to know what he'd seen. Settlements masked in technological goodness, they hid their true nature like these darn turtle shells. Crude but effective. They were grenades hidden within a crusader's helmet. Hurt almost as much as having the life sucked from one's veins.

The shiver returned in full vigour. Sweat now beading his forehead.

"Move."

The woman cuffed his shoulder with what felt like a baton. But when the electrical current zipped its way through his form, he withdrew the speculation. The warning in Sam's blue eyes had displayed what would happen if he rebelled. Though obey like a sheep he just couldn't do. No, he would put up a fight 'till the end. It was part of his DNA after all.

John leaned against the wall, shaking off the effects of the baton. Moved ahead with a large, swift stride avoiding the oncoming blow as she goaded him along. Nor did he miss that wicked grin ghosting the corner of her lips.

No doubt, she wanted him to suffer. Enjoy the pain pierce his military veneer. He gave her a lopsided, cheeky smile in return, observing her irritation reach a level higher.

"Sheppard."

His head jolted in the voice's direction, to the left, and sighted Daniel cradling his left arm. An agonizing grimace creased his expression.

John marked the stranger glance over the archaeologist's shoulder. Most likely the one who had caused the scream earlier. He didn't blame him though. A dislocated shoulder hurt like a son of a gun. Next, he noted a forefinger before the man's lips and frowned.

Was it an attempt to keep Dr Jackson from calling after him? Or was silence golden in this part of the prison. Either way, the Lt. Colonel took it as a warning. Copied Sam's behaviour and gazed ahead at Rodney. Today, in this moment, regrettably, the physicist was his only concern.

Daniel understood, nodded his confirmation, and stared after them as they moved down the corridor.


FIVE MINUTES AGO

"Help me, please."

Nesra turned his gaze from the translucent barrier to the archaeologist.

"I'm not a physician."

"What do you think doctor stands for?" Daniel joked.

When the researcher scowled bewildered, he beckoned him closer. Nesra hesitated, shaking his head in negation, as if he was the one who'd suffered the injury.

The man had had a personal defense shield for goodness sake. Jackson exclaimed to himself and then commanded in a fierce tone. "You get over here, and you help me set this shoulder."

The researcher crawled from his seated position over to where Daniel sat against the wall. Knelt beside the arm in question and awaited further instruction.

This time round, he frowned in confusion and Nesra clarified with a humorous smirk.

"I'm not kneeling, if that is what you are wondering. I truly do not know what I must do."

Daniel stared deadpan. How could a researcher not know something that was part of everyday events? He did. Felt it. Experienced it. In his line of work, it was the understatement of the year. He held back an amusing smile, for courtesy's sake, and instructed, before the man fainted from angst.

"You can start by swopping sides and then help me onto my back."

"Then that is what I shall do."

Daniel leaned towards the right, Nesra guiding him slowly to the ground. He positioned the arm at a ninety-degree angle, groaning as it protested with sharp, numb-like pain.

"Grab my wrist, or hand, whichever way works for you, firmly." He instructed quickly, seeking release like a thirsty traveler in need of water.

The researcher obeyed. Came about. Knelt beside him and grabbed his hand in a strong vice grip. Daniel placed his right hand on his forehead. Winced as the sprained wrist stung and closed his eyes. Mentally preparing himself for the next couple of seconds.

"That's good." He commended. "Now it's a slow and steady pull, without fast or jerky movements, directly away from my body until the shoulder re-articulates. You'll hear a clunk sound when it slips into place. Understand?"

His chin bobbed in accord, but the idea of hurting someone in this manner recoiled through his frame. Then quickly revealed on his face.

"Nesra?" Daniel urged annoyed. "This isn't the time to be sympathetic. Or squeamish."

"Yes-yes, yes. I understand. Will it not cause . . ."

"At this moment, you are the cause if you don't pull. Now!" Daniel growled.

The man's countenance knotted, shaking his head as he visualized the limb unattached in his grip.

"Pull, dam . . ."

A loud yell superseded the command, Nesra falling back onto his rump in shock. Then his brown eyes narrowed as the archaeologist's body racked with laugher. Apparently, relief from the agony never felt so good, so refreshing.

Daniel opened his eyes, sat upright and relocated to stand. Then hissed in pain when his right wrist protested. Nesra moved promptly, grabbing his elbow and assisted him to his feet.

A cheerful smile curled Daniel's lips. It hurt, yes, the area was raw, but it was less intense than before the ordeal.

"Not so bad, hey? Thank you."

"How . . ." Nesra faltered as the archaeologist walked for the energy field, lost in a trance.

Guards strolled on by, followed by another carrying a man unfamiliar to him. However, judging by his clothes, he certainly associated with SG1.

He tugged at his jacket, beckoning him to stay away, but Daniel scowled at the action reluctant to submit. His hand gripped tighter, eyes exhibiting caution, and placed a forefinger before his lips to signal he should avoid attention. The man pulled free from his grasp, calling after Sheppard whose head jerked in their direction.

Sudden concern triggered, especially when he saw the Canadian's state. The worry increased, then revealed on his face. They were the backup plan, the rescue team. The spies no one knew about. If they were here, like Jack and he was, only Sam and Teal'c remained. But considering the attack on the plaza, there was a slim chance they'd avoided capture.

Daniel barely noticed the Lt. Colonel shake his head as denial, mirroring Nesra's earlier performance. Observed how he gazed ahead at Rodney's sagging form. He understood all too well. Survival was key, and in this instance, the Lt Colonel's focus would stay on his teammate. For the moment.

He nodded in accord and stared after them as they disappeared from view. Afterward, glanced over his shoulder at Nesra.

"I need to get out of my jacket."

"Do you think it wise? With the shoulder and wrist."

Daniel stared at him as if he'd gone mad and sighed irritated. Where was Sam or Teal'c when he needed them? He even missed Jack's sarcasm and support. At least, the General knew more than he let on, not like this man who was clearly lost in translation.

"You're not serious?"

Nesra gazed with a confused expression.

"Ha, and you call yourself a researcher."

"I may be termed as one, but there are numerous genres and occupations in regards to the rank. For instance, the one you are looking for presides in the medical facility. I merely research Ramin's history."

"No kidding." Daniel mocked

"No, I believe it is indeed a profession."

"It was a sarcastic reply."

"I do not understand."

"Of course you don't."

Daniel spun on his heels, winced slightly as the shoulder protested and explained in a frustrated tone.

"You can blame the cultural difference. Moreover the variation in centuries and planets for the misunderstanding. The distance between them, now that's a real communication glitch."

He moved forward now, annoyed. Angry with how things had turned out. Sad that this could be the end for SG1. Terrified for the other planets out there. The Ori proved too powerful, too convincing. It wouldn't be long until the Milky Way fell to its knees in surrender.

The researcher backed away with each stride he progressed and knocked against the wall. Daniel stopped, eyes glimmering with irritation.

"I'm an archaeologist." He snarled. "Expert on all things civilizations, languages and cultures. You'd think I would be used to it by now. But every time I play the, 'we are peaceful explorers, we mean you no harm' role, it never works. Every so often, they turn nasty. The diplomatic performance goes haywire, and we run, for our lives, covering our collective assets. Just for once, could we not be in a situation where it's either prison or imminent death? Is it too much to ask for some peace in return?"

"Now that I do understand, Dr Jackson." Nesra replied with a curt nod.

Daniel stared at him briefly before copying the same nod. "Good, I thought I was the only one." He turned his back to him. "Now help me out of this jacket. I need a sling to support the arm."


Up ahead, the guards lugging Rodney disappeared around the corner. Sheppard heard the well-known distortion of an energy field. Increased his speed, arriving in time to watch his friend fall to the ground. The dull thud of flesh slivered through his skin and he stood immobile for a few seconds. When unexpectedly, in the corner of his eye, a black object lunged for his head.

John turned, blocking it midair. "No need for that." He warned in a gentle manner.

Her expression snarled in anger, struggling to rip the baton from his grip. Clearly, she detested the action. He chuckled softly, let go and backed away with arms propped above his head.

"See." A wayward grin curled his lips. "I have no problem walking on my own."

His hands fell to his sides as the energy field slid into place.

The guards departed one by one, except for his herder whose façade portrayed a definite hatred. On the other hand, maybe his sparkling personality had set her on edge.

He strolled forward, hands in his pockets while the wayward grin widened on his face.

"The prodding is so . . . barbaric. Rough childhood?"

"It comes from chasing foxes like you." She spat.

"Whoa, hang on just a sec." He raised his hands, then lowered one and gestured at Rodney with the other.

"We plead the fifth here, lady. I'm no thief nor I am a murder. Like I told your friend, we travel for a living. Where's the harm in that?"

She scowled skeptically. "Please, you can stop with your deception. I'm no fool."

"Never said you were." He crooned.

"Those you tried to ignore in the chambers. Share the same clothing. The same weapons. Same pretention."

John shrugged feigning innocence. "Folks who shared the same gateway, coincidentally. I don't know. You'll punish us for their intrusion?"

"More lies." The guard accused swiftly. "It's like dirty rags to Ramin, who did well to retaliate during the fact. The attack on the square confirms your trickery."

"Hmm, explains the lack of response." He muttered under his breath.

Her brow furrowed in confusion, wondering what he'd meant.

"So, we've come to rob you?" He queried with a snicker. "Of what exactly?"

Her posture straightened, discerning his motive and Sheppard's cheeky countenance fell with the action. The baiting had gone so well, his words like honey to her zealous personality.

"You're goading me." She stepped back as if stung by her own bluntness.

John knowing he'd lost ground, contradicted in an repentant manner.

"I thought we were having a friendly conversation, Ms?" His eyebrow quirked, face opening up in a charming smile.

"That's enough! You will pay for your crimes like the jackals you are." Clarice hissed. Anger plain in her posture as she stalked away.

He turned on his heels and gazed down at Rodney who was still in a comatose state.

"What does prison and insults have in common?" John asked as he kneeled beside his friend, turned him over onto his back and checked his pulse.

The beat was slow, luckily not slow enough to cause a panic. His eyes scanned over the inert form and rested upon the man's legs. So maybe there was cause for alarm. Rodney's condition was worse off than the General's was.

"Yeah, that's right, egotistical, devoted guards." He answered with a bleak expression. "And who gets a taste of the spitefulness?"

The Lt. Colonel unclipped his belt and pulled it free from the loops holding it in place. Lifted Rodney's right knee. Threaded its tail end beneath it, positioning the belt above the wound. Proceeded to wrap it around, tight as it allowed, before tying a knot. It would stem the bleeding for a while.

"Those falsely accused, that's who."

Sheppard pulled off his jacket, positioned it as a pillow beneath the physicist's head, and gazed at the remaining lacerations. A large crevice ran down the lower part of his left leg and bled feebly, whereas those less severe had cauterized on their own.

Overall, if they didn't leave before sunrise, he would return home alone.

"Now the ones who are injured." He exhaled a heavy sigh. "They get the brunt of that mockery."

John ripped a piece of material from his slacks, and got to work on bandaging the wound. Mood remorseful as he did so.