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Brogan held a hand to the bleeding wound at his temple as he took in the scene unfolding before him. He wasn't the only delegate that was bleeding although none appeared to be seriously injured. Marina lie dazed at their feet seemingly unable to take her unfocused eyes off the mediator and the two men still holding him to the ground. The Minister's guilt deepened as he took in the new injuries that the Mediator had incurred; that knife would not be sticking out of his shoulder if Brogan hadn't insisted they make this insane escape attempt.
Cam tried to control his rising panic; one of the guards had decided that the best way to subdue him would be to sit on his chest, thus making it extremely difficult for him to breath. That and the pain signals coming in from every part of his body quickly threatened to override any coherent thought processes in his brain. He struggled weakly, trying to dislodge the guard, but that only served to reduce his airflow further as the guard settled more of his weight onto Cameron.
The Captain eyed the cowering group of delegates, angry that his warning had not been heeded. "Who is responsible for this?"
"I am."
The gasped confession from the man at his feet held very little surprise for the Captain. He heard one of the delegates start to object, but the man was silenced by a glare and a shake of the head from the Mediator. "Very well, stand him up." In all honesty, the Captain had no problem punishing the Mediator again, even if he hadn't been the instigator. The delegates would still learn their lesson and he had found that his buyers tended to pay more for undamaged goods.
Mitchell's vision nearly grayed out completely and the world tilted frantically as he was hauled off the floor to stand on incredibly unstable legs. He could only watch despondently and try to keep his balance as the Captain's second in command reached down to pull the leather lacing from his boot. Cam's hands were wrenched up behind his back and the leather cord wrapped tightly around his wrists.
A feral smile brightened the Captain's face when Mitchell winced as the forced movement pulled at the knife still patruding from his shoulder. He watched as several of the delegates struggled ineffectually against his guards, "I warned you what would happen if you caused trouble. However, it appears good fortune had smiled on you today as your Mediator has volunteered to be punished in your sted." He reached out quickly and flicked the hilt of the knife.
Cameron gave an involuntary cry of pain and dropped to his knees despite the men that had been holding him upright in the first place. What little color had been in his face drained instantly as he tried to keep himself from passing out completely or throwing up, neither option was really all that appealing. The snapping of another one of his ribs beneath the Captain's boot only added insult to injury.
The Captain looked up to where some of the delegates continued to fight back against his guards; he knew that it was only fear for their own wellbeing that kept them from actually overcoming his men. "Take them back to containment; I will deal with this irritation."
That this was seriously getting old was the only thought Cameron's sluggish brain could come up with as he was once again forcibly dragged to his feet. Somehow, the increase in pain seemed to trigger release of another large amount of catecholamines; the adrenaline that surged through his system managed to clear his head more than it had been in days. He hid this fact to the best of his ability as the Captain dragged him toward the door, slouching his body and forcing the Captain to work even harder.
The Captain grunted as he tried to maintain a hold on Mitchell's sweat-slicked body. "I thought you might like to see exactly how close you came to freedom Mediator, because for you, there will not be another chance. You have forced me to alter my schedule." He made Cameron turn and look at him, "I hate being forced to do anything. Therefore, to ensure to you can not force me to do anything else, I will simply break your legs. It's a primitive tactic, I know, but effective."
They'd finally reached the heavy door that the delegates had seen as their salvation; and Cam found that the sight of a sandbag wall just through the open door, was his.
Just before they crossed the threshold, the pilot whirled and head-butted the Captain as hard as he could without knocking himself unconscious. Realizing that he must have hit the right spot as the Captain dropped to the floor like a ton of bricks, Mitchell turned and staggered through the door, slamming it shut with his hip once on the other side. He forced himself to ignore the ringing in his ears as he put all his weight into the top couple of layers of the sandbag wall, toppling at least a dozen of the heavy bags into the path of the door.
Cameron allowed himself a brief moment of rest as he tried to get his bearings. The compound sat on a large hill partially surrounded by woods. Just above the roof line of the building he could see the hull of a ship silhouetted by one of the setting suns. He was just rounding the corner of the compound when another silhouette down in the valley caught his eye.
He would know that sight anywhere. It was a Stargate.
His eyes flicked between the ship and the Stargate, weighing his options; the Stargate offered him a way out- if he could make it all the way down there, but he could most likely get a message to the SGC from the ship- if they were within communications range and if he could get it sent before getting caught again.
The ship offered too many ifs, soStargate it was.
He took off for the woods in the direction of the gate wishing he could wrap his arms around himself to stabilize his ribs. Unfortunately, Cam was forced to skid to a halt five trees into the forest; turned out what he thought was a gently rolling hill could, for all practical purposes, be classified as a cliff. He decided to think of it as just a very steep hill. Mitchell jogged up and down the top of the hill a few yards in each direction, trying to find the least hazardous way down. The hill appeared to be mostly mud with the occasional boulder and tree thrown in for good measure, but it was the fifteen foot drop off at the bottom that had him worried.
Cameron whipped around, nearly losing his balance, as an explosion sounded from the compound; they'd blown the door. Not as much of a head start as he'd hoped for, but certainly more of one than he expected to get. There was one good thing about the hill in front of him, he was probably a lot more willing to risk his life getting down it than the men chasing him were, and therefore would be moving a lot faster. Speaking of which…
Turning, he took several quick steps down the hill before his feet slid out from underneath him. Crazily enough, that turned out to be a good thing for once; he found that sliding half on his butt allowed him to use his elbows for steering.
Cam was about two-thirds of the way down when he heard the voices above him; thus far he'd done a great job avoiding the larger rocks and trees, but with his attention diverted up the hill, his feet managed to find a partially buried outcropping of rock. Cameron's considerable momentum catapulted him into the air even as the jarring force of hitting the rocks traveled up through his legs. The landing was softer than he'd considered it might be in the half second flight he'd had to think about it, but it was still hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. He felt every stone and sapling strike his body as he hurtled down the remainder of the hill; occasionally he'd be able to focus down the hill, the drop off coming closer each time. Just before the ground dropped out from underneath him, a intensely sharp pain lanced up his right leg causing his brain to take a temporary leave of absence so that he barely felt his final impact with the terra firma.
It took Mitchell several long seconds to figure out that he'd actually stopped moving, and then several more for his brain to catch up with his vision and realize that the Stargate was a mere thirty yards from where he lay gasping for breath like a landed fish. Cam scrambled drunkenly to his feet even as he realized something was very wrong. He'd only seen that type of Stargate once in his life.
How the hell had he gotten to Pegasus?!
"Well Toto, you're not in Kansas anymore," he breathed to himself as he staggered toward the gate, his right leg unable to bare weight. Cam chuckled humorlessly at the irony of the situation; he'd managed to escape having his leg broken by the Captain only to do it himself.
Finally reaching the DHD, he wracked his sluggish brain for a gate address that wouldn't get him killed. Atlantis had a shield that they wouldn't lower without an approved IDC and their latest alpha site had been overrun by the Wraith shortly before he'd started the negotiations on Uglop. Talk about being screwed.
A dull thud broke the relative silence behind him as Cameron continued to debate his options. The first Coalition member had reached the bottom of the hill; fortunately the descent hadn't agreed with him and he remained motionless where he'd landed. But Cam knew his friends wouldn't be far behind, so he punched in the only address that came to mind. The puddle roared to life just as the first two conscious members of the Coalition made somewhat softer landings next to their compatriot. Mitchell turned and didn't look back as he raced for the gate; he had to get that wormhole shut down before they could follow him.
The freezing rain pelted his face the instant he emerged from the puddle; he didn't break stride in his bid for the DHD. His hand descended on the center button just as the two guards emerged from the wormhole. Cam was forced to duck behind the DHD as they opened fire on him; this so was not his day. He waited for them to empty their clips before racing for the woods as quickly as his one healthy leg would carry him.
Thankfully, the sun had set; the dim twilight casting plenty of shadows for him to hide in. The forest was dense and after only thirty minutes of a very intense cat and mouse game, Cameron decided he'd lost them for good. Grateful that he'd always been blessed with a good sense of direction, he circled back toward the gate, being sure to keep a sharp eye and ear out for his pursuers.
Two minutes later he was face down in the mud.
The mind was willing- barely, but the body flat out refused to obey his commands any longer and no amount of adrenaline or stubbornness was going to change that. Giving in to the inevitable, he dragged himself to the nearest downed tree. Mitchell flinched and nearly passed out completely when his injured leg came into contact with a thick branch. He hid himself to the best of his ability before allowing his body to relax slightly. He'd permit himself an hour of rest before heading for the gate again; Cam needed to be certain that he'd lost the Coalition before he attempted to contact Atlantis.
He shivered violently as the cold finally settled in to his fevered body; just one hour he told himself as the grey world around him slowly faded to black.
