Carson wasn't the only one feeling frustrated. John was being driven mad by the continuing presence of the Batak while they were eating. He'd hoped to have a change to get some information out of Rodney, but that was proving impossible as their hosts were ever-present.

Rodney was obviously also irritated by this. In less serious circumstances, the scientist's attempts at communicating without words would have seemed amusing. To an outsider it looked as if the scientist was the victim of all the facial tics going. And his hands seemed to be joining in too. John did wonder what their hosts thought of it.

Eventually, to the Lanteans' relief, their hosts suggested that they be shown to their sleeping quarters. As they walked along the endless corridors, John tried to maintain his bearings. All the corridors looked the same, and they seemed to be going round in a wide circle. John glanced up at Ronon, and realised the Satedan was doing the same. Ronon met the glance and returned it with a nod.

The rooms they were shown to were all interconnected, with a main living area in the middle. In layout, they resembled a hotel suite, but without any of the luxury that suggested. But the only luxury John and the others required was some privacy so they could find out what was getting Rodney all worked up.

"At last," Rodney said, as they were finally left alone. "I was beginning to think they were trying to stop us talking to each other."

"What do you want to tell us, Rodney?" John asked. "I take it that our hosts were slightly economical with the truth."

"And that's an understatement," Rodney replied. "They can't seem to tell the truth to save themselves. Except of course the rebels, who I believe. Well, I think I believe them. But there again, they could be lying too. But, anyway, both Caldwell and Carson seemed to have disappeared. Though of course Cela says that they've found Caldwell, so that's good."

John looked at the others, who looked as confused by Rodney's "explanation" as he was.

"Whose Cela?" John asked, trying to see if he could get something clear.

"I'm Cela," a light female voice floated in from the doorway.

"Where did you come from?" Ronon growled.

"They keep doing that," Rodney exclaimed. "Appearing out of thin air, like that."

"Perhaps I can answer some of your questions," Cela continued, ignoring their exchange.

"Someone needs to," John said, with a glare at Rodney.

Cela smiled. "Our leaders, the Wise Ones, have decreed that those who suffer from illness are being punished by the gods. Your Colonel Caldwell was ill."

"He just had a cold!" Rodney interjected.

"And so was taken to the Place of Waiting," Cela continued as if Rodney had not interrupted. "We have rescued him from there."

"And Carson?" Teyla asked.

"The Wise Ones also believe that if a patient dies of an illness, the Healer is also being punished. The Healer is given the conditions from which his patient suffered, and then it is left in the hands of the gods."

"And one of Carson's patients died of an illness?" Teyla asked.

"He did," Cela confirmed, a note of sadness in her voice.

"And have you been able to rescue him too?" John asked.

"Unfortunately," Cela replied, "we've been unable to locate him, as yet."

"What's in this for you?" John asked.

"We do not believe in the way of the Wise Ones, and we are trying to show our people that there is another way of living. We do not believe it is fair that your people were made to suffer for the beliefs of the Wise Ones."

"Can you take us to Colonel Caldwell?" John asked.

Cela nodded. "That is why I am here, to take you to him."

"But what about the leaders?" Radek asked, his tone nervous. "Will they just let us wander round here as we like?"

"We have a series of secret passageways that we can use," Cela replied. "No-one need see you."

"So that's how you do it!" Rodney exclaimed.

The smile Cela gave the scientist was verging on mischievous.

oOoOoOo

Carson used each moment he was alone to plot an escape attempt. His fever had completely gone now, but he was still dehydrated and very hungry. The pain from his shattered knees made him feel weaker still. But he knew that to give up would mean death. He wasn't sure why he was so sure of this, but in his mind it was a certainty. Perhaps it was due to the way the carers looked after him. There was something in their faces that suggested to him they were tending a man they thought was a dead man.

Carson didn't understand the beliefs of these people. In fact, he was glad he didn't. To understand such casual cruelty exercised in the name of gods, might take him a step closer to condoning such treatment. And Carson never wanted to justify a set of beliefs that allowed people to die when they could easily be saved.

So, he knew he had to do something to save himself. He couldn't walk, but he'd spotted something that could be used as crutches near to his bed. If he could just manoeuvre himself close enough to reach them, then he might have a chance to escape, at least far enough to let Rodney know he was still alive. His legs had already been splinted, and they'd actually done a good job of immobilising his legs. So that would make it just about possible to use the crutches.

"Just as well I've kept up the visits to the gym," Carson muttered to himself.

He'd been monitoring the visits of the people who were looking after him, or perhaps guarding him would be a better way of describing it. They checked on him every hour, and in between they seemed to go to another part of the complex. The main problem that faced him was that he didn't have a clue where he was. He'd been unconscious when he was brought into the area, and he wasn't sure where he was in relation to the parts of the complex that he'd been familiar with. Still, he felt that he stood more of a chance wandering the corridors than he did as a prisoner in this room.

So, he reached out as far as he could, towards the makeshift crutches. There was a trolley between him, and his target. He leaned against it, but it was on wheels, and it went flying, leaving him crumpled on the floor. He took a few moments to recover, taking deep breaths, trying to dampen down the agonising pain. He then hauled himself towards the sticks he wanted to use, dragging his useless legs behind him. There was a chair beside the sticks and he managed to pull himself up onto the chair, and grasped his precious sticks to him, like they were made of gold. Taking another moment to compose himself, he then forced himself upright, taking as much wait as possible on his arms and shoulders, letting his legs trail behind him. It was still agony, but at least he was able to move now. Moving very carefully, he started towards the door, making his desperate bid for freedom.

oOoOoOo

"Colonel," Caldwell said as way of greeting as John led the others into the room. The older man stood, but it was obviously an effort for him. His usual vigour was absent and his eyes looked dull and weary.

"It's good to see you again, Colonel," John responded.

Before they could continue the greetings, a siren sounded, reverberating round the room. It was the sort of noise that set your nerves on edge, and seemed to reach into you and press all the panic buttons.

"What the hell is that?" John asked.

"It is the warning alarm," Cela said, looking anxious.

"Why's it sounding?" Ronon asked.

Cela opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, an announcement seemed to fill the room.

"This is to warn the people of Batak that rebels against the Wise Council have taken our visitors hostage. They should not be approached. The Guard will deal with them severely, and we advise everyone to remain in their Quarters to avoid injury."

"Oh boy!" Rodney said. "That complicates things."

Cela turned to one of the men standing by the door. "Sound the Call the Action," she ordered.

The man moved quickly to the other side of the room, and pressed a button. Immediately another alarm sounded. If anything, it was even more nerve-inducing than the other.

"Okay," John said. "Just what is going on here?"

"We have a plan in place to rise up against the Wise Ones, if they discovered us," Cela explained.

"And you have just put that plan into action?" Teyla asked.

"Yes," the other woman replied. "Our people will take every step they can to bring down the Wise Ones."

"Oh Great!" Rodney exclaimed. "Another civil war."

"We do not ask that you become involved," Cela responded.

"Good," John replied. "It's our policy not to become involved in domestic matters."

Ronon snorted. He gave John an amused glance, thinking of the occasions when they had become more than involved. John ignored him.

"Can you get us to our ship?" John asked.

It was Finin who replied, having just come hurtling into the room.

"Your ship has been confiscated by the Wise Ones," the young man reported. "They said they were afraid we would use it to escape."

"This just gets better!" Rodney responded. "Well done, Colonel. You come to save us and end up getting trapped too. You've lost your ship, we don't know where Carson is and we can't escape. This is just wonderful."

"Your gratitude is noted, Rodney," the other man replied.

"What about the Ring?" It was Buldur who asked the question.

"What do you expect, miracles?" Rodney asked defensively. "It was almost destroyed, and it's very delicate work rebuilding it."

"Yeah," Ronon agreed. "You don't want bits and pieces of you flying all over the galaxy."

"Thank you, Dr Muscles," Rodney responded, earning a mocking grin from the Satedan.

"If you could get it fixed, Rodney," John said. "It would be a good way of escaping."

"I could help you," Radek offered.

"Buldur," Cela said. "Take our friends to the Ring and ensure no-one disturbs them."

"What about Carson?" Teyla asked, as the two scientist followed the taller man out along one of the secret corridors.

"I guess we'd better go and find him," John said with a shrug.

"I can take you to where we think he is being held," Finin offered, eagerly. Cela nodded her agreement.

"Let's go then," John said, adding his agreement.