It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer

Chapter 10

Tell Me You've Got a Plan…?

"Stop it, stop it, oh, my god," cried Woolsey in vain. McKay was yelling, too, and struggling against the guard who was nearly strangling him. Still tied up on the floor, Ronon and Lorne were cursing at their own helplessness.

Sheppard was slumped across the console, bleeding and semi-conscious. Vorek had struck him hard against the side of the head with the rifle butt. Since he was standing behind the chair, he had caught John completely off-guard with the first blow. As Vorek swung at him a second time, Sheppard regained some of his senses and tried to grab the rifle. Vorek, though, strengthened by his fury, smashed away his hands and hit him hard on the shoulder. A third blow, again to John's head, knocked him to the floor. Vorek raised the weapon to strike a fourth time at a badly injured Sheppard who couldn't move out of the way – his ankles were still bound.

It was then that Vorek's own men lunged at him and pulled him back. "Enough, Vorek, enough! We need him alive!"

Vorek heard them. Breathing heavily, he stepped away from John and silently handed the rifle to one of the guards. Woolsey, heedless of any danger to himself, went frantically over to Sheppard. The younger man's face was covered in blood. "I need something to stop the bleeding…please!" But once again his request for medical aid was ignored. So, he took off his pajama shirt and pressed it against Sheppard's head.

Vorek, staring at Woolsey and Sheppard, smiled sinisterly. "Get him on his feet and find a strong chair to tie him to," he ordered.

Vorek's men brought in a sturdy-looking chair from one of the offices. John was painfully bound with his arms tight behind his back and his ankles secured to the chair legs. Still woozy, his head lolled against his chest.

As his men worked on Sheppard, Vorek dug through a large canvas bag. From it he withdrew a pair of leather gloves and a clear-glass jar filled with a tan, pasty substance. From his hip he unsheathed a small but very sharp knife.

Vorek went to stand in front of his prisoner to see if he'd come around. Unfortunately, he had. Vorek took his knife, grabbed John's t-shirt, and slit it open from top to bottom. Then, he began to make long, shallow cuts across Sheppard's chest and abdomen.

"Hey…uh…I really liked that shirt, ya know. Why'd you have to ruin it?!" gasped John, in terrible pain but always ready with a snappy come-back.

"Oh, god, please stop hurting him!" begged McKay. The guard restraining him suddenly pushed him into a chair. "Be quiet – all of you!" he threatened the four men, "or you will suffer along with your Colonel."

Vorek continued to score John's torso with cut after cut. Not once looking up from his gruesome task, he taunted, "Sheppard, I'm surprised how easy it was for us to neutralize your forces and take Atlantis."

"Uh, we haven't given up yet, you know," challenged John through gritted teeth. Blood was trickling rapidly from his chest and stomach onto his pants, onto the floor.

Vorek chuckled and ignored him. "Such a supposedly clever and skilled military leader as you should have anticipated that we might try something so underhanded. It's a basic tenet of waging war: identify and exploit the weaknesses of your enemy! In your case, we took advantage of the compassion of your physicians, of your belief in the innocence of children and families, of your foolish notion that they could not possibly be part of the violence caused by Wraith Worshippers. When you were imprisoned at our Compound, Colonel, you were surprised by what they did to you, with you, were you not? You're amazed, aren't you, by how we continue to use your physical attributes as instruments of death, as a way to invade your facilities, steal your technology? In the last several months, we have become more than you can imagine."

"You know, I could just tell my men to shoot a half-dozen random hostages to make you talk. Or, I could easily get the code from one of your 'soft' friends over there – I'm sure they know it, considering they are leaders in your City. We could try and break into your computer system – we are quite capable – we are not the simple townsfolk that you believe us to be. But right now, it will be much more enjoyable to torture you."

"Hey, Vorek, before you start having fun, can I ask you something?" Sheppard asked, panting against the pain. He knew that soon he might be too badly hurt to fight. Anything Vorek revealed now could help his friends save their lives, and the City.

Vorek glowered at him. Sheppard decided to ask his questions anyways. "Yeah, I've been a little bit impressed by you guys lately. Tell me, how'd you do it? I'm thinkin' maybe you've had a little help? Maybe from some, uh, visitors…really smart, not too talkative, weird eyes…don't look like they're from around here…?" Over the past few months, John had come to suspect that Atlantis might not be the sole focus of attention for the Azeron. Vorek's tirade just now was firming up that belief.

The flicker of anger and surprise in his captor's eyes, and a sudden, very deep cut to John's abdomen, proved his theory was correct.

Vorek smiled at his gory handiwork, and put down the knife. Then, he pulled over one of the small, wheeled desk chairs and sat uncomfortably close to Sheppard. He put on the gloves, unscrewed the lid on the jar, and smeared some of the oily paste onto his fingers. John eyed his actions with dread.

"There is a root plant on Sedari called a hika, Colonel. When mashed up and applied to open wounds, or even to the slightest scratch, it is, well, see for yourself…" Vorek liberally rubbed the paste across John's blood-soaked chest, digging his fingers deep into each and every cut. John did his best to stifle a scream as an agonizing burn radiated through him.

"Will you tell me the access code now?" asked Vorek.

"Well…uh…I'd like to, but, ah…I'm real bad with numbers…ahhh!" John moaned, as Vorek applied more pressure to his ravaged skin.

"I have a great deal of time to do this, Sheppard, and you have a lot more flesh for me to injure. Tell me the code to lower the shield…"

John was silent except for his ragged breathing. Vorek grinned. "I am actually glad you are so stubborn," he said. Then he reached up and tore away what remained of Sheppard's shirt.

ooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOoooo oooooooo

About 30 minutes later, Vorek stopped the torture, but only because his prisoner had blessedly passed out. He also relented and allowed McKay and Woolsey to take care of him, if only with water and a blood-stained pajama top. It amused him to see them try.

McKay wiped the blood out of John's eyes. The bleeding from his head wounds had nearly stopped. He thought about washing off the toxic paste that coated his chest, but was afraid he would only make things worse. Woolsey tipped a glass of water against John's lips, trying to wake him up. Vorek might start cutting him again any time now; they needed to get him conscious and talking, and try to figure out some kind of plan.

After a few minutes, Sheppard came to. McKay spoke to him, quietly and fast.

"John, we can't let them keep hurting you. What…what if we did lower the shield…we could still find a way to stop them."

"No way," mumbled Sheppard. "I…I just gotta keep stalling…don't want 'em…to go after you guys…and, uh, Teyla…she can help us…she's out there, right?"

"I hope so. When they started taking over…they knew where everyone's quarters were, and they didn't find her. We said she went to the mainland. I think they bought it."

"Great. But, uh…if she can't get here…McKay, uh…drop the shirt on my…my right shoe."

"What?"

"Jackknife…in my shoe…Ronon…Lorne, they can…" John could hardly talk, the pain was so bad.

He always had a plan, didn't he! McKay let the shirt fall and conceal John's foot. He dug the knife out of Sheppard's sneaker, palmed it and slipped it into his bathrobe pocket. And just in time, too. Vorek was done indulging them. He turned his attention once more to Sheppard – and the skin on his back.

ooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOO OOoooooooooooooooo

A short time earlier….

Teyla was outdoors, seeking the pleasant weather just as John had, when the attack began. Torren had been uncharacteristically fussy all day and into the evening. Teyla couldn't figure out why – was he sick, cutting a tooth, or just wanting to irritate his mother? He had refused to settle down no matter what she tried. In an effort to soothe him and herself, she had bundled him up and gone for a walk. It was mild and peaceful outside, and perhaps the sound of lapping waves would send the baby off to sleep.

After a while, Torren was very sound asleep, so Teyla felt it was safe to head back to their rooms, where she could finally rest, too. She had been back indoors for only a few minutes when she heard the gunfire. Moments later the alarm pierced the air. The noise woke up Torren, who began crying, loudly. For a split second, Teyla froze. What should she do? She had to help her friends, but…what about her son? She was near her quarters, but she had no idea how many intruders there were, or what parts of the City they had already taken. She considered hiding, but Torren's cries were approaching the shrieking stage; someone might have already heard him. She came to the painful realization that finding somewhere safe for the baby outside was her only option. Since the weather was comfortable, she felt sure he would be alright. She had dressed him warmly against the ocean breeze, and had also wrapped him in a little blanket that was a gift from Jennifer. Teyla quietly crept onto a balcony and cuddled Torren to stop his crying. It took nearly 20 minutes to do so. She set the little boy down in a spot out of the wind and made softer by her folded-up jacket. Then, she stepped back inside. It broke her heart – and terrified her – to leave him, but Teyla had no other choice.

She stealthily made her way down the corridor. She was not able to reach Sheppard or anyone else through her earpiece – perhaps the internal communications system had been disabled. Or the others had been captured. Shouts and sporadic gunfire were still echoing throughout the City; whatever was happening, it sounded like the enemy was attacking in large numbers. Teyla would have to move quickly – and carefully – if she hoped to stop them.

As she left, she didn't see the flash of light that suddenly illuminated the balcony as a wormhole opened, or hear Torren's tiny cry as a man with brilliant violet eyes carried him away.

ooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOooooooooooooooooooo

Vorek and his men were so intent on hurting Sheppard that they weren't paying much attention to what their other prisoners were up to. McKay began drifting away over towards the wall. He sat quietly on the floor and ever so carefully slid the knife into Ronon's bound hands. Woolsey, meanwhile, had retrieved his bathrobe. Wearing it quite loosely, he stood in front of Ronon, hoping to keep the guards from seeing him while he worked to cut the rope.

As Vorek covered his back with more of the horrible paste, Sheppard cried out in agony. "C'mon, you two, hurry up!" pleaded McKay.

"Hold on, Doc," whispered Lorne. "Almost got it – yeah!" Ronon and Lorne's hands were free. Woolsey then made the next move. Although most of Vorek's men were watching Sheppard, one guard remained too close for comfort near Ronon and Lorne. They needed a distraction so they could untie their feet, so Woolsey caused one.

"Alright, enough…uh, I'll give you the code, just stop torturing him, please!" said Richard. As he'd hoped, Vorek and the guards – all of them – focused on him. It was a fatal error. In those few seconds, Ronon and Lorne sliced the rope off their ankles and got up fast. Ronon broke the neck of one guard, then another. The Major killed two more, disarmed them and then shoved a stunner into the hands of a startled McKay. They were going to make it…!

Woolsey's cry stopped them in their tracks. To their horror, Vorek had him around the neck. "Put the weapons on the ground. Now," he ordered. He tightened his grip. "Now!" Ronon and Lorne knew they had to give up. Damn it! But as they started to lower their guns, Woolsey surprised them and, most certainly, Vorek. In his carelessness, the cultist had set down his knife. Richard, seeing it out of the corner of his eye on the console, grabbed it and plunged the blade deep into the Wraith Worshiper's thigh. Vorek yelped in pain and released his grip on Woolsey's neck. Ronon, all 6' 4" and 225 lbs. of him, throttled Vorek by his own neck and lifted him in the air. "Where are the rest of your men? Tell me or I will kill you. You brag about the willingness of your followers to die for the cause, but do you really want to die?" Vorek was silent.

Lorne stepped in. "We don't have time to interrogate him, Ronon. We're too exposed here and I think taking him along would slow us down. As much as I want to kill Vorek, too, he may have value later. Stun him, tie him up and gag him – very tightly – and stash him somewhere," the Major ordered. He then rushed over to Sheppard.

"Colonel? Colonel Sheppard? C'mon, Sir, wake up, we gotta get out of here," said Lorne. He cut his commanding officer free. John was barely conscious. The amount of blood covering his body was frightening. Ronon came over and knelt beside him. "C'mon, buddy, I'll carry you," he said. Sheppard moaned loudly as Ronon placed him, as gently as possible, over his shoulder. Then, with Lorne on point, the group fled the Control Room.

And promptly ran into Teyla. "Quickly, quickly, this way!" she said. "I have found a place where we can hide." She was wearing a Tac vest and carrying several guns.

"Well, my idea for hiding weapons has certainly come in handy," said Woolsey with a relieved smile.

"Don't get overconfident, Sir," said Lorne. "There's five of us, six if we can get Colonel Sheppard on his feet, and who knows how many of them."

"Check…check where everybody is…" whispered Sheppard.

"What? Ronon, lay him down," McKay said. "John, what do you mean?"

"Vorek," John said weakly, his head supported by Teyla, "…said our people…they're in the mess hall and the…the…" His voice gave out.

McKay finished for him. "He rounded them all up in the cafeteria and the observation room! So that means…we do a life sign scan of the entire City, so anybody outside of those areas – except for us, obviously – is probably a Wraith Worshipper! Good thinking, Sheppard!"

But John didn't hear him. He was unconscious again.

Lorne spoke up. "Alright, everybody. We gotta keep moving. Let's get some medical supplies for the Colonel, and then find somewhere to hunker down and plan a way to fight back!"

TBC…One more chapter and this will be finished. Please review!