Chapter 10

The minute John opened the lab door he was comforted by a heated mob and immediately saw the reason why. Oops! When he'd accidentally triggered the lab lights, he had also triggered the entire complex. Naturally the people were upset, even though in John's humble opinion he had done them a big favour.

Aldran came forward. "What is the meaning of this!" he shouted.

John held up his hands and grinned. "Sorry, didn't mean to do anything, must have hit the light switch or something by accident." Of course the people probably didn't understand the term light switch because like the mainland, the island didn't have electric lighting.

Nealia and Sari looked stricken as several men moved forward to grab John roughly by the arms. He quickly shook them off. "Hey, I didn't do anything wrong!"

Aldran stepped closer. "That is for us to decide. You have violated the sanitary of the temple."

"Because I accidentally triggered the lights?"

"No! You have gone through a door that no other has ever been able to enter. Only an Ancestor could have done such a thing and as a mere mortal, you are most certainly not an Ancestor!"

John nearly said, 'What makes you so sure,' but he held his tongue wondering how to explain the ATA gene to these fanatics. "Tell me, how did you get into the main complex to being with?"

Aldran looked a little shamefaced but his answer was firm. "When we freed the great temple from the undergrowth, we could see that the main entry was already open. We took that as a sign that the Ancestors wished us to enter. However, this door has always remained closed. Therefore what lies beyond must be forbidden for us mere mortals to see." What Aldran failed to mention was, the fact that the main entry had only been slightly ajar and they had forced the door to enter but that was unimportant to him. "You have violated the sanctuary and now you must answer for your crime!"

"Now wait a minute, let me try to explain something about the Ancestors." However, John never got a chance as ruff hands grabbed his arms and unceremoniously dragged him out of the building toward the village. Of course, the minute John and his escort left, the lights powered down leaving some very confused villagers.

Nealia cautiously approached the Aldran; he could be volatile in this mood. "With all due respect, honoured Elder, should you not have listened to John Sheppard's explanation?"

"What is there to explain? It is obvious that the man is no Ancestor. He had no right to enter the sanctuary and now he must pay for his crime. The punishment will be decided tomorrow by the high council."

Meaning you, Nealia thought but she didn't voice it. Instead, it left her feeling somewhat concerned for John's welfare. "He is a stranger," she pleaded, "Not familiar with our beliefs. And how do you explain the lights?"

Aldran had no answer for that. "I understand what you are trying to say. Have no fear. We will not hold you or your family responsible for his actions. But as I said before, he must pay for his encroachment upon sacred ground." Aldran walked away leaving nothing more to be said. And for the first time, Nealia began to question her beliefs.

After a short walk John was pushed into a primitive hut, which seemed to serve as a jail. It comprised of a simple wooden bench to sleep on, a table and a bucket. Despite its crude appearance, the hut was strongly built. The single door sported a small barred window, which was the only light source. The walls were made of thick wooden logs, blockhouse style. They looked impenetrable but even if John could have escaped, there was nowhere to hide on such a small island. Other than the caves Nealia had mentioned but what good would they be to him without access to food and water. No, he would face the music and take his punishment like a man. But why did they need a lock-up anyway. Surely crime wasn't a big issue on the island. John pushed that disturbing thought to the back of his mind as he moved over to the bench to stretch out.

He tried to relax, to switch off his turbulent mind but inevitably his thoughts returned to his find. The puddle jumper could be his ticket off the island, if the thing still worked. Although his chances of getting anywhere near the temple again were probably very slim. Unless he could convince them otherwise, but John knew from experience that fanatics were the stubbornness to see reason. Meaning, he had his work cut out for him, if they ever gave him the chance to explain.

Despite the hard nature of the bench, John must have slept because the next thing he knew, four people had entered the jail. He couldn't make out their faces in the dim light, cast only by the oil lanterns they carried but from the stature of one, it had be Aldran with his slightly humped back and white hair. John quickly stood up to face them.

"What am I going to do with you, Sheppard?" Aldran asked in his gravelly voice.

"Let me go, so I can get off your island and leave you in peace."

"Ah…if only it was that simple. You see your actions have put questions into the minds of our people. Questions that have not been asked for many a year."

John looked at him curiously. "What sort of questions?"

"Like the fact that despite not being Ancestral, a few mortals can use the machines left by the holy ones. It was decided long ago that these people were charlatans, harbourers of bad spirits."

John nearly rolled his eyes but thought better of it. Although trying to explain the ATA gene without stepping on a few toes wasn't going to be easy, so he decided to try to explain it in their terms.

"If you will listen for a minute, I have a perfectly good explanation for their abilities and mine. You see when the Ancestors walked amongst us they looked just like you or me. Naturally, this spurred relationships with humans. These interactions resulted in offspring who carried a specific gene. And although the children weren't of pure blood, they were able to operate the Ancestors' machines. The gene has been carried down through generations."

"Heresy! You speak of nothing but falsehood and lies, for the Ancestors would not have stooped so low as to have children with mere mortals!"

"Why ever not? Believe me the Ancestors looked just like us. I know because I've met a few only a…." John didn't get a chance to finish. The first punch took him by surprise in the stomach region, leaving him winded and doubled over with pain. The second punch caught him on the back of his head, sending him spiralling down to do a face plant on the rough, stony floor.

His left cheek stung with a sharp jolt of pain, which shot up to his eye. He lay winded, totally vulnerable but before he could move, another hefty kick caught him in the back. It was quickly followed by one in the side. Once again John was outnumbered, unable to defend himself and, he knew the attack wasn't going to end right there and then.

Several more kicks followed before Aldran moved to stand over him. "We will beat the dissension out of you, Sheppard! The beatings will only stop when you admit to your trickery."

Then I'll be dead, John thought. He didn't voice that opinion. Either way, he knew that he didn't stand a chance and John truly wished he'd never set foot on this godforsaken planet. "I was only…telling you...the truth," he managed to grind out though clenched teeth once the pain became more bearable.

"Lies!" Aldran shouted. Then the beatings started again.

Blow after blow connected. John tried to protect his chest and head as best he could by curling up as tightly as possible but his back was exposed to the full brutality. It wasn't until one kick connected viciously with his bad arm that John finally lost consciousness.

Aldran stared down at the prone man. During the beatings, he had asked the man more than once if would admit to his lies. Sheppard had steadfastly refused. Now with no other chance to ask, Aldran and his men left their victim lying face down on the dirty, blood splattered floor.

oOo

Early the next morning, before the sun had fully risen, Nealia and Sari quietly approached the hut that served as a jail. They half expected to see someone guarding the place but for some reason Aldran must have deemed it unnecessary. After calling John's name several times, they soon found out why.

John slowly came to his senses when he heard his name being called. It took him a moment to recognise the voice as being Nealia's. It was an effort but somehow he managed to get his battered body off the floor and stagger over to the door.

The women gasped as they took in his bruised and bloodied appearance. Sari went quite pale with shock. Nealia had half expected it, but it still left her very upset and angry. "What in the Ancestors' name did they do to you?"

John tired to straighten from his hunched position but his back protested loudly. "They wanted to teach me a little lesson in obedience." He whispered through swollen, bloodied lips.

Getting over her shock, Sari looked around worriedly before asking. "Who did this to you?"

"Aldran and his henchmen." John pressed his face against the bars and tried to peer beyond the women. A sharp pain in his back warned him not to stretch any further. He slumped back down and said. "You shouldn't be here. If someone sees you there could be trouble."

"Do not worry, John. Many of our citizens are already disturbed by your treatment. They question how such a wonderful thing could have occurred. Some even believe that you are an Ancestor."

John would have laughed if he wasn't in pain. "I'm no Ancestor, Nealia. I do carry their gene and I tried to explain that to Aldran last night. He got nasty."

The women looked confused but they didn't get a chance to say anymore as they suddenly noticed a man heading their way. Wisely, they quickly vanished into a nearby alleyway, hoping he hadn't spotted them.

Somehow, John made it back to the bench before the door was flung open and the man entered carrying a jug and some bread. "We do not want you to die on us just yet, Sheppard, so here is some breakfast," he said, throwing the bread onto John's prone body. "I will leave the water on the table." With that, he slammed the door shut leaving John alone again.

It was almost too much but John managed to get his battered body upright. His left arm hung useless, just too darn painful to move. It hadn't fully healed when an assailant's boot had given it a glancing blow. The wound had reopened. Fortunately not as deep as it had been, but the sleeve of his borrowed shirt was caked with dried blood.

Despite his injuries, John was hungry. He carefully reached down for the bread that had fallen onto the floor. It appeared to be a little dirty now, so he made an effort to brush it off. Then he noticed that some of the grime was green, meaning the bread had been stale and mouldy to begin with. Frustrated, he tossed it into a corner before hobbling over to the table, hoping that the water wasn't in the same state. Thankfully it seemed okay, so he took a long drink to quench his thirst. It helped a little but his stomach growled loudly.

He was about to stumble back to the bench when he heard his name being called again. Realising that Nealia was back, he shuffled over to her. Grabbing the bars he looked at her with concern, "Please go home before you get caught."

Nealia stared at his bloody fingers. She hated seeing him like this. Pushing some fresh bread and fruit though the bar, she whispered. "I do not suppose they fed you properly. Just hang on for as long as you can. We will try to help you."

"I'll try but if they beat me up again." Nealia looked ready to cry. She quickly moved away before the tears came.

After eating the much welcome food, John endeavoured to rest but no matter how he lay, the hard bench put pressure on his back and bruises. Despite his discomfort, he must have dozed off for a while before suddenly jolting awake, feeling wretched and uncomfortable.

Outside the temperature must have risen because the hut had become stiflingly hot. The water was long gone. It hadn't been much to begin with, so John's thirst was mounting. If they didn't bring him some fresh water soon, John knew he'd be dehydrated by nightfall. Of course the moment he thought that, John heard the lock being turned. However, it wasn't to bring him the much needed water.

Before John could protest he was roughly hauled off the bench by two large men. Strong hands held him by the arms and he was dragged outside into the midday sun. He let out a quiet grunt from the rough handling, steadfastly refusing to cry out. The men continued to hold him tightly, sandwiched between them. Forcing him to stumble to an unknown destination as the overhead sun shone directly into his eyes, blocking out any view of what lay ahead. It wasn't until they pushed him to the ground that John realized he was in the shadow of a large tree.

Then he made the mistake of glancing up and John's blood ran cold. Dangling just above his head was a thick roped noose. So this was a lynching mob.

TBC