A/N: Thanks to all those of you still hanging on in there with my waffling. I hope you can all stick with it to the end! :)

Chapter 21

'Any luck, Radek?' Elizabeth asked, rubbing her tired, dry eyes. She'd been battling sleep for hours now, drifting off in quick snatches when she allowed her mind to lose focus, and she really needed some good news to keep her going.

'I think we're almost there,' his voice responded through her earpiece. 'Calculating the power needed to disrupt their shields is very complicated as it's a completely alien system to us, but I think I have it worked out. I'm just finishing up connecting the naquadah generator to give the pulse the boost it will need.'

'That's good to hear. Nice work,' she told him, glancing over at Lorne, who dozed beside her. At the rear of the ship, his two men stood watch, while a couple of Harding's team stayed with Radek as he completed his work.

She let Lorne catch a few more minutes while they waited. There was no sign of any trouble brewing and the sleep would do him good. Since he was their pilot, he hadn't had the opportunities the others had had to catch forty winks. Now it was his turn to rest.

She quietly stood and stretched out her limbs, then wandered down to the back of the jumper, greeting Lorne's men as she passed them and headed out toward Radek.

The little scientist was beavering away, seeming to run on the same nervous energy that Rodney was also fuelled by, though channelled far more effectively than Rodney's could be at times. Radek rarely vented his spleen, and when he did, it was always in his native tongue so it didn't cause offence to anyone overhearing him. Both men were undoubtedly brilliant, but so very different in character it amazed her they managed to work together so well.

She didn't speak to him as she joined his group because he didn't acknowledge her. It was clear he knew she was there, but preferred instead to concentrate on the job at hand. She had no problem with that. That was why she'd brought him along, after all.

It was almost dark now, and colder than ever, but Radek had worked doggedly despite the conditions, the marines with him now holding torches to illuminate his work.

'That's it. I think we're good to go,' he suddenly announced, sitting back on his heels.

'Well...great,' she grinned, 'Let's do it.'

'We can, once all the jumpers and equipment we don't want to lose is moved out of range. We can't completely shut the ships down since we need to keep them cloaked, so we need to keep that away while I operate this.' He glanced at his watch, the one synchronised with Atlantis time. 'I'll set the pulse off at 2215 hours precisely. That should give you plenty of time to get out of range. Although our radios should be unaffected, it might be wise to shut down everything just for the length of the burst. If you allow thirty seconds to pass before switching them on again, I'll contact you to let you know it's done.'

'All right, Radek. Good luck.'

She ran back to the jumper now, relaying the message to all their gathered troops. By the time she got back on board her own craft, Lorne was awake and prepping them for flight.

'Let's get this ship to a safe distance, she ordered as the rear hatch drew shut behind her and Lorne's men.

'Yes, Ma'am.'

Lorne and the others all took their crafts back several miles, a matter of moments in terms of jumper flight, but well outside the range of the large EM pulse Radek was about to unleash. They remained hovering, mindful of the warnings about the indigenous creatures rumoured to dwell in these lands between the cities. They couldn't be sure Thalaezin was telling the truth about them after so many other things he'd said had proved untrustworthy, but this really wasn't the time to test this particular fact out.

2215 hours came and passed, and for a few seconds there was complete silence. Elizabeth was just about to suggest they contact the scientist when Radek's voice broke through. 'It worked. The shield is down. But we should hurry; we have no idea how long it will take them to fix it. They may even have a back-up system they can set in motion...or a quick reset.'

Lorne didn't even wait for her order, setting the ship in motion and telling the others to do the same. Only Harding's craft paused long enough to let Radek and his two marine guards jump back on board, and then they were all inside the city perimeter, cloaked and completely undetected.

They set a course directly for the central government building, landing in the quiet street outside it where traffic needed a permit to drive. The look on the faces of the guards outside it when Elizabeth Lorne and his two remaining team members stepped out of the cloaked ship and strode up to them was classic shock, pure and simple, and she half-wished she'd brought her camera to capture the moment.

'We want to speak to First Minister Thalaezin immediately,' she told them, striding up the steps.

They barred her way despite their trepidation. 'I...I'm sorry, but you can't enter the building without the proper permissions,' the larger of the two men told her.

'Is that so?' she asked, standing firm on that top step and folding her arms across her chest. 'Well, I'm Dr Elizabeth Weir, the commander of a very advanced and very, very angry race of people. I think you'll find that's all the permission I need.'

She tried to pass them again, but they still blocked her way. 'I'm sorry, Dr Weir, but we're still not allowed to let you pass without First Minister Thalaezin giving us permission.'

She glanced back at Lorne and his men, seeing their equal determination to gain another audience with their deceitful host. The time for politeness was over. Now it was time to play dirty.

'Well, I suggest you ask First Minister Thalaezin for that permission right now. And while you're there, tell him if he doesn't grant me that permission, I'll make sure neither he nor anyone else on this planet trades with another race in this galaxy again.'

The both blinked back at her, as if wondering if she was serious.

'I'll wait right here while you do that, shall I?' she asked, jabbing a finger toward the floor, then folding her arms again.

After a second or two more of disbelief, one of the men turned and headed inside, presumably to do her bidding.

The other remained before her, looking anxious. She smiled at him. 'Lovely evening, isn't it?'

'Uh, yes...lovely,' he replied, then he focused on something in the distance and pretended to guard things so he didn't have to converse with her any more.

Trying not to laugh, she tripped down the couple of steps to Lorne's level. 'Now I guess we just have to wait and see just how much that threat resonates,' she said quietly, looking back toward the door.

'Oh I think it'll resonate, Ma'am,' Lorne smirked, resting his arms casually on the butt of his P-90. 'This is a government. Anything that might hit them in the pocket resonates.'

She nodded, appreciating his joke. Hopefully, it was close enough to the truth to get them through those doors and back in the presence of Thalaezin himself.

oooOOOooo

Ashnael watched Ronon's face as Rabbrine stitched up the popped sutures in his side. He grimaced, but this was a man clearly used to dealing with physical pain, which made him all the more exciting as far as he was concerned.

From time to time, the man shook the whole bed frame, trying to free his trapped wrists, but the magnetised cuffs held firm. The giant brute was going nowhere.

'This is the second badly injured slave I've had to tend to today,' Rabbrine commented as he trimmed the last stitch and slipped of his optical enhancers. 'Not that I'm complaining since it pays my bills. And Magistra Tranaedan always settles her bills on time.'

Since Ronon had no idea who Sheppard had been sold to, that nugget of information meant nothing to him, but it piqued Ashnael's interest.

'Magistra Tranaedan, you say?'

'Yes. They have a new slave there, beastly man, doesn't have the first clue how to behave in polite society. The Magistra told me he'd fallen, but I have to question that.'

Ashnael cocked his head. He hadn't used Rabbrine's services much because Bathraen always came for free, but he'd decided he couldn't face one of the old man's lectures today, and he was glad since this physician was apparently in a chatty mood. 'Was he badly injured?'

'Mostly superficial cuts and bruising and a concussion, but, well, let's put it this way...if he weren't sterile already he wouldn't be fathering any children for the next few days or weeks.'

Ashnael winced, knowing exactly what that meant. 'And they say he fell?'

'Yes, but considering the fact he had several other injuries conducive to a beating, I rather think he was pushed. I imagine it was Magister Tranaedan living up to his reputation.'

'And most likely because Magistra Tranaedan was living up to hers,' Ashnael quipped.

'Do I have to listen to this crap?' Ronon demanded from where he still lay cuffed to the bed.

Ashnael snorted out a laugh and guided Curan Rabbrine from the room. 'Not at all, Romaed. We'll take our conversation elsewhere. You stay there and relax.'

He heard the man's growl and his continued efforts to free himself as he walked away down the corridor with Rabbrine.

'So, the new pilot isn't settling in too well, I take it?' he asked the doctor as they reached the elevator and began to journey up.

'You know he's a pilot? I take it you sold the man to her then,' Rabbrine surmised, watching him sharply.

'I did. It was most fortunate to find him so soon after the loss of her last pilot. Slaves with that particular talent are hard to come by.'

'Yes. It was fortuitous timing for her...but I don't envy him. That is one household I would certainly have no desire to be part of. Rumour is the Magister is deathly jealous of that wife of his. And who can blame him. I have made her look like utter perfection.'

Ashnael shrugged as the elevator slid to a halt and the door opened to release them. 'I wouldn't know. She's not exactly my taste.'

'No...no, of course not,' the doctor replied, clearing his throat and putting a little more space between them. 'But surely even you can appreciate beauty?'

Ashnael smirked. Yes, he could, but cosmetically enhanced women weren't a patch on the man down in his recovery room. 'I can, but I see beauty in different things...in courage, strength and spirit.'

'Then you should have kept that pilot for yourself. He had an excess of all of those.'

Ashnael thought back to the struggle Sheppard had put up when he'd attacked him in his treatment room. He had indeed been very impressive. 'Well, if I hadn't found the man you just stitched up, I might have done just that,' he confessed. 'But I'm happy with my choice.'

At the door Dezrin met the doctor with his coat. The man set down his bag and pulled it on. 'Where did you find this latest batch of slaves, Mercator Ashnael? They have a most peculiar way of speaking, don't you think?'

'They come from a city in the east. I don't venture there much, but when I heard a household had been raided and the owners killed, I suspected there would be trade to be had. I got them at a good price. I suppose we just have to put up with the various quirks other cities' slaves have picked up in our years in virtual isolation.'

'Yes...quite.' Rabbrine buckled up his coat and picked up his bag again, heading for the now open door. 'Well, I think I shall head home now. I've been out on call all day and have had barely a moment's rest.'

'Very good, Curan Rabbrine. I'll expect your bill in short order.'

The doctor nodded and headed off down the steps, but Ashnael couldn't help but ponder the oddly suspicious look he'd given him when he'd told him where Sheppard and Ronon was from. Hopefully, the doctor would be too busy to give his concerns any more thought, and the matter would soon be forgotten. Maybe he should have called Curan Bathraen after all for another free session, but he hadn't wanted to put up with one of the man's tedious lectures about giving Ronon more time to recover before sparring with him again.

He wandered back inside and Dezrin closed the door behind him, bowing low at his side. He supposed he could spar with the young slave instead, but fighting Ronon had been exhilarating in a way it never had been with Dezrin. No, he would leave it for now and give Ronon the rest of the day to recover. Then he'd make sure he didn't push him too hard next time. He'd been lucky enough only to pop a few stitches in the inner and outer layers of his epidermis this time, his deeper wounds remaining intact. That meant he would be another day more healed internally by the next time they sparred, and another day stronger.

He rode the elevator down to where he'd left his new plaything, leaning in the doorway to admire him. For a moment, Ronon didn't even know he was there, his head turned away as his chest heaved with his angry breaths. Allowing himself just a little longer to enjoy the view, Ashnael walked in clearing his throat. 'Now, Ronon. You really must be sure not to burst those stitches again the next time we fight,' he warned, heading over to the medicine cabinet he kept locked in the corner.

'The only thing I'm sure to do next time we fight is kill you,' the Satedan rumbled, baring his teeth like a wild dog.

Ashnael laughed, pulling a syringe from the shelf and filling it with sedative. 'We shall see,' he chuckled, crossing to the trapped man's bedside.

Ronon strained against his cuffs but couldn't move away from him. Ashnael jabbed the needle hard into his left deltoid, setting the sedative loose in his body. As it began to take hold and the big man fought to keep his eyes open, Ashnael stroked his hand down his arm, enjoying the sensation of his taut muscles under his touch. 'You get some sleep now, Ronon. We wouldn't want you or anyone else hurt while we move you back to your quarters.'

Ronon gave one last growl before passing out, then fell limp on the bed. Ashnael revelled in a thrill of victory at taming the ferocious man. Then, activating the anti-gravitational bed beneath him, he easily steered his sleeping slave from the treatment room to the elevator, on his way back to his sparring room cell.

oooOOOooo

Magister Tranaedan paced beside his craft, checking his timepiece. What was keeping the girl? He'd sent her for the pilot a while ago, and while he realised Jadrael would need time to dress and limp his way down to the transport store, this was now unacceptably tardy. Had his lesson last night taught him nothing?

A moment later, Lanae appeared, gasping for breath and teary eyed. 'I'm sorry, Magister, but I couldn't rouse Jadrael. He's deeply asleep and neither I nor Raelzine can wake him.'

That didn't sound good. His wife had called Curan Rabbrine to tend to the man during the early hours of the morning, and he'd assured her he would make a full recovery then. The sensory's warning echoed through his head. He couldn't let the pilot die. If he did, his own life would be forfeit.

'Out of my way,' he ordered, brushing the girl aside and heading for the elevator. He rose to the servants' accommodation floor, and burst into the pilot's room, finding Raelzine wrestling with a feverish looking Jadrael.

'Come now, lad. Stop thrashing and let me treat you,' she told him, trying to hold his flailing arms out of the way so she could dampen down his hot forehead.

Tranaedan pushed forward and caught his arms, forcing them down to the bed and making him cry out. 'Here let me help you with that.'

'I think you've already done enough,' the old woman said sharply. There was real anger in her eyes when she looked at him, as well as a hint of fear for what she had just said.

Of course, she was right. He'd taken things too far with Jadrael. The man had tried to distance himself from the magistra last night, he'd heard enough through the wall of the adjoining room to know that, and yet he'd let his anger at his wife's attempted infidelity get the better of him. He'd beaten him mercilessly...beaten him senseless. His reaction had been out of proportion and unjustified, he knew that now looking at how sick the man was, but he also knew he would do the same thing again if driven to it. His wife had always had that maddening effect on him.

'How long has he been like this?'

Raelzine didn't look at him as she answered, busying herself with wiping down Jadrael's sweat streaked skin. 'I can't be certain. When I brought him his lunch his temperature seemed normal enough, though he was sleepy. It was only when you called for his services just now that we found him this way.'

'I thought the physician said he was fine.'

Raelzine just tutted and shook her head. 'Rabbrine! That old charlatan. He doesn't care a jot for slaves. He'd have said he was fine even if he wasn't. And he'd have withheld medicine, too. The man's not worth the money the magistra pays him.'

'She does seem to favour the man rather highly. Let's take a look at him.'

He pulled Jadrael's coarse blanket down, seeing the inflamed welts left by his belt across his stomach and chest. He was no medical expert, but their angry appearance and his raging temperature told him Jadrael had an infection that needed urgent treatment.

The man squirmed under the force of his grip, groaning in his stupor. 'I don't know where he is...I don't know how to find him.'

'Shhhh, now Jadrael. Calm yourself,' Raelzine soothed, mopping his head again.

'What does he want from me?' he groaned. 'I...I don't know where he is!'

'Who is he talking about?' Tranaedan asked, trying to hold him still again for Raelzine to wipe down.

'Who knows,' she snapped, dipping her cloth into a bowl of cold water to refresh it. She glared at him as she wrung it out then lay it across his forehead. 'He's sick...raving...nothing he says makes any sense.'

'Teyla! She's in danger! I have to find her!'

Tranaedan pulled the control for his cuffs from his pocket, knowing restraining his hands to the metal bed frame would help Raelzine to treat him with her basic medicines.

Again, the old woman gave him an icy glare, but he knew what he was doing. 'It is for his own good woman, he must lie still.'

Jadrael, though, fought back before he could do it. Freeing up his right hand, he caught hold of the front of Tranaedan's coat, dragging him down toward him. 'You cannot kill the pilot...If his blood is on your hands...you will surely...die,' he panted, his fingers locking tight on the fabric.

With great effort, Tranaedan forced the man's grip loose and staggered back, while Jadrael collapsed against his pillows, spent. He knew who those words had come from. The sensory had somehow learned of what he'd done and was warning him...saving him from himself.

He stood up straight, raising his chin proudly and tugging his clothes into place. 'Take care of him, Raelzine. I will call for Curan Bathraen; he'll know what to do.'

He hurried out then, stopping just down the corridor to give his racing heart a chance to recover. He had taken it too far with the pilot, beaten him and then left him untended until he was found. Yes, he'd ascertained that he was still breathing, but that was all. The man could have died and then his life would have been forfeit, too. He would have to be more careful, ensuring Jadrael knew he meant business, but without risking his life again.

But for now, the man needed his help, and he would get it. Hopefully, it wasn't too little, too late.

oooOOOooo

'Look at the state of him! We can't leave him here. Can't you come up with some excuse to remove him from the house?'

The voice was so familiar, the whining pitch of the words making him feel at home for the first time in days. But it couldn't be, could it?

'I can't do that, Dr McKay. The Tranaedans have everything here needed to take care of him. I can make no excuse that would hold water.'

'Oh, come on! You're just not trying here.'

Sheppard forced his eyes open, blinking away beads of sweat from his lashes as he brought his dim and dismal room into focus. He was still sick, his body aching with fever and infection. This was just another crazy hallucination, more wishful thinking, another image of friends that would slip from his grasp.

'Dr McKay, please understand. If I behave in any way that appears unusual, I could draw attention to you and your friend here...attention you do not want. And you must be quiet...if Magister Tranaedan suspects that you and Colonel Sheppard here are not from this planet...well, he has a lot of money to make sure the two of you disappear and will never be seen again.'

'Well, how very melodramatic of you!'

'It is not a lie, Dr McKay. You must calm down!'

'Rodney?' Sheppard croaked, lifting his head as far from the pillows as he could.

'Oh, thank God!' The scientist was at his bedside in an instant, squatting down beside him. 'How're you feeling?'

'Oh, just peachy,' he lied, trying to bring the incredibly blurry figure of McKay into sharper focus. 'You really here or are you just another screwy game my head's playing with me?'

'No...I'm real. We've given you something to bring your temperature down for now so we can talk to you.'

'That's good,' Sheppard groaned as he tried to sit up, Rodney helping to prop him up with pillows. 'So, how're you?'

'Oh, you know...trying to find a way to save us all as usual.'

'Any progress on that?'

'Er...not so much,' the scientist replied, standing up and bouncing on the balls of his feet as he did when agitated. '...but I'm working on it.'

'We both are, Colonel Sheppard. We'll find a way to get you and your team back to your people.'

The sight of Bathraen approaching the bed set Sheppard ranting. 'What the hell are you doing here? Come to knock me out and sell me on to some other crazy household?'

'It's okay, Sheppard. He's on our side...in a manner of speaking,' Rodney told him, giving the man an odd look.

'No offence, but I have trouble trusting people who sell me into slavery.'

'That wasn't him, that was Ashnael,' Rodney intervened.

'With his help,' Sheppard growled, then hissed as even that level of aggravation made his whole body pulse uncomfortably.

'Yeah, well...things are complicated. But he's on our side, you can trust me on that.'

Sheppard dropped his head back on the pillow, clutching his aching forehead. 'Just tell me you're gonna get me out of this madhouse.' The pause that comment met with meant he wasn't going to like the answer. 'Rodney?'

'Er...actually, that isn't going to be all that simple. Curan Bathraen and I are working on a way of communicating our position to Atlantis instead. If I can build a radio from what limited equipment he has at his home I can send a message to any of our people on the planet...but he's not allowed to send out messages beyond the city's communication network so I can't do it from his home. And even if I do it from somewhere else in the city, they're so hot on monitoring anomalous transmissions, they're likely to hunt me down and capture me...and apparently that would be bad.'

'So, you haven't figured out a way past the gates, huh?'

'What makes you say that?'

'Because if you had, you'd be out there salvaging what you could of the jumper's communication systems.'

Rodney looked as despondent as Sheppard had ever seen him. 'You need codes, for the city gates and the Stargate, but Bathraen isn't allowed to travel. And I can't get close enough to deactivate the locks on the gates and get out with those facilitators on permanent duty.'

So the magistra had been telling the truth about the Stargate. He hadn't known whether to believe her or not on that little detail. 'Convenient,' Sheppard grunted, wincing as a pain stabbed through him again. He really had to stop tensing up like that.

Bathraen passed him an icepack. 'Here, Colonel Sheppard, this might help.'

Sheppard took it with a mutter of thanks, clutching it against his throbbing skull.

The doctor looked at him a little awkwardly, and said, 'Actually, it isn't for your head, Colonel Sheppard.' He flicked his eyes lower down Sheppard's body, and then the colonel understood what he meant. 'We need to reduce the bruising and keep down any swelling.'

'Oh...right...' When Sheppard slipped it down to its intended target, he had to wonder if the doctor was some kind of torture expert, but after a few minutes things went numb and he understood why it was necessary.

'Here, let me give you this.'

The sight of Bathraen approaching him with a syringe didn't give him a good feeling, though. 'Oh, I don't think so!'

'It's something for your infection, nothing more. I promise you.'

Sheppard held his gaze, searching for signs of deception in his face, but he found none. He was sick, and he felt like crap. Rodney seemed to trust this guy, so he guessed he had to as well.

'All right. Do it.'

Bathraen found an artery, and injected the solution into him. 'I know you are feeling quite unwell at the moment, Colonel. But this will soon have you feeling much better. It's a fast acting medicine; you should notice the benefits in only a few hours.'

'That'd be good,' he quipped. The he rolled his head Rodney's way. 'So how about this plan to contact Atlantis?'

The scientist immediate looked sheepish, eyes darting around the room. 'Yeah, well...we haven't exactly ironed out all the kinks yet, but we'll think of something.'

'You have no idea how to do it, do you?' Sheppard pressed.

'Not yet...no. But you know me...I'll think of something.'

'Yeah...I know you.'

'And what's that supposed to mean?'

'Any news on Teyla and Ronon?' Sheppard asked, changing the subject.

'Yes.'

Sheppard waited for more, but apparently it wasn't forthcoming. 'Yes? And? So? What?'

'Teyla's safe...for now.' Rodney shared an anxious look with Bathraen, one that Sheppard couldn't miss.

'What is it? What aren't you telling me?'

'To avoid government scans, Bathraen had to smuggle her into that walled township we crashed near. Because of the magnetic field that brought out ship down, government scanners won't be able to detect her Wraith DNA.'

Sheppard breathed easy. That didn't sound so bad, yet Rodney still looked worried about something. 'I'm sensing a 'But'.'

Rodney rolled his eyes. 'But she's being constantly exposed to harmful levels of electromagnetism. She should be okay for a while, but if for any reason we were to be trapped here long term...'

'It would be bad.'

Rodney nodded. 'Yes.'

'I'm a little fuzzy here at the moment, so how about you define "bad",' Sheppard urged, 'and before you try and dodge the question, I don't mean the word itself.'

Rodney sighed. 'Well, there isn't conclusive clinical proof of the effects, but research on Earth shows when we expose animals to levels lower than those emitted in the Forbidden Zones, they experience higher instances of adult cancers, leukaemia, depression, neurological disorders, depressed immune systems...should I go on?'

'No...I think I got the picture,' Sheppard replied. 'So it's really important we get her out of there as soon as possible.'

'That's pretty much what I was saying, yes.'

'And what about Ronon?'

Rodney actually winced at that question. 'Well, he's still with Ashnael...'

'Recovering from the op,' Sheppard finished for him.

'We hope so,' Bathraen replied. 'Excuse me.' He moved Sheppard's hands aside so he could examine the sutured injuries across his body.

Rodney grimaced at the sight of them and turned slightly away from him.

'What do you mean, "We hope so?"' Sheppard demanded, flinching as the physician pressed at one of his swollen wounds.

The doctor straightened up and reached into his medical kit for something to treat his lacerations. 'I mean,' he began as he tipped a liquid onto a cloth and dabbed at the oozing injuries, 'Ashnael has a penchant for battling with fit young men like your friend. I rather think he gains a little too much pleasure from such things.'

'What?' Rodney suddenly erupted, turning toward him with eyes bulging like they might just pop clean out of his head. 'You didn't tell me that! I thought he just liked beating the crap out of them!'

'He does. But he gains a very specific type of satisfaction from it,' Bathraen clarified, his gaze briefly flicking up to Sheppard's in an apologetic way.

'Well, for someone who's apparently on our side, you sure did land us in some deep crap!' Sheppard snapped at him.

Again, the man looked sorry and continued with his work.

Taking a deep breath, Sheppard slipped into team leader mode. 'Okay, let's set our priorities. You get Ronon out first –'

'It's not going to be as easy as that –'

'Make it that easy, McKay!' Sheppard said, silencing his friend.

Rodney's shoulders slumped and his head dropped. 'Okay, I'm listening.'

'Good. You get Ronon out first, then he can hopefully help you figure a way into that township to get Teyla out. He could probably take down the facilitators at the gate on his own if you give him the chance. I can handle things here for a while.'

'Yeah, 'cos you've been doing a great job so far –' Rodney squeaked.

At that point, the door opened with a sharp creak and Magistra Tranaedan stepped in. Her eyes quickly swept the room, then finally came to rest on the physician.

'Bathraen,' she said, her voice a pitch lower than normal, and thus more menacing.

'Magistra,' he replied, dipping his head respectfully. 'You're looking well.'

'What are you doing here?' she asked, not even acknowledging his compliment.

'You pilot was very sick. Your husband called me out to see him.'

'I have already had Curan Rabbrine here to attend to him this morning. He will be fine. Now leave.'

Sheppard sensed an age-old animosity between these two, and wondered what their story was. They clearly knew one another, but why this anger?

'Rabbrine didn't do his job properly, Magistra Tranaedan. Jadrael has developed an infection, and it's hardly surprising considering the conditions you're keeping him in. His room and bedding are filthy.'

A condescending smirk twisted her features in the dim lamplight, making her look decidedly evil as she stared the man down. 'What do you expect? He's a slave, and a disobedient one at that. I'm hardly likely to waste my good linen on him.' She looked at Sheppard now, her eyes narrowing callously as she regarded his shaking, perspiration soaked body. 'Perhaps he's feigning symptoms to get out of his duties. He's lazy, this one...never wants to do what he's asked.'

'That depends what you're asking for,' Sheppard fired back, pulling his filthy blanket a little higher to shield himself from her roaming eyes.

'He needs to be moved to a more sterile environment. He may look relatively well now, but that's only because I have artificially suppressed his illness so that I could ask enough questions to gain a full list of his symptoms. When that wears off he will not feel so good.'

'I suppose you want me to send him to our recovery room.'

'That would be perfect,' Bathraen agreed. 'If you wouldn't mind arranging that.'

She looked at him coldly, pouting her prettily painted lips. Then she looked at Rodney. 'And who are you?'

'Me?' he asked, eyes wide. 'Er...I'm with him.' He pointed at Bathraen.

'And what kind of slave is this who doesn't know he should kneel when I enter a room?' she demanded of the physician.

Bathraen wasn't at all thrown by the question, immediately replying,' 'You know my feeling about such things, Magistra. I don't enforce such rules in my household.'

'No? Well I do in my household,' she pulled her telescopic cattle prod from her pocket and extended it, giving it a little twist to set the current flowing.

'Kneel before the Magistra,' Bathraen ordered Rodney.

McKay just gaped at him, slack-jawed. 'What? Are you –'

The magistra jabbed him in the side and his legs buckled, folding him to the floor. Sheppard winced for him, knowing how that felt. He'd wanted to warn him, but it would have looked suspicious if he had.

'Seems you've got yourself a troublesome slave too, Bathraen,' she smirked, stepping over Rodney to approach Sheppard's bedside. 'I hope this isn't some kind of revolution.'

She stroked Sheppard's cheek, looking at him in a way that suggested she knew they were up to something. He held his tongue and just moved his head a little to the side to show he wasn't impressed.

After a pause in which Rodney clambered back to his feet, she said, 'Very well. I'll move Jadrael to the recovery room for now. Is that everything I need to know?'

'He'll need further treatment...one of these pills four times a day for the next five days. Can I trust you to ensure that happens? His health is at stake here.'

She looked down at Sheppard again, and he saw a slight softening in her expression, as if she actually did want him to get better. 'Very well. I'll see to it myself.'

'If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you didn't,' he told her, to the obvious amazement of his current company.

'Are you challenging me, Jadrael?' she asked, her tone now colder again.

Bathraen interceded on his behalf. 'Magistra Tranaedan, it might be better if someone else administered them since your presence obviously makes him anxious. The less aggravation he suffers, the quicker and more complete his recovery will be.'

She didn't look too happy about that, folding her arms over her chest as if about to challenge his suggestion. Then, she unexpectedly agreed. 'Very well. I'll instruct Raelzine to ensure he is medicated. Now, if there's nothing else, I'll put those measures in place. I expect the two of you to be gone by the time we come to move him.'

She swept out without waiting for their response.

'Nice woman,' Rodney panted, clutching his side. 'She reminds me of my mother...apart from the whole electrocution thing.'

'You all right, McKay?' Sheppard asked, trying to sit up and get a better look at him, but finding a sweat breaking out all over him even with that small effort.

'You need to rest now, Colonel Sheppard,' Bathraen ordered, pushing him back down. 'The symptom depressor will wear off soon, and you will feel weak and feverish again. But with any luck, that should only be for a short time before the medicine kicks in and begins to battle that infection.'

'That's good to know,' he replied, closing his eyes as the room began to spin.

'We'll get Ronon and Teyla out,' Rodney promised him from his bedside. 'You just sit tight and try to stay out of trouble, you hear?'

'I hear you, Rodney. Now get your asses the hell out of here before she decides to stick you with that cattle prod again,' Sheppard told him.

'Yeah...yeah, that might be a good idea.'

Sheppard listened to the sound of the two men packing away their equipment, too nauseous and hot to open his eyes and watch. He just wanted to sleep again...although that would only bring him more of those freaky nightmares, he knew.

He suddenly felt a hand come to rest on his forearm, and opened his eyes to see Rodney's worried blue eyes staring down on him. 'Just...don't do anything stupid, huh?'

He knew how awkward the scientist was about personal contact, about as awkward as he was, and guessed the man was pretty worried about him to make such a gesture. 'Hey, c'mon, Rodney. You know me,' he quipped, giving him his best, crooked smile.

'Yeah...that's the problem.'

Bathraen persuaded Rodney to leave with him then, but just as they reached the door, Sheppard called out, 'Rodney...I'm sorry I got us into this...I just...I just had this voice in my head telling me we had to come this way.'

Rodney sighed, then shrugged. 'You were doing what you thought you had to do to keep Ronon alive...and it worked. Now we just have to get us all home before anything really bad happens. Piece of cake!'

Bathraen steered him out then, and Sheppard watched McKay go, that worried look remaining on his face until the door closed behind him.

He lay his head back and let his eyes slide shut again, closing out the world for a while longer. Well, if he was laid up sick in the recovery room for a few days, he might just get some respite from the Tranaedan's marital problems, and with any luck, Rodney would also figure out a way to let Atlantis know where they were.

All he had to do was sit tight, take his medicine, and get some rest at last.

What could go wrong?