A/N: So you all enjoyed seeing Ashnael get what was coming to him? But where will it all go from there? :)

Chapter 35

Outside the city of Traginta Duo, the four remaining jumpers all converged on the same spot out in the lands between, maintaining a steady height above the ground to ensure they didn't attract the purraets burrowing out there.

Rodney listened as Elizabeth's voice came through over the jumper's communication system. 'All right, people. We have three of our four missing team members back with us, but we are still missing one. Colonel Sheppard is believed to have escaped the city aboard a vessel in the early hours of this morning, but according to this planet's records, no craft have passed through the 'gate since he went missing. We need to begin a search of the land between here and the Stargate, covering the area as quickly and as thoroughly as possible. Major Lorne has divided the area into four equal areas and is transferring the data to each of you now.'

Harding fired up their HUD, studying the area mapped out for their vessel to search. They'd already covered some of it in their trip to Traginta Duo, and the rest of it, some areas far outside the direct route, just seemed like a complete waste of time to Rodney. If Sheppard was out there, they had to find him fast, not mess about looking in places they were unlikely to find him.

'Elizabeth, this is a waste of time. We've already covered most of this area and he wasn't there,' he called to her from the back of the jumper.

'I understand that, Rodney. But based on the information we have available on his last known movements, information you and Teyla gave us, this is the most likely place we'll find him. So we're going to do this as thoroughly as possible, and if we don't find him, then we'll rethink our strategy.'

Rodney slumped back in his seat, folding his arms and silently fuming, his blood pressure rocketing. He knew he wasn't really angry with Elizabeth or the decision she'd made, it was the most logical thing for them to do, but he felt so certain they wouldn't find him he was furious at himself for not coming up with a better idea.

Teyla reached over and grasped his hand, squeezing it gently as she gave him a supportive smile. 'I understand your worries, Rodney. But this is the best we can do for the moment.'

Beside him, Jasheran cleared his throat. Rodney looked his way and snapped, 'What?'

'I'm sorry to interrupt, but is it possible that Colonel Sheppard was aboard the craft bringing the iron through for trade with my planet since it, too, is missing?'

Rodney rolled his eyes. 'I'm sorry, I don't know quite how to break this to you, but your missing iron is the least of our concerns right now.'

Teyla was quick to jump in, her expression offering an apology for Rodney's brashness, much to his annoyance.

'This ship will have left Traginta Duo this morning?' she asked, holding up a hand to silence Rodney when he tried to butt in again.

'Yes. The iron is refined into the form we need at a manufactory in that city...at least that is my understanding. I have never been there myself. The peoples of Haraendon always travel to us because they believe the industrial environment in their city enclosures would be disagreeable to us.'

'Or because they don't want you to find out how that iron gets made,' Rodney muttered.

Jasheran's face dropped. 'What do you mean?'

'The planet employs slave labour. That iron is mined up by people who probably get little food and little sleep, and are most likely beaten if they don't dig up enough ore in any one day. There might even be kids down there for all we know.'

Jasheran shook his head as he listened, apparently having trouble taking in what he was hearing. 'But...but when we discussed trade many decades ago, my people were assured the practices used here were fair and safe. We always make it clear that we expect those trading with us to adhere to certain standards.'

'Well, apparently you weren't careful enough with these guys,' Rodney snorted, and again, he earned a disparaging glance from Teyla.

'It is an admirable aspiration, but it appears your people may not have been as thorough with their checks as you would have liked. Dr McKay has been living in Traginta Duo for the past few days and has seen many examples of slavery. It is rife within the Centum Civis.'

Jasheran looked shattered, his whole body sagging under the weight of the news. 'I'm sure our village leaders would have visited to complete the trade agreement. It is our practice to do so.'

Teyla nodded, her face grave. 'We do not doubt the sincerity of your people, Jasheran, but the peoples of the Centum Civis are very different from you. It is quite possible they took your predecessors to a...sanitised version of their mining and refining programmes. They may even have persuaded the workers to lie about their conditions for fear they would be punished if they did not. Greed can breed unspeakable cruelty, cruelty it is hard for people like us to comprehend.'

He nodded, clearly contemplating her words. Then he lifted his head, jaw resolutely set. 'You're right, Dr McKay, our trade with this planet is no longer the main matter for our concern. But perhaps we can use the information to help you find Colonel Sheppard. If the craft was the only one to leave Traginta Duo for the Circle of the Ancestors this morning, there should be a record of what transporter was being used for moving the iron. That might help you track it and find him.'

Rodney sat forward, wagging a finger. 'He may have a point!' He opened a channel to Elizabeth. 'Elizabeth, we think we might know what craft Sheppard left on. We need the First Minister to get records of all vehicles leaving Traginta Duo this morning destined for the Stargate. Jasheran thinks Sheppard may have been aboard the iron shipment his people were expecting. If we can narrow it down to one craft, we might be able to track it.'

'Thanks, Rodney. We're on it,' he heard her reply, and now a little of the tension that had been knotting his stomach dissipated. This was a more solid lead, their plan now more structured than just scanning a large area and hoping to stumble across him.

But when he looked at Teyla, she was gazing at the floor of the jumper, her brow furrowed with worry. She clearly didn't share his hope that they were about to track down the elusive colonel, because her afflicted friends still couldn't sense him, describing him as "shrouded in darkness", or some such mumbo jumbo. He hoped they could prove them all wrong.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard wove Ashnael's craft down the streets of Traginta Duo at what would, anywhere else, be considered breakneck speeds, but here seemed to blend in with the general chaos. Beside him, Dezrin gripped his seat, no doubt concerned because he was unused to travelling with an off-worlder, and perhaps wondering if Sheppard was in the right frame of mind for flying at such speeds.

Eventually, Sheppard took the craft down a narrow road that led behind the rear of the Tranaedan property, setting it down and staring at the substantial wall enclosing this aspect of the building. As it was still daylight, there was no way he could scale the front gates, especially since the road on that side of the house was so busy. This one, though, was quiet. As they sat there for a while, Sheppard taking the opportunity to calm himself and recharge his batteries, not one single craft passed them by.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, wishing he'd mastered that whole meditation thing Teyla did before they went on potentially difficult missions. He'd never managed to "find his centre", or "release his burden", and today he was feeling more burdened than usual. He hadn't let himself think about it until now, but there was a chance Ronon had been hurt or killed last night. If he had, he knew that was one burden he'd never release.

'John.' Dezrin's light touch on his arm made him jump, his action making the young man draw back as if he feared retaliation. If his encounter with Ashnael had left him this skittish, he hated to think how bad the boy must feel, so he gave him a reassuring smile to ease the tension.

'Sorry, you startled me.'

'Are you sure you can climb into this property? That wall is very high.'

John peered out of the windshield and studied the structure, spotting numerous possible hand and foot holds in its surface. 'Well, I don't really have a choice. I get that the gates and walls are there more for boundary reasons than security, but if I take a craft over them, it's gonna increase my chances of being spotted. And I'm already running at a disadvantage here.'

Dezrin frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean Magistra Tranaedan has a few talents that make her more likely to know I'm here than I'd like.'

The young man still looked baffled, and deciding he really didn't have time to discuss it any further, Sheppard jumped out of his seat and told him to stay put until he saw the jumper leave. They'd already discussed his plan, and Dezrin knew to follow him to safer grounds where he could get aboard the jumper and they could ferry him to safety. The boy, though not an experienced pilot, apparently knew enough to move the ship, and Sheppard intended to get him on board as soon as he felt they could stop without being ambushed. Hopefully that meant his limited skills would be enough.

Climbing was something Sheppard was good at. He'd done plenty of it as one of those hobbies he'd developed to satisfied the adrenalin junkie within him. So a twenty-foot wall on a good day would be absolutely no obstacle to him. Today...today it looked almost insurmountable. Taking another deep breath and chastising himself for being so negative, Sheppard reached up to the first available hold for his right hand, feeling the strain in his damaged forearm and stomach the instant he did it. Nausea welled in his throat, but he forced it down. He needed to get inside the building, and he had a lot more climbing ahead of him to do that. He couldn't afford to acknowledge any pain. It would slow him down and split his focus. So he completed the action, slotting his fingers into a gap between the metal panels making up the erection. Gradually, inch by inch, he scaled the wall, finding and maintaining holds that other, less skilled climbers would have missed. Not that he didn't slip – he did, twice – and he could have merrily screamed out as the weight of his unsupported legs dragged down on the injuries to his upper body, but instead he looked at the top of the wall, seeing it getting closer, and allowing his desire to reach it be his overriding emotion. Eventually, he did just that, all without anyone passing by. Then, knowing he had to descend as quickly as possible, he lowered himself as much as he could and then dropped to the ground, feeling the jolt through his entire body, but driving himself on regardless.

Once over that first obstacle, he had to dig deep to climb the wall of the single storey extension at the side of the house to reach the air duct he'd departed by. It was lower than the wall and so should have been easier, but, already tired out by the first climb, what should have been simple left him drained. Once up on the roof, he took a moment to look up at the sky, somehow, more than ever, a symbol of freedom despite its restrictions, then he lifted the grill and slid inside, back in the Tranaedan household once more.

Inside that metal ducting, his breathing sounded worryingly loud, but he figured that was most likely his paranoia kicking in rather than it being as thunderous as he feared. He slithered along on his stomach, feeling the uncomfortable yet simultaneously comforting pressure of Ashnael's cuff control digging into his thigh in his pocket where he'd hidden it, whimpering quietly as tiny explosions of pain fired off in his stomach. He'd thought this journey had been a difficult one on the way out. On the way in, it was a hundred times harder. Eventually, he could bear the claustrophobia and discomfort no longer, so dropped out of the ceiling at the first loose grill he could find and scurried his way to the servants' staircase, where he hoped he could hide for a few moments without being discovered by the Tranaedans.

He sat down on the cold stone steps to regain his breath and let the pain subside. He had to find Ronon, and he had an awful feeling he was likely to be hanging around with the magister, and so hard to get to without alerting his one-time owner to his presence. His only other option was to take the jumper without his friend and come back with reinforcements as fast as he could. That wasn't his favourite idea, but he might have to resort to it through necessity. He resolved to head up to the Tranaedans' rooms and try to locate a ramp controller. Hopefully, either on the way up there, or on the way back down, he would stumble across some clue as to where his friend could be.

He mounted the stairs as quickly as he could until he reached the right floor, poking his head out into the corridor and listening. The noises that met his ears left him in no doubt as to where Ronon was.

'Do you have any idea how much that slave cost me?' he heard Tranaedan bellow. 'Ten thousand tallots. I barely even owned him for a day before some off-world woman comes sweeping in here snatching him out from under my nose. Do you have any idea how stupid that made me look?'

The voice that replied was quieter, but undeniably the magistra's. 'Of course I do. I was there when it happened.'

Elizabeth? She'd been here?

The sharp crack of flesh on flesh made him wince, and the magistra cried out. Her husband had apparently reached the end of his tether. So Tranaedan's love affair with the magistra was over. He wished he could feel sympathetic about that, but he couldn't feel anything for either of them. They deserved whatever they got, be that broken hearts or broken bones.

He slipped along the corridor, his grimy, blood-stained clothes and hands leaving marks where he occasionally supported himself on the wall. He hoped the Tranaedans would be so wrapped up in their own turmoil they wouldn't notice a few dirty marks on their pristine paintwork...that or if he was lucky Raelzine or Lanae would come along and wipe them away before they could be seen.

When he got closer to the magistra's room it became clear the noise wasn't coming from there, but from the magister's room further down the corridor. With that realisation, he took the opportunity to slip into her room and seek out that all important control.

The first area was empty, as was the bedroom beyond. He hurried across the room, casting his eyes across the bed and the dressing table and spotting the magistra's purse sitting beside her various bottles of perfume and other makeup. Surely it couldn't be that easy? He darted over to it, wrenching it open and finding the control sitting within it along with the magistra's key card that would give him access to the hangar. He still had his own in his back pocket, but it had taken a battering, so he decided to take hers to be sure he could get to the jumper. Maybe she'd been planning a trip or maybe she just didn't think any of her other slaves had the courage to take it. Whatever the reason, he meant to make the most of the opportunity it offered him, especially now he knew Ronon was already in safe hands.

He slipped quietly back out into the corridor, and then descended the staircase down to the hangar level as quickly as his shaky legs would convey him. He felt decidedly unsteady now, but knew his ordeal would be over soon – a few minutes to fire up the jumper and open the ramp, and he'd be heading for the 'gate and the Alpha site.

He exited the stairs and was about to head to the hangar doors when he heard movement and drew back sharply, peering out into the corridor to see Vandaer heading into the hangar. That was something he could really have done without, but, with Ronon's gun tucked into the back of his belt, he knew it wasn't a problem he couldn't overcome. So, desperate not to waste any more time, he headed to the hangar and opened up the door.

Vandaer came out of the craft he was cleaning immediately, obviously expecting to find one of his owners standing there. So he'd drawn the short straw on the cleaning duties. His face when he saw Sheppard was an absolute picture.

'Jadrael! Why...why would you come back here?'

'Because I need that ship to get out of here,' he replied, dipping his head toward the jumper.

'But it doesn't work,' the man said, looking toward it. 'You know that.'

'It works for me.'

Vandaer looked at it again, then back at Sheppard. 'Even if you're right, I can't let you take it. It's the pride of the magister's collection.'

Though he really had hoped to persuade the man to let him go peacefully, one slave to another, he suspected he wouldn't be able to. He pulled Ronon's gun and set it to stun. 'I don't need your permission to take it, Vandaer. So just step aside, because, trust me, this thing hurts.'

Vandaer's eyes darted to the weapon, then back up to meet Sheppard's gaze. 'I cannot...the magister will –'

Sheppard shot him, watching him contract and then fall limp as the energy knocked him out. 'Sorry, buddy. But I really don't have time to discuss it,' he muttered, running past him and into the dormant jumper.

The ship came to life around him as he entered, lights illuminating the welcome sight of Lantean tech, and the mental connection immediately firing up within him. Depositing himself in the pilot seat, he ran through a quick check of systems to ensure nothing else vital had died in his absence. To his relief he found he still had engines and weapons, even though the systems for the cloak and shield were still disabled. Not that he was worried; with the control to the ramp and an armed jumper, he was getting out of this city whether he was visible or not.

A sound behind him made him start. He spun his seat round, aiming Ronon's gun out in front of him. He was alone, but he didn't feel alone. Aware it could just be a severe case of paranoia, Sheppard returned his attention to the navigational controls, calling up the HUD to get an overall picture of what he had at his disposal and scanning what he was up against outside. Another noise, something like a muffled cry made him spin round again, and this time the cause of the noise was there for him to see.

The magistra now stood on the open rear hatch holding Ishraela in front of her, bound and gagged. She held a gun to the child's head, and the poor little girl looked absolutely petrified.

'I had a feeling I would be seeing you soon when I caught this whelp sneaking around my house earlier,' she said. 'And I'm sure you don't want to fire that thing...I'd hate to accidentally kill the darling little child.'

This couldn't be happening. He wouldn't let this opportunity slip through his fingers. But the magistra would kill Ishraela without batting an eyelid, he knew that, so he set the gun down on the floor without argument and feigned compliance. As he got up out of his seat, he surreptitiously slipped the cuff control he'd stolen from Ashnael out of his pocket and concealed it in his hand, preparing for trouble.

'Good boy,' she smirk, pushing the child aside so she fell onto one of the rear seats and striding forward to claim the weapon. 'What a wonderful gun. It looks terribly powerful.'

She waved it around in his face as she examined it, making him flinch and duck for fear she might set it off. His discomfort clearly amused her, but she didn't plague him for long.

'It's most fortuitous that you're here, John, although not entirely down to chance,' she told him, letting her eyes wander over his filthy form with a vague flicker of disgust. 'I had hoped Ashnael would at least clean you up before you escaped. He's usually so fastidious. Still, as you've probably realised, the magister and I are not getting along too well, and I earlier struck a deal with some friends of mine to allow me to hide out in their house. You're going to fly me there, even if you do look like something a purraet coughed out.'

'Get real,' he growled. 'I'm not flying you anywhere.'

'No?' Without looking at Ishraela, she levelled Ronon's gun at her, switching it to kill mode as easily as if the gun was hers. He felt guilty, realising she'd probably plucked the information of how to do that from his head while he'd been standing there worrying about the way she was handling it. 'How about now?'

He clenched his jaw, then nodded. 'Okay, fine. I'll take you wherever you're going, then I'm out of here.' She laughed, and he fought back the urge to slap her himself. 'What's so funny?'

'You're not going anywhere, John. You're part of the deal I struck. I told the Callaedins you'd been recaptured and they agreed to give me refuge from Garzin as long as I bring you along with me.'

She was using him as payment for her ticket out of here now? Okay, that he could definitely slap her for, but when he launched for her, she fired up his cuffs so he slammed into the metal hull behind him.

'Now, now, John,' she purred, approaching him. 'You need to remember your place again. That taste of freedom seems to have gone to your head. You belong to me, and you are going to buy my way out of here.'

'I am not going to the Callaedins with you. Think about it...they don't care about you. They'll kill you as soon as you step through their doors. If you want to get away from your husband, I'll take you with me.' He really didn't want to do that, but neither did he want to waste any more time talking about it. If she accepted his offer, they could work out the details of her transfer to life on Atlantis another time, preferably a life that would start in the brig.

'Do you imagine I couldn't have the Callaedins wrapped around my little finger within moments of getting there?' she asked, apparently mildly offended that he thought they posed a danger to her.

'You might think you can persuade them they want you there, but if they really don't feel that way, they'll get rid of you eventually. The sensory told me your kind can't manipulate people to do things that are completely against their nature, and you can't maintain your influence for long.'

'The sensory was a sick man...pitifully weak. You dare to compare me to that?' She caught hold of his face then, squeezing hard so her nails dug into his flesh. 'Besides, I only need to influence them long enough to get rid of them, then their home and everything in it is mine. Now do as I ask or the child dies.'

The punch he threw at her was clearly completely unexpected, and he supposed that was really no surprise. It hadn't been planned, it had been a gut reaction, his thumb pressing on the cuff control and deactivating his restraint just as he formed the blow, the whole thing playing out in one fluid motion.

She crumpled to the floor in front of him, clutching her eye where he'd struck her, and when she looked up at him, the impact with his fist had caused one of her contacts to split. A sliver of scarlet eye peered out at him in utter shock; she didn't even seem able to speak.

The moment past, he realised she'd dropped Ronon's gun, and it had skittered across the jumper to the rear ramp. There was a second where they both had the same idea, both deciding to leap for the gun, and then the scramble was on, Sheppard somehow finding the strength to knock the magistra aside and claim the weapon himself. He levelled it at her, getting cautiously back to his feet while keeping her in his sights as he flicked the gun back to stun.

She remained on the floor, holding very still. Maybe she could read something in him this time that told her he wasn't going to take any more of her supposed superiority.

Or maybe not.

Something struck him in the back and Sheppard sank to his knees, feeling the gun snatched from his grip. Whoever had done that certainly knew how to disable a guy, leaving him panting as he fell forward onto his hands, gasping.

'You dare to come back here and bring that afflicted scum chil...'

Magister Tranaedan's voice tailed off, and Sheppard ventured a peek over his shoulder to see what he was doing. 'My ship!'

'Actually, it's my ship,' Sheppard corrected, regretting it somewhat when Tranaedan stamped on his back and flattened him. The magistra crawled forward and snatched his cuff control from him, activating it so he was pinned face-down where he lay.

'You can fly this?' the magister demanded.

'Not for you,' Sheppard told him, gritting his teeth when the magister ground his foot down on him even harder.

'He was trying to kidnap me!' he heard the magistra lie, and he was about to call her on it when he felt the pressure on his back lift and the magister thundered toward his wife, snatching her up from the jumper floor and grasping her arms so tightly she cried out.

'Your eye...what...happened?'

Apparently the magistra had been unaware of the damage to her contact, looking at first baffled, then terrified. 'I...I can explain...It's just an abnormality...'

'You're one of them...one of the afflicted!' he gasped, pushing her away from him so she tripped on her dress and fell down again.

'No...no, I'm not...It's a fault in the pigmentation of my eyes. Look at me Garzin...do I look like one of them?'

'She changes the way she looks,' Sheppard wheezed, '...lightens her skin...dyes her hair. This isn't the real her. Think about it!'

The magister stared down at him, while his wife continued to make her excuses in the background.

'He's lying, Garzin. He's a slave and he's in trouble ...he's trying to distract you from his crimes.'

'No...no...he's right...this explains so much,' the man stammered, real pain etched onto his face as he made that realisation. 'You're too clever...too cunning...always one step ahead of everyone. This explains so much.'

'No, Garzin...you're wrong.'

'Yes, that's how you've made me feel for so long now,' he said sadly, stroking her face, 'but I suspect I know what would happen if I stopped you buying all those beauty treatments. I loved you, Alathael, with all my heart, doing unspeakable things all because of my love of you, and all this time you have been hiding the truth of yourself from me. Well, no more.'

His hand slipped to her throat, as did his other when he dropped Ronon's gun, and then he squeezed, the magistra's eyes bulging as she struggled to free herself from his crushing grasp. Sheppard watched on in silent horror as the man choked the life from her, the magistra clawing at his arms and drawing blood in her desperate efforts to survive. He thought about speaking up, but something stopped him. This woman had caused the death and suffering of others without any compunction...perhaps her death now was the best outcome for everyone.

And then she was gone. Sheppard saw her eyes glaze in that way he'd witnessed too many times in his life already and Tranaedan let go of her, letting her crumple to the floor in a lifeless heap. Her gaze seemed to be fixed on him, and Sheppard hoped that at some level she still existed, just as the sensory did, so she could see what had happened here and realise just what she'd lost.

The magister straightened up and took a deep breath. 'What is your real name?' he asked without looking at him.

'I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of the United States Air Force,' Sheppard replied, watching him. His body language bristled with pent up aggression.

The man nodded, his back still to him, wiping his hands on his shirt as if he'd sullied them. 'That sounds like a military title.'

'It is.'

'Air Force? So that is why you fly so well?'

'Yeah...I've had a lot of practice.'

Tranaedan nodded, then at last turned around to look down on him. 'Is that child my wife's?' he asked, dipping his head to where Sheppard could see Ishraela still lying bound on a seat beside him.

'No. She's just a kid who got caught where she shouldn't be. Let her go.'

'Perhaps I will...but she has broken into my property. That's a serious crime.'

'Fine...and so did I. If you're feeling mean and you want to punish someone, punish me,' Sheppard challenged, trying to protect her. He could see the child's huge, frightened eyes above the gag the magistra had forced into her mouth, but as Ishraela looked at him, he could tell she was asking him not to put himself on the line for her. He felt it instinctively, just like his connection to the sensory.

'You didn't break into my house, John Sheppard,' Tranaedan told him, his eyes cold as he focused on him now. 'I haven't seen you since you escaped last night.' He got down on one knee to address him, scooping up Ronon's gun as Sheppard realised things were about to turn nasty. 'You have brought this ship to life for me, so this is clearly where you belong. I have no intention of letting you escape from me again...I need someone to move this ship.'

Then he struck Sheppard hard on the temple with the butt of the pistol, and the lights went out in an instant.