If I Die

Chapter Thirteen - The Beginning

Breaking out of the flimsy cell had been easy, compared to other escapes. Ford had neatly shouldered the door open and the team had spilled out onto the empty corridor. Sheppard guessed the Silani were too busy handling the potential Hallan invasion to worry about their guests.

It made Sheppard wonder whether Marikar hadn't been telling the truth, that it really was for their own protection. Then he remembered the locked door, an dismissed the idea.

They were now on the ground floor, making their way through a corridor towards the entrance. Occasionally the sound of feet would cause them to hide in a side room, and wait while a robed figure of a guard ran past. Sheppard wasn't quite sure what would happen if they were discovered. He didn't want to harm any Silani, particularly since they hadn't made any outwardly aggressive action, but he wanted his team out of there. The gnawing feeling in his gut was getting worse, and as he crouched in an alcove waiting for another figure to fly past, he fidgeted, fingering the safety on his P90.

"There's too many," he whispered, feeling his knees creak.

Teyla was crouched beside him, her head tilted a fraction as she listened to sounds from the corridor. "There are more men, further along this corridor. I believe they guard the entrance."

"Then we need another way out."

"Back door?" Ford suggested. "I bet they've got some kitchens."

Sheppard nodded. "Good idea."

"Hang on," McKay interrupted. "Are we sure this is necessary? We –"

"They've lied to us, and tried to hold us prisoner," he snapped back, ignoring the nagging question at the back of his own mind. "If this turns out to have been a misunderstanding then we'll sort it out later, back at Atlantis, through the safety of the Stargate."

McKay seemed to be working himself up into a protest, so Sheppard purposefully rose, pressing out into the corridor. He knew Rodney was eager to get back to the lab beneath their feet, and had all Silani been represented by Rahul, the scientist might have had his wish granted. But not now. If it turned out to be a mistake, so be it – he could deal with Elizabeth's lecture, if he knew his team were safe.

Like all large, public buildings, the kitchens were hidden at the back and the smell – of cheap, mass-produced food – made his nose wrinkle. In their first few weeks the Atlantean kitchens had smelt similar, until the arrival of the first fresh crops from the mainland. It was easy to find, following the corridor with the front door at his back, watching the décor become increasingly basic and threadbare until the first tendrils of overcooked vegetables reached his nose. He was grateful for Ford's idea, for here the number of Silani were fewer, prompting less moments wasted spent hiding in alcoves.

He was starting to worry that this was a little too easy – when they rounded the corner and found themselves in the kitchen.

The room was more an outhouse, a clumsily bricked afterthought to the stately council halls. A thatched roof sloped from the inner wall to the outer, covered a series of tables and stone fireplaces, a number of cupboards and what seemed to be a large sink with no taps. Opposite to the corridor entrance lay the outside door, flanked by four armed guards.

Pulling back, Sheppard dropped to his knees against the corridor wall, his team following his example. He crouched in silence for a moment, listening to the guards, and plotting tactics.

Two quick hand gestures at Ford sent the young lieutenant running down the left side of the kitchen, almost bent double as he ducked behind the tables. Teyla followed him, her knife drawn though Sheppard knew the Athosian would only use it if her hand were forced.

McKay was bright enough to know when to follow orders, and Sheppard was glad to see the scientist obey his quick hand snaps without pause. Together they crept along the right side of the kitchen, guns drawn, Sheppard taking the lead. They drew close to the guards without being spotted, and dimly, through the darkness, Ford and Teyla crouched awaiting their next move.

Very slowly Sheppard reached out and grasped the first object his hand came into contact with, which on closer inspection turned out to be a hard, potato-like vegetable. Leaning out into the central aisle, he pulled his arm back and sent the object flying through the air to land with precision into a shelf full of clay pottery.

The resulting noise prompted the four guards to turn towards the kitchen; at the same moment, Ford and Sheppard rose from the shadows to club the first two men across the back of their heads with the butts of two P90s. As they dropped, their companions rose their weapons. The one on the left had his knocked from his hands by Teyla, who then drop-kicked the man into oblivion, whilst McKay, less ready with his gun, grabbed a nearby metal pan and brought it crashing it across the fourth man's head. The Silani crumpled instantly, joining his friends in an ungainly heap on the floor.

Sheppard stood over them, nudging his cautiously with a foot to check for signs of consciousness. Finding none, he flashed a quick grin to his team before ducking outside.

The back gardens of the council halls were empty and untended, a patch of cropped scrubland sloping down to the road. Both it and the street below were empty and dark, lit only by moonlight. Listening to make sure no alarm had been raised, Sheppard led the way down the slope to the road, hesitating for a second before heading into the shadows offered by a street of simple houses.

He heard one of his team fall into a trot beside him. "Forgive me for questioning your spidey sense," Rodney huffed, "but isn't this the wrong direction?"

"Would you rather we'd sauntered around the council halls?" Sheppard asked, pointedly.

"We'll cut down the back streets," Ford explained in a whisper. "Less chance of being seen."

Teyla was looking up and down the street at the empty spaces, the deserted stalls, the houses shuttering their light. "It seems the rumor of an attack has all Silani scared."

"Well they're terrorists," McKay said, glancing nervously at the shadows. "I don't blame them."

"The kitchen wasn't well guarded." Ford looked back to the council halls, frowning. "And Devla said the Hallan had never breached the city walls. I don't see any reason for him to lie."

"He wouldn't have to. Marikar might."

Teyla looked up at Sheppard. "Fear."

"Four guards on a door and thirty at the front? Seems like a show of bravado." He shrugged. "People will agree to anything if they think a gun is held to their heads."

Leaving the council halls behind them, the four followed a side road to the right, running down to another crossroads and a second right in a wide circle around the city centre. Moving without sound, their journey was undisturbed and unwatched, only the distant flicker of light behind grilled windows suggesting Silan wasn't a ghost town. Sheppard went first, leading the way. Teyla kept up behind him, McKay beside her, and Ford stopped at the rear, watching their backs.

There had been a lot that Colonel O'Neill had neglected to mention in his description of the SGC and Stargate travel. The frequency of night time expeditions across enemy territory had not been one of them, but his advice on dealing with civilians had been adopted as SGC law. Keep them in the middle of the team, don't let them wander off and watch what they say because no matter what you do, and no matter what the circumstances, they'll never shut up.

"Are you sure we're going in the right direction?" McKay whispered.

Sheppard struggled to resist the urge to throttle him. "Yes," he shot back then, turning the corner, gesturing ahead. "Happy now?"

The city gate rose before them, casting a shadow across the street. A quick head count revealed a dozen guards milling about the doorway, and the possibility of more waiting in the courtyard beyond.

McKay again. "Now what?"

Sheppard paused, and considered the scene. He squinted into the darkness and saw what appeared to be the abandoned remains of a market clustered to the right of the gate. Awkward, wooden trestles held crates and cloths untouched, protected only by a wickerwork of thatching that served as a roof. "We need a distraction."

He heard a soft rattle, and looked down to see Ford's hand waving a matchbox at him.

"Already ahead of you, sir." Ducking down into the shadows, Aiden crept towards the market stalls, blending easily into his surroundings. In matters of leadership, and in the handling of geeks, the young lieutenant had a lot to learn, but Sheppard couldn't help but feel a slight swell of pride at the man's grasp of military techniques.

His team was well chosen.

The guards seemed equally oblivious to Ford's presence, as not one glanced towards the market and its tables. Not until Aiden's lit match graced the roof of one of the tables. The wicker went up like quick silver, dry straw igniting instantly and the resulting sparks setting alight every table in close proximity. Within seconds the entire market was ablaze, the blossom of orange light floodlighting the city wall.

As the guards yelled and panicked, Sheppard was leading Teyla and McKay across to the left of the gate. By the time they reached the door one third of the contingent had organized themselves enough to be running for water, whilst another third ran to the blaze shouting orders over each other, pointing and gesturing angrily at the fire.

And the last few guards…

The alarm went up just as Ford crossed the threshold of the doorway into the outer courtyard.

"Move it!" Sheppard screamed, over the pounding of blood in his ears. He cast quick looks either side of him: Aiden, running to his right, youthful legs crossing ground without effort; Teyla to his left, graceful, both hunter and tough prey, avoiding her captors. At the back, McKay keeping up, the oldest of the three, but not so slow as his lifestyle – and eating habits – might have suggested.

Adrenaline had a lot to answer for.

The huge, stone archway lay ahead of them, its mouth offering a glimpse of the woods beyond. A place to lose themselves in, to weave back to the Stargate and then home, to Atlantis.

Away from this nuthouse, Sheppard thought. The sound of thunderous boots a way off, and alarmed shouts, drove extra speed to his legs.

And a shot rang through the courtyard.