Canon characters are not mine, just taking them out to play.
Story line and unfamiliar characters are mine, however, and I am an extremely possessive person.
Respectful feedback welcomed, encouraged, and craved.
'indicates thoughts'
core structure DNA
BDU Battle Dress Uniform (their gray pants)
Exit Light, Enter Night.
Nellek watched his new project sleep on the bed in the medical lab, the rhythmic rise and fall of the chest. Listened to the deep, even breathing. 517 was so perfect, smooth face, dark hair, not one visible blemish. He couldn't help but be fascinated. The central records dated back nearly ten thousand years and not one of them contained any information on a creature with this core structure. He was convinced that this was a unique species, as was Master Tomar.
Subject 517 had been fevered from congestion in his lungs. It seemed the dank accommodations of the cells, coupled with an adverse reaction to the sleep agent on the dart caused the health of the subject to fail rapidly. A combination of bacteria defeating medicines and vitality boosting herbs seemed to be helping greatly. His breath was coming easier and the color returning to his face.
Nellek would need a new cell built. Master Tomar would surely be accommodating for such an important discovery. Maybe the master would give him a commendation for the research and work he was doing. He would be renowned. Others would be knocking on his door for his training services... Movement brought his focus back to the present.
The smooth face twitched, arms and legs to jerk in mini spasms. Nellek sat on the edge of a nearby chair, leaning forward to be at eye level. From past training experiences, he knew that he must be the first person impressed upon 517's mind.
Nellek was soon met with dark eyes when 517 woke.
The sledge hammer in John's skull was back but this time it brought friends. He came back to his senses with a light groan at the throbbing of every joint and muscle in his body. The involuntary twitches of his muscles aggravated the waves of pain. The more he tried to relax, the more they tensed.
'What the hell happened? …Ah, crap. Ambushed at the Gate …then …what? A cell ... Somebody was there … and something else… something important...' Whatever that something was it put a knot in his stomach.
A sound nearby brought his attention outside of his own body. He smelled the medical bay. Praying to see Carson, he pried his eyes open. Instead of the medical bay, he was met with a semi-lit room, dark gray walls and ceiling, equipment he didn't recognize. Obviously not the medical bay. 'No miracle rescue.' He turned left to see the Bahtron man that had nailed him with that dart.
He cleared his throat to speak. "Who are you?" Cringed at the weakness in his voice.
"Kiersa," the Bahtron man called to someone at John's right. "Look, he wakes."
A Bahtron woman came around to stand slightly behind the man. She smiled at him. "He responds quickly to our medicines. It looks as if training can begin soon, Nellek."
John followed her with his eyes as she came to the other side of the bed. She fiddled with the controls to a piece of equipment that was feeding a purplish liquid into his body, then removed the long thin tubing from his forearm. Thoughts of alien drugs coursing through his body disturbed his subconscious but he couldn't bring his body under enough control to act on it.
She smiled at his curiosity then looked back at Nellek. "Do you have a plan for this one?"
Nellek leaned back in his chair. He was supposed to have a detailed training plan to submit to Master Tomar before beginning but with no information to build on, he was going to have to use trial and error. "Well, because I have nothing to reference on one such as this, I believe it will be a working plan. I do have a few ideas. We will begin with the most effective, noninvasive method."
'What are they talking about? Maybe they didn't hear me.' John licked his lips before asking again, "Who are you?"
Nellek stood, motioning to Kiersa. "Let's get him up." He slid a hand under John's head, boosting him into a seated position. Kiersa's stood behind him, hands rested gently on his shoulders.
A roaring filled John's ears at the upright position. His mind whirled at the treatment, gentle but insistent on his compliance. What were these people up to? Teyla didn't say anything about this 'training' thing. If she knew she would have said, right? If she knew there was a danger she would have warned him... right? God, Teyla. Relief rushed over him, remembering that she had made it safely through the Gate. Rodney... he had to find Rodney. He blinked, trying to focus on Nellek, trying to hear what he was saying to Kiersa.
Kiersa turned her back to them. Nellek's hands replaced hers, keeping John steady. Soon a full syringe was passed over his shoulder, when they traded hands on him again. Nellek flicked the bubbles out, Kiersa pushing John's arm straight.
Panic at alien drug treatments finally made John's brain and body fully connect. He pulled a bare foot up to push against Nellek's chest, plopping the alien into his chair. His escape was cut short when Kiersa got her arm around his neck, his back braced against her chest. He twisted, pushed against the bed to topple them, pulled her arm to get free but she was impervious to his wiggling and clawing. He couldn't even break the skin with his fingernails.
Nellek straightened himself, his features held determination. Dodging 517's flailing legs , he gripped his wrist with unmovable force.
John froze at the near bone-breaking pressure around his arm. Breath coming in great gasps, he raised wide eyes to Nellek's hard glare.
The needle slid easily into John's vein, the contents emptying into his bloodstream. It raced like fire up his arm, down one side of his body and up the other and across his chest, setting his nerves into an extension of his heartbeat.
As Kiersa felt 517's body slump, she settled him back on the bed. She reached to a nearby table pulling out a hand sized device. John squinted at it through the haze that had settled across his thinking. It looked like a life-signs detector.
"He seems to be ready. You must proceed slowly," she said to Nellek.
John rolled his head, bringing his gaze to rest on the ceiling. Wiping his eyes, he tried to put strength into his voice, "Who the hell are you people?" He wasn't even sure he spoke out loud.
Nellek, again pulled John into a seated position, leaned bonelessly against Kiersa. The drug was working to render the subject susceptible to suggestion. Nellek licked his lips, his excitement barely contained. He bent to be eye to eye with 517. "I am Nellek. This is Kiersa. You are Subject 517," he stated clearly and slowly, pointing for emphasis.
John stared at him. The throbbing of his body had dulled and his thinking was clearing. After a few steady breaths, he responded, "Are you serious?"
Nellek's eyebrow's furrowed slightly. Kiersa's readings indicated the drug to be thoroughly suffused through his system... He tried again, "You are Subject 517. I am Nellek."
With a sharp laugh, John looked from Nellek to Kiersa and back. "My name is Major John Sheppard. I came here with my team to trade with the Noylan people in Drangoon. Where is Rodney Mc..."
Nellek pressed his lips together at the disrespect shown by the subject but he wasn't angry. He knew from experience that some subjects were stubborn and needed extra patience. He tuned out 517's rambling and touched the wrist controller.
John's rant was interrupted by searing pain shooting down his body, out his fingertips. He doubled up on the bed, cradling his arms close. Then it was gone, leaving him gasping... and pissed. He glared at Nellek wanting nothing more than to strangle the freak.
"Subject 517," Nellek stated.
"John Sheppard," John ground between clenched teeth. He braced for the next wave but was unprepared and cried out at the increased intensity setting every nerve on end clear to his toes. He felt someone stroking his hair, vaguely heard Kiersa's voice.
"Shh, don't fight it. Shh."
It felt like hours before it stopped. Tingling trailed down his arms and legs, leaving them to twitch. He lay on his side, gasping, eyes pinched shut.
Nellek bent to look into 517's face. "You are Subject 517," he said evenly.
John's eyes popped open. He had an idea where this was going. "I am John Sheppard," he grated.
Nellek smiled, brushing the hair from 517's forehead. He watched those dark eyes follow his hand to touch the controller, widening just before then squeezing shut again at another wave of correction. "You are Subject 517. Say it and the pain will cease."
John felt like he was on fire, every nerve, every muscle ablaze. He bit out between gasps, "I. Am. John. Sheppard." If possible the pain seemed to intensify. Coherent thought fled, his brain overloaded from the intense torment.
Nellek pursed his lips leaning back, looking up at Kiersa. "Hmm, he is stubborn, isn't he."
Kiersa didn't let up her crooning, rubbing 517's back, just nodded at Nellek. "Perhaps we should look over these results before proceeding any further. He is still not well. And he is a treasure to Master Tomar. If we were to kill him in our ignorance, he would never let us train another."
Nellek nodded his agreement, releasing 517. "Firstly, remember that I am training him, not we. Put him in with the other of his kind until I can requisition a more suitable room."
Kiersa features hardened against Nellek's hard words. She turned to make arrangements to move 517.
John curled into himself. The pain was gone but his muscles continued to crawl and jerk. As he slipped toward the dark realm of unconsciousness, he vaguely wondered... how long this would take... how far it would go... before he would give in to Nellek's brainwashing... before he wouldn't be John Sheppard anymore.
A A A A A A
Rodney felt for his watch upon waking the second time to find it gone as well, probably the same place as the rest of his gear. He paced the room, counting out four full strides with a bit of one left over that he found by plowing face first into the wall. From what he could tell it was a perfect square.
He was currently sitting, knees drawn up, arms around his middle. It felt like days since being brought to the little dark room. He was hungry and thirsty. He muscles were getting jittery, signaling an oncoming hypoglycemic reaction.
"Hello?" he called into the darkness. "I could use some food or something to drink in here... Look, you obviously want me alive, hence the sleep dart, not the murderous arrow..." He leaned back, staring in the direction of the ceiling. 'Where are you, major?'
His mind wandered through various worse case scenarios. Dying in that room, left to lay for months. His body fat would liquefy, there would be a horrific smell. His skeleton would be found, leaning in the corner, stripped bare by the millions of bugs that had bred, incubated and fed on his corpse.
With a heavy sigh, he forcefully turned his thoughts another direction. Teyla. He was thankful Teyla got back through the Gate. She would be able to tell Elizabeth what happened. Then she had to send a rescue team... Right?... She wasn't going to send a team for Colonel Sumner... and he was the ranking military officer, someone important. 'No,' shook his head vehemently. She would come for them.
'They could be here any time, right?... Any time...'
A clang from the across the room was the only warning before the door opened and the room flooded with light, blinding him. He held his hands up to shade his face but the door had closed again before his eyes could adjust enough to see anything.
"Thanks for coming," he shouted. He laid his head back with a huff of frustration. "What exactly was the purpose of that?" he said to himself, then louder, "You could've left some food." He pressed his arms against his growling stomach.
A sound that was not his stomach made him scramble to his feet, ignoring the hunger pains. It was movement, something shuffling over by the door. A weak cough.
Rodney took a guess, whispering, "Major?" He listened intently for a response from his side of the room . Could hear harsh breathing. Another cough. He whispered again, "Major Sheppard?"
John roused when he was gently laid on a hard surface, the air was warm. Someone was yelling, forcing his mind alert. A cough rose in his chest that caused his head to pound when released. He thought he heard someone calling him. Heard someone moving, way to the left somewhere. Another cough choked him. Voice called him again. He knew that voice. Who was it? Forced his mind past the heartbeat rhythm to remember... Rodney.
"Rodney..." Relief flooded him, knowing the scientist was alive.
Rodney barely picked up the major's weak response. "Oh, thank God. Major Sheppard," he gushed, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. He crawled on his hands and knees in the general direction of the door, involuntarily jerked back when his fingers brushed something in the dark that made his bellybutton crawl. He reached out a tentative hand, coming in contact with Major Sheppard's shirt. "What happened? Can you move?"
John felt Rodney's hands on his arm, reassuring them both that they weren't alone in the dark. His brain was beginning to fuzz out again making him slow to move. "Head hurts..."
Rodney felt John's arm tense under his hand. Taking that as a 'no' to his question, he pulled the major into a sitting position, then slid behind him, locking his hands around the major's chest. He promptly retreated to the other side of the room, dragging his friend. When his butt hit the wall, he nearly dropped him.
"Watch it... trying to kill me," came the whispered protest. He leaned his head back against the wall. It was warm, much better than his first accommodations. His eyes slid closed as he shivered, wishing he could wrap himself in the warmth.
"Sorry," Rodney mumbled, settling at John's shoulder against the wall furtherest from the door. He could feel heat radiating from the major. He looked the direction of his intertwined hands, quietly asking, "What happened?"
John opened his eyes, rolling Rodney's direction, even though he couldn't see him in the dark. He thought about how to answer in a neutral way, to not panic the scientist, to reassure him. But that wouldn't be fair to Rodney. He needed to know what they were up against. He reached for Rodney's shoulder, following it down to grip his wrist.
Rodney resisted when John grabbed his arm and started to pull it up. "What are you doing? This is no time to be cuddly, major."
John's grin went unseen. He tugged Rodney's hand, placing it on the crown of his head, guiding it down across the device embedded just below there.
Rodney concentrated on what his fingertips were feeling. The heat radiating off the major, his sweat slicked military-cut hair, then something not supposed to be there... his gut clench at the metallic disk rooted at the base of the major's skull. He traced it, about the size of the pad of his thumb, flush to the skin. "What is it? Who are we dealing with? Wh...," the growing panic evident in the rising pitch of his voice.
"Rodney," John interrupted. "Headache, fever, ring a bell?"
"Sorry," Rodney apologized, swallowing hard in an effort to calm himself. He scrubbed his hands across his closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. He sat straighter, turning John's direction. "What do you think they want with us?"
John stirred from his semi-doze. "Not really sure...," took a deep breath, bent one leg under the other, "The two I saw were of the Bahtron people. Remember, from our first day here, they set fire to the meeting hall and got Ford sent home early..."
Rodney nodded. He wasn't really listening to the words the major spoke but focusing on the gradual slurring of the words. He could feel the weight of the major's body steadily increasing as he slumped against him bit by bit.
"You still there?" John called. His voice was weakening with each sentence. He felt dizzy, his muscles were quivering.
"Oh, yeah. I was nodding," Rodney said sheepishly. He was worried about the major. From the sound of him, he wasn't going to be conscious much longer.
"Well, I can't hear your head rattle, McKay."
"Ha, ha, ha," Rodney replied in a sing-songy voice. He was silent for a moment before shifting away, exclaiming in a hushed voice, "God, you are so hot."
John smiled to himself. Too easy. "Why, thank you, Rodney but you're not really my type. Let's see..., that cute nurse with the braid, she's... my type..." John's voice lost all strength, his head lolling on Rodney's shoulder.
"Major?" Rodney's voice raised an octave. He shrugged his shoulder to nudge the major awake. He was rewarded with a barely audible reply.
"Sorry... 's for punishment..."
"What?" Rodney hissed.
"Causes pain... trying to make me forget... who I am." He tried to answer the question from earlier, give Rodney as much information as he could before he lost the consciousness fight.
Rodney's mind raced through various scenes of Major Sheppard being tortured by Bahtron bullies. He remained silent, listening to the major's breathing deepen as he slipped into the much deserved sleep. Although he wasn't sure how much good it would do with them stuck in the dark, on a strange planet and not a lot of hope of escape...
'When he wakes, he'll think of something. He always thinks of something.' Rodney folded his arms protectively across his chest, eventually dozing off.
A A A A A A
"Dr Weir, I feel responsible. The Noylan's are peaceful and trustworthy. I never expected the Bahtron people to interfere." Teyla sat at the conference table, feeling very small. Dr Beckett had released her once the headache left her. Dr Weir wanted to debrief immediately so they could plan a rescue.
"Teyla, no one blames you. What I need is for you to tell me everything you can about these Bahtron." Dr Weir sympathized with the young Athosian woman. They were both in leading positions, with leadership responsibilities.
Teyla took a deep breath, intertwining her fingers on the tabletop. She looked each of the gathered team members in the eye as she spoke. "Tomar Bahtron is a reclusive collector. He travels to other worlds gathering anything considered valuable. If he cannot barter for it, he will steal it." She met Sgt Bates cold stare. "Even kill for it." Turned back to Dr Weir. "He was banished many, many years ago. His followers are coerced into his service by fear, threats on their families or their own lives, or are as adamant as he is in the unique and unusual. The last time I visited with Hersha, the leader of the Noylan people, Tomar hadn't been seen in many years." Her gaze fixed on Aiden. "It seems he has begun adding people to his collection." She ended with her eyes on Carson.
The room became deathly still. No one moved or spoke, each lost in their own thoughts.
Carson licked his lips, closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. What would they find if Rodney and Major Sheppard were rescued? How does a man 'collect people'? What does he do with them once he has them?
Aiden rubbed at his shoulder, remembering the collapse of the building that injured him. If he had been there he could've laid cover, been another gun to help everyone get home safe.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, thinking about her head scientist and ranking military officer, captured, enduring who knows what. She needed a plan to get them home.
Sgt Bates sighed, tracing his mouth with his thumb. He knew they needed to be found, no one gets left behind but there were so few military personnel. Did it warrant losing some to save two men? Two important men, that were extremely valuable to this expedition.
Aiden was the first to break the silence. "We need to get them outta there," he said in his best no-nonsense tone.
Sgt Bates stared at the center of the table as he responded, "With all due respect, sir. We don't even know where to start looking." His tone was regretful.
Elizabeth turned a hard gaze to both men. "Gentlemen, you are forgetting that the Noylan people have accepted us as allies. Teyla, if we can make certain assurances as to their safety, can we count on their help?"
Teyla looked away briefly then back, her eyes holding sadness. "I am not sure. They are known as a meek people. I am not sure they can handle conflict."
"Let's find out. Sgt Bates get a team together, including Dr Beckett. Find a way to bring our men home. Dismissed." Dr Weir waited until everyone had filed from the room before resting her head in her hands. This wasn't in the job description.
Whew! Still there? Hope you like!