Long Strange Trip
Chapter 4
Regular SGA-1 team on Alternate Atlantis
The wail of a baby startled Rodney from his thoughts. He yelped, then shot from the bed, ignoring the fact that he was only clothed in a pair of striped boxer shorts and a T-shirt. He entered another bedroom, decorated with fuzzy animals and toys, and stared at the little girl bawling in the crib. This must be Lizzie.
He leaned closer, peering over the edge of the railing at the baby. About nine months old, she was crying fitfully, her little hands clenched into fists, her face red and tear-soaked. Rodney, shaking his head, stepped away from the crib, then exited the room. He nervously circled the larger bedroom, his eyes falling on the strange photographs and diplomas that covered the walls and surrounded the bed. Jessica Hardy, Doctorate, Thoracic Surgery. A picture of Rodney with this Jessica person, laughing, apparently at a seashore. A photo of Rodney, Radek and Carson, standing in front of some Ancient relic. Another of John and Rodney, with John holding a newborn baby. A portrait of the three of them – Rodney, Jessica and Lizzie – that was obviously taken recently.
Rodney's perusal was interrupted by the increased wailing coming from the baby. He closed his eyes, then, taking a deep breath, re-entered her room, and peered down at the unhappy child.
"Umm….hello. I know you think I'm your daddy, but I'm not." She slowed her crying to hiccupping sobs, staring up at the scientist with a steady blue gaze. My God, she's got my eyes. Rodney hesitantly reached down, and carefully picked up the girl, holding her away from his body at arms length. She immediately quieted, and began kicking her legs, her arms reaching towards his chest. Nervously, Rodney cradled her close, tucking one arm under her bottom. He hefted her up, then stared into her face.
"I think I'm in trouble, Lizzie." She stared back at him, gurgled, and then gave a familiar crooked grin.
"Really big trouble."
oOo
John walked next to Lt. Ford, trying to ignore the pounding in his brain. Next to him, the ebullient soldier was chattering on about John's antics the previous evening, actions that apparently culminated with Sheppard throwing a punch at Dr. Kavanaugh.
"You caught Kavanaugh holding an king – of clubs, I think – but, anyway, you went berserk, shouting that you hated nothing more than a lying, cheating son-of-a……."
"Ford. Where are we going?" John interrupted the lieutenant, needing to get some useful information. The last thing he remembered was being in a strange room on Atlantis, collapsing in pain. Waking up in jail, escorted by a completely normal Lt. Ford…apparently, there were some pieces missing to this puzzle. Uneasy and concerned for his team, John had decided to follow Ford, and, hopefully, he could figure out exactly what was going on.
"Umm, well, Colonel Caldwell wanted to see you ASAP. I was told to make sure that you make it to his office," Ford replied, neglecting to remind Sheppard that the Major had failed to report for duty for the last three days.
They rounded the corner, and Ford halted next to Elizabeth's office. "Okay, Major, you're on your own. And, good luck," he whispered, then spun around and trotted off towards the mess hall.
Major? What's up with that? John knocked on the door, then stepped into the office. And nearly toppled over in shock.
Elizabeth's office had always been a warm and welcoming place, with art from various off-world expeditions decorating the room. Soft chairs and subtle lighting, as well as access to a balcony that overlooked the sea, added to the charm. When troubled, John had often retreated to Elizabeth's office, to share a quiet moment with his boss, and regain his equilibrium.
Now, though, the office exuded a chilliness that immediately put John on guard. Not a shred of Elizabeth remained in the room. Everything was grey and metallic, barren and stark. Behind her desk sat Colonel Caldwell, who was staring at his laptop screen, his face furrowed in a scowl. He barely glanced up at Sheppard, who remained standing awkwardly next to a chair.
"Major," Caldwell's voice was sharp, even more so than usual, John thought. The Colonel paused, an eyebrow arching, and John glared back. He had never cared for the commander of the Daedelus.
"I'll ignore the fact that you seem to have forgotten how to salute your superior officer, and get right down to it." Caldwell sagged back into the chair, steepling his fingers together. John merely waited, his uneasiness growing. Where was Dr. Weir?
"I have repeatedly warned you that your insubordination and lack of respect for the other personnel on Atlantis was going to land you on the first ship home, and after last night, I'm afraid that time has come."
John felt his body grow numb. Caldwell was actually threatening him with dismissal! He clenched his hands into fists, taking a step forward. Caldwell held up one hand in warning, and John paused.
"I realize that this is the anniversary of Dr. Weir's unfortunate death, but I'm afraid that I cannot allow you to use that as an excuse anymore. Nor will any plea by Dr. McKay on your behalf sway me." Caldwell shook his head, then slowly continued, unaware of the shocked look on John's face.
"Major, you have to stop blaming yourself for Elizabeth's murder. There was no way you – or anyone – could have stopped Kolya from killing her. It's been more than a year now, and yet you still continue to beat yourself up over it. I managed to overlook your actions, especially since Dr. McKay insists that he needs you for his Ancient experiments, but you seem to be out of control. Therefore…" Colonel Caldwell paused, finally looking up and noticing John's pale face.
"Major, you are hereby ordered to return to Earth on the Daedelus. She should be departing within the next two days. You will receive your new orders from General Landry when you arrive on Earth. Dismissed." Caldwell stared hard at John, sympathy and regret radiating from his eyes. John numbly managed to raise a shaky hand in salute, then turned and walked out of the office.
He got about twenty feet, carefully hiding himself in a small alcove, before he sagged against the wall.
Elizabeth was dead? Killed by Kolya? And Caldwell was in charge? John shook his head, unable to comprehend what was happening. He stood as a technician strolled by, trying to look casual as he dealt with his shock.
McKay. He needed to find Rodney. John was certain the scientist would know what was going on. It was either that, or John was finally going crazy. Worried, and more than a little scared, John set off down the hallway, looking for the physicist.
oOo
Teyla eyes widened in shock. What had happened to her village? Homes that were once neat and tidy were now little more than ragged shacks, filthy and rank. A handful of dirty children sat sullenly on the stoops, their eyes vacant and dead. The marketplace was quiet, with hardly more than thirty people within view. All were garbed in rags, with pathetic knives strapped to their belts.
"Halling, what has happened here?" Teyla asked, and the tall man flashed her a startled look. They had secured the stag to a travois, and were now dragging it back to the village, where it would be butchered.
He didn't answer her, instead dropping the carcass in front of the cooking hearth. Teyla nodded in greeting to the women, offering a small grin. She jumped back in shock as one of the women spat at her, muttering foul names under her breath.
"Teyla! Come quickly!" Halling ordered, and the Athosian leader spun around, trying to quell her trembling. Never had she been so insulted…and by her own people! She numbly followed Halling into a wretched hut, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the stench.
"Teyla, you know you must not address any of our people. You are shunned, and only allowed to remain if you follow our rules." Halling paused as he tossed a few branches on a small fire. "I can only protect you so much. If you continue to incite the wrath of the remaining Elders, you will be expelled. Or worse."
Teyla sagged to the ground as Halling stomped out of the hut. Shunned! She slowly closed her eyes. It would be better to kill her rather than submit to a shunning. To be shunned was to be guilty of a horrendous crime, according to Athosian law. Treason, murder, rape…..any of these qualified. The condemned had a choice – submit to execution, or shunning. Most chose death.
To be shunned was to be ignored, attacked, beaten, disregarded, starved – depending upon the mood of the villagers. If you were lucky, the Athosians would simply pretend you weren't there, and you would starve to death, unless you were able to fend for yourself. The unlucky ones were targets of cruelty, often used as slaves, given the most distasteful jobs. If you chose shunning at your sentencing, rather than a quick execution, you were choosing hell.
Teyla shuddered. Never had she imagined that one day she would be regarded as a pariah in her village, among her own people. As leader, the welfare and prosperity of her people was her primary focus, her responsibility. How had she fallen so far?
She stared unseeing into the flames of the fire, waiting for Halling to return. Teyla had decided that whatever had happened in that room in Atlantis, this was the result. Somehow, she was back on Athos – only not the home she once knew. Somehow, she was no longer leader of her people, but a criminal, a beggar, little more than a slave. And somehow, she needed to figure out how to get back.
oOo
After disposing of the Wraith's bodies, Ronon Dex followed the smaller man to a cluster of caves, not far from the metallic gleam of the stargate. They climbed to the hollowed out formations, careful to disguise any trace of their passing.
Owen chattered non-stop the entire way, and Ronon marveled that the other runner had remained alive this long. He didn't seem to pay any attention to his surroundings, merely scanning the immediate area to gain his bearings. Still, with his continuous talking, Ronon managed to gain some insight as to the current situation.
Apparently, he and Owen had arrived on this back-water planet about two weeks ago. They had met six months prior, both on the run from the Wraith. They had decided that teaming up would increase their chances of survival, not to mention offer more opportunities to kill any Wraith that were on their trail. According to Owen, their partnership was a complete success.
"Tomorrow we should be moving on," Owen stated as they entered the cave, Ronon having to duck to prevent bashing his skull on the low ceiling. Inside, there was a small cooking fire, with embers still glowing a warm orange. Two sets of gear lay neatly piled along the cave walls, while sleeping pallets occupied opposite sides of the room. In addition, there was a small stockpile of weapons, cleaned and loaded, ready for action.
Ronon merely grunted. He sat next to the fire, adding a few hefty logs, and watched as Owen dug out some food rations. The big runner wasn't quite sure how it happened, but he was positive of two things. One – he wasn't anywhere near Atlantis, or his team. Two – he wasn't the Ronon Dex that this Owen had befriended. While that little factoid really made his head ache, he had decided on their little hike that he didn't have the time or the energy to ponder how and why he was here. He guessed that the other Ronon was somewhere else, probably Atlantis.
At this point in time, Ronon really didn't care where he was, or even who he was. All he wanted was to figure out how to get back. That solution, however, remained elusively out of his grasp. For the first time, he wished that Rodney McKay was here. The scientist could be the most annoying man, but Ronon had to admit, McKay would know how to fix the situation.
He glanced up, his look neutral as Owen plopped a dish of food in front of him. The smaller man sat down, and proceeded to inhale the meal. Ronon paused, wondering what dinner was, then shrugged his shoulders. At this point, who cared? His mind on Sheppard and the team, and where they might be at the moment, Ronon grabbed his fork and proceeded to eat.
TBC