Sacrifice
Chapter 9
Lt. Colonel John Sheppard was numb. He sat on the cold, hard floor of the cell, his arms wrapped around his knees, his head bowed. His back was braced by the stone wall, the rock biting into his spine, but he ignored the discomfort.
Rodney was dead. John had watched as the life faded from the scientist's blue eyes, and had done nothing. Nothing. Unable to accept the fact that McKay was gone, John had withdrawn into himself, his mind replaying the last few minutes of Rodney's life over and over.
The scientist had thanked him. Thanked him! The man never thanked anyone for anything – and yet, his last breath had been used to tell John that he was grateful that he wasn't alone when he died. Sheppard swallowed, hearing Rodney's strangled voice, seeing the pained smile as McKay struggled to speak, his last words so important to them both. John shuddered, telling himself that he had to deal with the current situation and come to terms with the grief of losing his friend later. When he was alone.
But – he was alone. They had removed McKay's body hours ago, slamming the iron door shut, and leaving Sheppard to sit. And think.
Get up!
John started, swearing he heard Rodney's voice. He raised his head, ignoring the tears that streamed down his face, and searched the room with his eyes. There was no one.
Get up! Come on, Sheppard, get moving.
John stood, holding the wall for support. "Rodney?" he asked, feeling both foolish and a little crazy. There was no one in the room. Maybe it was a trick Worner was playing on him. If so, it was cruel – cruel enough to anger Sheppard.
You need to escape. You need to live.
"I don't know what game you're playing, Worner, but it won't work." John stood, pushing himself away from the wall, his anger giving him strength. He began pacing, his hands clenching into fists. He halted as he kicked something; Rodney's off-world jacket. He leaned down, picking up the torn garment, turning it over in his hands until he found the patch with the maple leaf. Determination now consuming him, he tore the patch off, then tossed the ruined jacket back on to the floor. John stared long and hard at the red and white logo, sorrow and anger boiling within him, then shoved it into his pants pocket.
You need to escape. You need to live.
He walked to the jug of water and the loaf of bread, swiping them both off the floor. He closed his eyes as he drank from the jug, the tepid water cooling his throat. He tore a piece of bread from the loaf, stuffing it into his mouth, chewing without tasting.
Soon, Worner would come. His own torture would begin. The chief interrogator was hoping that the loss of Rodney – the loss of his friend – would break Sheppard, would make the Colonel reveal all the secrets that kept Atlantis and the rest of the Colonel's strange extended family safe. But Rodney's voice had been a wake-up call; all he had to do was survive a little longer, and his friends would rescue him. Or Worner would slip, giving John the chance he needed to escape this hell-hole. John needed to be alert, on his toes, keeping an eye out for the moment Worner let his defenses down, and then John would run.
He needed to escape. He needed to live.
oOo
The faces in the conference room were tense. Elizabeth clasped her hands tightly in front of her, her sense of urgency dueling with the need to make sure all details were attended to. She focused her gaze on Major Lorne as he questioned the old woman Ronon had brought back from P6D-358.
"And you're sure that's where they'll be holding the Colonel and McKay?" he asked for the fifth time. Lisel nodded emphatically, her finger pointing at a roughly sketched map she had drawn.
"Absolutely. All political prisoners are brought to the interrogation center. The chief interrogator is a man called Worner – horrible soul."
Lorne nodded. He glanced up at Elizabeth, his face grim. "I'm thinking we'll need at least four jumpers, all fully manned and equipped. They don't have a lot of technology, but they may have a lot of guards."
Lisel interrupted, her face concerned. "Major, the interrogators do have access to more advanced weaponry. They have traded with other races that have better technology, and I am certain that they now have automatic weapons. And there may be other items that they may have that I am not aware of."
Lorne stared at the old woman, grateful for the information. It was best that he knew where his people stood before attempting this rescue mission.
"Thanks, Lisel." He turned back to Dr. Weir. "We'll still have surprise on our side. That will give us an advantage."
Elizabeth nodded. "I want you to take the entire structure out after you find Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay. Is that clear?" Lorne nodded, his eyes widening in surprise. Dr. Weir was an avowed diplomat, usually stressing the need to rely on peaceful negotiations, and rarely succumbing to violence. Her authorization of the destruction of the interrogation building revealed the depth of her anger.
Ronon watched as Dr. Weir chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip, then nodded her head.
"All right, Major. Assemble your teams. Take whatever weaponry you deem necessary. You'll leave in thirty minutes." Major Lorne stood and saluted, then began barking orders into his radio as he strode from the room.
Elizabeth turned to Carson Beckett. "Doctor?"
"I'm ready. All medical and surgical teams are standing by." He turned his gaze on to the woman from Westel. "Lisel, if you could come with me, I'll check you over, then find you some quarters." Carson's Scottish accent was firm and sure, his medical training keeping him calm and detached. Elizabeth could tell his was extraordinarily worried, however, by his strained smile as he addressed the off-worlder.
The older woman stood, then laid a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "I do hope you find your friends in time. If you need anything else, please, just ask." Elizabeth managed to offer a brief, strained smile, then watched as the two left the room.
"Ronon. Teyla. I know you want to return to P6D-358, but if your injuries are too….." Dr. Weir was interrupted by Ronon abruptly standing, his face set in a scowl. Teyla, too, had gotten to her feet.
"Dr. Weir, Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay are our teammates. And our friends. We will not be left behind," Teyla replied. Elizabeth merely sighed, then rose to her feet, approaching the two.
"Then, please, be careful." Ronon nodded his head once, and Teyla gave the expedition leader a quick smile. They turned as one, limping out the door.
"And bring them home," Elizabeth whispered.
TBC