The two men dragged Carson along a complex series of tunnels. He knew he should concentrate, and try to memorise the route. But he was finding it hard to focus. His surroundings all seemed to merge into a cloud of pain. The rough handling by the men had reopened his shoulder wound, and he could feel the blood dripping down his arm. And at the same time, just to add to his woes, the full effects of the virus were now beginning to kick in. All he really wanted to do was to curl up in his bed and fall asleep.

His mind wandered back to Atlantis, and he thought longingly of his room there, with its comfortable bed. He thought of his friends, and the comfort of knowing that they would look after him, in his current weakened state.

His wandering thoughts were brought sharply back to reality. A rough hand grasped his hair and pulled his head back. He found himself looking into the angry face of the leader of the men who had abducted him.

"Stay with us, Doctor," the man said. "If you aren't able to help us, there's no point in you being here. We might as well kill you. And if you are dead, what'll happen to the children?"

The words helped to focus Carson's mind. "What do you want me to do?" His voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

"Much better, Doctor," the leader said. "See those men over there?" He roughly turned Carson's head so that he was looking over towards the corner of the cave. He saw a cage taking up most of the back wall of the cave. In the cage, shackled and bleeding, were about 20 men. They were crammed in like animals, and they all seem to be injured in some way or another.

"Well, Doctor," the man said insistently. "Do you see them?"

Carson tried to nod in response, but the man still had a firm grasp of his hair. "Aye, I see them," Carson managed to croak.

"Good, very good," the leader said. "These are your new patients, Doctor. We need you to patch them up for us."

"Was there a fight?" Carson asked trying to make sense of what you're seeing.

"Something like that," the other man said. "You see, Doctor, we are far too civilised to fight." As he said this, he gestured towards the group of men who sat round the fire, on the other side of the cave from the cage. To Carson's eyes, the last thing they seemed was civilised. It was obvious that they had already consumed a large quantity of alcohol. And their behaviour reflected this. They were sitting round the fire, waving large tankards which obviously contained the alcohol, while threatening each other with numerous acts of violence.

One of the men who was sitting by the fire, called over to their leader. "Come on Mikal," he said. "Get your scrawny hide over here, and help us finish this keg. And stop worrying about the fighters. So what of they die off? We can just find some others to take their place."

The man sitting next to him thumped him round the head. "Don't be an idiot!" he said to his companion. "That would mean we'd have to do some work. I don't know about you, but that's something I try to avoid!"

The other men sitting round the fire, laughed and called out their agreement.

Carson felt as if he was in the middle of a nightmare. The men's behaviour, coupled with the stench of stale alcohol, reminded him of the worst of his student days. His timid nature and natural compassion, had set him apart from many of his peers, and had made him the butt of many of their jokes. For a moment, and his weakened state, he was transported back to those days, with his stomach churned with nervous tension and his naturally wry sense of humour all but disappeared.

Shaking his head, to clear the memory, he reminded himself that he was now a mature, respected professional, who had friends who valued him. And more importantly, there were five children, who were relying on him to keep them safe.

"So what do you want me to do?" Carson repeated his earlier question.

"We need you, Doctor, to patch up these men, so they can continue to fight. You see, when one of my friends here has a disagreement with someone else, we need to be able to choose a fit fighter to settle the dispute."

"Let me get this straight," Carson said, trying to make sense of what was happening. "When one if you lot have a disagreement, you choose one of the poor souls from in there to fight for you."

"Exactly, Doctor," Mikal said. "It's an excellent system, don't you think?"

"Excellent is not exactly the word I would use to describe it," Carson said. "Unfair, barbaric, downright stupid, might all hit the mark better," he continued, unable to hide his contempt for their actions. He was rewarded by a sharp pain in his shoulder, as the men who are holding him reacted to his words. Mikal grabbed him by the throat, and lifted him off his feet.

"Don't you forget for one minute, Doctor," the leader said with great menace in his voice. "You're not in a position to abuse our hospitality. We don't like people who criticise us. They're liable to find themselves dead."

"But who would patch up your fighters then?" Carson asked.

"You're not irreplaceable, Doctor," Mikal said warningly. "And then there are always these adorable children." The sarcasm in the leader's voice matched anything that Rodney had produced in all the years Carson had known him.

For a moment Carson had forgotten about the children. The feeling of responsibility felt more of a burden at that moment than anything else. The realisation that not only his life but those of the children, depended on his actions, filled him with fear and dread.

Calay was pushed forward by the man who was holding her. She sprawled on to the floor, crying out a she fell. Carson tried to move towards her, to comfort her. But the men who held him prevented him from moving.

"It's okay, lass," Carson said. "You're going to be okay. We're all going to be okay." It seemed Carson, if he said it often enough, they would actually be okay.

"Is that of the case, Doctor?" Mikal said. "We may be a civilised people, but we'll do anything to preserve our way of life. We left the rest of our people, because they didn't believe in using fighters to settle disputes. They even believed, fools that they are, that fighters are equal to us."

The rest of the men sitting round the fire laughed at his remark. "The fighters can never be our equal!" one of the men said. "They're savages!" another said. "They're only fit to die!" yet another said.

"So you see, Doctor," Mikal said. "We're determined to preserve our way of life, at all costs. So your petty little comments, are unlikely to change our minds. All we want you to do, is to patch them up, so they can continue their purpose in life, to fight for us. If you don't, we'll kill each child in turn. And when they're all dead, you too will die."