Space Pirates

Chapter 15

The sun had just crept over the horizon when John Sheppard stopped breathing. His battered body was finally starting to give in to his injuries. Within a minute Carson had him intubated and hooked up to the portable respirator that they had brought with them. Even if Sheppard managed to hang on, he was on borrowed time now. The generator could only supply power to the medical equipment for so long, if they didn't reach Atlantis by then, John's chances were small. With the Jumper damaged beyond repair, there was no way to know when, or even if they were going to be able to leave the planet.

Carson scrubbed over his face and stretched his sore muscles. The adrenaline rush was starting to die down and the ache was starting to seep into his muscles from when the Wraith had tossed him around earlier. He sensed a headache forming, but to his relief didn't feel nauseous or dizzy. He had probably escaped a concussion, he was just bone tired. But sleep was not a possibility. He had patients to watch, even though he was painfully aware just how limited he was in what he could do for his injured friends. They needed the resources of the infirmary. Aiden had drifted off into a fevered sleep after he had given him a dose of morphine. The pain from his rapidly progressing infection had become unbearable. Carson was worried by the unusually quick spread of the infection, it might be an organism indigenous to the planet or to the Pegasus galaxy. There was so much that they didn't know yet about local pathogens. They hadn't even begun to scratch the surface . Reliable treatments were years away. There was so much out there that could kill them, that Carson sometimes wondered whether they were not crazy being out there.

Carson leaned back to watch his patients. Aiden kept shifting around on the floor of the Jumper, mumbling incoherently. Carson had bound the young man's ribs to stabilize them and hope that his unconscious movements would do them no damage. He knew that he was bound to tear his healing cuts on his side as Carson didn't have the equipment to stitch them shut. Normally Carson would have sedated Aiden properly to keep him still, but without being able to make sure that the soldier didn't have a head injury he could not do that. Teyla was in on of the seats, dozing lightly. As Carson had predicted, the Wraith feeding process involved a toxin that prevented blood clotting, causing the wound on her chest to continue to bleed. The bandage he had put over it was already soaked through, but he had used up almost all their bandage material already. When they had sat out for the rescue mission, he had not planned for so many injured. To make up for the blood loss he had hooked Teyla up to a saline I.V. The Wraith toxin was also causing Sheppard more problems. Not only was his wound continuing to bleed liberally, but his blood pressure was dipping dangerously low while his pulse was staying fast and thready. He had examined the major before and there had been no swelling or fresh bruises on his chest before. The only bruises on his chest had been days old. Nothing had indicated internal bleeding before. But now the signs were pointing in the direction and it was entirely possible that it was another effect of the Wraith toxin to damage the organs of their victims. No wonder the man's body was starting to shut down. He could only hope the fluids he was pumping into him could tide him over until they got to the infirmary.

Carson once again checked on the vitals of his three patients and prepared himself for another round of waiting.

Ten minutes later, his comm activated.

"Sergeant, this is Stackhouse. Markham and I have the Dart in sight." He heard Stackhouse's voice over the line.

"Good job. Life signs?" Bates was asking.

"Negative. The craft appears abandoned."

"Keep the channel open and be careful on your approach. The Wraith could have booby-trapped the area."

"Will do."

Minutes of tense silence followed before Stackhouse was back on the line.

"We are at the Dart. Damage appears to be minor from what we can tell. But Markham isn't sure he can fly this thing. That is if it still flies."

Footsteps and shifting of clothes came crackling over the radio then a loud whirring filled his ear.

"Wow! What the hell?" Markham exclaimed.

"Report! What's going on over there?" Bates demanded.

"I...I don't know. The Dart, it reacted, like the Jumpers. It's like it's waiting for something." Markham reported.

"Sit down and try telling it what to do. Maybe it really does work like a Jumper." Stackhouse suggested for them to hear over the comm.

A few seconds passed before they heard a gasp and a pained groan.

"Markham! Are you all right?" Stackhouse yelled.

There was no answer, instead the whirring noise intensifying.

"Stop! Set us down again!" Stackhouse was frantic.

"Sergeant, report!" Bates commanded, trying to keep up with what was going on aboard the Dart.

"We're flying, I don't know how. But Markham, something's wrong with him. It's like he just froze up. I have no idea were he are going. The displays-" Stackhouse broke up and static filled the air.

Carson switched off his comm. Now they could only hope that Markham and Stackhouse were going to be all right. Stackhouse had sounded genuinely panicked. He could only imagine what he happened aboard the Dart.

Teyla woke to the sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds and instantly knew that it was early morning. She had no intended to fall into such a deep sleep when danger was still present, but her body had demanded it and exhaustion had taken its toll. She relaxed slightly when she couldn't sense the presence of the Wraith anymore. The cold rush she felt in proximity of the enemy had disappeared, but she knew she was not alone. Most likely one of her team members was near by. A movement shifted the air and a warm hand landed on her shoulder. In spite of the small warning, she still shrank back at the touch. It was so easy to be startled when deprived of sight. It made her vulnerable.

"Sorry. How are you feeling?" It was Carson's concerned voice asking her.

"Rested. I feel rested." She replied. It was true.

"Your wound is still bleeding. Are you in a lot of pain?" He ignored her earlier reply.

"It is tolerable. It feels like the Wraith's touch burned me." She replied.

"Yes, you could say that it is a burn. It just bleeds a lot for one. Just wait and I'll get a fresh dressing."

"I have seen the wounds the Wraith leave. They are not like any other wounds. They will bleed for days, until the victims dies."

Teyla's words halted the doctor.

"Are you saying that you have seen people bleed out from wounds like this?"

"No, they usually died sooner unless a healer could give them an antidote. Often they were very sick and vomited blood. Some seemed to drown in their own blood." Teyla relied gravely.

Carson surmised very quickly that the affected Athosians had probably died of massive internal haemorrhage. Given the standard of Athosian technology, the healers had been powerless to do anything against the decline of the victims. Expect for the antidote the Teyla had mentioned.

"You said that there was an antidote."

"Yes. But it takes several days to prepare, often the victims died before it was ready. It is made from a plant my people grew on Athos. We tried to grow it on the mainland as well, but the soil and the weather don't seem right for it, so I'm told. Therasia only grows on Athos at the moment. It was very valuable in trade at one time, because only few planets can successfully grew the herb. The recipe to manufacture the drug is very well guarded."

"Do you know how to do it?"

"No, but Eiran knows. He is a healer among my people. But there are risks to the antidote. If it is too potent it can kill easily kill the person you are trying to save. I remember, when I was young, there was a boy named Rodijen. He had been attacked by a Wraith, but he is condition was not grave. Everyone knew he was going to get worse and the healers started to prepare the antidote. It took two days and two nights for the drug to prepare. Rodijen bled for two days and two nights. He was getting weaker and could not get up from his place in the tent anymore. But when he was brought the antidote and drank it, his whole body started convulsing and he was screaming horribly as if he were in terrible pain. Suddenly he went still and was dead." For the first time since he had met her, Teyla sounded genuinely disturbed. Carson could see fine tremors run through her body, not sure of they were soley from reliving the memory or also from pain, exhaustion and the trauma of the past few days.

"We'll find a way to work out--" Carson broke up suddenly when the floor disappeared under his feet and a tingling sensation took hold of him.

There was a click and the door opened. Two men stepped inside. John had been around military long enough to recognize a uniform when he saw one. The dark blue overall's, complete with what looked like name patches covered in white alien writing, screamed uniform.

"Come on. You are being transferred." The bigger of the two men said, standing in the door.

"Transferred where? I was told we were staying here." Carson sounded alarmed.

"No you don't. I got your transfer orders right here." The big guy who reminded John of a football player calmly handed John a piece of paper. John stared at it. It was covered in ornate writing. It could have said anything. Carson reached for it.

"Where are you bringing us?"

"Ristia mountain work camp. They say the view is pretty." The guard smiled. "Now get up."

Carson was still staring at the sheet in his hands.

"A work camp wasn't part of the deal." He protested. "Magistrate Geshkan assured me that we would stay here."

"I'm sure that Magistrate Geshkan would consider showing leniency to the people who crippled our society. You are lucky to be alive!" The voice of the guard was ice cold now.

John and Carson knew better than to ask more questions. They got to their feet and did as the guard asked. The two guards bound their wrists tightly behind their backs. John was sure that it was no accident that the metal band of cuff was cutting into his skin. The twisted angle of his arms strained the stab wound on the base of his neck, threatening to reopen the wound that Carson had never gotten around the treat properly.

"Move!"

John didn't have time to obey the command before something hard slammed into his lower back. John yelped in pain and tried to curl into himself, hampered by his bound arms. Pain raged in his side, as he went to his knees. Damned if he had torn some of his stitches from the gunshot injury.

Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear another cry near him. From the corner of his eye, he could see Carson sink to the ground. Hands yanked him to his feet again. John stumbled forwards, wanting to avoid another blow. His side felt like it was on fire. The grey corridor seemed endless in front of him as he staggered along, inspired by the constant prodding to his back. They stopped in front of a locked gate. The second guard went up to unlock it while the big guard herded them through it.

It was night outside, but flood light lit the walled square brightly. John had just time to steal a look at another alien sky before he was shoved towards a grey truck.

"Get in the back." The footballer commanded.

They ended up being hauled into the back of the truck by the guards, as it was impossible to climb in with their hands tied behind their backs.

When John landed on his side, black spots swam in his field of vision. His day was rapidly getting worse. All he could do was try not to throw up as his stomach was churning.

"You're bleeding." Carson's voice sounded above him.

"No kidding." John gasped.

"Let me have a look at it." John felt hands turning him over gently and for the moment he felt like the Carson he knew was back.

"I know this is going to hurt a bit. Sorry." Carson said softly, before starting to tug at John's shirt.

John winced, as Carson peeled of the stained bandaged.

"Yeh, you ripped out a few stitches, but I think it will stop bleeding on its own. It doesn't look too bad. It's a shame that I don't have anything remotely clean to bandage it with."

John grabbed the hem of his prison issued robe and tried to rip a strip of fabric off of it, but the linen like cloth didn't yield.

"Damn." He swore.

"Wait." Carson slipped a thin blade out of the folds of his robe. John stared. Obviously Carson had not been kidding when he had talked about having a deal with someone. He had to have help in smuggling in a weapon. Carson swiftly cut of a strip of fabric of John's robe and dressed his wound with it.

The moment of caring had felt so different from anything John had experienced over the past few days, that he hardly knew how to react. For the first time, he had the feeling that he was not just a pawn in a game. John was no longer used to people being nice to him. Although their overall situation was still grim, the small instant of warmth left him shocked and confused. Culture shock. He hung his head between his knees.

"You know, this was not supposed to work out this way." Carson said after a pause.

"I gathered as much." John lifted his head.

"Magistrate Geshkan made a deal with me. I contacted him about a month ago and offered him Atlantis and the cure for the virus. He didn't exactly mince words when he told me what he would do to us. But I knew that. That's why I did it. The Wraith might defeat us eventually when they find a way to get through the shield, but until then, no one could stop them. The Yularians had the weapons and the technology to kill us. They wanted to see every last Atlantian dead. But Geshkan promised to let me escape to another planet afterwards after I upheld my end of the deal. We weren't supposed to be shipped off to a prison camp." Carson spoke more with regret than anger.

"What happened to start it all?" John asked, for he knew them all as different people and for some reason, Carson and Rodney had been the least affected by the madness that had befallen all of the expedition members.

"Yulara. They gave us advanced technology in exchange for the Ancient gene. For the first time, we had a chance of fighting back. Not just surviving. We got the shield up within two weeks. Their bio-technology is amazing. On Earth, we haven't even begun to imagine what the Yularians have realized centuries ago. They were stupid, given it all away, just for access to the Ancient gene. It wasn't difficult to engineer the virus with enough Earth virii mixed in to ensure that they could not find a cure on their own. After all, we could not let them have the gene." Carson sounded cold, reminding John that this world was different after all. Carson's account, although it had not answered his question, had told him what he had wanted to know. There had never been a turning point. The people he had thought he knew would never have made such a trade in the first place.

TBC