Ch. 13
Welcome Wagon
" Hand him over, girl," Savine sneered. " He has to be punished! He attacked me!"
Krissa narrowed her eyes coolly, imperiously. " Attacked you? You really are stupid then, Savine. I know you too, and had this man actually attacked you, then he really would be dead. But he isn't. You sent him to kill me, but he saved me instead, so now you want him dead. Well too bad! I'm sending him home, and there's nothing you can do about it!"
Savine laughed coldly – wicked-witch of the west coldly. John wished a house would drop on her already.
" Home? You stupid whelp! The competition is in play. No one is allowed to leave. Diavante has forbidden it. This competition is too important to risk on trust. Your 'friend' is stuck here with the rest of us, and you can't protect his hide if you wish to save your own."
" She isn't protecting me," John said, keeping both Savine and Vice in his peripheral vision. " I'm protecting her."
Krissa's head twitched, but couldn't turn without taking her eyes off goon two. " John!" she hissed. " No!"
" Hey, I'm stuck here. It's the least I can do."
" But taking sides is dangerous, especially as a protector!"
" Krissa, protecting is what I do, it's my job. If I can protect an entire city, I can certainly protect a single person. No big deal."
Savine shook her head in disgust. " You have no idea what you're getting into." Her voice was low, husky – threatening.
" And you have no idea what I've already been through that makes me not give a damn!" John snarled. Maybe he was boasting, but he didn't care. Wraith, Genii, Cyladrans – one twisted freak after another. What was a couple more?
" John," Krissa pleaded.
" I know what I'm doing," he replied. " It really is the least I can do."
" What is going on!"
Not a single head turned. No one was that naïve. A tall, lean man in a shimmering silver robe much like Savine's moved into John's line of sight. He looked to be a few years younger than Savine, with receding black hair coming past his shoulders, and hands folded on a pot-belly. His face was severe, stern, as though he would gladly tear everyone's head from their shoulders if they didn't listen to the next words he said. There was a good possibility he could have made Ronon twitch.
" Lower your weapons! Now!"
Arms moved as one, dropping to the side or back into laps. The guy was good. John wanted to laugh, but didn't want that withering gaze turned on him. It was like being in highschool again, with the teacher waiting for someone to make a disturbance so a little detention could be meted out.
" While on the grounds of the esteemed Diavante, no hostility is to be permitted. All are to come and go as they please. Now depart Savine!"
Savine glared bullets at Krissa, then at John, hesitating only to acquiesce when the bald man cleared his throat. Vice pointed at John, then with the same finger ran it across his own throat. John holstered his 9 mil to shape his fingers into gun-likeness and mime-shoot Vice.
" Back at ya," he mumbled. Vice limped heavily away with a wince for each step.
Somehow, it didn't surprise John that the balding man hadn't demanded the details behind the little Mexican standoff.
Hostility not permitted my ass. More along the lines of 'didn't see, didn't happen, what Diavante doesn't know can't hurt the guilty party.' The only merit to that was not getting dragged in for an interrogation to determine if Savine's accusations were true. A small positive, since in the long term view, John would end up preferring an interrogation to sleeping with one eye open.
" Miss Krissa Ameens?" the balding man asked. The scowl must have been the only workable feature on his face. He approached the wagon and bowed stiffly at the waist. " I am Vrun, Diavante's master of household. I welcome you on his behalf. Please state the names of your party."
Krissa gestured to Bren. " This is Bren Mier," then John, " and John Sheppard."
" Be sure they sign in," Vrun said. " Ground rules. There is to be no entering labs other than your own. There is to be no wandering the halls or grounds during the night after the evening meal. You may go to and from your lab after dark, but that is all. And there is to be no confrontation between competitors. A house servant will be assigned to you as an extra assistant, and you may speak only to that assistant. Should you need more assistance, the assistant will gather more for you. A schedule of meals and events will be left in your quarters. That is all."
Vrun then turned on his heels and strode stiffly away, back into the side entrance where Savine and her cronies had slunk off through. John, Krissa, and Bren watched him go.
" Well wasn't he all sunshine and love," John growled. Krissa giggled, then sobered, turning enough to look up at John.
" John, you really shouldn't have called yourself a protector. To get to me, Savine will kill you first."
John climbed from the wagon. " Story of my life. Listen, Krissa, it wasn't exactly a spur of the moment thing. I knew what I was saying and I meant it. Since I'm obviously stuck here, I'm not just gonna stand around and let bad crap happen just because there's a chance Savine might off me. People have been trying to put a bullet in my brain or suck me dry the day I came into this galaxy." He clipped his P-90 to his vest then turned to lean against the wagon and face Krissa. " I've dealt with wraith hives. And seeing as how your grandmother is one gene away from being a wraith queen," he tweaked his lips into a both wry and bitter smirk, " I think I can handle her."
Krissa smiled. It was a sad, barely existent smile, but appreciative none the less. Then it wavered and was gone. " You need to be careful. Very careful."
John nodded. " I know. Believe me I know." He then held out his hand and assisted Krissa in stepping from the wagon. Bren climbed down on the other side, taking the vrats reins to lead it to the stables. John and Krissa followed behind. Once at the stables with stalls occupied by vrats and the hairy mammoth horses, John and Krissa unloaded the gunny sacks while Bren unhitched the vrat and guided it into an empty stall.
John was setting a sack outside the stable, and on looking up while straightening from a crouch, jumped a foot back.
" Whoa, jeez!"
One of the anthropomorphic creatures was standing right in front of him, regarding John with heavy-lidded eyes. The thing came to John's hip in height, and had a head like a vulture's, only copper in color and with two large, bat-like ears on either side of the hairless skull. Its clothes consisted of a dingy brown shirt, jacket, and trousers with nothing covering its clawed, three-toed feet. It had its clawed hands clasped behind its back, and its lizard tail was twitching.
" Good day sir," it said in a bored, raspy voice. " I have been sent to aid Miss Krissa. If you are ready and will follow me, I will show you to your quarters."
With that said, the creature picked up two of the sacks and slung both over its shoulder. Krissa and Bren walked up beside John carrying one bag each, and looked at the creature with the same perplexity and uncertainty that had overcome John. John lifted the sack he'd set by the stable door.
" You'd think I'd be used to crap like that by now," he huffed, and followed the creature toward the house.
SGASGASGASGASGA
John was right, definitely a house he'd get lost in, probably before the day was out. Outside it was huge, and inside it was just as huge, with wide corridors and stone floors covered by thick carpets. It had what one would expect a Victorian mansion to have; paintings and mirrors in gold gilded frames on the walls, couches and chairs all padded in red or blue cushions, small tables supporting painted vases or plants, and door after door after door. The side entrance had taken the little party through the massive kitchens with their many stoves, tables, shelves, and pantries. Humans and creatures alike were in constant motion, grabbing this, getting that, stirring this, all in a state of organized chaos – not a single one had run into another, maneuvering as though it were all a well rehearsed dance.
Beyond the kitchen they went through the dining room – huge, of course, and a little medieval with its tapestries and carpet-less floor. After the dining room, the hallway that took them to a set of curving stairs. Up the stairs, another hall, with walls cluttered in more paintings and mirrors. John counted seven doors in before they reached the room. The creature heaved the doors open that groaned as though in pain. Inside was a parlor, a huge parlor, with another set of doors on the right leading to the bed chamber.
As John suspected, there was only one king-sized four poster bed covered by a dark green quilt. Krissa' bed, obviously. The couches in the parlor looked as comfortable as any bed, with thick red cushions and adequate length for a body like John's to stretch out in full. On the right hand side of the bed chamber was a fire place with a mirror over the mantle. The fireplace in the parlor was on the left, with a painting of grazing vrats above it. The floor was carpeted in green in both rooms, and one final door in the bed chamber entered into a bathroom with a grandiose round bathtub that could very easily hold five people at once with elbow room to spare.
It was all about decadence and John hated it. Give him a tiny room where he could dump his stuff where he pleased and not worry about some maid throwing it out thinking it was garbage. The parlor alone was producing a sensation opposite of claustrophobia. And it was all so clean. John felt he was soiling everything just by looking at it.
The sacks were deposited in a carved and painted chest by the door to the bed chamber. Krissa wandered the parlor, then the bedroom where she found a sheet of paper printed with a schedule on the bed.
" The evening meal will be in two hours," she announced.
The creature sniffed. No butler could pull off the dignified indifference this creature was radiating. " It is to give you time to settle in. Now I must take you to your lab. Follow me."
On leaving, the creature closed the door and pressed a switch on an electronic pad below the door handle. He turned to the small party.
" You will need a key card to open the doors again, they are in your assigned lab." The creature headed off back down the hall, taking them down the stairs, then through double doors beneath those stairs. More stairs on the other side of those doors slanting down into what John could only suppose was the dungeon. Cold stone blocks walled them in, but it widened out on reaching the bottom.
Definitely the dungeon. It was large, with a high ceiling and another corridor across from them. There were doors everywhere, in the first chamber then the second through the second hall. The creature guided them into the second chamber and to the left.
Krissa's lab was as huge as the dungeon, with blue-steel tables scattered everywhere, stools, and tools. Not hammer and nails tools - tools that could have come straight from Atlantis. Scanners, data entry pads, and bits and pieces of stuff John had no idea the purpose of. The creature went to the nearest table and picked up something resembling a computer scanner. He brought it to the others, holding it out to Krissa first.
" Please place your hand on the surface to receive your key cards."
Krissa did so. The glass surface lit up, humming, then stopped. The creature went to Bren next, then John. When finished, the creature pulled a small drawer out from the bottom of the device, and picked up three palm-length metal cards.
" Keep these with you at all times. New ones cannot be created. The bio-structure scanner cannot be re-calibrated until after three months, in which time you will no longer be here." He placed the scanner back on the table, turned with three cords in his claws, and passed them out. " Having them around your neck proves most effective. If you wish to begin your project, you may. Three chimes announces the evening meal. You will have twenty minutes to prepare afterward. Is there anything else that you need?"
" Yeah," John said. " Got any maps of this place?"
The creature just stared at him with its large, unreadable eyes. " I will guide you to where you wish to go. It's best not to wander."
" Kind of got that impression the moment we arrived," John replied under his breath. The creature raised a hairless eyebrow.
" Yes." It looked at Krissa. " Miss?"
Krissa craned her neck trying to take the room in at a glance. " I need some items... from the room."
" Of course, miss. Follow me."
They retraced their path to the room, heading from alien Frankenstein's dungeon back into the mansion. Krissa kept craning, Bren was stoic and showing no apparent interest in their surroundings, and the creature seemed to be brooding, but John couldn't be sure. John widened his stride to come up along side the thing.
" So," he said conversationally. " You got a name, or do I just call you Gollum?"
" I go by no formal title sir. If you wish to call for me, call me by my designation – three three one."
John looked down at the creature. " Three three one? You a robot or something? Number three hundred and thirty one off the assembly line? I'm not going to remember that. You need a real name. How about... Bartleby. No, Bart! Like from the Simpsons. Man I miss that show."
The creature looked up at John. The boredom was gone, because now the thing was suspicious. " Do you insist on calling me by this title, sir?"
" Well, not if you don't like it."
The creature looked ahead. " What I like is irrelevant. If you wish a formal title, then I will oblige."
" Okay. But if you don't like it just say so. I just think a name's easier than a number. Besides, you look like a Bart, I have no idea why."
" Bart?" it asked.
" Yeah, Bart."
Bart sniffed again. " Simple, but remains in memory. It should do."
" So, Bart, what's your kind called?"
" My kind has no name, sir. We're servants, created to serve."
John frowned at that. " Created?"
" Yes, created. Created to assist Master Diavante in his endeavors. We are not a specific race."
" Created," John muttered to himself. Created, as in playing god, as in messing around with nature. Were McKay here, he probably would've been shouting at Bart about the dangers of messing with genetics, if genetics was behind these 'creations'. John wasn't sure what else it could be. Glorified, induced multi-species breeding? No, that was still more genetics. Not all genetics involved growing things in test-tubes.
But nothing about Bart seemed unnatural, not with all the freaky life forms John had run into since coming to Atlantis. Bart being some kind of a creation was difficult to digest. The imagination normally didn't put such intelligence into what it conjured when genetic creations or mutations were discussed (if they were ever discussed). The fact that John's own brain had nearly lost all coherent thought during his own mutant transformation had nailed the idea of genetic monsters as being low on IQ down hard. On top of that, the fact that someone was manipulating nature – and able to manipulate nature - to create intelligent servants was nerve wracking. First servants, then monsters, then super warriors. Either that or super diseases, super vaccines...
Beckett would be the one acting adamant more than McKay. The Hoffman incident was still a sore spot for the mild-mannered Scottish doc.
John didn't mention any of his thoughts concerning ' man-made creation' to Bart. He just fell silent all the way back to the room, then all the way back to the lab after Krissa retrieved the needed sack. Once in the lab, she pulled the contents from the sack and laid them out on the table. One was a data pad like McKay's, only slightly larger. The rest were bits and pieces of electronics. When done, Krissa switched on the pad and scrolled through the files. There was data written in the Sriotian language, and what looked to be blueprints. She instructed Bren to bring her certain tools and electronics, and Bart certain metals. She fell into inventor mode, picking through items, taking what she needed, and laying them out at certain points on the table.
John hung out by the lab door, peering periodically through the small window into the dungeon. The door across from Krissa's lab opened, and a bald, small, rotund man scurried out quick as a nervous rat, looking flushed and flustered. John heard him shouting, but the words were muffled by the door. Later, a woman about John's age emerged; tall, with straight brown hair and wearing a wine-red dress and a wine red cloak. The woman looked like the type who would reside in a place like this – regal to a haughty degree.
Time passed in dull silence, and the three chimes sounded. Krissa started in surprise at the noise, glancing around for the source.
" Evening meal approaches, miss," Bart said.
Krissa blinked several times as though she'd been reading under a dim lamp. " Oh. Oh, I completely forgot!" She shut off her data pad and was the only item she took with her on leaving the lab. Bart closed and locked the lab door by pressing a small keypad, explaining that the key cards would open it as well.
McKay would have loved this place. All the privacy in the world and a free meal to boot. Were circumstances different in a way that Savine wasn't involved, then it should have been Rodney in John's place. This was his scene, his world, and chances were he might have been able to win second place by whipping something up in three minutes. The man had an uncanny aptitude for last minute solutions.
Back in the parlor, Krissa vanished within the bathroom of the bed chamber, dragging one of the sacks behind her. Bren pulled out his own sack, and from that removed a less dirt-stained button shirt. The sight of that shirt hit John with the heart-jolting realization that he looked like hell. He wasn't just dirt-stained, he was sweat and blood-stained to boot, and ragged as a dog's chew-toy. He whirled around to the ever patient Bart.
" Um, is it mandatory for every member of a party to attend the evening meal?"
Bart sniffed. " If you wish to eat."
John took a deep breath, then released it sharply. " Well isn't that just a kick in the head." John wasn't all that concerned about what people thought. It was more that the bandages could be seen through the tears, advertising the fact that John was wounded – and therefore, possibly, weak. People tended to jump on weakness like starving wolves on a carcass.
" Son of a..." John muttered, looking around and thinking frantically. He felt a nudge to his shoulder, and jerked around to see Bren – dressed in more prim clothes – holding a button shirt out for John.
John blinked in surprise. It was the first time the old man had acknowledged him, at all. John took the shirt. " Um, thanks."
Bren just inclined his head.
John removed his vest, jacket, and shirt, dropping them in a pile on the floor. As he buttoned Bren's shirt on, Bart gathered the ragged and stained apparel.
John panicked ever so slightly. " Uh, I still need those. They're the only ones I've got."
" I am merely going to send them to the wash. The tears you must deal with yourself, I'm afraid. The seamstress faints at the sight of blood, and her health is poor."
John glowered. " Great."
" I can sew them."
John turned to see Krissa coming out of the bed chamber, tying her hair back with a violet ribbon. She now wore a lavender dress, with a lavender dress cloak of light gauze material to match. She smiled at John. " Sewing's kind of a hobby of mine. I'm real good at it. Is that one of Bren's shirts?"
John looked down at the shirt that hung loose on his slender frame. Bren might have been older, but he wasn't a light weight. The man had broad shoulders that could rival Ronon's.
" Um, yeah. Doesn't really match the pants, though," he said with a grin. " Sorry."
Bren tapped him on the shoulder and handed him something – a data pad. On it is said:
Keep your jacket, and your weapons. As a protector, you're expected to have them. The blood and tears in the material of your jacket will give you a battle-worn look. Go with it. The more battle hardened you seem, the more others will be inclined to back down.
John gave Bren an odd look. " Seriously?"
Bren took the data pad, typed something, then handed it back.
I've been a protector for years. Works no matter where you are.
John smirked and returned the pad. Bren – few words and to the point. Ronon would love this guy. They could spend hours hanging out, never saying a word.
John took his jacket back from Bart and placed it on with a small wince at the discomfort the movement caused his ribs. Bren handed John his P-90 and 9 mil. After which Bren slung his own rifle over his shoulder. One would think they were preparing for an off world mission to a recently culled planet.
Krissa beamed proudly at her two protectors. " Ready?"
Both men nodded. Bart led them through the hall to the dining chamber that was already filling with people – scientists and their less than friendly looking entourage. There was Savine and her thugs, of course, clustered like vultures at the far left hand corner of the room. The tall women in the wine-colored gown was hovering about the long polished table of dark wood, talking with a young, golden haired, prince-charming knock-off of a man in a brown jacket and wearing black pants. Behind the two stood their back-up, the woman's a one-eyed and thick bodied ogre of a man in a leather jacket and with dark stubble on the double chin. Prince Charming's two guardians appeared to be former Sriotian guards now wearing dark brown uniforms rather than blue. The little round scientist's protectors counted three – two looking to be soldiers dressed in gray, the other a woman with red, cropped hair and a leather long-coat.
Searching the people, John's bones tried to leap from his skin when he spotted the sickeningly familiar uniform of the Genii, flanking a tall, severe looking man with cropped brown hair and a disfigured hand.
" Oh crap," John breathed, heart pounding. The two Genii were also doing a quick scan. Their eyes passed Sheppard – twice – but neither one did a double take. John relaxed with a release of pent-up breath.
John counted fifteen scientists in all. Not a crap-load, but still plenty of competition. They all had their protectors, and their genetically created servants. Bart joined Krissa's party minutes later after having dumped John's clothes off for washing.
The tall woman in the red dress pulled herself away from prince charming and sauntered over to Krissa, the ogre following close behind. The woman smiled with a spark in her eyes John wasn't liking. She extended her hand to Krissa, who took it in a quick squeeze. The ogre, on positioning himself next to the lady, shoved Bart back. The bird-like creature stumbled and would have fallen if John hadn't caught its arm.
" Hey!" John snapped. Ogre wasn't listening, and neither was the woman.
" Miss Amreens! I have heard so much concerning you and am pleased to finally meet you. I am Sareeka from the world of Clayce, Master Scholar for our lord Moret."
Krissa smiled uncomfortably and did a small curtsy. " Please to meet you miss Sareeka."
" Please, just Sareeka. I am told you are the youngest inventor of this world. I am impressed. You must be quite exceptional for your guild to allow a child to become a member."
Krissa looked confused on whether to express gratitude or feel slighted, but still held her smile. Her discomfort appeared to increase. Bren nudged John's arm and slipped him the data pad.
Sareeka deals in weapons. She's not unheard of. One of Krissa's most prized creations was a shield that could block the blast of a laser rifle Sareeka had created.
John's brow lifted in sudden understanding. That's what the look was he saw in Sareeka's eyes – venom. John added a mental check to his mental list of names and faces to watch out for. Sareeka gestured to her ogre with a casual flick of her hand.
" This is Glot, my man servant. And who are of your party?" Sareeka looked from Bren to John, lingering on John, looking him up and down – appraising and analyzing. John new he was looking close to Grizzly Adam's rugged with the ragged jacket and the stubble on his face, but he was also aware that he still wasn't quite up to his usual physical standards. And standing so close to Grot was more than likely making him look positively emaciated.
Easy pickings, right lady? Easy pickings my ass, chick. Bring it on. The woman smiled coyly at him. John refused to smile back. He liked a pretty face as much as the next guy, but the woman was coming off with strong vibes of (as Homer Simpson once put it best) 'Intergalactic hussy.' The way she'd been talking to prince charming, seduction was her second protector next to Grot. Crap but that was freakin' cliché.
Yet it worked, because charming was watching the scene, and didn't look too happy by the way his arms were folded, back was rigid, and his brow was creased.
" This is Bren, and John Sheppard," Krissa said. Both Bren and John nodded a stiff greeting.
" Oh, so very nice to meet you both," Sareeka replied, all eyes for John. John caught Bren rolling his own eyes. If only Bren knew who Captain Kirk was, then he'd never let John live this moment down. John was actually missing the comment that would have sniped from Rodney's mouth at this precise moment.
Well, no captain Kirk today. John couldn't afford to play nice with the pretty lady. " Yeah, whatever," he muttered indifferently.
Sareeka's smile stayed, but her gaze went acidic enough for John's skin to prickle. Grot grunted.
Down boy. Heel, sit, play dead – yeah, play dead.
Sareeka seemed to be readying a retort by taking a deep breath, when three more chimes sounded and Vrun walked in, grouchy in expression as ever.
" Lady's and gentlemen, please be seated. The meal is about to commence.
Everyone congregated to the tables. To John's dismay, he was seated by one of the Genii thugs. Krissa was beside John, with Bren on the other side of Krissa. Prince charming sat across from Krissa, and Sareeka placed herself on the far right end of the table. Savine was all the way at the other end with her goons.
Vrun stood at the head of the table and cleared his throat loud enough for it to echo through the chamber. " Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of your host Diavante, I welcome you. Diavante will not be joining you for meals as he is occupied..."
Servants, both human and creation, came in through the kitchen doors, wheeling trays or carrying platters by hand.
" Please begin at your will. Any confrontations to break out and the party responsible will be forced to exit the dining hall early."
Plates were already set up. The food was set in the center of the table, all colorful, all from Sriot. The meat John could handle, but those blasted prismatic array of vegetables had returned. John was going to have a hell of a time choking it down, not only to save face, but to please Beckett once all this was over.
The drinks varied from punches to wines. John went for the non-inebriating stuff. Not smart to be drunk on his first day as protector.
John took mostly meat and a few palatable looking veggies, plus fruit and bread. He felt eyes trying to burn holes into his skull, but didn't need to look up to know that it was prince charming doing the burning. John ignored it, blissfully dining away. He had to admit, the meat was awesome, best stuff he'd had in a long time.
John leaned in toward Krissa. " Don't look at him, but do you know who blondie is? The guy sitting across from you?"
Krissa was slicing what looked like a neon-green carrot. " I don't know. I've never seen him before. I might know of him if I heard his name."
John went back to his own food. Prince was relentless. John could hear his furious sawing and clatter of eating utensils. It could have been a ploy, though. An attempt at riling John to get Krissa thrown out. What that would achieve, John had no idea. Satisfaction for pride, no doubt. Sareeka might not be the only one with a problem against children being allowed in the contest.
John paused in cutting his meat, and rolled his eyes up to meet Charming's smoldering gaze.
" Yes?" John asked with the most sickeningly sweet tone he could conjure. " Do you need something or do you just find me fascinating?" John batted his eyes at the kid. Charming looked away to glare daggers at his own plate. Krissa covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
The conversation at the table was a low hum, since most weren't really in the right mood for conversation, not with potential enemies at any rate. When someone finished their meal, they would rise quietly and leave quietly. John was relieved to see both Savine and the Genii scientist exit. One of the guards had started to eye John carefully. Charming was next to depart, refusing to look at John now. Sareeka followed later.
John finished and waited for Krissa and Bren. Once done, they all headed out with Bart leading the way. They were up the stairs and entering the hall when a body burst from the shadows and collided into John, slamming him into the wall. Manicured hands tightened on the collar of John's jacket, and his face was brought within inches of Charming's.
" You stay away from Sareeka!" the kid snarled. " You hear me? Don't you dare go near her. She's mine!"
John didn't know whether Charming meant in terms of love or elimination out of personal vendetta. John narrowed his eyes, then head-butted the kid. Charming, dazed, stumbled back. John tugged his jacket back into place, then grabbed the kid by the collar of his nice dress jacket.
" All you had to do was ask," John said, and pushed the kid away. " She's all yours kid," he threw over his shoulder as he continued on with an amused Bren and slack-jawed Krissa.
The moment they were in the room with the door shut behind them, John grabbed his forehead, doubling over, and sucked in a sharp breath.
" Ah son of a...! Crap! Damnit! Kid's head is made out of rock!"
Krissa, giggling, took John's arm and led him to one of the couches. " Let me see."
John dropped into the seat but waved her off. " It's no big deal. I do it all the time. It's the aim, you've gotta get it just right... Crap!"
Krissa pulled his hand away and studied his head. " Doesn't look too bad. Might become bruised. I'll get you a cold cloth."
" Allow me, miss," said Bart who was already ambling to the bathroom. He came back minutes later with a wet blue cloth and handed it to John to press against his head.
" You really are funny, John," Krissa said.
John forced a weak smile. " Thanks, I think." The pain was quick about abating. He lowered the cloth. " Think I did all right in there?"
Krissa, beaming, nodded. " Yes. I don't think Sareeka will be bothering us, or the blond man. It's mostly Savine we need to be careful of."
John nodded. " Yeah, obviously."
Bren tapped John on the shoulder and passed him the pad.
I'll take first watch. I need to set up the security nodes. You rest. You need it. You're still healing. I'll wake you when it's your time.
John handed the pad back. " Sure, thanks. Speaking of which, I should probably get these bandages changed."
" Need help?" Krissa asked.
" I shall assist, miss," Bart said, and headed back into the bathroom.
" Yeah, Bart can help," John said. " You should go to bed. I've never bought into that 'sleep deprived makes for better thinkers' crap."
Krissa scrunched her face. " Who says that?"
" Rodney. Buddy of mine. Too bad he's not here, you'd love him. Well... possibly find him amusing. I'll tell you more tomorrow."
Krissa smiled. She took the cloth from John, then leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. " Thank you, Mr. Sheppard, for doing this I mean. Protecting me - I mean."
John smiled wearily back. " No problem."
With a quick kiss on the cheek for Bren, Krissa headed into the bed chamber, saying goodnight to Bart passing her on its way out. It had a green metal box in its claws, and set it on the floor by John's feet. Bren went to the chest and pulled out a small sack. He began walking the perimeter of the room, setting small devices under the mantel of the fire place, on the walls, and especially by the door.
John removed the button shirt while observing the old man. Bart opened the box and pulled out bandages and ointments in small bottles, setting them on the floor. The creature removed the soiled bandages, and using a yellow cloth wiped the cuts and stitches with ointment. John winced, the pain stinging at first, but fleeting, numbing the wounds into tolerance.
" Cold, Mr. Sheppard?"
" A little. Why?"
" You're shivering."
John shrugged a shoulder. " Long day. Besides, I get cold easy all the time."
Bart wrapped the bandages around John's chest. Once finished, John placed the shirt back over his bruised body and buttoned up while Bart gathered the medical supplies back into the kit. " I will leave this out for future use," it said. Bart then went out of the room, leaving the door open a crack. When it returned, it was carrying a pile of blankets in its arm, and two pillows using its tail. It placed one set on one couch, then ambled over to John to hand him the other set. Bart went out again, and returned with two more blankets, handing them to John. John set about fixing up the couch into a bed, peering at Bart who stood off to the side in waiting with claws clasped behind its back.
" Where do you sleep?" John asked.
" In here."
" Where in here? Not the floor..."
" Until the competition has ended, I must reside with the party I am assigned to, and sleep where I must."
John took one of the blankets and tossed it to Bart. " Well I shouldn't think that requires you to sleep on the floor. It's a nice carpet and all, but this room isn't that warm."
Bart caught the blanket without looking, being too busy staring at John in a penetrating, suspecting sort of way.
John kicked off his boots and crawled beneath the layers of blankets. The couch really was good as any bed, even if it was narrower.
" Relax, Bart. It's not like I poisoned the thing with itching powder. You're not a dog, so feel free to sleep on the furniture."
John never saw if Bart did. Warm, comfortable, his bones able to sink into something soft rather than being battered by unyeilding surfaces, he was out the moment his eyelids slid shut.
TBC...
SGASGASGASGASG
A/N: I am not, by any means, a comment whore! That title has already been taken by a friend of mine, and he – yes he – has no qualms about admitting it. However, reviews feeds a muse, so keep that in mind. Also, for those of you a little disconcerted by the lack of team involvement, rest assured the team will be back in play eventually, though not for a couple of chapters. I did promise team whumping, and by gum, you will get team whumping. It's a good 31 chapters people, plenty of time for lots of crap to happen.
