Peak
"This has got to stop!"
John is nearly crawling to his cot ignoring Rodney's big hands keeping him upright. The big man he fought with on his first day of training was unrelenting in his pursuit.
Today has been a particularly fun time. First, the rain was still coming down, soaking into everything, feeding the overly engorged earth of the field. Second, there were the injuries which would not heal, despite their best efforts. Third, nothing motivates a man like a perceived insult to his person, and the big man whose name, John had been fortunate enough to learn was Bluty, seemed to take John's mere existence as a continued offence. Thus, he was always the one to beat on John, or train as they wished to term it, and did so with relish.
So it was that today Bluty had been quite aggressive. They had started as they always did, by standing before each other, their fists raised, a nice imitation of sneering distorting their features. John enjoyed that part. He had struck first, simply because it would not affect the game and he thought he deserved the satisfaction of the first blow. So he had struck, a straightforward hit to the shoulder. Then he had struck no more, for a long, long time.
Bluty is not the most imaginative of man, plays dirty and has the stamina of a horse; today's beating was no different from all the ones that came before. The legs first, always the legs and even though he is quite proficient in the art of blocking, there is only so much a man can do to protect himself. When the choice is a hit to the head or the legs, one has to set his priorities. The rest is usually more random, once John is slower and an easy target. So, Bluty waited until John tired and then pounced. Like a cat, playing with its prey. Of course, nobody made it easy for him. Bluty forced him to move toward the other men so they could get a shot at him too. John isn't well liked. Possibly because his life is safe; the gene is a precious commodity around these parts and by association, so is he. Many slaves participated in the 'beat the snot out of John' hour, on this rotten day.
As Rodney helps him undress, it has almost become a nightly ritual, John keeps a tally of his injuries, attempting to recall the ones that are fresh. "Well, he got me in the knee cap pretty good at first…then there was the back of my neck, but it wasn't him, it was that other guy and he didn't get a good shot. Ummmm, legs again and shoulder. Yeah, he got me good in the shoulder.
"I can see that." How Rodney hates it, though he is the one to demand the daily rundown. The lightness of John's tone, as if it does not matter that he is slowly being beaten to death. Perhaps that is a slight overreaction, but getting such a rough beating every few days cannot be conducive to good health. Never mind the lighter ones he does get everyday.
John laughs but has to stop when a harsh cough takes over. "He had to get my legs Rodney, the bastard can't take me unless I'm good and tired!"
His next laugh is too much for Rodney. "It's not funny!" He cannot help the anger, it boils up so quickly, there is no warning. "It's not funny at all! How can you just sit there and tell me all about it, as if it's nothing!" He holds the washcloth to John's face. It is as it has been everyday: muddied and bloodied. "Look! Everyday it's the same thing! You can't go on like this!"
"What am I suppose to do? Huh? Genius? You tell me! What am I suppose to do?"
"I don't know, but we have to do something!"
The argument continues for some time. When they settle for dinner, it is in a companionable silence.
The next day does not proceed as planned, at least not for John. The morning is more of the same. Proper training, with people who have no wish to bring about his demise, followed by a delicious lunch of watery soup and rocky bread. After lunch, a higher official, one he recognises from their first day here, comes to the field and demands that John follow him.
He is brought to the research facility where Rodney slaves away and worry takes hold of his body, surpassing the ever-persistent pain. He attempts to get answers from the man. "Is Doctor McKay alright?"
"Yes, he is well. He has requested your presence claiming you will be of much help in our research."
That's good! He is guided to the very end of a corridor and through a door. There is Rodney, in his environment; surrounded by Ancient devices, hunched over a table, muttering to himself.
"Hey Rodney!"
"Sit, take this." He indicates a stool on a perpendicular angle to his and a device that lies on the table before it.
John comes around the table and does as indicated. "So, what are we doing here Doctor?" He grins, happy to be there, with Rodney, out of the field and away from Bluty. Not that he would ever admit it. He hates being helpless, at the mercy of anyone.
The official exits the room and locks the door behind himself.
"We're working."
"Right. How'd you manage this?"
"Concentrate." He gestures to the device.
"How?"
"With your, granted limited, mental capacity! Think at it!"
"No. How'd you do it? Come on, spill it!"
"We'll talk about it later, we're here to work. Concentrate!"
"Ok, but seriously – "
"Concentrate!"
Seeing the serious look in Rodney's eyes, he accepts the promise of a later discussion.
The afternoon goes on peacefully, John and Rodney working together. There is none of the friendly banter that characterises their relationship, but it is perfectly understandable, this is not playtime in Atlantis. It is late afternoon when the sound of keys in a lock indicates the return of their official. It is a different man who enters. Not a guard, but a 'scientist'.
"Doctor McKay, you are done for the day. What have you managed to achieve?"
A very subdued Rodney answers. "These are the devices we have managed to activate and categorise. These are the ones which so far have proven uncooperative and these two are the ones I will be taking home for further examination." If he adds 'you un-evolved jerk' in his head, no one needs to know.
"Is that all?" The man eyes the nine devices in the categorised pile. "Nine devices? I had been told your work would proceed faster if this man provided his gene!"
"It has! We have activated three devices which so far had proved useless."
John cannot believe this is Rodney speaking! He is so polite, deferring to the man, almost bending over to kiss his feet. He understands, but hates it. He cannot stand to see Rodney like that. The scientist should be condescending, arrogant, smug; proving his worth!
The man frowns. "It is insufficient. You clearly stated this man's help would mean great improvement!"
"He was only brought here in the afternoon, progress was not as expected!"
"Very well! I will accept this for today if you present three more working devices to fill your quota. You will show them to me at the first hour of your day or you will go to room seventeen before you return to your lodgings! Good evening."
The man steps out and a guard motions for them to precede him.
"This isn't so bad." John takes in the view allowed by the small window. Green grass, tall trees swinging in the wind. He can see the gate from here, glinting atop its flowery hill. The sun has started its descent and his hitting the naquadah ring, making it look like an oversized halo. John's mind supplies the word 'salvation' but he pushes it away.
The answer is quick, snaps out like a whip. "You're completely insane."
John turns to Rodney, who is sitting at their rickety table, working on the devices he brought home. He has been mumbling with increasing volume for the past hour whilst John was reading the rules from his newly delivered copy of the book of slave cannon fodder. Obviously, that's not what they call it here, they call it the guide to first defensive unit, but John knows exactly what it means. He's training to be cannon fodder, a living shield for the skilled – another Lopstack euphemism, this one meaning not a slave – fighters of this world. He's lucky he has the gene, it's a rare commodity. In fact, there are only five people on this world who have it, including Rodney and himself. Now, the beatings will stop because he'll only train in the morning. Away from Bluty, his injuries will have time to heal properly!
"No, I mean it. You get to play with your tech-thingies, I get to train for a few hours then be lazy with you in the pits. Less work than on Atlantis."
Rodney's eyes widen slightly and he lets go of the device that has to be functioning tomorrow morning when he goes back to the research facility, or the pits as they not-so-jokingly refer to it. "Oh God, you are insane!" He moves from his chair and takes the few steps needed to bring him closer to his friend.
"I'm not insane! I'm just saying it could be worse!"
"I'm so comforted by that thought, it makes my days that much more pleasant. The lack of any privacy, the barked orders, their failure to understand that not everything will work because they wish it! Atrocious food, really really horrible clothes, your suicidal training, which I'm sure you appreciate what with that personality trait that makes you die all the time, the stupid cot that will eventually break my back, the guy that follows me everywhere and the one who won't accept that I can't make it all work! I can't! It's dead! What do they expect me to do! I can't do it all ok? And you know what will happen! You know what they'll do if I can't do it!"
John squeezes Rodney's shoulder and quickly releases it. He is working himself into frenzy and perhaps this was not the best subject. The first few days were horrible, filled with the anxiety of unknown circumstances, but now they know what is expected of them, now he knows he will not die a weakling in a field. He thinks more is expected of Rodney than of him. It seems Rodney promised the moon in exchange for John's presence in the pits and he will be the one to pay if he can't do more. The room seventeen business if weighing heavily on John's mind. Rodney pretends he doesn't know what it means, what lies beyond the heavy metal door they passed today, but he is a poor liar. "Woah, ok. It's not so good...it's not so bad either? Right?"
"Yes it is! You don't even see it, you don't get it, but it is that bad! We're going to be here for life and there's not much I can do to assure we live it out fully, ok? That thing," he points to the device, lying uselessly on the table, "doesn't work. You think they're going to accept that?"
"Come on. You can make anything work, and we're not going to be here for life! Elizabeth will send a rescue team."
Rodney's shoulders droop and he moves away from John. He runs a hand over his face, tiredness and a constant state of stress taking too much out of him. "They would've come already."
"It takes time to mount a rescue! We've only been here for a few days!"
"It doesn't take this much time when they know where to look." He turns to face John once more. "Look, you're not there to insist. You're the one who insists. Elizabeth is always so scared of dealing with unfriendly worlds…they're not coming."
"Sure they are. They need us."
"You hold on to that…" Rodney goes back to his device, intent on making it work. It is not so much the thrill of discovering its purpose anymore, more the one of having an intact body, or an intact friend. He looks over at John who is watching him.
"You want me to try it?"
"No. You tried it today."
"Maybe it'll work for me now?"
"Oh, that's right, Mister Big gene there! Anything Ancient's a complete trollop for you!"
"A trollop?" John cannot prevent the grin that spreads. "Who says trollop anymore?"
"Obviously, I do!" He fiddles with the device before letting out a put-upon sigh and placing it in John's outstretched hand. He is not glad when it remains silent, when it does not vibrate or glow or hum. He hates it. Hates it with all his considerable might.
John lays it on the table and takes place in the other chair, facing Rodney. "It's dead."
"I know," he says, but is really thinking that they are dead. Silence stretches, as long as the shadows created by the receding sun. The room becomes tinted with reds and oranges and still they do not talk. They would not know what to say, both of them so preoccupied with what could happen when the morning comes and still the device does not perform.