The interior of the town was surprisingly open. The front panels of the tents slapped about in the wind. Further in, brown buildings blended in with the dust. Odd languages soared overhead, mixing with their own. They passed a rather well-dressed woman berating a somber man, and exchanged a glance with each other that said he would be sleeping on the proverbial couch that night.
The verbiage snapped over them, creating a cacophony of noise that attempted to shroud their words. "I can't believe you did that," Rodney complained, his voice raised. "I can't believe you got away with that. I'm not even sure what you said! What's that money worth, anyway?"
"Hopefully a room and some food." John led Rodney to a line of people, then changed his mind and led Rodney in another direction.
"Yeah, okay, look. . .we're in. Now let's find a nice little hole and you can get these things off my wrists and we can call it a day, huh?" He aimed his back toward John and stuck out his wrists hopefully.
"Not yet. People are watching. This place has guards. We have to play by the rules just a little longer."
"Are you serious?" Rodney snapped.
John didn't answer.
"You're serious! You're fucking serious!"
"Relax, McKay."
"You relax! What the. . ." he straightened up as a tall man approached them. His beady eyes glanced up and down McKay's body, making the scientist flinch.
"You sellin'?"
Rodney opened his mouth, but John beat him to it. "I thought I just paid the man at the gate."
"Entrance fee only." He smiled, showing rotten teeth and releasing breath that would knock buffalos over.
"Ah." John said, embarrassed that he apparently didn't know the rules of the game as well as he thought. He avoided McKay's glare. "I knew that."
"You sellin'?" Tall Man was eyeing the odd tag attached to Rodney's shirt.
"Actually, I'm thinking off taking this one off the market." He started to pull Rodney backward, and was stopped by a tap on the shoulder. Tall Man held something that looked a lot like a riding crop.
"No retractions. You bring to sell, you sell."
". . .right." This wasn't exactly going as planned. He hadn't intended to go this far, truth be told was trying to avoid the crowded arena where he saw people lined up, being examined like cattle. The idea had been to skirt the place, looking like he was headed wherever he was supposed to be headed. And then, his plan had been to find a hole, release McKay, and hunt down Lorne.
Of course, plans had a way of changing. Quickly.
Two men appeared behind them and grabbed Rodney's arms, pulling him from John who yelled out in protest. Another man blocked his path, and he craned his neck round to see Rodney being led to the platform with the others. "This part of the plan, Colonel?" he called out angrily.
No, not really.
"You," Tall Man said, "buy him back. You brought him to sell, then you don't want to sell. So buy him back."
"Look, I can't. . ."
"Why did you come here?" He stepped close, his breath heavy and vile.
John held his breath and stepped back. "I'm. . .looking for someone."
He fully expected to hear a voice grovel out, "found someone, you have" and briefly wondered about his current fixation. The man merely nodded to where Rodney stood in the distance, glowering at him.
"You buy him back."
John weighed his options. Hard to do on a one-sided scale. "Fine. When's the auction?"
"That line goes," Tall Man pointed, "then that one." He pointed again. "He'll be at the end."
"I'll just wait here then." Again he locked gazes until the other man huffed and backed away.
Nope. Not according to plan at all.
The first line went through disturbingly quickly. All the prisoners/slaves/he wasn't sure what to call them, were bare-chested, their hands secured either in front of or behind them. Their heads were lowered; they looked beaten before the play had begun. All were brown-skinned. He knew Rodney's pale contrast probably would work in his favor.
What he hadn't counted on was the proud, defiant tilt of Rodney's head as he was marched onto the platform, approximately half an hour later. John felt an odd surge of pride cover his anxiety, and started to push his way through the crowd that had gathered to see the new arrival. Rodney's shirt was ripped from him, and his skin practically glowed. But that wasn't the only thing. Even from a distance, John could feel the power emanating from the man. The firm chin was raised and daring. He was pissed, and it showed, and the people loved it.
John lurched forward, holding up his bag of coins. "Seventy-five!" he yelled out. "Seventy-five, going once . . ." he heard Rodney hiss at him, and flung the bag at the auctioneer. "There. You can count it." The men before Rodney had gone out at no more than twenty. He was confident that seventy five would cinch the deal. Look at that blazing white skin after all, there was no way he could work on a planet such as this. Who'd want him?
"Eighty!" A voice spoke, and John spun. He spun back to meet Rodney's concerned gaze.
Do something, the man mouthed.
"Uh . . .eighty-five." John wasn't as certain anymore.
"Ninety!"
Enough. John turned, freeing his handgun from the strap on his belt, and aimed. "Ninety-five," he said firmly.
The other man nodded and backed off.
"Ninety-five going once . . . twice . . . SOLD for ninety-five." The auctioneer jerked his head and a man escorted Rodney from the stage, shoving him at John. John caught Rodney and steadied him.
"Don't think I owe you any favors," Rodney muttered angrily.
"Come on, you're my property now."
Rodney fumed. "You could've started at fifteen, you know," he muttered as John worried at the cuffs. "You spent all of our money! And then some!"
"How'd I know you would be that marketable?"
"You mean how'd I know you wouldn't just run off with the money and save Lorne yourself! Then you'd have me to rescue as well!"
"True. I could've bid the guy up and come back for you in a jumper. Still tempting, so keep your mouth shut."
Rodney fumed. "Where are we going to get the extra twenty?"
"Don't know." John pulled the cuffs away and smiled disarmingly at the auctioneer as he tucked them into his belt. "I don't even know where to pay."
"Probably over there at that seven foot four wall of flesh and muscle that's staring at you."
John turned to his left. A man was frowning at them, holding what looked like a notebook. He didn't look happy.
"You know," said Rodney thoughtfully while rubbing his wrists, "a waiter can always tell when he's about to be gypped. The people walk into the restaurant with this aura about them, and he knows he's either screwed, or he's about to dish out a free meal."
"I'm not screwed."
"Then try a table dance. Better chance of getting the money that way than pulling it out of your ass. Either way, I doubt they're gonna let me leave without you paying."
"Looks like you're stuck here for a while, then." He shrugged off Rodney's sudden glare. "I'm serious! I've got nothing."
"Don't suppose they have dishes around here to wash."
"Nope."
"Rocks to shatter?"
"Doubt it."
"I'm so screwed."
"Look," John reached out and grabbed Rodney by the arms, pushing him back against a stone wall. "Sit. I'll go back to the jumper, see if there's something to sell."
"Like what? MRE's?"
John suddenly smiled.
Rodney sank to the ground. "Three degrees and I still don't know when to shut up," he sighed.
He wasn't any happier that evening when the colonel finally returned. "Let's go," John said, rather cheerfully.
"Which ones?" Rodney asked miserably.
"Chicken and noodles, meatloaf, beef stew, and your jar of peanut butter."
Rodney hurried to catch up with him. "Are you completely deranged? Do you have any idea how long it took to have that okay'd through Caldwell? No personal food stock, he says, it all has to be stored in the kitchens. Bullshit. I had to go debug his personal laptop as payment, and you do NOT want to know what that man keeps on his machine."
"You could stay here," John said calmly.
Rodney huffed. "What did you get for it?"
"Enough for room and board for three nights. Food included."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Nope."
"You didn't tell them it was food, did you?"
John smiled. "Nope." And he kept walking.
"I'm not asking, I'm not asking, I don't want to know because it'll get me killed . . ." Rodney followed.
"Besides, we gotta get you a shirt, and that takes money." He frowned at the reddened shoulders. "Seems you'd have sense enough to stay out of the sun."
"It was fine the first, oh let's see, two hours you were gone! But the sun moved, and I couldn't."
"They thought you'd run?"
"Of course."
"And I think you'll find that the planet moved, not the sun."
"Shut up."
John ignored him, but felt bad for him just the same. He pointed to a large building in the distance which looked more like a pile of dangerously stacked rubble. "There we are."
Rodney balked. "That's it?"
"Looks like."
"Can't we camp out in the jumper?"
"Kinda hard to find Lorne if were hiding."
"Scanner sweep."
"Been there, remember?"
"Adjust it."
"For what? To pick up a cute brunette?"
"As flattered as I'm sure he'll be by the comment, I was actually talking about calibrating it so that it picks up any evidence of an ATA gene."
John stared. "And you're thinking about this now?"
"Sorry." Rodney's face fell slightly. "Just occurred to me."
"Must be comic book guilt," John sighed. They stopped at the stairs leading to the small porch. "We're here now, let's at least get some rest. Can't head back out tonight anyway, no moon. Wouldn't be able to see a thing, and I'm not about to show our flashlights, or we'll end up selling those too."
"Agreed," Rodney sighed. But he hesitated outside the door.
"What?" John stuck his head back out, and frowned. "Oh. Shirt. Right."
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At least the bed was comfortable. More so than the tiny, itchy white shirt Rodney was forced to wear. The only problem was, the bed was either made for an infant or a newly married couple. Seeing as how they were neither, they lay side by side stiffly.
"Nice place," Rodney said sarcastically.
"Bit close."
"Bet if you sold your chocolate bar we could've had two beds."
"Can it, McKay."
The knock on the door prevented further conversation. It was followed by a startled Rodney landing on the floor as John jumped up, neither wanting to be caught in their unique position. The door opened, and a man peered in. "Hello?"
John wiped his hands on the back of his pants self-consciously as he pulled himself together. His instinct jumped to military defense mode. "Hello."
The man nodded and looked down expectantly at Rodney, who looked back at him from the floor. "Hi."
"Can we help you?" John pushed.
"What? Oh, yes, yes." He walked in and closed the door behind him. "I believe you might be looking for someone. Four men, actually."
"What makes you say that?" John asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"I overheard you talking, and he," the man gestured to Rodney, still on the floor, "called you Sheppard. The other man referred to a Sheppard, so I assume you are the same. It is an unusual name."
John took a few steps forward, cautiously regarding the new arrival. "You've seen them?"
"I have."
There was a hesitation. When no more information came, John asked testily, "Then where are they?"
"Sold. Not easy to get them out."
"All of them? All are in the same place?"
"Yes."
"Show me."
The man was backing toward the door as Rodney slowly rose to his feet. "I can not," he said weakly. "I can tell you where to find them, but I"m not going there myself."
"Why not?"
"I'd rather not say. You will be here in the morning?"
"Yes, if need be."
"I will have instructions. Do not leave until we talk again." And the man walked out.
Rodney sighed and climbed back into bed. "Terrific. We've graduated from Star Wars to James Bond. I think I know what to name this planet now."
"What's that?"
"Saturn," Rodney responded, pulling the thin covers over him.
"Why the hell. . ."
"The awards, you ass, since all the drama seems to play in real life out here."
"There's already a planet Saturn. Can't have two."
"Not in this galaxy."
"Oscar."
"What?"
"Oscar. You know, our version of the movie awards thing. Planet Oscar."
"And you said Ford couldn't name anything. Though I can imagine this planet stuck in a garbage can."
"Good night, Rodney."
Rodney sneered. "Good night, John-Boy. And do me a favor."
"What?"
"Keep your socks on."
