The Gulran fleet had been utterly decimated. Not a single ship had remained intact enough to even have a chance to get away from the devastation; the sheer destructive power of hundreds of ships firing their cannons on differing sides had been far too much for them, and now only fragments of wood, shredded pieces of canvas sails, and the bodies of the dead floated in the relatively still, shimmering waters. A salvage operation was currently underway to see if anything left of the enemy fleet could be of any use, but the few survivors that had been found were brutally murdered.
No matter how hard he searched the waters as he ran from one ledge to another, Rodney could see no recognizable sign of the flagship that had borne their friends to the battle, much less any of their remains. Carson sat still and silent. There were no patients screaming with the pain of their death throes, and his hands were not covered with blood. There were only the dead this time, and he felt like a failure. Not only had he allowed Te'Lan to use him to obtain the knowledge that he wanted from Rodney, but now he'd been used to lure his friends to their deaths in the darkness of the waters beneath the keel.
He would have no more of it. Pushing himself to his feet once more, he stood defiantly before the captain, whose gaze bore into his skull. "I'll not let ye use me ta manipulate Rodney or anyone else any more."
Te'Lan folded his arms across his chest and studied Carson astutely. "Ye have guts, I'll give ya that much. But I'm not quite done extracting information from yer friend yet. In fact, I'm fairly sure the Admiralty would be more than happy ta have a go at interrogating him themselves. He seems enough of a smartass genius ta me ta create the weapons we wanted for the ransom all by himself. That means you're expendable. I've no compunction ta kill ya, if that's what it takes."
Rodney blinked with shock and grabbed Carson's arm. "Have you completely lost your mind? They'll kill us!"
"It doesn't matter any more, Rodney!" Carson turned to look at him with stern seriousness, his normally bright blue eyes sunken and dark with grief and despair. "Don't ye see that? Did ye not hear what he just said was goin' ta happen to ye? The rest o' yer team, yer friends, are dead at the bottom of the ocean! As soon as we've told them all we know an' are not so useful any more, they'll kill us anyway! I'd rather he just get it over with."
"Carson…" The scientist thought about it for a few moments as he gazed at his friend sadly, then cast his eyes down at his feet and shut his mouth.
He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but at that moment, Carson wanted nothing more than just for all of it to be over with. He was tired of the pain that the bruises and infected cuts continually caused him, and he was tired of constantly being hungry, feeling helpless, and being forced to work and suffer for people that didn't care about him or the people he could help. "Rodney, I don't want ta be responsible for any more deaths."
"Get used to it, lad," Te'Lan remarked coldly, then turned to walk away back toward his quarters. "Life is full o' death an' cruelty. No one is above it, not even you or me."
The two off-worlders settled back against the main mast despondently, trying to stay out of the way of the crewmen that were hard at work making repairs and keeping the ship sailing smoothly toward Port Legacy. Hopelessness didn't suit Rodney, but he couldn't help but share Carson's despair. The outlook for their near future certainly didn't seem very promising, and at that moment, he had no argument to present otherwise.
John carefully managed to lift his eyelids, rousing slowly despite the brightness of the light that shone down from above. The last thing he remembered was being chained in the hold of the port-master's ship and struggling to break free of them as the hold filled with water. He didn't even remember losing his last breath and falling unconscious. But as he roused, he moved his hands a bit to regain feeling in them and heard the faint clink of metal on a hard floor beneath him. He was still wearing the chains.
Pushing himself stiffly into an upright sitting position, John lifted a hand to block the glaring light from his eyes so he could look around. Henry lay next to him, still unconscious, but more curious was the room. The walls had no windows and were fairly plain, as a prison cell block usually is, but they had the distinct design that he instantly recognized as being of Ancient origin. In fact, the cell that they were in was decidedly similar to those in the city of Atlantis itself.
But before he could contemplate further on how he had managed to get there, the cell door opened with a familiar whoosh and an old man dressed in white robes stepped through. He brandished an Ancient stunner weapon in his left hand and held a life-signs detector in his right.
"You're awake already," the old man whispered with some surprise, more to himself than anybody else in the room, and held out the life-signs detector for John to see. "Where did you get this?"
Feeling his front vest pocket and finding his detector missing, John could only assume that the old man had taken it from him when he was unconscious. "Why should I tell you?"
The old man didn't even flinch. "Because if you don't, I'll kill you."
John smirked and decided to test the waters. "If I have information you need, there's very little chance of that."
A slight, cruel grin crossed the old man's features. "I'm giving you the choice of either dying here and now or dying some time after you tell me what I want to know. It makes little difference to me which you prefer, except that if you tell me something of value, I may decide not to kill you right away. There are plenty of other test subjects for me to choose from regardless of your choice."
He got the distinct impression that the old man didn't care much for life. Not that any and every other Ancient he'd ever met before didn't seem like an arrogant ass, too, but this one seemed to lack any kind of compassion or kindness, even common courtesy. It was like he cared for nothing at all any more.
When John didn't immediately respond, he aimed the weapon carefully at John's chest. But before he could fire, Henry spun around where he lay and kicked out one of his legs, swiftly sweeping the old man off his feet. The weapon clattered along the floor toward the door, and John dove after it.
The old man was too weak to even get to his hands and knees before John had the weapon in hand. Panting with exertion, he lied back and waited for John to fire and attempt to escape.
"Who are you?" John asked authoritatively. "And what is this place?"
"I'm the last of a race long dead," the old man sneered weakly, but without concern. "You will not escape. This outpost's systems will only obey me."
"We'll see about that," John said as he headed for the door.
It opened for him easily, much to the old man's surprise. He gaped with amazement. "Impossible…"
"No, just improbable." John examined the consoles in the large room outside the cell, which were connected to an even larger room with an Ancient control chair. It was nearly identical to the Ancient outpost that had been left on Earth except for an adjoining laboratory off to another side. There were windows outside the cell, and John could clearly see that the outpost was under water.
"So that's how we got here," John reasoned aloud. "You pulled us out of the wreck. Why?"
The old man slowly pushed himself to unsteady feet. "I have been protecting the humans of this world from the Wraith for many generations, and I slept in the stasis chamber between their attempts at culling and the many phases of my research. But I thought the other Alterans had been destroyed long ago, yet here you stand before me."
John momentarily stopped his surveying. "I'm not an Alteran, but I have the gene. You didn't answer my question."
The old man wept for the fate of his race, but his face remained placid and impassive. "I have been performing experiments on these primitive humans for many, many years. You were to be my next test subjects."
"Primitive!?" Henry repeated indignantly.
John held up a hand to silence him, stepping forward. "What kind of experiments were you performing?"
"This outpost was meant for research," the old man replied casually, his eyes blank with the recall of memories long past. "I was still young when I first came here. I was tasked by the council with finding a way to make humans immune to the Wraith, but the council never bothered to check up on us; they were probably destroyed by the Wraith.
"And now, I'm the last of the scientists who were stationed here. I'm dying now, but our work was not in vain." He laughed uncaringly. "Unfortunately for my test subjects, the tests caused hallucinations, delusions, and paranoia. Most of them didn't live long, either, but seeing as though they'd have drowned anyway, they at least had a fighting chance."
Henry was aghast with shock and horror, and John raised the weapon he'd taken. "Your experimentation ends here and now."
The old man still exhibited no concern. "It doesn't matter any more. I'm dying, and once I'm dead, this world will once more be subject to the Wraith's cullings. Can you really stand there and say that my experimentation on just a few of these primitives who would've died anyway wasn't worth the protection and salvation of their entire civilization? I think not."
"Don't give me that line of crap," John sneered, taking a few more steps closer. "None of you Ancients ever ever seemed to care about the means to your ends, and I'm tired of it."
"If only you knew," the old man sighed with annoyance, moving slowly, almost imperceptibly, toward a control panel. "If you knew of the hardships and troubles we have gone through just to create your species, your kind should worship us as Gods."
"Some of us already do," John admitted, not fooled for a second. "Whatever you're planning, it won't work. Move any closer to that panel, and I'll shoot you."
The old man paused, taking a moment to gauge John's reflexes, and made his decision. He leapt for the panel with all the strength that was left in his frail body.
By the time Te'Lan had finally returned from his quarters, the salvage operation was almost complete. Not much had been found in the waters that had not sunk with the rest of the enemy fleet except for a few waterlogged bundles of food rations that had been left in a the broken hulls that were still left afloat. Jess had overseen the effort and had not uttered a word to the off-worlders. His mood and attitude were quiet and subdued, as if he knew what was to become of them. It left Rodney with a foreboding feeling that could not be shaken. He actually kind of liked the sailor, and he seemed to be liked in return considering the short time he had known them.
"Ya seem ta have magic aim with those cannons, McKay," Te'Lan said softly. "That'll come in handy in the battle tomorrow."
"Don't count on it," Rodney replied, his voice dripping with contempt. "I'm not helping you kill any more innocent people."
"So you're refusin' ta be of any more use then, are ya?" The captain circled them threateningly, smiling as if Rodney had said the funniest joke he'd heard in some time. "After yer friend's noble speech, I figured so."
Te'Lan removed his pistol from his belt and with his free hand motioned to Jess, who sighed and reluctantly fetched a short length of chain from a corner of the deck. "Bind the good doctor's feet and wrists."
Carson's wrists were bound behind him, and he was promptly forced to stand on the narrow ledge of the gunwalls while the thick chain was wrapped around his ankles. He nearly lost his balance twice, but managed to stand still enough not to fall as Jess finished binding him.
"You an' yer friend are the first men I've met who've ever dared ta defy me." Rodney began to tremble as Te'Lan spoke with an even and untroubled voice, pausing dramatically between sentences to gauge the resultant reactions. "The wandering spirits o' the sea that guide me warned me of ya. They said ye'd destroy me unless I killed the both o' ya first. And do ya know what they're whisperin' ta me right now? Do ya, lad?"
Rodney shook his head emphatically, his trembling increased. Even the rest of the crew had stopped what they were doing to listen, and their faces were full of fear. They'd never heard such omens from their captain before, much less heard him speak openly of the spirits that guided and confided in him. It was an unspoken secret of their captain that was most often ignored in favor of his ruthless nature and the competency he displayed in his position of leadership.
Te'Lan continued, completely serious and unfazed by the craziness of his words. "They're askin' me, nay, beggin' me ta send yer friend down ta meet them at the bottom o' the sea with a bullet in his chest, an' you along with him. So do ya intend ta change yer mind then, or no? This is the last chance I'm goin' ta give ya ta do so."
Rodney's eyes darted back and forth from Carson to the captain and back, and his lips trembled as Carson slowly shook his head with a firm expression. Finally, as his gaze faltered and fell to his feet, he whispered his answer. "No."
It was the answer that Te'Lan had expected, and thus there was no hesitation as he swiftly raised his pistol, aimed for Carson's chest, and then pulled back the hammer. "So be it. But don't worry, lad. You'll at least get ta meet yer friends at the bottom o' the ocean."
But before he could pull the trigger, Rodney cried out with protest and desperately lunged for the weapon. It went off with the loudest crack he'd ever heard in his life, echoing far into the distance across the waters.
Rodney crumpled to the deck with his hands protecting a section of his abdomen. Sprawling out on his back, he carefully lifted his hands only to find a steady stream of blood oozing across his stomach and onto the deck beside him. Looking up at his friend, who still stood on the ledge and struggled to free his wrists, he didn't hear Te'Lan's furious growl of anger, nor feel himself being hauled up to his feet by his neck.
Te'Lan effortlessly tossed him over the gunwalls, knocking Carson off the ledge with him in the process. Rodney saw Carson begin to sink from the weight of the chains. Without being able to kick his feet or move his arms, he knew his friend was a goner. Rodney kicked as hard as he could and just barely managed to catch one of his arms. He struggled to drag him up, and it sapped his energy. Rodney's feet and fingers grew cold and numb as their faces broke the surface of the water.
"Rodney!" Carson yelled between coughs as he heaved in breaths and spat water from his lungs. "Ye've got ta untie my arms an' legs, quickly!"
But Rodney had lost too much blood and was near unconsciousness already. "Carson… I… I can't…"
Carson drew in a great draught of air as Rodney's face paled, his eyes closed, and water engulfed them both.