The Price of Freedom - Part 2
The following days went by in a haze. No one came except to bring him fresh water and surprisingly, halfway decent food, which he ate in order to regain his strength and not because he was hungry. And having no other choice, John had been forced to use the bucket to take care of the necessaries. He was thankful that it had been changed at regular intervals.
Whenever someone came into his cell, John tried asking questions but they stubbornly remained silent. This added to his frustration, as his memory still hadn't returned. Although, the occasional flash of a lost recollection would quickly pass before he could grab hold of it, but at least it gave John some hope that it would all come back to him, eventually.
John lost count of time as the days continued to flow by and he was baffled by the seemly short length of the day. Unless he was drifting and sleeping more than he realised, the light in his cell seemed to go by quicker than normal. This made him wonder what country he was being held in, and his poor brain had been working overtime trying to figure out who still practised slavery. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn that he'd been adducted by alien invaders, but this didn't fit in with people's accounts of little grey men on late night talk shows. John smiled at that thought as he settled onto the hard bed for yet another cold night. I have to keep a sense of humour or I'll go nuts, he thought before shutting his eyes.
He slept soundly that night and morning came quickly but not with the usual routine as several people entered his cell armed with fresh clothing and soapy water. Before he knew it, John was abruptly dragged from his bed and stripped of his clothing.
Like before, they washed him roughly but this time the pain wasn't as bad as most of his bruises were already healing and starting to fade. Once he was dry, they made him put on a fresh garment made of a slightly better material. It comprised of a close fitting tunic top in dark brown and pants in light beige. However, his feet were left bare.
As quick as they came they departed, leaving him alone with a plate of fresh bread and some fruit for breakfast. John swallowed it all even though in the pit of his stomach he knew something was about to happen.
He didn't have long to wait before two guards returned to hustled him roughly out of the cell. They quickly escorted him into an enclosed courtyard, which sported some very high smooth stonewalls making escape impossible.
This was John's first time out in the open since the whole fiasco had begun. The bright light of the overhead sun caused him to squint and shield his eyes, but it gave him little in the way of comfort or warmth.
Before he really had the chance to take note of his surroundings, the guards grabbed him again and held him tightly as his wrists were firmly secured with two heavy metal manacles, which were joined by an extremely strong looking chain.
John protested loudly but that earned him a hefty slap across the back of his head before one of the men fastened a metal collar around his neck. Another guard then attached a chain to the collar and proceeded to pull John along like a dog on a leash. John tried to resist but the guard yanked him so hard that he stumbled and nearly fell as they passed through a large portal into a bustling street full of people seemingly going about their daily lives.
John continued to lurch and stagger behind the guard, totally mortified as people stopped to stare at him. Some showed pity while others gapped at him with contempt. Calming his nerves, John held his head high and stared back at them with defiance while trying not to fall flat on his nose.
Although it was difficult, he also managed to take in his surroundings as they travelled down the dusty road. There were rough stones and sand beneath his bare feet but as the doctor had said, this certainly wasn't Afghanistan. John's confusion grew more pronounced at the sight of some very unfamiliar looking buildings. Some appeared to be constructed of simple light grey stone while others were ornately carved out of some type of dark material in a design that he'd never seen before.
However, most puzzling of all were the people themselves. If this had of been Afghanistan, then John would have expected to see darker skinned people with black hair but everyone who passed him was fair or blond. Their clothing was unusual too as the women wore mainly ankle length skirts with tunic tops in subdued colours while the men were decked out in tunics not unlike the one he'd been made to wear.
So, John couldn't hazard a guess as to where on earth he was, but one thing for sure escape seemed to be impossible for now. Not only because of his bonds but also because of the two other guards that followed closely behind them. They were carrying some very strange, blade like weapons that looked like something out of an old Star Trek episode. This left John even more baffled.
The hike went on for about thirty-minutes until finally the guard came to a halt before a very impressive looking white stone building that reminded John of a sports arena. Several heavily armed people came out of a side door to greet them and John's guard started conversing in the strange language again. They chatted and laughed for several minutes before John was abruptly handed over to the strangers and dragged off into the building.
He was towed down several long, dimly lit and smelly corridors until eventually they arrived in a large area that was partitioned into what looked like holding pens. Each cell was divided by solid looking walls but the end facing the corridor had evenly placed metal bars running vertically along its length giving the captive a full view beyond. There must have been at least a fifty or so of these cramped cells and John noted that most seemed to be already occupied with pitiful looking men and women, some openly weeping while others were quiet and sardonic.
The guards continued to drag him onwards, passing cell after cell. John's bare feet had already suffered badly from the long trek and it would seem that they wanted to punish him further by taking him to the farthest cell. He stumbled one or two times when painful spasms shot up his leg. Each time he faltered, he was roughly pulled up by his collar, which cruelly dug into his neck.
Dizziness washed over him at one stage as the collar threaten to cut off his air supply, and over the din that roared in his ears, John thought he heard his name being called out. In vain, he tried to turn towards the sound, but he was abruptly yanked in the direction of a vacant cell, right at the end of the row.
Before John knew it, he was roughly pushed inside. He lost his balance and fell to the floor as the clang of the metal door being closed behind him, echoed loudly in his ears. Pain and fatigue kept him motionless for a while as he attempted to regain some strength. Eventually, he found the willpower to sit up and rub his sore and aching muscles. As his feet were covered in blisters and bleeding in places, John opted to crawl to the barred partition.
Although they had removed the heavy chain from his neck collar, the thing still dug cruelly into his neck when he strained to see beyond the cell. However, from his prospective at the end of the row, John could only see the two cells directly opposite his. Both where occupied by men, but John noted that neither wore the dreaded metal collar. I must have made quite an impression, he thought wearily. With nothing more to see, John sighed and settled down to lean back against the bars to wait for whatever came next. One thing for sure, it probably wasn't going to be a bed of roses and a very bad feeling crept into his bones.
John allowed himself to doze for the next hour or so, as nothing seemed to be happening. Then a sudden rattle of keys alerted him and brought him quickly to his senses. He looked up as the man he remembered as Tarmas entered his holding pen. Under the protection of several armed guards, Tarmas told John to stand up before cautiously moving over to him and removing the neck collar.
"If you behave yourself, slave, it will remain off," Tarmas advised before quickly departing.
"I am not a slave!" John shouted after him.
Rubbing his neck to ease the discomfort left by the collar, John was at least thankful for that small mercy. He liked to think that they had just made a huge mistake. Although, he still had no idea how he could escape from this situation. A sudden memory flashed through his mind. A memory of another time, of another escape plan with someone that seemed very different indeed, but before he could grab hold of the vision, it vanished, leaving him both frustrated and depressed.
John's depression increased when not long after the collar had been removed, people started to trail by his cell and gape at him as if he was some exhibit in a zoo. He decided to stay calm while he stared defiantly back at them.
However, when one particularly large and ugly man stood longer than necessary, John lost his cool and shouted. "As soon as I get out of here, I'm reporting you and your buddies to the human rights people. You hear me!" The man gave John an incensed look as if he was an idiot before walking away.
As more people came to gawk to him, John grew increasingly more confused by their remarks. Comments like, he looks like a troublemaker, too scrawny looking, odd hair, not much use to us, not worth anything, good-looking but too bad about the attitude. The observations went on and on until the prospective buyers grew thin on the ground.
John sighed and went to turn away when he thought he'd seen the last of them. However, a middle-aged couple suddenly stopped before his cell to give him a look of compassion. The woman suddenly spoke directly to him, the first person to have done so. "Please do not act so rebellious. If no one buys you, you will be sent away and used as Wraith bait."
Perplexed, John turned to look at her. "Wraith bait?"
"Yes." When John continued to look baffled, she said. "Do not tell me that you have never heard of the Wraith?
"No, I haven't. Look, I don't know what the heck is going on here but I'm Major John Sheppard of the United States Air Force. Can you please tell me which country this is and how I can contact the authorities or the US Consulate or anyone willing to help me?"
It was the woman's turn to look very confused. However before she could say anything, Tarmas came over and shouted. "Why are you two here? You do not intend to buy a slave so get out!"
The woman's companion spoke up for the first time. "That is no way to speak to us. How do you know we do not intend to buy today?"
"Because you never have and never will. I know what your game is. You come here and think you can save all these worthless pieces of human filth. Well, you are wrong. This trade has been going on for years because your people need slave labour and are willing to pay a good price for them."
The woman hung her head in shame. "That is true of some, but one day we and others like us hope to put a stop to it. These people were taken against their free will. Stolen from their homes and families, all because you and others like Marco Pollack are willing to deal in such a despicable trade." She stopped to take a breath. "For instance, where did you get this poor man from?"
Sheppard turned towards Tarmas, hoping to catch his answer, but all the man did was laugh. "Unfortunately, lady, this particular piece of filth has proven more trouble than he is worth. Despite being good to look at, no one has shown any interest in him, so it looks like he will be heading for the Wraith feeding grounds. A total waste of good money if you ask me." Tarmas muttered darkly before walking away to talk to some of his guards.
The couple looked anxious and murmured. "We are so sorry for you John Sheppard but there is nothing we can do for you and we must leave now."
John wanted to stop them and ask more questions but they quickly disappeared leaving him even more bewildered.
-SGA-
Over the following hour or so, the guards systematically removed people from their cells, a group at a time, until it was John's turn along with the last five prospective slaves.
They were lead into a large circular arena with raised tiered seating, four rows deep. Most of the seats were occupied with the same fair-skinned people that John had seen before. Apart from the spectators, buyers or whatever, several well-dressed men sat along a narrow wooden table placed near a small centre stage. Overseers or auctioneers, maybe? John wondered.
As there were still quite a lot of people ahead of him to be sold, John was forced to stand along one wall while a guard kept his weapon trained on him. Ever defiant, John ignored the guard as he quietly stood watching with utter revulsion as people were auctioned off, one by one.
In his opinion, the whole thing stank to high heaven and he couldn't believe that something like this went unnoticed by the authorities. Not in this day and age of high tech communication and spy satellites. He felt as if he was living through some kind of weird nightmare and he desperately hoped that he would eventually wake up from it.
At one point, he observed as a small group of men were ushered out of a side door to stand not far from his position. One of the men suddenly turned towards him and his face broke out with a sheer look of delight before he shouted. "Sheppard! Oh, thank god! When are you going to get us out of this?"
John stared at the man, perplexed as to why he should know him. He wanted to move towards the stranger but his guard poked him hard with his weapon. Not wanting any trouble, John turned away.
Dr. Rodney McKay couldn't believe that the colonel had just done that. What the hell was wrong with him? He tried shouting again, but Sheppard blatantly ignored him as if he was a total stranger. Rodney's blood ran cold. What if they'd done something to Sheppard? The memory of their capture was still very fresh on his mind.
It was supposed have been a routine mission but like so often was the case; things went down hill very fast. One moment the team had been walking through some woods minding their business on the way to look at some interesting ruins on MX5 879 and the next thing they knew, they were being attacked by a dozen or so rough looking men who popped up out of nowhere. The fight that followed had been fierce. Sheppard had taken out several of the ruffians before he'd been seemingly overwhelmed. Rodney had given it his best but had been quickly overcome and captured. Although, he had the distinct impression that at least Ronon and maybe Teyla had managed to get away. The last thing Rodney remembered, he was being pinned down by four burly men. He recalled seeing Sheppard still trying to fight his way to freedom before his world had clouded over and oblivion had taken him.
Over the next days or weeks, Rodney had been kept in a cramped little cell with no contact to anyone, but his guards. He had protested and had even demanded to be released. When that was ignored, Rodney had enquired after his team but no one had given him any information. And until today, he'd had no idea if anyone had survived with him.
Now he'd found Sheppard and the man wasn't reacting to his pleas. In a few minutes, Rodney knew he would be sold to the highest bidder and he had a feeling that that was Sheppard's fate too. With one last attempt to contact his team leader and friend, Rodney did something that he'd never done before --- he used the colonel's first name. Shouting as loudly as he could, he screamed. "John! For goodness sake it's me Rodney!" He was rewarded with a hefty slap from his guard.
John quickly turned as his Christian name was yelled out. He saw the man he'd seen before being brutally struck and then suddenly, like a flash, his memory returned. "McKay?!" he shouted.
Without a second thought, John shoved his guard aside and rushed over to knock Rodney's attacker away with his shackled hands. Then reaching down, he awkwardly helped Rodney to his feet, asking. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, fine. What was wrong with you?"
John looked at his friend. "I couldn't remember anything until a few minutes ago. How the hell did we get here?"
"We were ambushed---," But Rodney didn't get the chance to say anymore, as John was roughly dragged away from him. However, Sheppard wasn't having any of it. Turning around, he lashed out at the nearest guard with his chain, knocking the man off his feet before charging the next guard head-on and bowling him over.
More guards joined the fray, but John was in a fighting frenzy, knocking them left, right and centre as quickly as he could until finally, he was overpowered by sheer numbers.
-SGA-
Unbeknown to Sheppard, up in the tiered seating right at the very front sat the communities most feared and powerful man. He observed with great interest as events unfolded below him. Although, he had dismissed the slim man as uninteresting and crazy during the viewing period, it looked like he had been mistaken.
A sickly smile spread across his fat and ugly face as he continued to observe the prospective slave and his spirited fighting abilities. A smile born of the knowledge that an entertaining and interesting period was about to begin. Although, he had already purchased his quota of slaves, he would buy that man and take the greatest of pleasure in breaking him, bit by bit, until there was no fighting spirit left in his bones.
Further up, near the centre of the seating, the couple that John had spoken to earlier also observe the fight below. They watched as John Sheppard had shown concern for the shorter man whom they had already pinpointed as being extremely intelligent during the viewings. These two men were certainly very different from the usual souls that ended up here, and now the couple realised that they were connected somehow, friends or colleagues maybe?
The trouble was they only had a certain amount of funds to spend at each sale. The group they belonged to collected donations between the slave sales and then, when an auction took place, the members took it in turns to buy as many people's freedom as they could afford.
This was the first time that Jonah and Majel Sogan had even sat in the bidding zone and the decision on who to buy had been a difficult one. They had already decided to buy the intelligent man his freedom before they had even seen John. Now they prayed that their funds would stretch enough to purchase him too.
tbc
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