The Price of Freedom – Part 4
Rodney McKay couldn't believe what he'd just agreed to do all in the name of trying to help one wayward colonel and, of course, getting himself off this poor excuse of a planet. He'd actually agreed to act as the couple's slave, which meant whenever they were out in public he had to be lowly and do as he was told. An impossible task at the best of times. They in turn had agreed to help him gather Intel and talk to the others of their group about a possible journey through the Stargate.
The couple had gone to great lengths to explain, what was in Rodney's humble opinion, the terrible social structure that made up this pathetic world. It was a society formed out of the lazy notion that menial work like trending the fields, cleaning the house, washing clothes, cooking, building and many other similar tasks should be done by lesser beings. Hence the need for slaves. It smacked a little of a weird version of the Roman Empire, without all the conquering and set in a pre-technological society circa 1800.
Then there was the question of the Wraith. Tandara's solution reminded Rodney so much of the callous Olesian people with their penal system of sacrificing prisoners. Only this time, it wasn't prisoners but unwanted or unruly slaves who were left to die on the feeding grounds. According to Jonah, the system had been in place for a long time, and the Wraith seemed to be satisfied with the arrangement and had left them in peace.
Rodney had cringed at the thought of the feeding grounds, which weren't all that near to the town but still too close for comfort. Then there was the question of Sheppard who no doubt would quickly become an uncontrollable slave.
Thoughts of Sheppard having to face the Wraith again left McKay feeling physically sick as he began to nose around the house. Rodney groaned when he looked at the well placed oil lamps and realised that they weren't even in the electricity stage yet. Meaning, he had absolutely nothing to work with.
That would explain everything and it was all beginning to make sense now as Jonah and Majel had had no concept of Rodney's occupation when he had told them exactly what he did after they had mistakenly believed him to be a doctor of medicine. He had actually seen confusion and then real disappointment in their eyes.
Somebody should have warned McKay before coming out to the Pegasus galaxy, as Rodney had had the illusion that any societies that they encountered would be at least equal to Earth's if not more advanced.
"What's the use of diplomas and degrees when faced with a society like this?" he muttered before moving towards the staircase with the intent of investigating upstairs.
"I beg your pardon, Dr. McKay?" Majel asked him as she descended the wooden stairs carrying a simple candle for light.
Rodney had the grace to look slightly embarrassed as he shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, just thinking aloud. Don't mind me. You wanted something?"
"Yes, just to tell you that I have made up a room for you and that this is our usual time to retire for the night."
Rodney would have looked at his watch if he still had it. Instead, he settled for a short nod. "Lead the way."
Majel remained silent as she led him into a small but tidy bedroom furnished with an extremely comfortable looking bed, a small dresser with a chair, water jug and washing bowl, and heavens forbid what looked like a chamber pot. Rodney hadn't even thought about the toilet since he hadn't needed one yet. A vision of a little outdoor hut with a heart craved into the door came to mind. They were even more primitive than he thought.
Majel followed his eyes when they settled on the chamber pot and she smiled for the first time. "Oh, that is just for decoration. The bathroom is over the landing on the right."
McKay let out of sigh of relief before bidding her goodnight.
-SGA-
Bone chilling cold pulled Sheppard from his restless sleep. He thought he heard scraping noises not far from his cot but the darkness was impenetrable. Visions of giant rats or large bugs came to mind. He shivered as he pulled the meagre blanket closer to his head and stared into the dark. "Stop acting like some frightened kid," he chastised himself aloud. Anymore of this and he was in danger of losing his mind.
John had already lost count of how long he'd been here. Some terrible tasting gruel and insipid water had been pushed through a small gap at regular intervals but apart from that, he'd had no contact to anyone since his arrival. At first, he'd tried to eat the gruel but it came back almost the minute it hit his stomach. Since then, the smell alone made him gag.
He wasn't sleeping well and his aches and pains had worsened due to the positively unsanitary conditions of his imprisonment. During the lighter periods, which were short at the best, he'd investigated every nook and cranny of his prison but it was solid built and totally secure. So unless things changed soon, he was truly in danger of dying from starvation or illness, which didn't explain why Karakus had paid good money for him only to leave him to rot?
-SGA-
Gallus Karakus liked to think he was a benevolent owner. Of course, if he listened to his slaves that illusion would have been squashed in a matter of seconds. Lying comfortably on his massive and plush bed, he stretched his overweight frame as his slaves rushed around to serve him his morning repast of plentiful fruits and pastries.
Licking his fingers after a particularly tasty morsel, he decided that it was time he introduced his new acquisition to life as a slave. He hated waste and he had paid good money for the stubborn fool. Although, if the stupid man wasn't more amenable after his stint in the dungeon, then he would quickly find himself back there.
Summoning his guards, he ordered them to bring the new slave to his reception room after they had washed him and made him more presentable.
-SGA-
John sat listless, almost too fragile to stay upright. His hunger was so strong now that he even contemplated trying to kill the collection of rat like creatures that congregated around the latest offering of mushy slops. They seemed to find it appetising enough but the very sight of it was making John's stomach turn. Not that he had anything in his stomach to bring back up.
His weight was dropping fast from his slim frame and if they didn't provide him with a decent meal soon, he'd look like one of the poor souls liberated during the Bosnian War. It also left him feeling as weak as a kitten. That was the one thing John hated the most because it made him feel extremely vulnerable.
His life was definitely at an all time low and he wondered if it could possibly get any worse. Of course, just as he thought that, he heard the distinctive turn of the lock as the door was opened for first time since he'd been thrown in here. Lethargically lifting his head, John saw two large guards walk over to stand before him.
They didn't give John a chance to move as they grabbed him by his neck collar and pulled him out of the cell. He gave no resistance as the guards continued to drag him along several dark corridors and up a flight of stone stairs into a washroom of sorts.
The unexpected exercise left Sheppard standing on rubbery legs and he swayed precariously as one of the guards pushed him roughly into a stall with what looked like a primitive showerhead up in the ceiling.
"You sink," The guard commented, "Wash yourself before you are taken before your Master."
John tried to regain his balance but ended up slumped against the stall's rough brick wall. He righted himself with some difficulty and glared at the man. "How did you expect me to keep clean in those unsanitary conditions?"
"Watch your mouth, slave, or you will find yourself back there." The guard murmured, dangerously. Then unexpectedly, the man softened his attitude. "Look, if you want to survive and eat proper food, just do as you are told. Otherwise, things will get very nasty indeed. The Master does not tolerate disobedience."
With those words, he left John to remove his dirty clothing, but at least this time he was being allowed to wash himself.
The link chain had been moved before John had been thrown into the dungeon, but the heavy metal manacles remained along with the neck collar giving John a constant reminder of his situation. He figured he had a choice, either co-operate and get some food and maybe some better living quarters or stay obstinate and end up back in the dungeon. It was a real dilemma and he couldn't make up his mind about it. On one hand, he desperately needed something inside him. Nevertheless, to bow and scrape to someone like Karakus was something that he just couldn't do without losing face and his stubborn pride. So, as he attempted to scrub his sore and bruised body with shaky hands, he decided to see how the situation panned out.
A while later, freshly clothed and smelling slightly more human, John was dragged to stand before his master. He felt a morsel of strength return at the sight of the man and he attempted to stand straight and proud. If only his knees would stop shaking from hunger and he didn't faint, then he could stand up to the awful man sitting on his throne like some almighty king surrounded by his humble slaves. Karakus certainly presented a picture of callous arrogance while surrounded by brash décor and glittery bad taste.
Of course, it got off to a bad start from the word go. Once again, John was ordered to kneel and he stubbornly made no effort to comply. Then his body decided to betray him when John suddenly felt extremely light-headed and he went crashing to his knees without his willingness. Strangely, this action seemed to satisfy Karakus who took the event as a submission. Little did he know?
Karakus looked down his nose at John with an absolute air of contempt before saying. "I knew a few turns in the dungeon would make you a more willing subject. Now we must decided what you are good at and into which area you can best be put to work. If you satisfy me, you will receive regular meals and a clean bed to sleep in."
John looked up but made no comment as Karakus began to rub his podgy cheeks. "You are a little on the skinny side, but I suppose you are not bad to look at under that unruly hair and stubble. We will have to see about removing that."
John froze, wondering what the man had in mind. His stubbly beard could go but not his hair. A sudden silly thought rushed into his mind. What if they shaved off his hair and then he and Rodney were rescued. McKay would have a field day. It didn't bear thinking about. But wasn't he being a little vain? He really had far more important things to worry about right now then whether his hair remained the same. Nevertheless, it was his hair and no way were they touching that. He loved his hair the way it was. Although at the moment without his hair gel and a decent shampoo, it was rather on the floppy side and dull looking.
Thank goodness, Karakus squashed John's fears with his next sentence, "Although, we hardly need to worry about what you look like when you are digging in my gold mine."
It took a second or two for John's starved mind to register the words. Hunger could do that. Maybe his hair was safe but it didn't look like the rest of his body would not come off so lightly. John didn't want to beg to the repulsive man but the gold mine didn't sound like a good option. Not at all, so he said. "I'm good at repairs. You name it, I can fix it." John cringed, realising how pathetic that sounded.
The words didn't seem to motivate Karakus into a decision. He looked down at John while resting his hand on his double chin. "Ummm … what was your occupation before you were brought into my glorious service?"
John frowned and looked at him seriously. The man had to be kidding. There was no way John would tell this pumped up idiot his true status, but his stomach chose that particular moment to growl very loudly as if begging him not to rebel. However, John couldn't resist. "I was a free man."
"Well you are not free now!" Karakus shouted. "And if you know what is good for you, you will work hard for me! Is that understood?"
John narrowed his eyes. "I was a free man but I need to eat, so while I'm your … guest, I'll work for my dinner."
"My guest?" Karakus spluttered, making his jowls quiver. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"A free man." John repeated, knowing that he'd probably just forfeited his dinner and maybe even his life.
However, surprisingly, Karakus merely grunted. "We will see how free you are after you have been here for a while. Now I am warning you, slave, anymore of this insolence and you will be punished and given the worst possible job that I can find." Then without another word, Karakus flicked his hand and ordered the guards to take John from his presence.
-SGA-
Still feeling somewhat light-headed, John staggered between the two guards as they led him down yet more long passageways that all looked alike with plain grey stonewalls and extremely small windows. After what felt like a marathon to Sheppard, they finally arrived in what was obviously the slave living quarters. The accommodation wasn't much to look at with its narrow beds spaced closely together and the predicable cold looking grey walls but it was like the Hilton compared to the dungeon. In the middle of the room sat a long wooden table with fifteen or so chairs placed around it. Several other rooms seemed to lead off from this one but the guards dumped John on a bed furthest from the main door.
The guard who had spoken to John earlier pulled up a chair and sat down to face him. "Take my advice, slave. Do not cross the Master ever again. You are lucky that he did not have you thrown back in the dungeon for your insolence." The man stopped to turn and point to one of the doorways. "Through there is the cooking room. If you go now, Sirena will give you some bread and water until it is mealtime. The Master has yet to assign work for you, but believe me he will do so in the next day or two, so eat and get your strength back. If you are heading for the mine you will certainly need it."
The guard quickly stood and pushed the chair back. However, before departing, he warned John. "This is your new home now, slave, so get used to it. Oh, and if you think you can escape, then think again. There is no way out of this fortress. All exits are guarded both day and night. The windows are barred, the doors are locked and the walls are built of solid stone. The penalty for even trying to escape is death." The man suddenly bent down to face John, looking him straight in the eye. "I know your type, they never give up. But let me tell you this, every last one of them has ended up in an unmarked grave." With that, the man grunted and left.
John watched him go with a defiant scowl before carefully easing himself up and heading for the indicated room. It turned out to be a largish kitchen with an open cooking range. A woman stood before the stove preparing vegetables and throwing them into a large black pot. It was difficult to tell how old she was from the back, but once she turned to face John, it was obvious that she was at least sixty years or so.
She stood scrutinising him for a few seconds. "My goodness, sit down before you fall down, son," she advised, pointing a wooden stool placed off to one side. John moved over to it and gratefully lowered himself as the woman turned back to her work. "I will be with you in a minute. I just have to finish this."
The smell of the food was making John feel dizzy and he wondered just how long he could continue to stay upright. Thankfully, the woman quickly finished and pressed a chunk of bread into his hand. "Nibble on that for a minute while I make you some broth."
John did as suggested, although the bread stuck in his throat. "Could I have some water please?" he requested.
"Oh, yes, of course. How silly of me, I am sorry," she apologized, quickly giving him a glass of water before turning back to the stove. "What is your name, son?"
"John."
"That is a nice name. I will not say welcome because I am sure you do not want to be here anymore than the rest of us. By the way, my name is Sirena."
John gratefully took a sip of the water. It washed the bread down, which made him feel a little better. Putting the class aside for a minute, he looked up at the woman and noted her haggard but friendly face. "The guard already told me," he murmured. "Have you been a slave for long?"
She turned and looked at John sadly. "Nearly all my life."
John swallowed hard. He could never imagine a life of servitude under a man like Karakus. "Have you always served that slime pot of a man?"
Sirena threw an anxious glance towards the door before turning back to him. "Be careful what you say, people have lost their lives or a limb for saying less. However, to answer your question, I was once in the service of a kinder couple but after they died, their awful cousin sold me to Karakus. Alas, I have been in his service ever since. That has been for many years now. I have kept my peace, done my work and I live, but I long to see the world beyond this prison just one more time before I die."
John could very well understand that. "I hope you do, Sirena," he whispered.
She gave him a huge smile before quickly turning back to the stove. "Now let's get some food inside that slim frame of yours, son. I have a feeling you are going to need all the strength you can find."
John nodded and he realised that at least he had found one ally amongst the foe.
tbc
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