Thanks for all the great and encouraging reviews! I'm glad your interests are piqued by this concept... mine too. LOL ;)
Concern wormed its way into Elizabeth's thoughts as she lifted her head and turned in her chair towards the inactive gate. John and his team had been due to check in almost a half hour ago. Off-world, John was never casual on protocols; he always checked in on time, so as the thirty minute mark approached, Elizabeth gave in to her concerns. Pushing away from her desk, she strode out into Ops and stopped in front of Chuck. "Any word from Colonel Sheppard's team?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
Chuck shook his head. "No. Nothing." "Dial the planet," she ordered almost immediately and turned, walking over to the balcony's railing. She watched as the wormhole flushed into existence before tapping her headset. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Weir, do you copy?" She waited a tense moment, before looking at Chuck who shrugged.
"Transmission is getting through, ma'am," he responded.
Elizabeth nodded. "Colonel Sheppard, please respond." As silence greeted her inquiry she shook her head. She locked gazes with Chuck. "Have Major Lorne report to Ops immediately."
"Yes, ma'am," Chuck turned and activated the city wide communications system before hailing the Major.
Elizabeth stared at the active wormhole. John… what's going on? The colonel's lack of response did nothing to comfort her and deep inside she knew, without a doubt, that something was wrong.
Within a few minutes, Major Lorne appeared at her side. "Ma'am?"
She turned a serious expression on him. "Major, Colonel Sheppard's team missed a check in and is not responding to hails."
Lorne nodded. "Do we have MALP telemetry?"
Elizabeth looked back at Chuck who nodded. "Stand by," he responded, "pulling up the MALP's camera now."
Shoulder to shoulder with Lorne, Elizabeth started at the large display screen. She squinted at the empty and apparently serene field that greeted her gaze. "Everything looks normal."
Lorne nodded. "Yes, ma'am, at least as far as the MALP can see." Lorne straightened. "Permission to take a team though the gate to find Colonel Sheppard?"
Elizabeth sighed. Just because they couldn't see anything threatening, didn't mean it wasn't there. Sheppard's failure to respond only confirmed that suspicion.
"Ma'am," Lorne said quietly, "Colonel Sheppard and his team could be in trouble. I'm willing to take the risk, and I know my team feels the same way." Lorne took one step closer to her. "Let us go," he said quietly.
Elizabeth sighed before looking at him and nodding slightly. She watched as Lorne briskly headed for the back stairs and disappeared, hoping she hadn't condemned him to the same, uncertain, fate.
----------------------
John stepped through the wormhole and into bright, hot, sunshine. He inhaled, his nose wrinkling at the arid breath of desert air. Around him, sand dunes lined the narrow path they followed towards a massive, domed structure situated not far from the gate. "Hot," John commented absently, earning himself a warning grunt from one of the guards. He glared back for a moment before falling silent.
They entered a massive archway and John's eyes narrowed at the sight that met his gaze. Laid out before him was a huge, sanded arena. Elevated above it were scattered seats but nothing like what the Romans called a coliseum. While the structure was easily big enough to accommodate thousands, there were only a handful of seats carved out of sheer stone walls. As John thought about things, it made sense though. Most Wraith were the seemingly mindless soldiers; worker ants, who just did the bidding of the others. Surprisingly few Wraith were actually fully sentient beings… at least it seemed that way from the intelligence they'd managed to gather so far, and even less of those had actual clout and influence. If all they needed was to accommodate an alliance of queens and their close advisors, no more was needed. John's thoughts were interrupted by one of the guards who shoved him roughly with the butt end of his stunner. John staggered before turning left.
Lined along the wall of the structure were a series of cells, constructed of the same webbed material they'd see before on hive ships. Each contained a small number of humans; men and women of all different sizes and colors, each of them wearing expressions varying from hopelessness to guarded defensiveness. The prisoners stared at him and his group as they were led down an aisle way in front of the cells. The Wraith stopped in front of one cell and silently commanded the door to open, before the guards shoved John and his team in and closed the door.
John spared a moment to glare at the retreating backs of the Wraith, before he looked around at the cell's occupants. Unmoving, ten sets of eyes stared back at him. "Uhh.. hi." His roaming gaze fixed on one man who stepped forward.
About the same height as John, but of darker skin, the man sauntered up to the team. A patch covered his left eye, but his right eye narrowed and he stood toe to toe with John, as if measuring him up.
Holding his gaze even, John returned the look. He'd seen men like this before; strong both of physically and mentally and always looking for those traits in other people. John's instincts left him with no doubt that this man was dangerous, but he wasn't sure of his intentions and wouldn't act until he knew. Just because he was dangerous, didn't make him bad. Hell, Ronon was living proof of that. He quirked a brow. "Name's John."
The man grunted quietly, before looking past John, his gaze fixing on Teyla. A subtle, but leering, smile turned up one side of his mouth.
John could feel the tension from Teyla as the man took a step towards her. Instantly, John blocked his path, his expression unwavering. "Don't think so."
The patched man returned his gaze to John. "Women like her do not last long here… unless they earn the right to stay alive… and untouched." He looked back at Teyla. "She's soft and warm," he leered, "and many of us have been here a long time."
"Lay one hand on her and I'll rip your heart out with my bare hands," Ronon interjected as he stepped up shoulder to shoulder with John.
John glanced at Ronon out of the corner of his eye for a moment before looking the other direction as Rodney quietly joined them, forming a line in front of Teyla.
The man's gaze shifted to Ronon. "You can't protect her forever," he stated plainly.
Ronon moved one step closer to him. "Is that a challenge?"
"While I welcome the assistance," Teyla interrupted as she walked around Rodney, "do not fool yourself into believing that I cannot take care of myself." Though significantly shorter than the man, she still glared at him confidently.
His chortle at her statement was quiet before he looked back at John. "You lead them." His statement held no note of questioning.
John quirked one brow. "Yeah, I do. And if you want to be alpha male in some damned pissing match that fine with me. I really don't care. You leave my people alone, we leave you alone. Simple as that." He fought a wince as the man – John decided Patch was as good a name as any - leaned in closer, his breath putrid.
"We'll see."
John deepened his glare, mentally boring a hole through the man's head. "Yeah," he answered quietly, "we will."
Patch stared at him a moment longer before turning and walking back to a corner of the cell. A few other men milled around him, their voices hushed. John's eyes left him and settled on two women sitting behind the group of men, their eyes downcast and body language shouting of defeat. He didn't need to talk to them to know that somehow, they belonged to Patch and his boys, in more ways than one. A glimmer of sympathy passed through John before he smothered it. As much as he wanted to help, three years in this galaxy had taught him that he can't help everyone. It was a realization that would've wrecked havoc on his sanity, if he hadn't found a way, a long time ago, to focus on his team's well being. For anyone else, he'd help where he could, but for his team, he'd always be there. That compromise helped him sleep at night in a galaxy that was imperfect at best. But if they try something while I'm around… He amended his stance slightly.
John tore his eyes from the two women and turned away, leading his team to a vacant corner opposite of Patch's group.
John eased himself down to the dirty floor and leaned against the wall. His gaze briefly met Teyla's and she nodded slightly in gratitude.
"What now?" Rodney whispered loudly.
John sighed and exchanged grim looks with Ronon. "Well, we're imprisoned and cut off from the gate, waiting to be pulled into the Round to fight. Atlantis has no idea where we are and God knows where our GDOs are anyways even if we could get to the gate in the first place."
"You forgot the transmitters in our backs," Rodney hissed. "You're not exactly garnering confidence here…"
John's quiet chortle was dark and cynical. "First things first. We need some sort of plan to get out of here and then we need to find a way to get rid of these transmitters so we can move undetected and not have the Wraith follow us off world. Without GDO's we can't gate directly to Atlantis, but we'll gate to New Athos. From there we can radio Atlantis and use one of the Athosian IDCs."
"Oh, is that all?" Rodney snapped. "You do realize you're making an anthill out of a mountain here?"
John stopped short of a reply as he caught sight of Ronon's glower; fixed on Patch. He sighed quietly recognizing the look. "Leave it alone, big guy."
Ronon's eyes slowly moved to meet John's. "All I need is one shot." A dark, almost eager half smile flashed over his face.
"No." John's eyes narrowed. "You're not gonna do a damn thing unless you have to."
"He won't lay a hand on me," Ronon objected confidently.
"I'd rather not have to prove that point," John added an extra note of firmness to his voice. "Look, in order to get out of here, we're all going to need to be mobile and healthy. No unnecessary risks," he pointed at Ronon for emphasis. "I mean it."
Ronon stared hard at John for a moment. "If he tries something…"
"All bets are off," John finished with a nod.
"You better be ready to defend that."
The voice surprised him and John turned, his gaze meeting one of a woman in the next cell. Her clothing, like everyone else's was tattered but from the direct look she gave him, John didn't doubt for a second she was strong and capable. The Round notwithstanding, with characters like Patch around, she'd have to be.
"Still," she continued, "I'm sure the woman," she inclined her head in Teyla's direction, "appreciates it. She'll need all the help she can get against those men."
Her shoulder length hair could be brown or black; with the dirt he couldn't tell, but she carried herself with an air of confidence. "Della," she said, pointing to herself.
John's expression was guarded but he answered her none the less. "John." He gestured at each of his teammates. "Ronon, Teyla and Rodney."
Della's gaze narrowed. "I've seen a few like you come through here." Her gaze flicked momentarily to Patch before returning to John. "You had better be always be alert with him," she nodded in Patch's direction, "around." "The women with him," Teyla asked quietly, "they are…" "Gifts," Della answered. "The one with the eye patch: he is good in the Round… very good. The Wraith reward him with the women. They'll be with him and his boys tonight and the Wraith will take them away tomorrow." She guffawed cynically. "Their absence gives those boys incentive to fight better… they fight well, the women are brought back." She waved absently. "The women are not fighters. They stand no chance against him." She looked down a second before once more meeting John's gaze. "He easily has his way with them."
"Oh my god," Rodney muttered.
John's gaze narrowed. "Not while I'm around," he answered with conviction. There were many things he'd let go, but rape wasn't one of them.
Della's eyebrows quirked. "You say that now, but after fighting in the Round again… and again, you will soon only have the strength, or the desire, to care for yourself."
"Don't be so sure," Ronon answered.
A dark, half smile crossed Della's face. "I am only sure from experience," she answered. "The food is scarce and the fights are long and many. It will take all of your strength to survive."
"Do you fight, Della?" Teyla asked.
Della nodded once. "Yes." Her gaze hardened. "I am no man's gift and those that have tried, have paid dearly for their misconception."
Something akin of respect crossed Teyla's expression and she nodded. "Then we have much in common."
"Tell me about the Round," John asked. He had to know what his people were up against and he needed to know now.
"It is physical combat," Della answered. "The queens of this alliance enjoy watching us fight each other. Sometimes the duels are to the death, but it is uncommon for the Wraith to order it. They do not believe in wasting such a ready food supply," she added sarcastically, "although they will not move to stop such fights from happening. Many a hate between two fighters has been settled in the Round." She took a deep breath. "Mortal injuries are common and the victims are fed upon before they die so as not to waste their lives… as are those who suffer crippling injuries that rob them of the ability to fight." Her gaze narrowed. "If you wish to survive, you must not only stay alive in a fight, but you must avoid serious injury as well, which will prove to be very difficult," she stated, matter-of-factly. "Look around you, John. There are no injured fighters."
"What do we fight with?" Ronon questioned. "Knives? Swords?"
"Both," Della answered, "amongst other things such as staffs, nets and maces. If you have not fought with such weapons before, then I sincerely hope you are fast learners, for there are no practice spars. You either fight, or you are defeated; uninjured if you're lucky. If you do not fight well, the Wraith will often feed upon you." Her tone turned cynical. "They demand the fights be of quality. Those that cannot fight, or will not fight, do not live for a second chance or to reconsider their decision."
"Great." John felt Ronon's eyes on him and he met the Satedan's gaze.
"Sheppard?"
"John sighed. "I'll figure it out… if I have to."
"This is so not good," Rodney lamented. "Have you ever picked up a sword in your life?"
"No," John shrugged, "but give me a knife or sticks and I'll do pretty good." He straightened slightly. "Why do you think I've been sparring with you two?" He looked first to Ronon then Teyla.
Ronon chuckled quietly.
"You do not get your choice of weapons, John," Della continued, "at least not at first. Those who have proven themselves are allotted that one luxury. The rest of us fight with whatever we're given… whatever strikes the queens' fancies."
"Doesn't matter what you give me, I'll fight with it." Ronon answered resolutely. "Weapons don't matter half as much as who's wielding them." Della's mouth slowly turned up in a respectful smile. "Well said."
John looked away, unable to ignore the nervous knot in his stomach. He was a modern soldier, trained to use modern weapons. Sure, hand to hand combat and self defense with a knife were still basics every soldier learned and he was pretty advanced in his training but swords? Maces? Nets? He had no doubt Teyla and Ronon would do fine; they were right in their element. Give Teyla a staff and she'd mop the Round with just about anyone that confronted her. Same with Ronon but him? John let his anger at the Wraith permeate his body and drive away the doubt. He'd find a way to fight. Looks like the sparring sessions are going to come in handy….
"Sheppard."
Ronon's quiet voice pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up as four guards and Harry walked towards their cell.
"They don't waste any time," Della muttered. "At least one of you fights. Now."
John and his team stood as Harry ordered the cell door open. He spared a quick glance at Patch who kept his distance from the Wraith, eyeing it with silent rage before John looked back at the male who leered at him.
"When we are ready, take the woman and the Runner," Harry said confidently and turned. "Along with those two," he gestured at two men in the next cell, before he turned and walked away, leaving the guards in his stead. John quickly assessed the two opponents chosen for his people's fight. They were lean and tall, both showing hints of agility and strength. "Damn it," he muttered.
Rodney edged up beside John. "There's got to be something we can do." "I'm open to suggestions," he answered with a frustrated sigh.
"Best news I've heard all day," Ronon quipped darkly as he fixed an eager and but cold smile on his opponents who stared silently back.
"Not me," John groused. But before he could say anymore, one of the guards grunted and pointed his stunners at them. Before either Teyla or Ronon could move, John stepped in front of them and fixed both of them with an intense stare. "Look, I'm not crazy about the idea of killing or wounding anyone in the Round. We're all in the same boat here, but," he lowered his voice, "I want the two of you back here alive and uninjured. That's an order. Do whatever you have to do to follow it." John looked first to Ronon, who still held the confident, but dark look he seemed to carry into every battle, before switching his gaze to Teyla who held tightly to a resolute, strong expression. John pulled in one, deep frustrated breath as his mind raced, searching for some way to get his people out of this, but he found none.
"It is all right, John," Teyla reassured. "We will be fine."
"Walk in the park," Ronon commented.
John shook his head in dark humor. "You've watched too many movies." He jumped slightly as the guard rapped his stunner on the cell and grunted again. Slowly, John stepped aside watching as Ronon and Teyla, along with their opponents, were led to the Round.
