Elizabeth never left Ops as she waited for Lorne's team to check in, so when the gate activated and Lorne's hail came through, she immediately answered. "Major? What's the situation?"

"Ma'am," Lorne's voice was solemn. "The planet's been culled. My guess is the Colonel's team walked smack dab into it and couldn't get away. There's no sign of them beyond a concentration of P-90 shell casings in the woods not far from here. They made a hell of a stand but…"

Elizabeth closed her eyes, fighting the numbing shock that threatened to overwhelm her before nodding once. "Understood, Major," she forced strength into her voice, "return home." "Yes ma'am," Lorne agreed quietly. "Lorne out."

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth walked to the balcony overlooking the Gate Room. She grabbed the railing and squeezed hard as she fought to compose herself. After several moments and when she was sure she was in complete control she turned, briskly walking back to Ops. "Chuck," she ordered. "I want word sent out to all our off world contacts to be listening for anything about Colonel Sheppard's team." She sighed. "I know it's a long shot, but right now, I'll take any shot we can get."

Chuck nodded and started typing a series of commands on his laptop.

"Have Major Lorne come to my office as soon as he's back." She turned away, barely hearing Chuck's acknowledgment, as she retreated to the privacy she needed, if only to sort her thoughts.

-----------------------------

Even through the soles of his thick shoes, Ronon could feel the hot sand below him. A single bead of sweat trickled down his back, but he ignored it, focusing on the arena, his opponents and even Teyla. He'd seen Teyla fight enough times to know she was more than capable, but he'd watch out for her anyway. It was in his nature. She was his team mate and his friend, and that was all Ronon needed. He looked sideways, glaring dangerously at one of several guards waiting silently in the arena, their hands laden with weapons as he and Teyla and their opponents were led further into the arena. Slowly, he looked up, letting the burning hate in his gut flow through his eyes as he fixed his gaze on four queens and several males that looked on.

One queen, tall with long red hair stood and stared down at him. "Runner," she hissed.

Ronon's lips curled back in a sneer but he never broke gazes with her.

After a moment, the queen looked at one of the guards and snarled. Silently commanded, the guard stepped forward and dropped two staffs and two swords in the sand between the two sets of opponents.

Ronon spared a quick glance at Teyla who stood next to him. "Staff or sword?" he muttered, pretty sure what her answer would be.

"Staff," she whispered.

"Fight!" The queen demanded.

Ronon jumped as their opponents sprang into action. With a shout, he leapt of the first, landing a staggering blow to the side of the man's head. Wasting no time, Ronon grabbed a sword and swung it at the other man, who lifted his own sword and deflected the shot. From the corner of his eye, he saw Teyla grab a staff and dodge the blow of the other man before she expertly passed the staff behind her back and faced off against him. Ronon refocused his attention on his own opponent. They slowly circled as if measuring each other's strengths and weaknesses.

Suddenly, his opponent launched a flurry of blows. Ronon easily parried each one before spinning and grazing the man's upper arm with his blade, leaving a line of blood behind.

The man looked at his arm for a moment, before returning his gaze to Ronon who smiled confidently. Ronon twirled his sword in one hand and circled his opponent again. Over the man's shoulder, he saw Teyla backpedaling as she parried a series of blows from her opponent. Ronon clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus on his fight and the hard swing of the sword his opponent unleashed. Parrying the blow, Ronon twisted his sword and landed a kick to the man's stomach before pushing away from him. Ronon raised his sword to finish the fight, but to his surprise, the man met his blow with a solid defense. Ronon retreated slightly and reconsidered his tactics. Again he caught sight of Teyla just in time to see her land a vicious blow to the side of her opponent's head, knocking him to the ground where he remained motionless. She moved Ronon's direction, only to be stopped by three guards and their stunners.

"Your woman can not help you," Ronon's opponent leered.

"Don't need anyone's help," Ronon rebuffed. To prove his point, he lashed out, landing a series of staggering blows on his opponent's sword, soundly breaking down his defenses. With a shout, he stepped inside the man's defense and grabbed his arm, deftly disarming him. Holding his sword tip to the man's throat, Ronon panted hard and glared at him for a moment, before lowering his sword. Faced by a half dozen stunners, Ronon begrudgingly dropped his weapon.

"Take them away," one queen ordered.

Ronon fell in step next to Teyla as they were escorted from the arena. "You all right?" he panted slightly.

"I am fine," she answered with a small smile. "He proved somewhat difficult, but I have faced worse."

"Yeah," Ronon nodded. "Felt like we were being judged. Warm up spar."

Teyla nodded. "If that was a warm up, then we have many difficult fights ahead of us."

He looked away from her, meeting Sheppard's concerned gaze as they approached the cell. "Not if we get out of her first," he muttered. The colonel backed away just enough to let them enter before stepping up close to both of them, his expression intense.

"You two okay?" Sheppard looked first at Ronon then Teyla.

Ronon smiled slightly at the concern in his friend's expression. "I'm good."

"As am I," Teyla smiled. "I believe we were being tested… our abilities measured for future fights."

Sheppard's gaze narrowed slightly. "It didn't look easy…"

"It was not," Teyla answered flatly, "but I feel as if it could've been much more difficult."

"That is so not reassuring," Rodney lamented quietly.

"NO!"

The choked cry grabbed Ronon's attention and he spun, his team mates doing the same. At the entrance to the arena, one of their opponents, the one Teyla had dispatched, was on his knees in front of one of the queens.

"You have lost," she snarled, "and in such a disappointing way…" Without warning, she slammed her hand into his chest and fed upon him.

From the corner of his eye, Ronon could see McKay look away but on his other side, he could feel the burning intensity and rage of Sheppard's expression. Ronon glowered, watching… seething, as the queen stole every scrap of life from the man, before casually walking away, leaving his withered husk behind. Ronon slowly turned his head and met eyes with Sheppard. Both men were silent in their rage. Without a word, Sheppard turned away.

----------------------------------

Elizabeth's gaze left the Stargate and settled on Lorne's face, reflected in the glass of her office window, as stood silently in her doorway. She took a deep breath, turned and faced him before gesturing at the chair in front of her desk. "Major." She sat as Lorne did the same. Elizabeth stared at the grim expression on his face for a moment, before speaking. "We're passing word on to all our off world contacts. Maybe that will turn up a lead."

Lorne nodded slightly. He glanced away a moment before fixing her with a solemn look. "It's a big galaxy, ma'am."

Elizabeth resisted the urge to be irritated at his comment. He was right, and she knew without a doubt that he wanted to find Sheppard's team as much as she did. She smiled thinly. "I know, Major, but right now, it's our only chance." Her gaze moved past Lorne to the tall man who had somehow appeared in her doorway. Not that his presence surprised her, he'd only just come through the gate from New Athos. She nodded once. "Halling."

Halling returned the gesture. "Dr. Weir. I have been informed that Colonel Sheppard's team is missing, presumably taken by the Wraith?"

Elizabeth nodded. With Teyla being on Colonel Sheppard's team, she had always made it a priority to make sure the Athosians knew if something had happened to their leader. This time was no exception. "We haven't given up on finding them."

A faint smile creased Halling's eyes. "I would expect nothing else." He walked further into her office. "There is someone; a trading contact, that might know something." He sighed. "It is a remote possibility at best."

Elizabeth's gaze narrowed. "Someone besides our normal contacts?"

Halling nodded. "Yes. She is not one of our normal sources of information, as it is not her wish to be so. But, in this case, I believe she would help. She has a long history of trading with both Teyla and Tagon before her."

Elizabeth hesitated. She didn't like going outside their established contacts; people she knew they could trust, but then again, she trusted Halling and he must trust this woman enough to have mentioned her.

As if he read her mind, Halling spoke again. "We can trust her, Dr. Weir. She trades with many people from numerous worlds and has done so for a very long time. Because of this, she knows a great many things that the rest of us do not."

Elizabeth turned her gaze to Lorne who nodded slightly. She looked back at Halling. "Where can we find her?"

Halling seemed to relax slightly. "She has a small, trading shop in a village on Medarka. I have not seen her in a few seasons, but she will remember me."

"Ma'am," Lorne sat straighter in his chair, "permission to accompany Halling?"

This time, Elizabeth managed a true, if small, smile. "I was just going to ask you to go, Major."

"I would suggest native clothing, perhaps something my people can supply," Halling interjected. "And I would ask that only Major Lorne accompany me and not his whole team. A group is likely to draw attention where two men would not. It would be best to be inconspicuous. We do not know the eyes that might be watching."

Silently, Elizabeth turned a questioning look on Lorne who nodded.

"I can do inconspicuous."

"All right, Major… Halling," Elizabeth pushed back from her desk and stood. "As soon as you have the appropriate clothing, you have a go. Be careful, both of you."

------------------------------------

John stared at the back wall of their cell, pointedly ignoring the other prisoners. He'd never felt as helpless as when he watched Ronon and Teyla fight when all he could do was hope they'd be okay. Then, to see one of the losers fed upon… what if one of his people lost? If the queens decided they didn't fight well? Would he be forced to watch his team mates die? John drew in a loud breath and shook of the thought. He looked to his right as Rodney walked up next to him. John's gaze narrowed at his friend's downcast look. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

Rodney swallowed. "I… Well, I wanted to say… that is… I'm sorry."

John turned to face him. "What for?"

Rodney shrugged. "We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. I mean… you wouldn't have had to bargain… give in to him…"

John shook his head. "McKay stop," he ordered firmly. As Rodney fell into silence, John locked gazes with him. "Somehow, I think the alternative would've been far less pleasant." He arched a brow at Rodney's questioning gaze. "You really think the Wraith would've just let us go?" His second brow joined the first as comprehension dawned on Rodney's face. John nodded slightly as Rodney drew the same conclusion: They would've all been Wraith entrées by now. "At least this way, we have a fighting chance to escape. Just need to figure out how, that's all." He looked past Rodney to Patch, who was silently glaring at him. "And survive a couple other details," he added quietly.

"Yeah, been thinkin' about that," Rodney recovered enough to start speaking again. He paused, waiting as Ronon and Teyla walked up and joined them. "The transmitters in our backs. I don't think they're subspace. Probably have a range limited to the planet at the most."

John frowned. "How do you figure that?"

"Well," Rodney shrugged, "if you were these queens, would you want to broadcast this cute setup to every Wraith in the galaxy?"

John thought for a second before nodding. "Good point." He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "You think if we can get through the gate, we'll be in the clear?"

"There's an excellent chance, yes," Rodney answered.

"Still have to get to the gate," Ronon interjected.

John grimaced. "There is that…. Besides," he whispered, "I'm not letting any of us go back to Atlantis, or New Athos for that matter, as long as we have them. I won't risk blowing the city's cover or bringing the Wraith down on the Athosians, I don't care how slight the chance is."

Rodney looked on the verge of an objection before he sighed and nodded silently.

"John Sheppard."

John turned at Della's hail before following her gaze to the doorway and the four Wraith guards that approached, led by Harry. He stopped and stared coldly at John, his gaze eager. "You." Without another word he turned and walked away as three guards pointed stunners at him while one opened the door.

"Great," John muttered.

"If there's a staff, try for it," Ronon urged. "Your swordplay will get your ass kicked."

John arched a brow in dark amusement. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He glared for a moment at Ronon who just shrugged. "What if it's only swords?"

Ronon's gaze narrowed. "Don't drop your shoulder," he answered quietly, reminding John of his single, worst fighting habit.

"Right," John sighed.

"Take care, Colonel," Teyla interjected.

John glanced at her and nodded before he took a deep breath and confidently walked from the cell. Nervous knots started in his gut as he walked down the long hallway towards the arena. He could feel adrenaline flood his body as the anticipation of the fight to come settled in. His senses sharpened, his heart rate and breathing quickened, his muscles tensed. A light sheen of sweat covered his brow as he walked into the hot arena and got the first look at his opponent.

The man was dark skinned, tall and muscular. The absence of a shirt showed the strength of his physique and while John was never embarrassed by his body, he felt slight in comparison. Not good…. He stopped about twenty feet away from the man and stared back, hoping his expression showed confidence. Swallowing hard, he pushed down his apprehension, replacing it with steeled resolve and the detached, instinct-driven mindset necessary in a fight.

"Don't think of your weaknesses, only your opponents!"

He'd heard those words, many times, in many different forms, throughout his military career. It was something fundamental in combat training… especially hand to hand fighting. He looked the man over, honestly wondering if such a person had any weaknesses, but immediately dismissed the thought. Everyone did and this guy was no exception. He just had to find them.

John could sense one of the queens walking towards them, Harry flanking her. Finally, he looked away from his opponent and glared at her.

Her pale skin was augmented by her white hair and her cold smile radiated delight. "Lantean," she said, without question.

John must not have been able to keep all the surprise from his expression because she nodded, her smile never fading.

"Oh yes, we know some of you survived. Your clothing and weapons are well known amongst our worshippers and you have been seen on many worlds." She confidently took a step closer to him, knowing without a doubt that with her mental powers, she was in no danger from him. "This is a pleasure." Her smile faded. "A hive of this alliance was destroyed by your people. The queen and many Wraith died." Her glare deepened. "And you will fight to redeem the lives of every one of them."

John clenched his jaw but remained silent as she backed a few steps away before turning and walking to her seat. Sitting next to the other queens she waved idly. "Fight."

John's head whipped back towards his opponent as they both tensed. A Wraith guard threw two staffs between them and John wasted no time lunging for one as his opponent reached for the other. Grabbing the staff, John backpedaled before finding his balance. He twirled the staff experimentally, testing its weight as he watched the man circle him. Suddenly, he was fighting to keep up his guard as a flurry of blows came at him. He managed to repel each and they both backed off, the spar a draw. Again, the man attacked and again, John repelled. So it continued, over and over. Fatigue started to worm its way into John's body and finally an unexpected blow caught him on the side of the mouth. John staggered but was still able to raise his defense and deflect another blow meant to finish him. He twisted his grip, stepped up and slammed the butt of his staff into his opponent's gut. The man danced away and coughed twice, before they again squared off.

John spat blood onto the sand and spared a hand to wipe the split lip he was sporting. For every step his opponent took to the left, John countered with one to the right and the two men circled, measuring each other's weaknesses. Never taking his eyes from the man, John considered his recent attacks. Every blow had been high…

"No matter the size of your opponent, if you cripple him, he cannot fight."

John resisted the urge to smile as Teyla's words echoed in his head. He waited, biding his time, until his opponent attacked again. John reflected each blow and found a rhythm to them; one he embraced, lulling his opponent into complacency.

John staggered before looking up at Kelin. "How did you do that?"

Kelin smiled. "Rhythm is also a weakness, John. Never fall into a pattern."

A small part of John's mind that wasn't occupied with fighting embraced the words of Teyla's mentor; a man that had taught him so much more than just fighting. Abruptly, he changed tactics and could sense the surprise in his opponent. Twisting his body, John spun and landed a crippling blow on the man's knee.

With a broken cry, his opponent fell to the sand. Wasting no time, John knocked the staff from his hands, planted a foot on his chest and held the end of his staff close to the man's throat. Part of him wanted to end it; to deliver a crushing blow to his opponent's throat and be done with it, but he refrained. He stared dispassionately at his opponent for a moment, before the true persona of John Sheppard once more took over, driving the dark and ruthless fighter back into its cage. John stepped back, lowering the staff. He dropped it unceremoniously on the sand and glared up at the queens for a moment, before he was surrounded by Wraith who escorted him from the arena.

Swallowing hard, he ignored the metallic taste of blood as he took in deep breaths, trying to will the adrenaline from his body; to hold his strength in reserve. He looked up, his gaze fixing on his caged team mates. Save it.Save it for escaping. He vowed silently. He winced as, behind him, he heard the strangled cries of his opponent being fed upon. A crippling blow hadn't been his first choice, but had ended up being the only one. The only guarantee any of them had of survival was to win. Sure, they might be allowed to live if they lost, but John wasn't about to bet his life, or the lives of any of his team on that possibility. He'd known the blow would be a death sentence just as surely as a killing blow but where that would've risked retribution by the queens, this had been the safe out for him and in the end that absolutely had to be the only thing he could allow to matter. Just one more decision… one more ghost he'd live with.