Thanks for all the great reviews! I'm so glad people are enjoying this story, I'm having fun writing it. There are a couple spots in this chapter that refer to my story Demons, however, you don't have to read it in order to understand what is going on. They're nothing more then passing references, but if you have read Demons, you'll see them. ;)
--
Lorne's arm unconsciously tightened against the nine mil secured under his shoulder as he and Halling walked into the dark building. A few people milled about but not nearly the number that would pass through Elena's shop as the day went on.
From her place behind a tall, wooden counter, Elena looked up and met eyes with Halling for a moment, before gesturing for them to approach. As they made their way across the room, she squeezed the shoulder of a young girl, presumably her assistant, and whispered in her ear before she walked towards the back room.
Wordlessly, Lorne and Halling followed. Lorne took a moment to look around, wary of even the few people in the shop. But, none seemed to take any interest in either of them, so he followed silently behind.
Elena waited for them to enter the room, before closing the door. She turned and faced them, her expression guarded. "I have some information for you. I am not sure how helpful it will be though."
Halling nodded. "Anything is better than the nothing we know now."
Elena sighed deeply. "Most of who trade with me are culled and despise the Wraith as we do. However, some that come through those doors worship them. I do not enjoy trade with such people, but many things they offer, my customers wish to purchase." She waved her hand absently. "When last we spoke, I knew one such person was due to visit again to trade. He arrived yesterday and I asked him about the planet Teyla was taken from." She paused and looked away for a moment.
"Elena?" Halling asked quietly.
"The planet is one of many that are in the territory of a great alliance of four queens. They have come together to pool their strength and are nearly uncontested in this galaxy." She walked closer to Halling. "According to my contact, not all the humans taken in cullings in the Alliance's territory are fed upon. It is said that some of the humans are taken… for sport."
Lorne squinted. "Runners?"
Elena shook her head. "No. These queens enjoy combat. The strong and resistant ones culled are made to fight each other for the queens' amusement."
"They put up one hell of a fight. If it was this Alliance that culled the planet…" Lorne's voice trailed off, his thought picked up by Halling.
"Then it is possible this was their fate." Halling's gaze narrowed. "But they would not fight each other."
"They do not have to," Elena answered. "Many humans are taken to fight. There will be no shortage of opponents."
Lorne's mind raced. Where was this planet? How could they find it? Was a rescue even feasible? He immediately dismissed the last question. Feasible or not, he wasn't going to leave their people to fight and die in some Wraith coliseum. "How can we find them?" he asked quietly.
Elena stared for a moment at him before answering. "I know of a planet where worshippers gather. It is possible you could obtain the address for this planet there." Her gaze narrowed. "But, have care. Worshippers are often fanatical in their devotion to the Wraith." She arched her brows briefly, as if the concept was so alien to her, she couldn't understand it. "If they find out your real intent…"
"We're willing to take that risk." Lorne interrupted softly but insistently.
Elena nodded back before handing him a worn piece of parchment with one gate address scrawled across it.
Lorne exchanged hopeful looks with Halling, before the Athosian man bowed his head deeply at Elena.
"My thanks for your help." Halling said.
Elena's smile was genuine. "The Athosians have always traded fairly with me." She turned her gaze on Lorne. "And the Lanteans are the best hope for all of us."
Lorne managed to keep the surprise from his face, if only barely. "Lanteans?"
Elena's friendly gaze turned knowing. "Be at peace, Lorne. Your secret is safe with me. Long ago I heard that the Athosians had allied themselves with humans who were occupying the Ancestral city. I have heard of its destruction but it still stands to reason that your people escaped… and I see that I am right." She stepped closer and took Lorne's hand. "Your struggles and triumphs against the Wraith have not gone unnoticed in this galaxy, Lorne, not just by the Wraith, but by all of us. I do this not only for Teyla, but also for your people."
Lorne stared at her for a moment before he tightened his grip around her hand. "Thank you."
Elena stepped back and released his hand. "Go now. If I can be of any further assistance, you have only to ask."
With one last nod to Elena, Halling led Lorne from the room. As they left the building, Lorne broached the question he knew both of them were thinking of. "Think Weir will go for it?"
Halling's gaze narrowed slightly. "I am going to this world, if it means a chance to find Teyla and the others."
Lorne nodded silently. Halling was free to do as he wanted. As they made their way back to the gate, Lorne wondered how the leader of Atlantis would react to sending people to a world full of Wraith worshippers.
--
There wasn't a spot on John's body that wasn't sore. Over the last two days, he'd sparred five times, three times barely beating his opponent and he had the sore ribs, cuts and contusions to show for it. Ronon and Teyla hadn't been spared either. He thought back to the queen's words the first time he'd sparred…
"A hive of this alliance was destroyed by your people. The queen and many Wraith died, and you will fight to redeem the lives of every one of them."
John sighed and swallowed against his dry throat. The food and water were sparse and he was starting to feel the effects of it. They were fed gruel once a day, with water coming twice a day and, in the last day, after each spar as well… but only to the victor. John pursed his lips. Not that the losers were allowed to live that often. In his five spars, three of his defeated opponents had been fed upon on the spot. As for other necessities, crude pots were supplied and everyone made do with little or no opportunity for privacy; something the Wraith didn't seem to care much about. John's nose wrinkled slightly. In this heat, it was unpleasant at best, but with the scare food and water, it seemed to suit their needs.
His gaze traveled across the cell and settled on Patch, who appeared to be dozing in the mid-afternoon heat. Not that he'd ever sleep well here in the first place, but constantly knowing that Patch would eventually try something in retribution, didn't help. He glanced at Rodney, who sat quietly brooding. He knew the doctor was carrying guilt over all of this, even if it was unfounded. He was spared the exertion of fighting in the Round, but that only served as a constant reminder of why the rest of them fought over and over again. John's brows furrowed as he tried to concentrate, his mind constantly turning over and dismissing one escape plan after another. "Gotta find a way out of here soon," he muttered.
"Without weapons," Teyla answered, "it is difficult to see how. There are many Wraith."
"There has to be a way," John insisted. In the back of his mind he heard Della's words; warning him that before long, he'd only have the strength to survive, not to escape, but he immediately dismissed the thought. He'd be damned if he and his people were doomed to die in this Wraith hell hole. "We just have to find it," he finished confidently.
"In the meantime, might I remind you that we still have these damn transmitters in our backs?" McKay interjected.
"Think I can help with that," Ronon looked around to make sure they weren't being watched before he smiled slightly and reached into his impressive mass of dreadlocks. He carefully and discretely pulled out a small, sheathed blade. "They didn't find one," he quirked his brows slightly before pulling the knife out of its sheath.
"Walking arsenal," John teased, but his voice was filled with respect. "Have any more of those around?"
Ronon shook his head. "No. Kept this one hidden, even in fights. Didn't want the Wraith to find it."
"You know," Rodney's voice was tinged with irritation, "you could let the rest of us in on these little secrets every once in a while."
Ronon kept his small smile. "Figured I'd say something when we needed it." He turned the blade slightly, letting the dim light catch its surface. "Good and sharp."
"Oh my God," Rodney's eyes widened as he jumped to the same conclusion Ronon had come to. "You can't be serious!" he hissed. "You want to cut these things out? With no Novocain? In this dirt bowl?"
John sighed, letting his gaze linger on the blade for another moment before he looked up at Rodney. "Don't see where we have much choice."
"We cannot escape with these transmitters still in our backs," Teyla added softly.
Rodney swallowed hard and after a moment, nodded. "Have I mentioned lately how much this entire situation just sucks?"
Ronon sheathed the knife and buried in his hair once again.
"First," John pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them. "We need an escape plan."
"Have anything in mind?" Ronon asked.
John's gaze narrowed. "Not yet, but I'm working on it."
--
Elizabeth found that she could no longer sit still in her chair as Lorne and Halling explained what Elena had told them. Wraith worshippers? After Sheppard's team was captured and escaped from the Wraith last year, she knew worshippers existed, but until now they'd never had to deal with them. She stood and paced slowly behind her desk, her arms crossed and unconsciously hugging her body. It wasn't the first time she'd had to deal with fanatics driven by some deep rooted religious belief, but she'd never been able to completely understand what drove people to be that way. One thing she did know was that fanatics were rash, unpredictable and dangerous.
"I will travel to this planet to try and find Teyla and Colonel Sheppard's team," Halling finished his debriefing.
"Request permission to accompany Halling, ma'am," Lorne immediately asked.
Forcing one hand to release the death hold she had on her arm, she rubbed her brow and sighed. "Gentlemen, I don't think I need to point out how potentially dangerous this could be."
"I will go," Halling answered resolutely, "no matter the danger. Teyla is the leader of my people and I believe that Colonel Sheppard would do the same, were our positions reversed."
Elizabeth turned towards the window and stared at the Stargate. She couldn't dispute with that logic and could picture John standing in her office, arguing until he was blue in the face, for even a slim chance to find anyone he cared about. A strained smile barely touched her mouth as she realized she never had a choice in the first place. This was something they had to do, no matter the danger.
"Ma'am, it really is the only shot we have." Lorne said quietly.
She let her gaze linger on the Stargate for one more moment before she turned and faced two expectant gazes. Seating herself behind her desk again, she folded her hands on the smooth surface and nodded. "How do you recommend we proceed, Major?"
Lorne seemed to relax slightly as he sat back in his chair. "As much as I'd love to take a team in there, grab people and demand to know where Colonel Sheppard's team is, it's probably best that Halling and I go in, undercover and see what we can find out."
"I agree," Halling nodded. "Just the two of us is far less conspicuous."
Halling pursed his lips and Elizabeth could see tension ripple through his body.
"We can go under the guise of being Wraith worshippers," Halling added quietly a note of contempt in his voice.
"Maybe we can get someone to trust us enough to give us some information," Lorne interjected. "It's a long shot, but right now the only one we have."
Elizabeth stared Halling in the eye for a moment noting the lingering tension in his body. He'd seen many of his people taken by the Wraith in his lifetime, including Tagon, Teyla's father and even his own wife. To masquerade as a Wraith worshipper… "Halling, I'm sorry it has to be this way."
Halling's eyes narrowed slightly in recognition, his nod barely perceptible. "There is no other way. I will not see Teyla or Colonel Sheppard's team die at the hands of the Wraith. Not if there is anything I can do to prevent it."
She nodded. "When will you be ready to leave?"
Lorne stood and brushed the front of his jacket; the same one he wore to Medarka. "I don't see any reason why we can't leave right away. The sooner we get there, the sooner we find out about our people."
Elizabeth nodded to her determined Major. "Go. Stay safe."
Lorne nodded back. "Yes, ma'am."
She watched as both men quickly walked through ops; Lorne ordering a technician to dial the gate. Turning she continued watching them as they descended the stairs, crossed the Gate room and disappeared through the wormhole. Even after the gate deactivated, she still stared at it, willing all her people to come home safely.
--
John's gaze narrowed as he watched the Wraith lay out what he could only call logs, around the Round. They weren't wood, rather they were made of whatever organic substance was used to make just about anything Wraith in origin. They were thick boles, at least a foot in diameter, curved and close to ten feet long. Laid end to end, they made a large, roughly circular perimeter.
"A Border Fight," Della seemed to sense his curiosity and walked up next to him. She looked at John through the crossbars that separated their cells. "The fighters must stay within the circle, or they are punished with stunners."
"Stunners?" Ronon asked as he walked up next to John, but it was John that beat Della to the answer. "How is stunning one of the fighters punishment?"
"Stunners have more than one setting," John said quietly as he was forced to relive memories. "They don't have to knock you cold. Some of the settings…" he drew in a deep breath, "are pretty painful." He glanced at Teyla and Rodney, who were silent, each of their expressions showing they knew he was speaking from experience.
"You have encountered this before?" Della asked.
John nodded slightly. "Couple years ago. Wraith used it to… interrogate me." He fixed his gaze on the Round, unable to make eye contact with anyone. It'd been two years, but the pain; the torture, were still as fresh in his memory as if it'd been yesterday. The Wraith male… the stunner… questions he wouldn't answer. John closed his eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and changing the subject. "Wonder who they'll pick?" He glanced at Ronon, whose narrowed gaze showed that more emotion then John had wanted to show had been revealed anyway.
After a minute Ronon answered. "Hopefully, me."
John's expression turned cynical. "Should've expected that…" his voice trailed off as Harry and three guards walked towards their cell. Even before Harry could order it, John knew he was the target. Harry's gaze left no room for doubt. "Aw, hell…"
"You." Harry pointed at John. "And you." His point shifted to one of Patch's boys.
John took a moment to glare at his opponent, the very same man he'd leveled a couple days ago to earn their place in the food line. "Great," he muttered.
John took one step before being stopped by Ronon's hand on his forearm.
"Watch it," Ronon stared intently at John.
"Yeah, think this one has a grudge," McKay piped in.
"Definitely," John answered. He nodded once at each of them before following his opponent and the Wraith from the cell.
As he entered the Round, John felt the familiar surge of adrenaline course through him in response to what he knew was coming. He sent a spiteful glare over his right shoulder at the three queens in attendance before stepping over one of the borders and into the designated fight area. He looked around. The circle was roughly thirty feet in diameter and John quirked his brows. One thing was sure; they'd be fighting in pretty close quarters. He tensed as his opponent stepped into the circle before two Wraith guards dropped two sets of sticks, roughly resembling Athosian Bantos Rods, in the circle with them; one set behind each combatant.
Wasting no time, John leapt for his set of sticks, sensing that his opponent did the same. He spared a moment for relief that of the five, now six spars he'd fought, he'd never been forced to pick up a sword… yet. John grabbed the sticks, spun and faced off with his opponent. Scattered around the perimeter, Wraith guards, armed with stunners, waited for one of the combatants to step out of the circle.
John moved to his left as he twirled the sticks, casually testing their balance. Internally, he sighed as his opponent did the same, demonstrating with ease, that he had more than just a passing familiarity with this kind of weapon. Within John, all thoughts of a swift victory died. He looked past the disappointment, trying to identify weaknesses in his opponent, while doing his best to cover any that he might have. Suddenly, the man was driving him back with a flurry of blows that John struggled to repel. Like a gymnast on a floor routine, instinctively he could sense the barrier behind him, knowing he was close to stepping out of bounds. Slipping inside his opponent's guard, he sidestepped a blow and twisted left, barely avoiding the boundary in the process.
The man's calculated gaze narrowed as he realized he faced someone who also had skill. Cautiously, he circled right.
John circled left, keeping himself a fair distance from the man as he again looked for a weakness. Raising his sticks, he pressed an attack, driving his opponent back. Employing one of many moves Teyla taught him, John leveled a blow at the man's head, which he predictably parried. Abruptly, John twisted his wrist, throwing his weight behind the shift and pulling his opponent off balance. Wasting no time, John landed a solid kick to his mid-section, the force propelling the man out of the boundary.
His opponent made it to his knees, before a Wraith guard jabbed him in the back with a stunner.
John resisted the urge to wince as the man's scream echoed through the Round. The Wraith stepped back as the man struggled to his feet. Before he could fully gain his balance, the Wraith propelled him back into the circle.
John pushed aside all sympathy. He had to. It was the only way to survive. Before his opponent could recover, John pressed his attack, but was taken off guard as the man managed to not only raise a defense, but also struck a blow to John's upper left arm that left his hand numb. The stick slid uselessly from his left hand as he raised his right in defense but one handed, he was no match and suddenly, John found himself outside the circle. He rolled to his knees and braced himself, wrapping his emotions tightly in his anger and letting it steel his resolve as one of the Wraith guards descended on him.
Agony swept through him and with it, horrid memories that he'd worked hard to put behind him. Pain… his breath stolen from his body… A tormented scream was torn from his throat and it felt like an eternity before the pain ended. The Wraith hauled him to his feet and threw him back into the circle. John barely stayed on his feet and had no time to raise a defense as his opponent backhanded him viciously before bringing his sticks around to sweep John's legs out from under him.
John hit the ground hard, his momentum rolling him onto his stomach. Face down in the sand, John struggled to mount some sort of defense. He knew his opponent was closing in to finish this fight and he realized his life was now measure in minutes if he didn't do something. Dimly, he heard an angered shout coming from the direction of the Pit; the unmistakable voice of Ronon.
"SHEPPARD!"
Damn it, Sheppard! John berated himself. It's not going to end this way! Mustering all the strength he had, John rolled, letting his momentum carry into his leg. Combat boot struck soft flesh then hard bone. His opponent, bent over to finish the job, got a kick in the face for his effort.
Staggering, the man cried out in pain.
Feeling was only starting to come back to his left arm so John just grabbed one stick with his right hand and launched himself at his opponent. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, but John rolled, managing to pin the man on his stomach. Reaching around from behind, John pulled the stick against the man's throat as hard as he could. Forcing his tingling left hand to comply, he slowly cut off his opponent's air. John clenched his teeth, holding onto his resolution as the man choked, his struggling turning feeble. John held on a moment longer, until a Wraith guard pointed his stunner at him and grunted.
Letting go of the stick, John rolled off him and lay in the sand, his chest heaving in exertion. He turned his head and looked at his opponent. Even though he'd been fighting for his life, in the back of his mind, John never lost touch with the reality of his situation. Killing anyone in the Round was still too risky and he had to avoid it at all costs. Yeah, he'd strangled his opponent, but only until the man was defeated, nothing more. John had no doubt he could've killed him and given different circumstances he probably would've. He turned his head again as a dark shadow descended over him.
Brandishing a stun rifle, one of the Wraith guards motioned at him, insisting that he stand up and John struggled to comply. On wobbly legs, he looked towards the queens, still managing to give them the look of death.
Slowly, the white haired queen stood. "Take him away, but bring me the loser."
John staggered a couple steps before two Wraith guards grabbed him and half dragged him from the Round. They stopped only long enough for one of the worker humans to hand him a cup of water, which he forced himself to drink slowly. He focused down on the cup and tuned out the scream coming from the Round as his opponent met his fate. The water was warm and stale, but it still revived him and as John proceeded to his cell, he managed to walk more than he was dragged.
The guards roughly shoved him into the cell and John would've taken a header had it not been for Ronon. He held tightly to the big man's arms and grunted, but Ronon's strong grip held fast. John managed to regain his balance and turned towards the back wall.
"God! I thought you were dead!" Rodney hovered nearby as did Teyla.
Slowly and with Ronon's help, John limped to the wall. He carefully lowered himself to the ground. "Thanks… for the vote of confidence… McKay," he grunted as he settled to the ground and leaned back against the cool stone.
"That's not what I meant…" Rodney stammered as he crouched in front of John and stared intently at him. "I just…"
"McKay," John interrupted. He locked gazes with Rodney for a moment and nodded once at the relief he saw in his friend's face. "I get it."
"Well fought, John," Della nodded at him through the bars. "He was undefeated." She looked away for a moment. "In a way, I am surprised the queens killed him. He was an exceptional fighter."
"You don't have to tell me that," John quipped weakly.
"Had me worried for a minute there," Ronon sat down next to John.
"I as well," Teyla smiled thinly at him.
"You're not the only ones," John answered. He closed his eyes and for a moment, he was content to just breathe, letting each inhale rejuvenate his body. Finally, he spoke again. "That was closer then I like." He flexed his left hand, relieved that the tingling was nearly gone and the feeling had returned. He twisted his arm and winced at the welt forming just below his shoulder.
"You're not hurt, are you?" Rodney asked, his eyes widening in concern.
John shook his head. "No. Not bad anyway. Just hit a nerve when he got that lucky shot on me. Hand was numb for a bit, but it's okay now." As if to prove his point, John flexed his fingers again.
"You displayed significant skill, John," Teyla smiled slightly.
John returned the expression. "I have you to thank… and Kelin," he added, naming Teyla's childhood tutor and his close friend. "And the fact that I was fighting for my life." He quirked his brows. "That tends to be a good motivator."
"Still," Teyla sighed, "the spars seem to be getting more difficult."
Silently, John just nodded in agreement. Inside he knew the clock was ticking. They had to find a way to escape and soon.
