Execution - Chapter 2

John concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and leaving the scene of carnage behind. Images of the bodies of his men flashed through his head, intermingling with images from Afghanistan and a memory he'd worked hard to put behind him. It had been months before he could close his eyes without smelling the musty bag or hearing the gun go off inches from his head. Now the smell was continually with him, the sounds of gunshots and falling bodies echoing continuously in his head. He wasn't even aware the roaring in his ears had drowned everything else out until someone grabbed his arm as they called his name. John reacted immediately, whipping around to strike out with a defensive swing. If Ronon hadn't grabbed Rodney and jerked him back, the pilot would have decked the scientist. The sounds of guns in his head were replaced with the pounding of his racing heart.

Rodney pulled out of Ronon's grip on his upper arms, looking angrily at John. "What was that for?"

Stepping back, John tried to suck in enough air to keep up with his heartbeat. He had to get a grip. He was losing it right in front of his team. "Sorry . . . I'm sorry, Rodney. You startled me . . . I didn't mean . . . " John sighed and ran one hand through his hair. "Look . . . I'm sorry about trying to hit you and . . . I'm sorry about snapping at you earlier and . . . I just . . . "

"It's okay," Rodney said, his expression softening. "Look . . .we're a team, right? We stick together. I don't know exactly what happened to you but . . . I know it must have been pretty bad. And you're right, being executed like that would be a horrible way to die. We'll find them and make sure they never do this to anyone else."

Teyla stepped closer and put one hand on John's shoulder, looking up with her dark eyes. "Rodney is right. We will not stop until we have found the ones who did this."

"We'll stop them, Sheppard," Ronon said firmly.

Taking a deep breath, John gave a small nod. He wasn't sure what he'd ever done to deserve a team like this, to deserve friends like this, but he would always be grateful for them. They were the only reason he was able to hold himself together right now. "Thanks, guys," he murmured, knowing that even though he wanted to say more, that would be enough. Ronon slapped him on the back so hard he nearly knocked John over as they continued down the path. They arrived at the town a few minutes later.

"I'm thinking the town tavern," John said, pointing to a rough wooden building that seemed to fit the bill. When they entered, they knew immediately that they were in the right place. Wooden tables were scattered through the dark interior with a long bar along the back wall. About half the tables were occupied and several women were moving around serving drinks and sometimes food. John weaved his way to the bar and a woman in her mid-twenties who was handing a tray to one of the other girls. She turned to face him and broke out into a big smile.

"Well, hello, stranger. My name is Callia, what can I get you?"

John made sure his eyes kept to her face and not her chest, where her breasts were trying to overflow her dress. "Hi, I'm John. These are my friends, Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon. We were looking for some information about some friends of ours. They would have been dressed like me and may have come to town earlier today."

The woman's eyes lit up and she nodded. "Yes, they were here. I fed them the morning meal after the one called Baker saved me from that ruffian."

John's heart, which had finally begun to settle into a somewhat normal rhythm, nearly jumped out of his chest. "What? What happened?"

Callia grinned seductively at John and then winked at Ronon. "Are you sure you don't want something to eat or drink?"

Any other time, John might have enjoyed the flirting or even found it amusing. But with the stench of death still in his nostrils and fear still clenching his gut, he just wasn't in the mood. "Look, Callia, maybe another time. We're working on a deadline here, so please, just tell us what happened."

Sticking her lower lip out, Callia flicked her head, throwing her long brown hair over her shoulder. "Baker was more fun," she said.

"Baker is on his way home with a hole in his head, along with the rest of his team. Are you going to help us or not because I don't have time for this," John snapped under his breath.

Callia's mouth dropped open and her face blanched white. "You mean . . . they're dead?"

"Every one of them," John said harshly.

Teyla moved up to stand beside him, frown firmly in place. He knew the expression well. It meant stop talking now because you're ruining things.

Turning her attention to the woman behind the counter, Teyla's expression and voice softened. "I am afraid John is telling the truth. We found them a short while ago and we are hoping to find the people responsible for their deaths. It was a very cruel and harsh death, so I hope you will forgive John being so abrupt. We are only concerned with finding those responsible before they do something like this to someone else."

Callia nodded, looking truly disturbed by the news that Baker's team was dead. "I'm sorry they are dead. I liked them . . . especially Baker."

"Please . . . can you tell us what happened?" pleaded John.

Tilting her head toward a table, Callia came around the bar. "Let's sit down." When they were all seated, she took a deep breath and began. "A group of men came in last night . . . said they were traders, but I didn't believe them. They had weapons not unlike your smaller ones and they were crude and smelled bad. They ate and drank a lot, but they were loud and rough. They stayed late . . . staggered out of town when they were good and drunk. I think they said something about setting up camp somewhere. They were back this morning wanting food. We fed them . . . afraid not to. All but one of them left and then he . . . he called me over for more drink and then he started to get rough."

Callia rubbed her neck, drawing attention to the livid bruise there. "He had his hands in places they didn't belong and when I protested, he started strangling me. He just laughed while I gasped for air. Thought I was going to die and then . . . your people came in. Baker told him to let me go. When he laughed and told him to mind his own business, Baker took him down. It was the prettiest sight I've ever seen, him slammin' that man on the floor and refusin' to let him up until he agreed to leave me alone. When Baker let go, he ran out of here so fast I'll bet he wet his pants."

Rubbing the side of his throbbing head, John fought the nausea threatening to make another spectacular appearance. Now they had motive. They hadn't been attacked for the Ancient technology or because they had offended someone's religious beliefs by entering the structure, it had been petty revenge for making a thug look bad. "How many of them were there?"

"Twelve."

"They were outnumbered," commented Ronon.

"Yeah," John said. "Only four of the team were military."

Rodney frowned and scratched the side of his head. "But if Baker insulted that one guy by making him look bad, why'd they kill the others?"

"Because they were there," said Teyla. "That is all the reason some people need."

"They feed on the fear of others," said John. "They're worse than the Wraith. At least the Wraith kill to survive. These guys kill because they like it."

"Are you going to stop them?" asked Callia.

"Yes, we are," said John firmly. He didn't plan on stopping until they had every one of them. "Did they give you any idea where they came from?"

The woman tilted her head a bit, shifting her eyes up as she thought. "They aren't from this world, that's for sure. The weapons looked like those of Acacia, but some of them had coarse coats that looked like those of Mrecraenar. Oh, and the one that attacked me had tokens like those used in the Wrenlinck market."

John glanced at Teyla. "Are you familiar with any of these places?"

"I have visited the Wrenlinck market on many occasions. They have much for purchase or trade and have been around for many years. They might have accumulated all of those items at the market."

"She's right," said Ronon. "I've purchased some good knives there."

"Yeah, I'll just bet you have," Rodney muttered. In response, Ronon flashed him an evil grin.

"Can you tell us what these men looked like?" asked Teyla.

"I can tell you about the one that attacked me. He wasn't tall, kind of like you," she said, pointing to Rodney, who promptly rolled his eyes. "He had a bushnol coat, thick dark hair cut short, blue eyes that are almost white and a scar across his face. It goes through his left eyebrow and continues to his cheek. There is another scar on the back of his right hand, going across like this." She took her index finger from the knuckle of her first finger diagonally across the back of her hand to her wrist. "It was bad and is hard to miss."

John gently placed his hand on the back of hers as she rested it on the table. "Thank you."

Callia shuddered and looked at each of them in turn. "Just get them, okay? I keep thinking . . . if Baker hadn't helped me . . . "

"Then you would probably be dead," said Teyla. "You must not feel guilty. They have killed before and they will kill again if not stopped. The deaths are on their heads."

"Looks like we're going to market," said John.

Callia frowned. "It is getting dark and it will be dangerous. You should stay here for the night. I have two rooms I could let you use, no charge of course."

"We need to get to this market place as soon as possible. The longer it takes us to catch up to these guys, the less the chance we will," said John. He wasn't taking any chances on losing them completely.

"It will be late on Wrenlinck. The market has closed and the venders have returned to their dwellings. They will not talk to you until tomorrow," pointed out Callia.

"She is right," added Teyla. "Their time is several hours ahead of this world. We should rest and try first thing in the morning."

John shook his head. He was still full of adrenalin, his body aching for motion and his mind craving some sort of resolution. He couldn't just go to bed when the killers were still running around. "I'm going tonight. I can scout around, maybe see if I can find their camp."

"Sheppard, you aren't thinking," scolded Ronon. "It's too dangerous to go wandering around on what might possibly be their home ground in the dark. And even if it isn't, they've been there a lot and are familiar with the territory. You'll just scare the locals prowling around in the middle of the night. Wait until morning or you might chase off our leads."

Gritting his teeth in frustration, John grunted and nodded. Ronon was right. He didn't like it, but going there tonight could hurt their investigation a lot more than help it. "Fine, we'll wait."

"We might as well go back to Atlantis," said Rodney. "We could brief Woolsey and sleep in our own beds. And take a nice, long hot shower."

John had to admit that the long, hot shower part of Rodney's argument sounded pretty good. "You're right. Callia, thank you for your help. You shouldn't have to worry about those guys bothering you again."

Nodding, the girl gave a timid smile. "Thank you. I wish you safety and success."

"That's the plan," said John.

oOo

After Woolsey was briefed and Keller admonished them all to get rest since they were still recovering from their previous mission, John returned to his quarters. He stayed in the shower until he was certain his skin was permanently wrinkled, yet he could still feel blood on his hands and smell the stench of death. After pulling on some light-weight athletic pants and a t-shirt, he stood staring at his bed.

He was exhausted beyond words, and yet John was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep. The adrenalin rush of the last few hours had finally wound down, leaving his muscles heavy and aching. His head throbbed and his sinuses were beginning to get that heavy feeling that usually preceded a cold. His throat was getting scratchy as well, so it looked like four days in the cold mud were getting ready to kick his ass. Catching Baker and his team's killers would have to come first though.

Too tired to run, John decided to walk to the farthest pier. He hoped a little time out in the salt breeze would wash the smells from his nose and the sour taste from his mouth. Images, tastes, smells, and sounds from his almost-execution were flashing almost continuously now. It was like it had happened this afternoon instead of ten years ago. Knowing he couldn't function like this, he needed to find a way to push everything back until their task was over.

Bypassing the transporters, it took John over an hour to hike to the pier, but he was warm for the first time that day. He'd been cold since finding the bodies, as if the cold cruelty of the killings had seeped into his bones. Making his way to the edge, he sat down and hung his legs over the side. "Should have brought a beer," he said out loud. He sucked in a deep breath. He could still taste blood and musty bags and death, but it was a little better out here. A small part of him also tasted and smelled ocean. Maybe if he breathed it in long enough and stared at the moonlight all night, he could find himself again. He hoped it at least allowed him to keep himself together long enough to rid the galaxy of a few vermin.

oOo

Teyla looked up as John entered the control room above. He talked to Woolsey a moment before heading down the stairs to join the rest of his team. Glancing at Ronon and then Rodney, she knew from their expressions that she had not imagined the dark smudges under John's eyes or the strain in his face.

"He doesn't look so good," mumbled Rodney.

"Just means we keep watch over him," answered Ronon quietly.

"You guys ready?" asked John, just before sneezing three times.

"John, are you ill?" asked Teyla, frowning slightly.

"I'm good, just a few sneezes," he said, watching the wormhole swoosh into life.

"We could do this later," Rodney offered. "You know, after you feel better."

"I won't feel better until these guys are dead," John said darkly and then moved toward the gate. There was a slight blip as he walked through the puddle. With a sigh, Teyla followed him.

They walked the dirt path in silence for fifteen minutes before reaching the open air market. Booths were set up in several rows, some of them well constructed and some of them not. Crowds of people ambled around, purchasing foods and cloth, clothing and weapons, knick knacks and furniture. Teyla let a smile grace her lips as she remembered the trips she made here with her father.

"Teyla, did you say you know people here?" asked John, looking around in confusion.

"I used to know a few of the venders. Telenia used to sell her candles and lamps down this way," she said, pointing up one of the rows. "If she is still here, she would help us."

"Lead the way," John said.

They weaved their way through the dusty throngs of people to a booth halfway down the aisle. An older woman with braided gray hair sat humming to herself as she painted flowers on the side of a lamp.

"Telenia?"

The woman paused in her humming and then looked up, staring at them for a moment before smiling broadly and pulling herself to her feet. "Teyla? Is that you child?"

The warm voice filled Teyla with pleasure, bringing back fond memories of her travels with her father. Telenia had always doted on her, giving her small gifts and hugging her like her mother used to. "Yes, it is Teyla. It is good to see you, Telenia. It had been a long time."

Telenia put her hands on Teyla's shoulders and bowed her head as Teyla tipped forward to meet her. They stood leaning on one another for a moment before straightening back up. "Come and sit," said Telenia, motioning toward a stool as she sat down.

"These are my friends," Teyla said, waving toward her teammates. "This is Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Rodney McKay, and Ronon Dex. We are seeking information and I was hoping you could help."

"I will if I can," said Telenia cheerfully.

With a small nod, Teyla continued. "We are looking for a group of men that we believe have traded here. One of them has a scar across his face." Teyla traced the path of the scar across her face and then the repeated the act with her hand. "A second one crosses his hand like this."

A bitter scowl immediately blanketed Telenia's face. "I know of whom you speak. Please tell me that they are not your friends."

"They killed some of our people," John said.

"That does not surprise me," said the old woman with a shake of her had. "They are bad news, always bad news. The only reason they are still allowed to come here is they spend much, mostly buying weapons from the more wealthy venders. For small ones like me, they just cause trouble and destroy things."

"Have they caused you trouble?" asked Teyla, concerned for her friend.

"I can take care of myself," Telenia said defiantly. "But not before they destroyed half my merchandise. It seems they wanted a better price for my lamps."

Ronon straightened and stepped closer, anger flashing across his face. "Why didn't they Council take action?"

"Because they came at night after I had closed to insure there were no witnesses. Then they stood around and laughed at me when the night watchers came to get me. Yelled things like if I didn't charge so much, people wouldn't get mad and tear up my booth. I know they did it, but the Council turned a blind eye."

Sighing, Teyla looked up at John and Rodney. "Many of the wealthy weapons dealers she spoke of are on the Council."

"Sounds like a familiar set up," said Rodney. "Some things are constant everywhere you go."

"Do you know where their home camp is?" asked John.

"Not here, thank the Ancestors," she said. "I believe I heard them refer to Learc'ksay when they were muttering about taking their purchases back with them. If you go after them, give them an extra kick for me and tell them Telenia sends her regards!"

Ronon smiled his approval and even John and Rodney turned up a corner of their mouth. She had always admired the fire in Telenia, finding it similar to that of her father. "Thank you Telenia. We are grateful for your aid."

John opened his mouth, Teyla assumed to add his thanks too, but sneezed unexpectedly. He looked like he might sneeze again for a moment, but instead broke out in a coughing fit that went on for several seconds. By the time he had stopped, Telenia had poured him a cup of water and handed it to him. John drained it.

"You should sit down," offered the old woman. "You are ill."

Wiping the water from his mouth with the back of his hand, John shook his head. "I'm fine. It's the dust."

"This one you need to watch," Telenia said, looking intently at Teyla.

"I know," Teyla agreed. She had seen John in many situations and learned to read him, even when he did not want her to. And she could see pain and exhaustion in his eyes. Although his face still looked as pale as yesterday, a slight flush had come up on his cheeks and sweat on his brow, in spite of the pleasant temperature. She knew better than to suggest he return to Atlantis until this was finished. "We will be with him."

Telenia walked over to John and touched his left temple with her finger. Teyla thought he was going to pull back for a moment, but he merely flinched. The older woman frowned and then looked sympathetic. "You are troubled deeply by what has happened."

"Yeah, I tend to get upset when my people are slaughtered," John replied curtly.

"It is more than that," she said sadly, shaking her head once. "You must not let fear and anger and guilt rule over you. Fight these things to remain true to yourself."

John twisted his face away from Telenia, looking surprised and nervous as he took a step back. He stumbled, but Ronon was right behind him so that he only bumped into the big man instead of falling.

"I am sorry," Telenia said, moving quickly back into her booth. "You must forgive a foolish old woman her strange ways. Good luck on your journey and I hope you find what you are looking for." She directed the last part of her statement at John, who still just stood staring as if in a trance.

"Thank you again," Teyla said, touching Telenia on the shoulder. "We will take care of each other," she reassured the old woman.

"You do that. And come back to see an old woman, Teyla. I want to know what has become of you these last years."

With a smile, Teyla nodded. "When our business is concluded, I will return and visit. We have much to discuss."

Ronon hustled John around until he was shuffling along beside them. "Uh, what's with the . . . " He trailed off as he pointed behind him.

"Telenia has always been odd," Teyla said vaguely.

"Do you know the address of this leary . . . uh, leaky . . . " Rodney's voice trailed off as he gave up trying to remember.

"Learc'ksay," said Teyla. "Yes, I know of it. It is a dangerous world where only thugs and criminals stay."

"Thugs?" asked Rodney.

"Yes, I believe I have used the word correctly," Teyla said firmly.

"Well, yeah, you did, I just wasn't expecting . . . we really have corrupted you," said Rodney with a small sigh.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing, McKay," said Ronon.

"No, I guess not," the scientist admitted. "You okay?" he asked John.

"I will be after we find these bastards," John said.

Teyla hoped that was soon. She was beginning to notice how rough John's voice sounded. He coughed again and she thought his eyes were starting to look glassy. She was pretty sure he hadn't slept at all the night before and he was obviously getting sick. She was ripped from her thoughts by a series of sneezes coming from Rodney.

"Oh, that 's just great," said the scientist. "Now we're both sick. I'll bet you gave me your germs."

"You know what they say, misery loves company. Hello company," John said with a smirk.

"Well, thanks misery. We'll both probably start sneezing in the middle of our raid and we'll all be killed."

John rubbed the side of his head and groaned. "Way to be optimistic, McKay."

"You're welcome."

Teyla shared a look with Ronon and suddenly began to wonder if going to Learc'ksay alone was a good idea. John was sick and heavy with the need for revenge, while Rodney was apparently getting sick and . . . well, he was Rodney. From the look on Ronon's face, he was sharing her doubt.

They reached the gate a few minutes later and Teyla was a bit surprised at how strong and determined John looked. He paused by the DHD. "This is it, guys. I thought about calling for backup, but too many people could spook them off or start a firefight that will get a lot of people killed. I say we go in and scout them out, see what their situation is before we make any firm decisions on how to handle this."

Ronon nodded, looking more confident in their situation. Even Rodney seemed to have become more serious and less whiny, nodding his approval of John's plan. The Colonel turned to Teyla. "You know the most about this place. What do you suggest?" Teyla felt a little guilty about her doubts from a moment before. She should always know that she could trust John. They all could.

"There are several groups that make their home there and none of them trust the others. For that reason, the gate is in a neutral place and no group is allowed to keep control. Getting on the planet will not be a problem. Staying alive once we get there will."

"Then we'll just have to be careful," John said easily. "Are we ready?"

"Let's do this," said Ronon.

With a nod, John turned to Teyla. "Dial her up."

TBC