Sheppard tensed as the lights flickered and dimmed. He peered down the semi-darkened corridor, but saw nothing. Tapping his radio, he hoped there was a logical explanation for this, but he was more than a little afraid it was a bad sign. "Sheppard to the control room, is anyone there?"

He request was met with silence, so he carefully resumed his journey toward the central control center. A scream shattered the quiet as he rounded the corner to see a Wraith feeding on a marine. He immediately began firing his P-90 at the creature, but only succeeded in slowing him down a bit. As Sheppard stopped firing, the Wraith dropped the dead, dried body of the soldier in the middle of the hallway and turned toward the colonel.

"I will savor your defiance," said the Wraith as he moved closer, his feeding hand extended. Sheppard began to back up, thinking he recognized the Wraith.

"Bob?"

The Wraith laughed as he continued to advance. "You remember."

Sheppard's back hit the wall behind him. "Yeah, I remember. I remember you're dead."

The Wraith laughed again. "No, but you soon will be." As he took the last step forward, he was suddenly hit from the side by a flying body and knocked to the ground. Sheppard flinched; having expected to feel the hand of the Wraith hit him in the chest. He quickly turned toward the bodies rolling and sliding on the floor to see Ford push himself away from Bob.

"Hey, sir, guess you didn't expect to see me."

"Ford? How did you get here?"

"Oh, you know me. I just keep popping up when you least expect me."

Ford and the Wraith had both managed to get to their feet. Bob suddenly roared and hit Ford hard, knocking him against the wall.

"Ford!" shouted Sheppard, drawing him 9mm and firing it at the Wraith as he walked towards them. Bob's body jerked in response to the impacts, but it didn't stop him from advancing on Ford and slamming his hand to his chest. Sheppard ran toward the Wraith only to get hit by a stunner blast. His vision faded for a few moments. He opened his eyes to see Bob hovering over him, grinning and bearing his ugly mouth full of sharp teeth. Sheppard managed to turn his head enough to see Ford's desiccated body slumped against the wall. He turned his head back just in time to see the Wraith's hand coming toward him. His world exploded into unbearable pain, radiating out from his chest to the rest of his body.

Sheppard sat up suddenly, a scream getting caught in his throat as he choked and gagged. Pain shot through his head in bright flashes and the world spun and tilted wildly to one side. Nausea rolled through his stomach and he clamped his mouth shut against the rising bile. Strong hands lowered him to the cold, hard floor.

"You should stay still for a few minutes until it passes." He recognized the low rumble of Ronon's voice. Following the man's advice, he lay almost perfectly still for the next several minutes. The dizziness and nausea finally did pass, leaving only the headache in their wake. He opened his eyes, grateful that it was relatively dark where ever they were. He slowly sat himself back up.

"Better?" asked Ronon.

"Yeah, thanks." He accepted Ronon's hand to help him to his feet. "Where are we?"

Ronon shrugged his shoulders. "Some kind of cell. Haven't seen anyone to find out any more."

Sheppard walked over to the door and peered out the small opening. "Any sign of Teyla or Rodney?"

"Nope."

Sheppard sighed. "Great. Wonder we've managed to walk into this time."

oOo

Elizabeth walked out of her office and stared down at the gate, sitting quiet and alone. "Anything?"

The tech on duty frowned and shook his head. "Nothing yet. How long are they overdue?"

Elizabeth sighed. "Three hours now. Have you tried to establish radio contact?"

"Yes, ma'am, but we got nothing."

"Okay, let me know if you hear anything." She stood silently for several minutes before tapping her radio. "Major Lorne, this is Dr. Weir. I need to see you in my office."

oOo

Teyla accepted the stale piece of bread and dried meat, along with the small cup of lukewarm water as she went through the line. Making her way to the side of the large room, she sat on the dirt floor with her back to the wall. McKay sat down next to her a few seconds later.

"Do they really expect us to eat this? I feed my cat better food than this." McKay wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Teyla looked down at the food in her hand. "It is all we have, Dr. McKay. We must eat and stay strong."

"For what? What kind of place is this?"

A young woman with short, dark hair sitting a few feet away answered him. "This is a slave camp. I take it you're new here." Her clothes were slightly ragged and dirty, but she had carefully cleaned her face and hands. She scooted over closer to Teyla. "I'm Skeyla."

Teyla nodded. "I am Teyla and this is Dr. . . . this is Rodney. We have only been here a few hours and it was not of our choosing."

"Well, you're not alone there," replied the Skeyla. "None of us are here by choice. We were captured by slave traders and sold to the mines. That's what you'll be doing tomorrow, working in the mines."

McKay's mouth dropped open and his face drained of color. "Mines? I can't work in mines. What kind of mines?"

Skeyla swallowed and took a drink. "We dig for amina. It is used in making buildings and machines and tools. It's very hard work and many people die. The air in the mines is bad and makes people sick after a while. That's why they have to have slaves to do the work."

Teyla looked at the woman, trying to determine how much she could trust her. "We were with two others when we were captured. I have not seen them here. Do they keep other workers in another place?"

Skeyla shook her head. "No, this is all the mine workers. The mine has a standing order for workers from the slave traders, since so many workers die. If your friends are not here, then they were sold on the open market. They could be anywhere."

McKay looked at Teyla, the fear in her eyes matching the fear on his face. "How are we going to find them?" he asked.

Teyla looked at him sharply. "First we have to find a way out of here. Then we can worry about finding Colonel Sheppard and Ronon."

McKay nodded as he slowly returned his gaze to the dried piece of meat still in his hand. They were so screwed.

oOo

Sheppard paced restlessly around the small room, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. The jittery feeling was back full force, making him feel almost like something was crawling just beneath his skin. His head was pounding, his stomach was rolling, and he was really hot. He felt like crap but he was too wired to sit still, he had to keep moving.

"Sheppard, what's wrong with you?"

Sheppard turned to find Ronon staring at him, his brow furrowed in either confusion or anger. "Nothing's wrong with me," he snapped.

"You can't sit still and you're sweating like it's hot in here, which it's not. You must be sick again."

"I'm not sick, I'm worried. In case you haven't noticed, we're being held prisoner by parties unknown and two of our teammates are missing. We don't even know if Teyla and Rodney are alive. That has me a little concerned." Sheppard turned away from Ronon, pacing back to the other end of the cell.

"That's not it. Something else is wrong." Ronon continued to hold Sheppard in his gaze, but the colonel refused to make eye contact. Ronon thought that pretty much proved his point.

The door burst open, startling both men. Four large guards poured in through the open entryway and shackled both men before they had time to react. They were led by chains through a narrow corridor, up some stairs, and through another corridor and then outside into a courtyard. A makeshift raised stage about twenty feet long and ten feet wide occupied one end. The area in front of the stage was full of people milling about. Ronon and Sheppard were lead to a line of men and told to stand behind the ones already assembled.

A few minutes later they understood what was happening as the first man in line was auctioned off to the highest bidder. A few seconds later, Sheppard felt cold metal slide down his back. He flinched and turned as the remains of his shirt were jerked off his back. The same thing was happening to Ronon and the others around them.

"Hey, what's that for?" Sheppard asked the guard with the knife.

The man smiled, his yellowed teeth making Sheppard even more nauseous. "The buyers like to see exactly what they're getting." He chuckled to himself. "Especially the women buyers, if you know what I mean." He winked at Sheppard, making him almost shudder. Sheppard didn't want to know what he meant.

"You're kind of skinny, but not bad other than that. You'll bring a good price."

The guard moved on down the line and Sheppard saw Ronon watching him, his eyes glinting in spite of their dire circumstances. "Don't say it. I'm not skinny." He turned his back to the big man so he wouldn't have to look at the smirk.

They were suddenly pushed forward, Sheppard falling against the stairs in front of him. As he regained his footing, he looked up at the stage. He was next. A lot of crap had happened to him in his lifetime, but being sold wasn't one of them. He really wasn't looking forward to this and he still felt like crap. What he wouldn't give for a cup of Shuloc tea, preferably in his room in Atlantis.

"You, get up here." The guard on stage grabbed him and almost pulled him up on the stage and across it. The sudden movement made Sheppard dizzy and he stumbled, falling against the guard, angering the big man. The guard elbowed Sheppard in the side of the head, knocking him to the ground. As he raised his hand to strike the colonel, Ronon was there blocking his blow. The former runner had moved so fast and his action had been so unexpected, that no one had stopped him.

As Ronon blocked the blow to Sheppard, another guard came up behind him and hit him over the head with his weapon, knocking Ronon to the ground beside Sheppard. A third guard entered the melee, bringing with him a long pole. Sheppard had managed to get to his feet and as the guard jabbed the pole forward, Sheppard caught the end of the pole in his hand and yanked it from the man's hands. The pole immediately lit up and began to hum. Sheppard's attention was drawn to the pole so that he didn't see the fourth guard, who punched him from behind in the kidney, dropping him immediately. Ronon began trying to get up, moving protectively toward Sheppard as he writhed on the stage, when a voice stopped them all.

"Stop this! I will buy this man, but only if you do not hurt him further." A tall, well-dressed man had stepped onto the stage. His voice was loud and booming, commanding everyone's attention. The man who seemed to be in charge of the sales came quickly over to him.

"But we haven't even started the bidding."

Sheppard had managed to sit up, his arm pressed to his side as he struggled to breathe. The tall man walked over to Sheppard and stood looking at him. "Are you injured?"

Sheppard spat some blood from his mouth, landing it just inches from the man's shoes. Looking up, he replied. "No, just bruised. But he's with me." He jerked one finger back toward Ronon, who was glaring at everyone.

The tall man laughed. "Well, normally I don't let prospective slaves tell me what to do, but in this case I could use the man. Okay, I'll take both men."

"But, but, but Sir Chamaelion, we haven't started the bidding yet. It must be done in proper turn." The short, plump man conducting the auction was huffing and puffing and turning red in the face. He seemed on the verge of hyperventilating.

The tall man turned to the audience. "I bid one hundred ranckles on these two men. Does anyone wish to outbid me?" There was a low murmur through the audience, but no one challenged the bid. Sheppard and Ronon both thought that must be a huge amount of money judging from the reaction of the crowd.

"Sold!" yelled the man taking the bids.

Hours later, Ronon and Sheppard were in the back of a wagon, headed down a rough dirt road toward the home of their new owner. Sir Chamaelion was riding beside the wagon on a beautiful animal that looked very much like a horse. One of his servants was driving and, as near as they could tell, was hitting every hole in the road.

Ronon sat with his back next to the side of the wagon, while Sheppard lay curled up in as tight a ball as he could make. The cramping had started a while earlier, and wave after wave rolled through his gut, making him moan in pain. They had already stopped once so he could hang over the side of the wagon and empty his stomach, not that much was there to begin with. His clothes were soaked in sweat and, as the sun began to get low in the sky and night air began to cool, he began to shiver.

Their new owner signaled for his driver to stop. He dismounted and walked over to the wagon, looking in at Sheppard's shivering form. "What's wrong with him?"

Ronon shook his head. "I'm not sure. He was sick with something a couple of weeks ago, but he had gotten over it. Maybe it's come back. He's got a fever."

The man looked worried. "We'll be to the city soon and we can send for the healer. He should know what to do. I can't let anything happen to him."

Ronon held the man's gaze without flinching. "Why are you so interested in him?"

The man immediately broke into a big grin. "He can make those things left by the old ones work. We have many things left to us, but very few who can use them. It is destined that I should find him and bring him back to the city. Our queen will be so happy with this magnificent find."

Sheppard moaned and pushed his face into the rough floor of the wagon, desperately trying to escape the pain. He opened his eyes and looked across the wagon at Ronon. "Are we there?" he asked breathlessly.

"Almost."

"Cold," he whispered, before pulling in tighter as another wave of cramps came crashing in.

Their new owner had given them thin shirts to replace the ones that had been cut off them, but they were little protection against the cool air, especially when soaked in sweat. Ronon wished he had a blanket or jacket to throw over Sheppard. "We should hurry," he said to the man standing there watching them.

"Yes, yes, but all means." He quickly mounted his animal and they began driving down the road again.

An hour later, they topped a hill and stopped. "That is your new home."

Ronon had been hovering over Sheppard, checking to see how high his fever was and making sure he was breathing okay. He twisted around in the wagon and looked down toward the valley below. There were many trees between them and the city, but the large towers that stretched above the trees were unmistakable. They looked exactly like the towers of Atlantis.

oOo

When they arrived at the city, they left the animals and wagon with some people working in a series of stables and paddocks outside. Ronon and the driver each took one of Sheppard's arms over their shoulder and helped him to a room in the city. It was hard to look around much since they were struggling to get Sheppard to their room, but what he saw looked as much like Atlantis as the outside had. When they finally deposited Sheppard into a bed, the driver left to find the healer.

Sheppard immediately curled up on his side, panting and clutching his stomach. Ronon put his hand to the colonel's head and found him still hot with fever. A servant girl brought a blanket and placed it over Sheppard, causing him to groan as the fabric touched him, almost as if it hurt.

Sheppard was only aware of pain and cold. His head hurt, but that paled in comparison to the cramps that rocked his midsection and radiated into his chest. It hurt to breathe or to move in any way. He felt pretty sure he was about to die and was wishing it would just go ahead and happen so at least the pain would be over. He could feel hands touching him and hear people talking, but it was blurred and fuzzy. He hurt too much to open his eyes, so he just rode wave after wave of pain, wishing it would end.

It wasn't long before the driver arrived with the healer, an older man with a satchel of medicines and instruments. He shooed everyone out while he examined Sheppard. Ronon waited in an adjacent room with the driver, the servant girl, and Chamaelion for quite a while. Eventually the doctor opened the door and motioned for the master of the house to come in.

"What is it?" asked Chamaelion. "Can you help him?" He was almost afraid to hear the answer. To make the find of their time only to have him die of some unknown illness would not fare well for him.

The healer smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "You are very lucky tonight. I can help him easily. He only needs the Shuloc leaf, he is in withdrawal."

Chamaelion sighed heavily and let himself sink into a chair. "Thank the gods. He'll be okay then?"

"Yes, yes, by morning probably. I'll leave you some if you don't have any. You know what to do. Let's make some and give it to him before I leave so I can see how he does. Then I can better tell you how much to give him until he has fully recovered and then we'll work on setting up his daily dose. We may need to talk with him and find out how much he has been taking. It is odd to find someone from another world taking the Shuloc. He must have been of some importance there. It's not like just anyone can afford it."

"Yes, these two new slaves become more and more curious. I am anxious to learn about them. I will get Jacine to make the Shuloc. Thank you my friend."

The healer just nodded his head. "This is what I do."

Chamaelion returned to the adjacent room and whispered some instructions to the servant girl. She nodded and went quickly into another room. He then walked over to Ronon. "You'll be happy to know the healer can help your friend. He has encountered this illness before and we are preparing to give him what he needs. He should be much better by morning. I know you must be tired, so Clavin will show you to your quarters. You will stay there until we come get you for the morning meal and then you can visit your friend."

Ronon narrowed his eyes and smiled. "What if I don't want to stay there?"

"The door will be locked, so you will have no choice. We treat our slaves well here, but you must still recognize your place and stay in it. Your life can be very pleasant or very unpleasant. It is your choice. I hope you will chose to make it pleasant. Clavin, take . . . "

"Ronon."

"Thank you. Take Ronon to his room please."

The driver nodded his head and motioned for Ronon to follow. The Satedan took one last look at the door to Sheppard's room and then slowly followed the man, hoping they were taking as good a care of his CO as they claimed. If not, there'd be hell to pay tomorrow.