The Cynical Soldier
Chapter 5 :
Sheppard tried to concentrate the next day, but thoughts of Lorne's team and their mission on the planet consumed him. Would they get an audience with Malenda? Would they learn anything more of McKay?
When he wasn't thinking of Lorne's team then it was McKay. Was he hurting? What had they done to him? Did he think they had abandoned him? Did he still think they were coming for him? These and a hundred other questions ran through his mind. The minutes turning like hours as the sun dragged through the sky.
Near noon, John went to the briefing with Carson, Zelenka and Elizabeth to discuss the upcoming mission and, of course,how McKay was alive when they had all marked him as dead.
He entered the briefing room with a coffee in his hand and a false smile on his face. John knew he was going to hate this, but it had to be done. He sat next to McKay's empty chair.
He used to sit opposite, far enough away not to earn a glare of disapproval from Elizabeth for being distracted into play by McKay instead of paying attention to the meeting at hand. Sitting opposite kept him out of trouble, but as big a personality as McKay was in the flesh, the shadow of his absence was larger and it dominated the room. He found if he sat in his usual seat, his eyes and thoughts were pulled to that empty chair rather than the conversations at hand.
John found it easier to ignore when he sat next to McKay's empty chair, as he was now. No one had even ventured towards it, never mind sat in. He didn't know what stopped others, only himself.
Dr Weir smiled encouragingly at him before starting the meeting with a nod to Zelenka and Beckett who were sat opposite him, two chairs apart from each other. Elizabeth invited Zelenka to start the meeting as she prompted him, "Please tell us your findings, Radek."
"Yes," Radek said, nodding decisively and pushing his glasses back up as he began. "I have been able to locate the planet using the address, but it is on the far side of this galaxy. We could get closer by using stargates but the final leg would still take two weeks by puddle jumper. It would take the Deadalus a month to do journey." He turned sadly towards John, "I am sorry the news in not better, Colonel."
Sheppard nodded, "We could still send a second contingent by puddle jumper, either as a scout, depending on Lorne's findings today, or to arrive after the rescue team in case we run into trouble. Would we be able to communicate with them during the final leg?"
"I think so, but I will need to check the planet to make sure there is nothing to interfere with our signal," Zelenka stated.
"It would be helpful if you could configure the puddle jumper sensors to detect the ATA gene. Would that be possible?" he asked, desperate to sound casual, as if it was something that had only just this minute occurred to him.
Zelenka nodded enthusiastically, eyes growing distant as his mind already began doing the necessary equations. He looked back up at Sheppard, eyes snapping back to the present, "Yes, Yes." He turned to the doctor on his right, "With a little help from Carson," and turning back to Sheppard, "and some time from the Colonel to test the prototype, I do not see why this cannot be done, Yes?"he queried, turning back to Carson.
"God, Yes!" Beckett exclaimed, accent heavy. "I'll be glad ta be doing something."
Sheppard was relieved. Once the technology had been developed it would be easier to incorporate into their long range sensors if McKay ran. Not that he mentioned that to Zelenka of course.
Elizabeth nodded, "Good. Did you find anything in the database? Or do you have any theories on what happened on that planet?"
Zelenka pushed his glasses up his nose, quickly glancing hesitantly at Sheppard before turning back to Elizabeth. "I have been over the database with a toothpick. I still cannot find anything, but I will not stop."
Sheppard suddenly realised the emotion that had been contained within that glance, recognising the guilt for what it was. "You weren't to know, Radek," he said softly and sincerely. "You made a scientific evaluation; you couldn't have known he was alive." It seems he wasn't the only one carrying a little guilt with him.
"It is good of you to say, Colonel, but the fact remains it was I who said he died and it was because of me that we did not look for Rodney and I will make my peace with him when we bring him home."
Sheppard nodded, knowing from personal experience that guilt cannot be killed by words, that only an act of recompense would dull its edge.
"You have a theory on what happened?" he asked, more to change the subject than anything else.
"I have many, but the one that makes the most sense is that it has always happened like this. The database details the procedure, exactly as you have described. They put the criminal in and 'poof'," his fingers came together and pushed apart, miming an explosion.
"I think that this machine transfers matter, and although it does not leave the normal power signatures, it is now clear that McKay did not die. I find it hard to believe that this race were just in the right position and took Rodney at that exact time, and although coincidences happen more often than people realise, I do not believe it was the case. I think that this was an automated system.
"I cannot believe that the ruins you described had the power to transfer him to the planet he now resides on, so there must be a planet closer, maybe even within that same system, that he was taken too and they in turn either took or sold him to his current captors. The important thing is that Rodney is alive, yes? We should understand that we may never know how and just be glad that it is, yes?"
"Aye lad, I for one don't care how, just so long as we get our Rodney back?" Carson said.
"He'll be back," Sheppard stated, looking at the empty chair to his right before looking back up at those in the room.
"Any other business?" Elizabeth asked, smiling.
"I have scenarios that I'd like Zelenka to look through and advise any fixes he has and any ideas for those he doesn't. Obviously, I think the ATA sensors and the database search should be a priority. Any information he can find on the guys who have Rodney can only help matters, but any other help he can give us for the rescue mission, or maybe assign scientists to the separate problems we think we may encounter?"
Zelenka was already nodding. Elizabeth called a close to the meeting and told Sheppard to report to her tomorrow morning with regards to the mission to visit the slave owner.
They all went their separate ways and Sheppard was once again forced to find something to distract him from his own thoughts. All he wanted to do was grab Ronon and Teyla and a puddle jumper and head out for the planet and rip it apart. He itched to be physically doing something and it was driving him mad.
Eventually, Lorne's team returned. They had a planet address and permission to visit in three days. Sheppard took the mission as his own, but without McKay he had to concede a place to Parrish, especially as the invite had been extended in his name.
It was decided that Parrish and Sheppard would pose as the potential buyers with Ronon and Teyla as their bodyguards, looking for another bodyguard for their esteemed leader. In view of the morals of this planet he had organised a second crew to follow in a cloaked jumper in case they encountered any problems.
Three days later they exited the Stargate on PXY-653. The second crew landed near the gate, remaining cloaked. Sheppard's team continued the short distance to the encampment, stopping just outside its perimeter.
This race seemed nomadic with eastern flair, bright tents of silken blues, purples and oranges edged in tassels. Their horses in a corral of ropes and stakes, strong
Stallions with glossy coats, snarling mist into the damp air. As they neared the first tents billowing in the cold breeze six guards appeared, dressed in trousers and tunics of natural fibres, overlaid with dark leather armour. They carried long intricately carved staffs of metal, topped with long blades that were curved and shone with deadly sharpness.
Parrish stepped forward, and to give him his due, he remained confident and sure as he spoke, "We come by invite to visit with Sangerra Malenda."
The six guards dipped their heads in unison and turned as one to lead them in silence amongst the tents. They stopped at a large one of orange silk, trimmed in purple and gold tassels. Four of the guards moved to stand against the front of the tent, two on each side of the entrance, the remaining two led them inside.
Sheppard and his team followed, moving past the guards when they stopped by the entrance. Large sheets of orange silk hung around the interior walls almost covering the heavier, thicker lining. This coupled with a large metal grate of embers, standing on a large metal disc, permeated the tent with warmth without being stifling.
Rugs and cushions layered the floor in sharp contrast to the damp dull atmosphere of the planet. Straight ahead of them, atop the largest and highest cushions of blue silk, sat a woman who looked as though she had stepped out of an Arabian Nights tale. She was dressed in yellow silk trousers and tunic with slits down the arms and thighs. The colour had been chosen to not only compliment the silks surrounding her, but also the copper skin shimmering beneath the slits in her clothes.
Her hair was thick and black and fell in a tied braid to curl around her neck and down her body to end in her lap. She had large dark eyes and although undoubtedly a beauty, there was a hard calculating edge to her.
To her right, in front of the cushions, there stood a single white man. He wasn't the athletic, muscular build that Sheppard had been expecting. In fact he didn't look like much at all on first glance and in a crowd you would probably have walked by him without a thought. He had brown hair and was dressed identical to the other guards, but with a leaner frame and once you noticed him, you saw the hard muscles beneath the pale skin, hard brown eyes that saw everything and yet showed nothing. There was a dangerous inflexibility about him that marked him as the bodyguard they had come to see.
Parrish stepped forward again, which gained the attention of the bodyguard. Parrish glanced at him before returning his gaze to the woman. "Sangerra Malenda?" he queried. She dipped her head slightly languid and graceful like a swan.
"I thank you for allowing us to visit with you and in answering our questions," he said. He obviously did not mention they had been expecting a man.
She smiled, "Please sit and eat with me." Sheppard and Parrish sat while Ronon and Teyla remained standing behind them. She clapped her hands and people flowed in with platters of food and jugs of wine, which were placed between them. Sheppard noticed that the bodyguard watched these just as closely. No one it seemed was above suspicion.
"What is it you wish to know?" she asked.
"Could you tell us about the auctions?" Parrish asked, hesitantly.
She nodded again before she spoke with musical tones. "The smaller auctions will be held first," she paused as she acknowledged the confused expressions on the team and changed tact to explain. "The ones that can't be conditioned to the same degree as Otho here, but still accept the voice command and can be used as required. The level of quality depicts its place in the auctions. For instance, the image on the auction notification will be deemed of the highest quality and will be in the last auction of the day."
"Really?" Parrish exclaimed and then tried to back track. "Erm, I mean, it's just that he doesn't look like much of a fighter."
"He will be by the time the auctions are staged," she replied.
Sheppard intervened. "You mentioned voice commands?" he asked as he reached for something that looked like a peach.
She turned to look at Sheppard with an appraising eye that made him thankful for the second crew. "Your purchase is conditioned to your voice so no-one else can command him." She picked up a knife and tossed it at her own bodyguard without even a glance. It sailed haphazardly but deadly towards the bodyguard who caught it deftly in one hand before Sheppard could even react. He just knew Ronon's eyebrows had done that Spock 'Impressive' thing.
"Otho," she stated as she reached for one of the peach things, "Burn yourself."
"Yes, my mistress," he replied, no inflection in his tone.
They watched him walk over to the grate and using the knife dug into the embers, pulling it back with hot coals balanced on the knife. He slanted the knife so the embers slid off the blade to fall into his waiting palm before he closed his fist on them. They watched in shocked silence as his face went from blank, to tightness around the eyes, to the tendons standing out in his neck, yet not a sound escaped his lips throughout.
Glancing between Otho, who was now grimacing in pain, and Sangerra Malenda, who was obliviously deciding what to eat next, Sheppard waited and waited for her to call a stop to this barbaric show. He was about to call an end to it himself when she spoke.
"That's enough, Otho." The embers dropped from his blistering hand, back into the grate. As Otho made his way back towards his mistress with the knife still clutched in his hand, Sheppard was deciding whether to intervene or not if Otho stabbed her, but when he reached his mistress he just placed the knife back on the platter and resumed his place without any hint of malice.
"As you can see, in addition to the voice command they also have their pain levels reduced so they can withstand more than most. They also have their fear levels reduced, but apparently they don't remove them completely or they just offer themselves for you too easily." She glanced at Otho, "That should only be a last option for them so they last longer."
Sheppard grinned wide and false. Inside his blood was boiling. "This voice commands. Can it override their previous loyalties and beliefs?"
"They have none," she responded, "They have no memories and therefore no ties. Everything they were before is simply overwritten," she said with a casual wave of her hand. "They are loyal to the voice pattern which is installed after you have purchased them." She smiled as she cast her eyes over them, believing this news would please them.
Sheppard smiled and nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. He felt sick. He was taking a long drink to bide his time while he pushed his emotions down before he spoke again. "Does he have any memories of the auction or the procedures?"
She furrowed her brow in confusion, "I don't know. I've never asked."
Parrish seemed to find his voice, "May we ask him?"
She seemed confused why they would want to know but luckily willing to indulge them, "If you want to."
Parrish looked at the bodyguard, "Otho? Can you tell us what you remember before the voice command?"
Otho bowed to his mistress before answering. His voice was rough, but Sheppard suspected that was due to lack of use. "My first memory, I was in cells with other people. They were taken one by one until there was only me. Finally, I was led from the cells to the arena above. I had to show the skills I had learnt and then led away to another room and placed on a table. They put this thing on my head when my mistress entered. Since then I have served only her."
Sheppard decided he couldn't follow this line of questioning any further and not kill everyone where they stood so he changed subjects, "What do you know about this race?" he asked.
"Very little," she said. "They keep to themselves even during the auctions, contact is minimal. According to my Grandfather, the auctions started during his time. At first, people tried to take the technology away from them, but it soon became clear this was a fool's ploy that only ended in death. Although they have no defenses they still retain an army of twenty like Otho here and that is more than enough to defeat any stupid enough to repeat the fools of history,"
The food was being cleared away. "Would you like a demonstration?" she asked, eager to show of her purchase.
Remembering the hot coals he decided on no, he had an uneasy feeling a 'demonstration' would involve Otho killing innocents and he knew himself and his team well enough to know they could not sit by and doing nothing. "Thank you, no. We have already seen enough to realise the quality," Sheppard said, trying to keep the disdain out of his voice. "It's easy to see why you would be proud to own one. If we could take your leave we really should be getting along," he turned to Parrish, trying to convey his need to leave now.
"Erm, actually, I do just have one more question?" Parrish said to Sheppard as he turned to Sangerra Malenda who, still preening from Sheppard's words, dipped her head. Still languid and graceful, but it reminded him more of a cobra than a swan now.
"You said he has no memory, yet he remembers his own name?" Parrish asked.
She gave a light laugh of silver bells, "Oh, that's not the name he was born too. You can name them whatever you like when you buy them."
Sheppard felt cold disgust and knew they had to leave now before he killed her. "Thank you for your time, Sangerra Malenda," he said as he stood, all but hauling Parrish to his feet at the same time. "We really do have to leave now," Sheppard smiled that same wide, false grin as they left.
The trip back to Atlantis was quiet but charged with anger and disgust. Ronon paced the entire journey. As they landed in the jumper bay, Sheppard finally spoke with a voice of hate and steel. "Once we've got McKay back we are going to visit with Sangerra Malenda again."
Cont/d….