Remember, Never to Forget---3
Present time----
"Rodney, did you hear me?"
"Huh," McKay whispered unaware that he'd tuned everything out while he relived his worst nightmare.
"I asked you if you're sleeping all right," Beckett repeated.
"Honestly, Carson, I don't remember the last time I slept…oh, wait, yes I do…that would have been the night before I killed Colonel Sheppard."
"Rodney, you didn't…"
"Yes, I did, Carson, and there's nothing you can do to change that. I pushed the damn button and watched as he disintegrated with that damn ship. Nothing you or anyone else can say or do anything to change that," McKay vowed.
"Rodney, I want you to spend the night in the infirmary. I'll give you something to help you sleep…"
"I don't need…"
"Don't make me pull the CMO card on you Rodney because I will if I have to," Beckett told him and placed a hand on the man's shoulder when he witnessed a slight tremble in McKay's hands.
"I saw him, Carson," McKay whispered.
"Who?" Beckett asked softly.
"Sheppard…I saw him at that market."
"Rodney, we both know that's not possible. God help me I wish it was, but Colonel Sheppard is gone and it's time you forgave yourself for something you couldn't do anything about," Beckett said and saw the guilt in the other man's eyes. "It will get better, Rodney."
"Will it?" McKay asked, turning away from the physician and lying back on the bed. He closed his eyes and thought about how many people he could consider close friends. If he was brutally honest he could count them on one hand and still have a leftover or two. That wasn't something he was proud of, but it came down to his inability to let people see the real Rodney McKay, the one who had feelings that could easily be hurt.
"I'll be right back, Rodney," Beckett assured the scientist. He knew McKay was holding on to the guilt of pushing the detonator and wished there was some way to get through to him. Unfortunately, for now, Rodney McKay was not ready to forgive himself for something that was no one's fault, but the creatures who'd tried to capture the team.
"How is he, Carson?" Elizabeth Weir asked.
"Honestly, Elizabeth, he's like a train headed for a brick wall with no brakes," Beckett answered, his Scottish accent coming through loud and clear. "You do know he really believes he saw Colonel Sheppard at that market?"
"I know and I'm going to have Major Lorne's team go back and do a little investigating in case…"
"Elizabeth, do you think that's a good idea? Rodney's feeling enough guilt. Until he faces the fact that Colonel Sheppard is dead and he did the only thing possible in an impossible situation he'll continue to see Colonel Sheppard around every corner," Beckett told her.
"That's why Lorne's team is going to check it out. I'd rather not tell Rodney unless there's something concrete," Weir explained.
"Do you think it's possible, Elizabeth?"
"That John Sheppard is alive?" Weir asked and Beckett nodded once. "Not according to the reports. Teyla and Rodney both saw the ship disintegrate with Sheppard on board. I think Rodney is hanging on to the guilt of being put in that situation."
"I'd be worried if he was feeling guilty…they were in a life or death situation and Rodney made the only choice he could."
"I know," Weir said. "Is he fit for duty or are you putting him on medical leave?"
"He hasn't been sleeping much so I'm going to keep him here overnight and give him something to help him sleep," Beckett explained.
"All right…keep me updated on whether he should be removed form the active roster," Weir said and turned to walk away. John Sheppard's loss had affected everyone on Atlantis and she knew it could still cost them another valued member of the expedition. If McKay continued to cling to the grief stricken guilt they could very well lose him as well.
SGASGASGASGASGASGA
The voice was back, the one that haunted his memories, but only brought pain when he reached out to it, blinding pain that wiped out his very existence before waking on a slab in some kind of lab. He remembered something…a creature of some kind feeding on him just before everything exploded in a brilliant display of pyrotechnics that would have made…would have made who? Or what? God he couldn't think anymore.
He rolled to his left side and forced his eyes open; staring in awe at the rows of beds like the one he lay on. Most were unoccupied for now, but he knew that would change when the next slaver ship arrived. There were creatures of all shapes and sizes being trained for 'jobs' in the mines or worse yet in the beds of their owners. He knew if given the choice he would take the mines, but so far he'd been a simple companion to a female who treated him with some sympathy at his plight. He knew that could also change because no one stayed in the holding area for long.
There were several slavers interested in purchasing him, but so far his captor had been unwilling to sell him for any amount of credits or money. She'd taken him into the market today and that's when he'd heard the voice, the one from his nightmares and he'd cringed at the thought of being sold to him, but his owner had immediately ordered him chained and gagged and dragged back to her ship. He'd spent the night curled up like a dog at the foot of her bed before being returned to the holding chamber.
He looked down at the chain wrapped around his ankle and reached down to touch it, but sat back when a voice spoke to him from the bed behind him. He turned and looked at a male, twice his own size with fur covering every exposed inch of his body. He had no way of knowing the humanoids name, but he guessed him to be very young.
"Who are you…who are these people?"
"Slavers…they capture and sell…"
"Be quiet back there or you will be punished!" the order came from a male stationed at the door.
"What's your name?" he asked, ignoring the warning, but lowering his voice.
"I am called Tyrel of Glione's clan. He will be angered when I don't return with the hunting party. He will look for me. How long have you been here?"
"Days…weeks…months. I don't know anymore."
"What is your name?"
"I don't remember…they call me John, but I don't know if that was my name before…I don't know…I…" He cried out as something struck his lower back and he fell back on the bed even as Tyrel's keening wail echoed through the chamber.
"You were warned, John, don't make me punish you further."
"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to offend…I…"
"Quiet and sleep or go to the mines early," the guard told him.
"I will sleep," John vowed, turning away from Tyrel and closing his eyes. Tyrel's cries had stopped, but John could hear a soft purring sound that seemed to sooth his pain. Was that Tyrel's doing or one of the others? For now, John could only take solace in the easing of his discomfort and closed his eyes. Sleep was a long time coming and when it did his dreams were filled with nightmare images of talons and white hot explosions that left him with fire in his lungs before ultimately being pulled from the jaws of death. Just before he 'died' he heard someone calling his name, but the voice faded and left him to utter despair and cloying darkness.
John heard voices and opened his eyes to find his owner standing over him. She could be cruel when she wanted and there were times when he'd seen that cruel streak and even worse had felt it when he'd displeased her in some way. He knew the rules, and one of those was to keep your eyes downcast when she spoke to him, but he often defied that one and she would smile before taking his chin between her fingers and forcing his head down. It was his only show of defiance and one she'd allowed him to keep during their time together.
There seemed to be something different in the way she looked at him and he raised his chin, staring straight into her eyes, but there was none of the mirth he usually caught there. Her silver eyes were awash with luminescence as if she'd been crying, but he knew that could not be. His owner never cried, she was as tough as nails and cold hearted when it came to her slaves.
"The time has come, John. I'm afraid I must be rid of you before you cause me to lose everything I worked so damned hard for." As high Priestess she could choose to keep any of the slaves, and had toyed with the idea of keeping this one, but someone had recognized him and it would not do to be compromised now. Humans were hard to come by and this one was special considering her contacts said he was part of the Atlantis expedition. Unfortunately the chance encounter yesterday meant this one had to go, no matter how much it displeased her to sell him.
"What have I done wrong?" John asked, wincing at the tight grip she had on his chin.
"Besides bewitching me with your eyes…nothing, but you are a danger to my business and it has become necessary to get rid of you," she told him. "Bekha will take you to the stage and I know you will be the highlight of the slave market today."
"Yes, Mistress," John whispered and stood up. A collar was placed around his neck and a four foot length of chain was attached to it and then linked to several other slaves who would be put on sale today. John had somewhat mixed feelings about being sold, but when Tyrel was hooked to the chain behind him he felt his protective instincts kick in when the furry humanoid showed his fear. "It's okay, Tyrel, just don't fight them and you'll be fine.
"I want to return to my home…"
"Be silent!" Bekha ordered and lifted his hand to strike Tyrel.
"Leave him alone!" John snapped.
"Don't ever open your mouth to speak unless you have permission, Slave!" Bekha warned, but stopped when the high Priestess warned him to leave the slaves alone. Bekha angrily looked over the ten males who would join the ten females on the auction block today. It had taken a lot out of his mistress to sell the human, but he knew the man would bring a hefty price with his dark hair color and well honed body. If John was lucky he would be sold to a female who wanted him as a mate, Bekha hoped he wouldn't be that lucky. The female buyers rarely came to the slave sales and he hadn't seen any in the special guest area today so maybe the human was about to find out what it was like to be a real slave, not some well kept pet.
John walked out of the sleep chamber with the other slaves, wincing when the bright pink orb of the sun stabbed at eyes that were not accustomed to the sunshine. He kept his eyes downcast until they adjusted and wondered why the sunlight seemed so wrong. His vision blurred and for several seconds he glimpsed a bright yellow orb that gave off the warmth his body craved, but all to soon the memory was gone and he was struggling along with the other slaves.
John could hear the familiar sounds of the people waiting to bid on him and the others and felt disgusted at the thought of being examined in front of them. He'd witnessed other sales and knew there were some buyers who enjoyed degrading the slaves by requesting a public examination before the bidding started.
"John, you and Tyrel will be on stage together and I want you both on your best behavior. Displease the High Priestess in any way and I will use the whip to rip the skin from your back. Understood?"
"Yes, Bekha," John answered, cringing when he heard the crack of the whip behind him. "He doesn't understand, Bekha…"
"Silence, John!" the burly guard warned as the first two males were marched onto the stage before leaning close to John and whispering. "I am going to enjoy seeing you on display, John. You won't have the High Priestess to hide behind this time and I know there are several buyers who will enjoy your humiliation."
John swallowed convulsively, fighting the urge to lash out because it would only bring him more pain and punishment. When he'd first woken to find he had no memories of his past and that he was now a slave to the whims of other, John had received more than his share of punishments. There'd been days when he could barely lift his head because of the brutal beating he'd endured. Then the mistress had come and she'd ordered him taken form the slave quarters and brought to her chambers. Once there he'd been cleaned and checked over by a 'physician' and before long he was on his feet and working in the house. He'd even been allowed to accompany her on several missions…missions?
Why did that word always stand out for him? The trips to the markets were not missions, simply trips for the High Priestess to indulge in her whim of buying and selling. There was no mission involved. He frowned as the voice repeated in his mind and knew he should remember, but it slipped away and was drowned out by the roar of the crowd. John's head snapped up as the duo in front of him were released and marched out onto the stage. He silently cursed the fact that he'd been so engrossed in thought that he'd let the time slip away form him and it would not be long before he and Tyrel were marched out to meet their destiny. A destiny he wished would change his life for the good, but that was not likely. A soft sound from behind him made him realize Tyrel needed him and his protective instincts kicked in.
"We'll be okay, Tyrel," John soothed, turning and placing a hand on the young male's shoulder.
"I want to go home…I don't want this."
"None of us do, Tyrel, but we don't have a choice right now. There may come a time when we'll find a way to escape and return ho…home, but right now there are too many of them and we wouldn't have a chance…"
"You were told to be quiet, John!" Bekha warned and brought his stick down across John's shoulders, sending excruciating pain through his upper body. It lasted less than a minute, but the memory would stay with him forever.
John felt hands helping him stand and was slightly surprised to find Tyrel was the one helping him. He felt tiny beads of sweat on his forehead and smiled thinly when he swayed, but managed to stand. "Thank you…"
"Quiet, John!" Bekha snapped. "It's time for you and Tyrel to make your debut. Don't go doing anything stupid or I'll use this on you again."
John sucked in a deep breath and move forward, hating the way he was forced to shuffle once Bekha attached the length of gold chain to his ankles. He felt like an old man who'd suffered for years with arthritis and could barely move his legs. The stairs were next to impossible, but he managed until he neared the top. Tyrel miss stepped below him and dragged him backward. He flailed, reaching out and grabbing the railing as he felt the sharp pull on his neck and ankles. Just before he lost his grip, strong hands grabbed his arms and pulled him upright.
"Don't want you breaking that neck quite yet, John," Bekha said with a grin and led the two males onto the stage. "This is lot number seven on today's venue. Two males…one is human and the other is from the planet Goliaden and is just starting to grow his fur putting his age at around 15. He should give you many years of servitude and is easily trained with the right tools. The human male is probably 30 to 35 cycles and may not look like much right now, but I can assure you he is very strong and has a stubborn streak that makes him quite interesting…"
"Do they have names?" a large male asked from the back row.
"The human is known only as John. The Goliaden is called Tyrel of Glione," Bekha answered.
"I'm interested, but I want to make sure they are disease free," the big male said. "Is it possible to have one of my physicians examine both males right now?"
"If that is your wish, Special Envoy Sharpel," Bekha said, grinning as he ordered the other attendants to bring forward the two slabs used to restrain the slaves while the private physicians did a thorough examination. He turned to the two males, clad in white silken tunics and smiled. "Remove them."
"No," John spat, angered at this newest atrocity.
"Either remove them or I will have two of the guards remove them for you!" Bekha warned, smiling when the human stood his ground. "Dentac, hold him!"
John could sense movement behind him and tried to turn, but was stopped as his something wrapped around his upper body and held him immobile as Bekha moved closer. The guard's eyes were like icy sapphires set in a ring of onyx as he stood before him, but John showed no fear as he struggled to get free of the restraints. Bekha quickly rid him of the tunic, leaving John wearing nothing as he was lifted and placed on the cold, stone slab. John could hear the cheers and jeers from the spectators as straps crossed his body at different intervals until he was completely at the mercy of his captors.
"Does he always fight the restrains so hard?"
"Yes, it is part of what makes him unique. Most slaves know when it is time to stop fighting, but John has always resisted the slightest attempts to restrain him," Bekha answered the physician honestly.
"He looks malnourished," the slim male standing opposite Bekha observed.
"He's not. I can assure you the mistress kept him well fed and he has had an easy life in captivity so far," the guard answered, a hint of a malicious smile on his face. "I'm sure that will change if Special Envoy Sharpel is the successful bidder."
"Envoy Sharpel does like to keep a tight rein on his property. Now, John, my name is Xanadar and I am physician for Envoy Sharpel. If you relax I will do this as quickly as possible," the slim figure offered.
John could feel the man's long slender fingers probing his upper body, paying close attention to the corded muscles in his neck before forcing him to open his mouth. The fingers probed his gum, but when John tried to bite he received a jolt across the chest from Bekha's special weapon.
"He still has all his teeth and I don't see any gum diseases. He has been marked with a whip, but is healing very well," Xanadar explained loud enough for the spectators to hear.
John could only submit to the man's examination as the pain from the jolt raged through his upper body, sending fiery tendrils along his nerves. He gasped when the man's hands touched upon his navel and slid further down, examining everything that made him a male in his world.
"He is well endowed and has both testes in place…"
John tried to block out the man's voice, but everything seemed to be heightened by the degrading show being put on for the creatures surrounding him. The cold fingers slid along his inner thighs, pinching the skin before moving further down. With each touch, John flinched, but could not escape the misery brought by the man's hands on his body. Flashes of memory, hidden from his mind for years came back and he trembled in the restraints, unsure whether these memories were real or imagined. Right now it didn't matter because John felt he was already in hell and these people were his worst nightmare.
"He is a fine specimen and will make a fine addition to your collection," Xanadar told the people watching, making sure he looked at the man he worked for. The bidding would start as soon as the second male was examined and both were standing before the people interested in purchasing them.
John had no idea how it happened, but he was soon standing on his feet next to Tyrel and being ogled by the people who'd come for the slave auction. He struggled, but his arms were pinned behind him and locked to a steel bar at his elbows, while Bekha took control and began to speak to the buyers.
"As you can see there two males were left until last because they are the best of the best. The High Priestess had her heart set on keeping John, but she has found it is an embarrassment of riches to keep so many. The opening bid is set at 500 credits for the pair and although that may seem high for untrained slaves, my mistress feels they are worth it…"
"500 credits!"
"We have 500 credits from Minister Hawk…"
"1000 credits!"
"1500 credits…"
"I have 1500 credits…do we have anymore bids…come on people…look at how fine they are. Surely you…"
"5000 credits!"
"Now that's more like it. 5000 credits from Minister Hawk! Any other bids?"
"5500…"
"5500 from Special Envoy…"
"6000!"
"6500!" came form someone near the back.
"10,000 credits!"
"10,000 credits from Minister Hawk…any more takers?" Bekha asked, knowing they'd already doubled what they'd expected to get for this particular sale. He hid his surprise when another bid was forthcoming from Sharpel.
"11,000 credits!"
"11,000 going once…"
"15,000!"
"15,500!"
"20,000," came from Hawk and there was silence in the spectators as the two bidders competed for the two males.
"Special Envoy Sharpel, the bid is in your corner!"
"I'm done," Sharpel said, angered that he'd been out bid, but understanding that if he went any higher he would have to justify it to the other council members as to why he'd spent such an exorbitant amount on two slaves.
"Very well," Bekha said, slightly disappointed that the bidding seemed to have come to an end. "If there are no further bids the slaves are sold to War Minister Hawk of Sheyenne."
John watched as the warrior made his way toward the stage. The man was well over six feet tall, bald headed, bronze skinned, with eyes as cold as the arctic oceans. His arms could be described as medium sized tree trunks and he towered over John without saying a word. The man's eyes seemed to drill right through him, but John was able to smile in spite of the dangerous behemoth before him. The smile earned him a slap to the face that drove him backward against Bekha who pushed him away.
"You will learn your place, Human," Hawk warned.
"Go to hell!" John spat, cursing as the man placed a hand on each of his shoulders and pressed him down to his knees.
"Your mouth will get you in trouble, Human," Hawk said, grinning and revealing two gold teeth in a row of perfect white. "Keep it closed now or I will have you gagged…"
"I…"
"Will learn your place," Hawk told him and nodded to whoever was standing behind his slaves.
John glared at the man towering over him as something was placed over his head. He kept his lips sealed as a metal ball was placed before his mouth and refused to open until a blow to his lower back sent pain screaming through his body. As soon as his mouth parted the ball was forced past his teeth and a strap was fastened to both sides and brought around the back. John's breath caught in his throat as the ends pulled against the corners of his mouth and thought he tasted blood.
"That's better," Hawk said and pulled him to his feet. "Now, Homan, you will behave yourself or Tyrel will pay dearly for your actions. Do I make myself clear?"
John turned and saw the look of fear on Tyrel's face and nodded that he understood perfectly. He stood tall, staring at the man, but was forced to lower his head when a hand was placed at the back of his neck and squeezed until he had no choice. He struggled, but there was no leeway as his head began to ache and his eyes watered.
"You are to keep your eyes down when you are in the company of those above your station, Human. Right now you are lower than the lowlife scum that's found in the bottom of the cesspools on my world and you will be treated as such until you prove you are worthy to be in my presence!" Hawk turned and walked through the crowd, smiling at the sound of shuffling feet behind him. John was going to be a worthy fighter, but it would take some training before he would be fit to face real foes.
John kept his head down, but every now and then he lifted his head and tried to keep track of where his new owner was taking him. He was led to a ship stationed near the front of the slave enclosures and was pulled inside. The interior of the ship was dark, but quickly lit up when Hawk pressed his hand against a console. The area they were in was like a holding cell until the doors closed behind him and they were led deeper into the ship. John's legs ached from the chain surrounding his ankles and he was soon shoved into a small cell and told to sit on the edge of the cot. There was no choice, but to obey and he sat down and his arms released, but before he could do anything they were pulled above his head and attached to a hook above his head. His ankles were left in the chains and attached to the end of the cot.
"This is where you will stay until we reach my world, Human. Sleep while you can because when we reach Sheyenne you will be forced to work for your sleeping quarters and meals."
John closed his eyes and relived the explosion that had wiped out his former life. He tried to latch onto the faces that sometimes flitted across his mind like flashes of memories, but he couldn't quite grasp them. A name formed on his lips, but fell on deaf ears as the darkness crept over his mind and body.
"Rodney…remember…never to for…get…"
TBC