Thanks again for all the reviews, they really mean a lot. And I forgot to say last time that I can't reply to those who review anonymously. Unfortunately the system doesn't allow it, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate them!

Well, we left John getting the first instalment of his punishment. How is he now?

JUSTICE

CHAPTER 3

"Get up, turn around, and put your hands behind your back."

When he saw the rugged heavy set man with the bushy beard, John's mouth went dry. The faded blue military uniform meant only one thing. He was from the prison. It was time for his sentence to begin for real. His back was throbbing, still aching from the painful whipping. John gritted his teeth but failed to suppress a wince as he slowly scrambled to his feet.

The wounds on his back pulled as his wrists were secured with rope. Three times the rough cord was tied around his hands until he could barely feel his fingers. John couldn't understand the overkill. Beaten and with his feet in chains, he wasn't exactly a flight risk. Maybe the guy was making a point. If that was the case, he'd received the message loud and clear. He got it. The soldier wasn't someone to be messed with. He wasn't intending to. Why make his situation harder than it needed to be? He flinched when he felt the stiff cotton material of his tunic pulled up at the back. When the man started pressing his wounds, John hissed.

"You'll do."

John was tempted to say 'what?' but decided it wasn't a good idea to piss him off. The guy wasn't young. He guessed maybe late fifties. But he could see from the defined muscles under his jacket the bulk was all muscle, and the gleam in his eye told him the soldier was just waiting for him to try something.

When he pulled out a noose, John steeled himself not to react. The judge had told him his crime was usually punishable by death. It gave him cold comfort, but he reckoned if the old guy had changed his mind, he'd probably be pushing up daisies by now. When it was put around his head, tightened, and the remaining rope wound around his neck three more times he felt his throat start to constrict. He wondered about the significance of the number. John reckoned it was either the soldier's birth date, or the guy couldn't count to four. He wasn't going to ask.

The piercing blue eyes bore into his. "My name's Sergeant Kilund. You can call me Sir. Okay… here's the rules. Number one - you don't speak unless I give you permission.. Number two – you do what you're told when I tell you to do it. And number three. If you break either of the rules I have a strap in my saddle bag with your name on it. You don't have to take my word for it, but I can tell you now the whipping that boy gave you will feel like a tickle compared to the beating you'd get from me. Understand?"

John nodded. He didn't doubt it, but the man didn't intimidate him. The oppressive rules were a common technique used by tyrannical regimes, and dictators all over the world. He could now add Pegasus to the list. They were designed to dominate and control. Strike fear into the heart of the victim/prisoner in order to make them submissive and compliant.

Bullies like Kilund were all too common, but in the past he'd been in a position to do something about them. This time he wasn't calling the shots. It went against every instinct he possessed but John reluctantly accepted he would need to play along. That, or end up in a world of pain.

Kilund took the other end of the rope and yanked him forward. John gagged as the noose tightened around his neck, then yelped as the motion stretched the skin on his back taut, tearing his wounds. The guy smiled. John never wanted to hit anyone as much in all his life.

The linked chain securing his feet together was only eighteen inches long. He'd only gone a few steps before he felt the metal bands bit into his ankles as he tried to keep up with the soldier's quick pace. He was being treated like a dog, and just like an animal John could feel his hackles rise. He counted to ten, then a hundred. By a thousand he managed to keep his temper under control, but he was still pissed. He glared at the guy but his small act of defiance was wasted. Kilund didn't spare him a backward glance as he continued marching ahead.

Outside John squinted against the glare of the sun. The last time he'd been out in the open was when he'd been whipped. That was two days ago. He'd been stuck inside nursing his wounds ever since. Normally he loved the outdoors, but as he scanned the surrounding area he had a feeling that was going to change.

There wasn't a cart in sight. Not even one with a cage. All he saw was a creature that looked half horse, half zebra. He didn't need McKay's smarts to know what lay ahead of him.

Sir mounted the horse with ease and tied the end of the rope to the front of his saddle. He stared down at him.

"That's right, boy. You get to have some exercise."

With a grin Kilund dug the stirrups into the creature's side sending it into a trot. John knew with his hands bound behind his back, a fall would land him flat on his face. He was glad of all those runs with Ronon. The big guy tested him to his limits, and while he'd never beaten him, at least his fitness had improved as a result. Distracted by thoughts of home John stumbled, only Kilund's hand stopped him from falling.

"Pay attention, Sheppard – I only do that once."

John knew the guy was right. He needed to forget about his old life. Atlantis was a faraway place where he didn't belong anymore. Flenda was going to be his home for the next fifteen years. It was about time he started getting used to that…

ooooOoooo

Richard walked into his quarters, slipped off his jacket and strolled onto the balcony.

He leaned on the rail, stretched out the kinks in his back and breathed in a large gulp of sea air. With his eyes closed it reminded him of the Hamptons. Richard had spent some of the happiest times of his life there and right now, he'd give anything to be back sharing an after dinner cognac with friends.

At least he'd managed to escape that fish bowl of an office for a while. He accepted the arrangement must have seemed like a fine idea when the Ancients built the place, but he didn't like it. He was a private man. He liked to do his work without prying eyes – chiefly McKay's – watching his every move.

The last few days had been a nightmare. He'd been a diplomat for many years and thought he knew the human condition well. Cruelty wasn't new, and although abhorrent didn't surprise him. The court system wasn't without its flaws, but did accord him the faith that in most cases justice would be done. At the very least the defendant would be considered innocent until the evidence found otherwise. Even those found guilty were treated with respect and mercy. What happened in the court room in Taluna had been disgraceful. Colonel's Sheppard's verdict was neither just nor merciful.

John Sheppard wasn't perfect. The man's flagrant disregard for authority on occasion was exasperating in the extreme. His courage, his commitment to duty however couldn't be faulted. There was no dispute Colonel Sheppard had killed an innocent bystander. What the judge hadn't properly considered was the circumstances surrounding the death. In his view Richard believed his military leader was just as much an innocent as the man he'd killed. Sheppard had been duped into attending court, and then hung out to dry.

Sheppard could have stayed at home, ignored the request to attend the hearing and nursed the concussion he'd been suffering. Instead he chose to face the music knowing he might be sent to prison. When he'd been hauled off and put in chains even before the trial began, Richard knew the trial was going to be a charade.

The mitigating circumstances shouldn't even have warranted jail time. It had been an accident. Sheppard himself had been injured at the time. Worst case scenario, the maximum sentence Sheppard might have expected back on Earth was months, a year max. To send him down for fifteen years was outrageous. As for the additional punishment, Richard was still in shock. He'd been told before he came to Atlantis the Pegasus galaxy could be a brutal, merciless place. Now he had evidence of it first hand.

He was good at his job, but Richard had been starting to think he was losing his touch when no one, not even the Chief Minister of Taluna's government would listen to reason. Just as he'd been leaving he found out why. The minister had gone scarlet when it slipped out the farmer who died was a relative of the judge – his brother no less. Now the truth was out he knew what he was dealing with. It didn't help much. Given the very personal connection it was going to take more than his well honed skills to get Sheppard out of this one.

In the last few hours he'd pulled strings with every ally they had. He'd received written testimonials of Sheppard's sterling work. He had screeds of heartfelt stories of how his military leader had again and again put his own life at risk to save others from the Wraith menace. The trade agreements he and his team had put in place to improve the lives of people in poor, less advanced communities.

Richard had also worked out a package to offer in exchange for Sheppard's release. It was tantamount to bribery, but he didn't care. John Sheppard was a good man who didn't deserve such harsh treatment. He couldn't bear the thought of him being led to a pole, tied up like a piece of meat then cruelly whipped.

Another meeting was arranged for tomorrow. He only hoped third time would be the charm.

ooooOoooo

John didn't know how long he'd been on the move, but the rope seemed to get tighter with every step. The air getting real thin as he struggled to catch a breath.

His back was throbbing. His feet felt almost as bad. John suspected Kilund was taking him through the forest on purpose. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd stumbled when his bare feet had connected with the hard pebbles and sharp branches littering the ground. He couldn't bend down to see the damage, but knew the location of every painful cut and blister. He was also exhausted. His shambling footsteps were getting sluggish, more staggered the further they went, but Sir showed no sign of letting up.

They'd gone through the 'gate a while back, then another. Before he'd dialed out, Kilund had turned him around so he couldn't read the symbols on the DHD. John didn't know where Flenda was, and frankly didn't care. He wasn't looking forward to his incarceration, but he was sick and tired of being dragged about like a freaking prize bull. Right now all he wanted was to reach his destination so he could at least get off his feet.

"Gah!"

He pitched forward when the beast suddenly stopped. The world spun as he lay groaning, his face in the dirt.

Kilund's feet appeared in his line of vision. "I told you to pay attention."

John rolled his tongue along the split on his lip. He could feel his mouth filling with blood from biting his cheek. One of his molars felt a little loose. It didn't hurt. John just hoped it stayed that way. Dentists weren't his favorite people at any time, but he figured the health plan were he was going would leave a lot to be desired.

He grunted as Kilund yanked him to his feet. The sergeant took the canteen off his saddle took a long draft then held it to John's lips. It tasted warm and had the odor of the animal it had laid against. John took it more gratefully than he wanted to.

Mindful of rule number one, the impulse to say thanks died on his lips. John kicked himself for having had such a dumb thought. After what he'd put him through, Kilund didn't deserve his thanks. His mom had drummed good manners into both him and Dave as boys. Now they were instinctive, and it was hard to go against such ingrained training. Kilund stared at him as he took the canteen away, but said nothing.

His legs were trembling and John didn't think he could walk another step. Fortunately it looked as though he didn't have to. Kilund grabbed his arm and hauled him towards a large tree. He pushed him onto his ass and propped him against it. John could feel his fingers sticky and wet from the blood seeping from his abraded wrists. He hoped Kilund was going to untie his hands, or at least loosen his bonds. It was a forlorn hope.

The solider took the end of the rope, wound it around the trunk, and over his chest twice. John flinched as the pressure of the tight bonds forced his torn back against the rough bark. Kilund then took a short leather strap out of his pocket and came towards him.

"Open up. I'm going away for a while and I don't want you calling for help."

John was already trust up like a Thanksgiving turkey, and could hardly move. Now he was going to gag him. He glared at the guy in disbelief. "C'mon...that's really not - Argh!"

A backhander smashed his head against the trunk. John saw stars as the sharp pain took his breath away. He was unable to resist as the strap was forced into his mouth. He moaned as it was tied so tight he thought his skin was going to split wide open. A picture of Caesar Romero playing the Joker came to mind.

Kilund grabbed a chunk of John's hair and yanked back his head. "You don't ever tell me what I can and can't do. And If you dare look at me like that again…you won't need to worry about your sentence, boy." His face was scarlet, and John could feel his hot rancid breath on his face.

For a moment he thought the big man was going for a repeat performance. He waited for the blow, but instead of hitting him Kilund pulled his hand into a fist and let it rest by his side. "I've things to do, so don't go anywhere…"

Kilund disappeared out from sight, and John felt relief wash over him. He needed a time out. He hurt like hell and now his face had joined the party. There was a deepening bruise growing on his right cheek and his head was spinning, but at least he was alone.

Bound hand and foot he didn't think it would be possible to fall asleep sitting in that position, but he'd been wrong. John awoke to the sound of branches crackling in the flames of a campfire. There was meat cooking on a spit. It smelled good.

He dragged his eyes open and looked around. While he'd slept night had fallen. The heat of the day had given way to a chill breeze so the warmth of the campfire was welcome. Still, John doubted if it was intended for his comfort.

Kilund had removed his hat and topcoat. His jacket was unbuttoned and his boots were over where he'd laid his bedroll. John could just about make out a hole on the bottom of one of his grey socks. All of it told a story. This man was in his element. That, and he'd been doing this job for a very long time.

For a while John wondered if Sir knew he'd awoken. Kilund glanced up and met his gaze. It was a little unnerving, but John didn't look away.

"Want something to eat?"

John wondered if it was a trick question. He was starving. After the whipping he'd been in too much pain to keep anything down. Today when he'd finally felt like eating something, Kilund had arrived just before breakfast. He nodded tying to keep the hunger out of his eyes.

Kilund removed the gag, and John gulped in a large breath. His jaw was stiff and sore. John tested it from side to side, relieved it wasn't broken. He looked up at the SOB who'd hit him and wished his hands were free, but quelled his rage.

Anger was pointless. He wasn't Lt Colonel John Sheppard of Atlantis any more. He was a prisoner on his way to a long stretch inside. Hungry and thirsty he was completely at the mercy of the man in front of him. If he was going to survive he would need to play nice, follow the rules, and like a good boy do what he was told. He'd never been one for blindly following orders and was already finding it difficult. It was going to be a very steep and tough learning curve.

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hoped you enjoyed the chapter. And please review - I love to know what you think!