JUSTICE

CHAPTER 13

The event horizon burst into life but when Captain Linksy's team walked through the 'gate, Rodney felt the now familiar knot in his stomach start to tighten.

He dragged his eyes away and tried to focus on the fictitious job he'd created. It was pointless, he couldn't concentrate. For nearly a week he'd hung around the control room pretending to fix something that wasn't broken. Rodney wanted to be there when Sheppard came home. He hadn't.

He couldn't stop thinking of all the things that could've gone wrong. Maybe the judge in Taluna hadn't sent the message. Or if he had, maybe there was a problem with Flenda's communications and they didn't receive it. What if John had been released and for some reason wasn't able to make his way home. Worse still, what if John was dead.

Ronon and Teyla were off world following up leads on this guy Kilund. He'd wanted to go with them, but someone had to be there in case John came home under his own steam. Now he wished he'd tagged along. He was on edge hanging around, and the disappointment was wearing him down.

"Why don't you have a break, Rodney, I will carry on here."

Rodney opened his mouth to refuse Radek's offer, but changed his mind. He needed a decent cup of coffee. Rodney knew just the place, and hopefully Carson could also give him something for his stomach. He was sure he had an ulcer, or worse. If it ruptured and he died, it would all be Sheppard's fault. Rodney wanted him home so he could rant at him in person. He snapped shut his laptop and leaned back on his chair. What the hell had gone wrong? Where was he?

"Rodney…Are you alright?"

He glanced up to see Radek looking at him with concern. Rodney sighed. He realized he'd zoned out and hadn't answered him. The Czech could be a thorn in his side at times, but he was also a good friend.

Rodney knew Radek had guessed what he was up to – or wasn't, but had said nothing. His associate had covered for him, and generally picked up the slack since Sheppard had been imprisoned. He hated knowing he'd allowed things to slide. Rodney always thought of himself as invincible, that nothing could shake him. He'd been wrong. The fact was he was used to fixing things. It was his job to save the day, pull a last minute solution out of the hat to get them out of trouble. This time his genius hadn't been able to help. He wasn't used to feeling helpless. The emotion didn't sit well with him.

"I'm fine…Just tired. A break sounds good – thanks."

Radek nodded. "While you're gone, I'll take a look at the inter-cortical processor that's interfering with the warp field generator for you."

"Eh?"

The Czech raised an eyebrow. "The problem you've been trying to fix…"

Rodney wanted to head slap himself. "Oh yeah…That ICP has been a tricky one. Thanks, Radek."

As he started to walk away he saw Chuck scratching his head, looking puzzled. Rodney was still in earshot when he heard the 'gate tech speak.

"Doctor, Zelenka…I didn't know we had one of those. Didn't they have a warp field generator in Star Trek?"

ooooOoooo

"C'mon, buddy, just a little more." John encouraged, but Dulane was having none of it. The wounded man just looked mutinous, as he kept his mouth firmly shut.

John watched the sloppy mush stick to the side of the bowl. It looked disgusting. He couldn't blame the guy for not wanting to eat. For a moment he considered doing what his mom used to do when he'd been sick. Then he reckoned if he played flying the plane into the hanger not only would the other prisoners think he'd gone mad, the commander might just lock him up in the hole for good.

At least Dulane seemed a little better. He still looked a sight. His livid bruises were now turning a greenie yellow color, but at least there was a good blood supply flowing to the fingers of his broken arm. It would heal in time, but John felt for the guy. Without pain relief, Dulane would be in agony.

"Get up, Sheppard. We're going to mess up that nice job you did. It's time for the next part of your punishment."

Dread expanded in his chest and his mouth went dry. John couldn't believe he'd been there that long. The commander either didn't have a calendar. Or he'd been out of it for so long between the beatings, he hadn't realized a month had passed.

He knew it was Jalune and didn't turn round. "He's hurt - I'm not leaving him. Anyway I'm sure it can keep for tomorrow. You can beat the crap out of me then, hell, you can even add on few more lashes for the inconvenience. I'm sure you'd like that."

Fiery pain exploded on his back. John gasped as he tumbled off the edge of the bunk and fell onto the ground. Another blow followed, then another. John lifted a hand to protect his face. When he moved it and the red mist cleared, he saw Dulane looking terrified. Their eyes locked. John hoped his buddy got the message - everything would be okay.

"Did anyone ever tell you you're a funny guy, Sheppard? Well you won't be laughing by the time I'm finished with you." Jalune sneered as he tapped the end of the cane against his other hand. "Yeah…it's going to be me today. I'm going to have the pleasure of whipping the hide off your back. I would have done it for nothing, but hey…I'm even getting paid for it. Did I mention how much I'm looking forward to it?"

The room had gone silent. The other prisoners just standing, watching as the scene played out.

"So get up! Or maybe you need a different kind of encouragement."

John saw the guard about to strike Dulane and he lunged at him, throwing him to the ground. His battered body screamed in protest as they rolled around the floor, but his surprise attack had shocked the guard. John landed a punch, then another. His knuckles ached, but he didn't care - it felt just as good as he'd imagined. A bruise blossomed on Jalune's cheek and blood poured from his split lip. Weakened by injury John's blows lacked their usual strength and just as he was about to hit him again, anger replaced the shock on Jalune's face. The guard recovered his wits and pushed him off.

Jalune's cane had gone flying when he'd fallen. When he reached for it, one of the other prisoners kicked it away. He glared at the man, taking in the others with a scathing look. "Once I've dealt with him – you're all going to pay for that."

John's back was still burning from the assault, but Jalune's brief exchange with the prisoners had allowed him to get back on his feet. He smiled. "You know, Jalune, These threats are really getting a bit old. Bring it on…Let's see what you've got without a weapon in your hand."

"Why you…" The guard sprang at him. John dodged to the side, and as Jalune went running past he struck him on the back with a clenched fist.

Jalune fell onto the edge of Dulane's bunk, missing him by inches. Before the guard could retaliate by harming his friend, John grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and threw him into the corridor.

John knew he was going to pay for this, so he was going to make it worthwhile. He was glad the corridor was deserted when he followed the guard outside.

Jalune wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared at the scarlet liquid and looked up enraged. With more speed than John expected he lunged off the ground and head butted him in the chest. John grunted, winded as the sharp pain expanded to his gut and took his breath away.

John staggered, stumbling against the wall. He was dazed but his instincts were still intact. He moved out the way just in time to avoid Jalune's fist. John heard the sound of breaking bones as it collided with the hard surface. The guard yelped, his horror visible as he looked aghast at his broken hand.

A smile grew on John's face. It was soon wiped off as Jalune kneed him in the groin. He choked on a cry as he crumpled to the ground. This time he couldn't move to avoid the steel-toed boot coming his way. White hot agony speared through his side as it tore into his ribs. Instinctively, he curled into a ball to try and ride out the pain. It didn't work. He couldn't stop a groan escaping his lips.

He'd already been hurting before the fight started, and the adrenaline that had been keeping him going was fading fast. Now in agony John didn't know how much longer he could go on. One thing was for sure. He couldn't let Jalune win. As the guard went to kick him again he grabbed his foot, pulled, and toppled him to the ground. With both of them now on the floor John used the even playing field to get to his feet.

The two men stared at each other in silence. They were like prize fighters in the ring, each sizing the other man up.

In one corner was the prisoner. He was weakened by prolonged brutality and starvation, but had right on his side. In the other was the sadistic prison guard. Jalune was nursing a broken fist and a dented ego. John wanted to believe he had the upper hand, but he wasn't fooling himself. His legs were already trembling with tension and fatigue. There wasn't much left in the tank so he would need to consider his next move carefully. If he didn't, it could be his last.

The other prisoners had crowded into the narrow hallway. He could see them watching with a mix of apprehension and disbelief. John saw something else too – hope. He couldn't let them down. If Jalune beat him, it wasn't just going to be him who would suffer. If it was last thing he ever did, he must take Jalune down.

"Is that all you have?" John smirked. "I've had a better workout from a new recruit!"

John couldn't believe what he was about to do. Then again it wasn't the first time he done something crazy. He slowly eased backwards, moving from side to side with his hands gesturing Jalune to take a shot. He only hoped the guy was as dumb as he looked.

He was. Scarlet with rage Jalune charged at him. He was too incensed to notice the steep bank of stairs leading to the courtyard below. John moved out the way, but not quickly enough. Jalune snatched at his tunic as he fell, and hindered by the chains around his ankles John followed him down the stairs.

Pain exploded all over his body as every hard stone edge bit into his flesh on the way down. Time seemed to stand still as he tumbled, gathering speed as his body gained momentum. He yelped as his left leg folded beneath him. The crack audible as his knee collided against the hard stone. Shrouded in pain he could barely focus when his head slammed against the cobbled passageway. The last thing he saw before darkness took him, was Jalune's lifeless brown eyes.

ooooOoooo

Carson resisted from smiling. "I've already told you, Rodney. You don't have an ulcer."

The scientist sat up straighter on the examination table, folded his arms and vehemently shook his head. "You're wrong. I can feel it twisting, squirming – I'm sure I'm bleeding internally."

"Have you been watching Alien again? I've told you before not to watch horror films…at any time. You know how it affects you."

"Hardy, har, har. I didn't know comedy was part of the medical curriculum." Rodney smirked, but a moment later the worried look was back. "Are you absolutely sure? You don't need to protect me. If it's bad news I can take it."

Carson finished writing on his pad and looked back at his friend. "You have an upset stomach, Rodney. It's probably caused by too much coffee and a poor diet. The antacids I've prescribed should sort it out…what is it?"

He followed Rodney's gaze and saw Teyla coming into the infirmary. The Athosian wasn't alone, two men were with her. Ronon was nursing a cut over his left eye, and a deepening bruise on his cheek. The older man had a similar bruise, but Carson also saw evidence of a broken nose. It didn't take years of medical training to know they'd been fighting. What puzzled him was both men were smiling.

Rodney slid off the bed and came to stand beside him. They waited in vain for the two men to stop talking. While they laughed and joked he saw the look of frustration on Teyla's face. He felt sorry for the poor lassie. Strands of hair had come loose from her pony tail making her look dishevelled. Her usual calm, serene expression was replaced by exasperation. Carson didn't know what the hell had happened here, but enough was enough.

"Right lads, would you care to tell me what happened?" Carson nodded towards the stranger. "And, Ronon, where's your manners? Introduce me to your friend."

Ronon smiled. It showed a chip in one of his teeth. "Doc, McKay…" He clapped the stranger on the back. "This is Kilund."

ooooOoooo

His head was pounding. Sparks of light danced in his vision as he peeled his eyes open to reveal the courtyard in front of him. John didn't need to be told he was back on the frame. His burning shoulders and chest confirmed he'd been there a while. The fact he was looking outwards was also a clue. It didn't take a genius to figure out where he was going to be whipped this time.

Suspended by his wrists only his toes were scraping the hot stones. Like a marionette he was dangling. The searing pain piercing through his busted knee was unbearable.

"It's about time you woke up. You've broken my routine, Sheppard. I usually like to watch the punishments with my morning coffee. It's now past lunch."

John struggled to focus. There were three commanders in front of him. They all looked pissed. "S's…sorry to keep you waiting."

"Tell me...what happened this morning? They found you and Jalune at the foot of the stairs." Rualin moved in closer and glared at him with suspicion. "Did you know he's dead? His neck was broken by the fall."

He was already in agony and about to experience a whole knew world of pain, but inside he was smiling.

"He t...tripped. Stu…stu…stupid bastard took me down the damn stairs with him."

Stony faced, Rualin stared at him. There was silence for a moment as the commander looked at him, but said nothing. When he finally spoke it was almost a relief.

"That's what the other prisoners said so I suppose I don't have any choice but to believe you." He inclined his head to Baldy who was standing off to the side. "Anyway...now that you're awake it's time to proceed with the next portion of your prescribed punishment. Twenty lashes. Before we lay on the cat, you will receive twenty strokes of the prison strap for breaches of prison rules." Rualin bent and whispered in his ear. His hot rancid breath reeked of sour whisky. "You're a trouble maker, Sheppard, and I've had enough of your disruptive influence. When you're done here, it's the hole for you. You'll never see the light of day again."

ooooOoooo

TBC

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