Death Game

Chapter Seventeen

The merchant ship did not so much glide into the port of the Holy Island as creep, sails reefed and oars out, making its way very slowly through the heavy traffic. Two great stone quays shielded the harbor filled with smaller boats, while above on the steep hillsides of the town, buildings clustered. The ones nearest the water were somewhat ramshackle houses of wood, but the ones higher up were stone, with painted columns and wide porches offering vistas of the sea that must be simply stunning. The highest tiers were reserved for palaces and temples, bright with red and gold paint. The symmetry and beauty reminded Radek of the Dalmatian coast, or possibly of how the islands of Greece must have looked in their heyday. He had never been to the islands, but perhaps it was like this — tier upon tier set in lavish greenery, while beneath it the blue sea glittered in the sun.

Certainly the scene looked like a spectacle out of Plutarch. Beside the largest quay, a massive galley with scarlet canopies was tying up while musicians played a fanfare. Soldiers marched off in gilded array, spears catching the sunlight, headdresses sparkling with gold. In their midst a number of officials walked, shaded by fans held by half-naked servants. Behind, in procession between lines of guards, others walked to the music of drums.

“What is all that?” Radek asked the captain.

“Tribute ship,” the captain said, glancing across the water. “From King Anados of Pelagia, to tell by the markings. The Pelagians always put on a fine show! They’re very rich, and the king likes everyone to know it. Of course that means their tribute is more too, so it’s not all good.”

It was indeed spectacular. Radek expected pacing cheetahs any second. It was something, he thought, to see these things as so few on Earth ever did, to see things that no one would believe even if he could ever speak of them. There was a bit to be said for going off world, really.

“Who are those people?” Radek asked, gesturing to the cluster of assorted people at the back of the procession between guards.

“Tribute,” the captain said. “They’re contestants in the Games.” He shrugged and went back to yelling incomprehensible nautical things at the sailors, who were trying to bring the merchant ship in to a smaller dock.

Ronon came and stood beside Radek. “Impressive,” he said.

“Those are contestants,” Radek said, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt. “But something is not right there. That boy is very young. And that old woman? Surely she is not an athlete? It does not seem likely that she has wagered her life on a contest in a labyrinth.”

“They haven’t,” Ronon said flatly.

“Who?” Radek put his glasses back on again.

“There,” Ronon said, pointing, but the gesture was hardly necessary.

Toward the back of the procession among the others were two unmistakable figures — Sheppard and Teyla.

“Don’t react,” Ronon said, squeezing his arm.

“Right.” It was good to see them alive and in one piece — at least they seemed to be in one piece, walking bareheaded up the street in their black BDUs. Sheppard had a white bandage over one eye, but they did not seem badly hurt. Radek had begun to wonder if they were dead, and had troubled himself in the night keeping that thought at bay. Not dead, and not badly injured. But just as surely prisoners. The guards around them carried spears and they seemed watchful.

“They must have been captured,” Ronon said.

Radek nodded. “And something is not right. You had a good point about seeing the contest, and this…” He shook his head. “We must find out what is going on here.”

“We need to rescue them,” Ronon said.

“Of course we do,” Radek said. “But first we must find out what is happening. All is not as it appears, and we must not walk into a trap. If we do, we will not be able to help them or ourselves.”

Ronon’s brows rose and fell. “Excuses?”

Radek sighed. “Do you think I am such a coward as to just leave them? Is that what you have decided?”

Ronon regarded him steadily for a moment. “No,” he said. “You’re ok.”

“I am glad you think so. And I am not suggesting for a moment that we leave them. But we must think how to do this. We are in the middle of a strange city, and they are surrounded by guards. We have no weapons except your pistol, and no way off the island. The games do not start until tomorrow, and Colonel Sheppard and Teyla are both strong. We must do this by stealth, Ronon, so that we have the best chance of success. It will do them no good if we are merely captured as well.”

“Ok.” Ronon crossed his arms. “We need to know where they’re going.”

“Then let us depart this ship as soon as it comes to the dock and follow the procession,” Radek said. “We are strangers, but since there is a great festival there must be many people here who are oddly dressed and known to no one. We mingle with the crowd and find out what we can.”

“It’s a plan,” Ronon said, but he plainly hoped the plan turned into action soon. Radek only hoped that action would not be precipitous.

Teyla looked about the Holy Island with interest. She hoped that would not seem odd. After all, they were travelers who had never been here before, and the sights were indeed impressive. Surely a certain amount of curiosity would seem natural.

John had lifted his head and was walking straight ahead in the procession with a firm step, but she saw how his eyes darted one way and another, saw the tension in the set of his shoulders. Then he glanced at her, one eyebrow quirked, and she knew what he meant. When there was an opportune moment in the crowded streets, they would try to break away.

The way uphill was very crowded indeed. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people lined the narrow streets, looking out from windows and porches of houses, cheering and shouting at the spectacle. Tolas and the other officials walked in great state beneath fans, surrounded by guards in glittering array. From time to time one of them would wave, or toss something into the crowd that set off screeches and a scurrying frenzy — small coins or candies, treats or amulets — Teyla could not tell. But whatever it was, it stoked the crowd to an even greater volume, pressing in on the procession and being pushed back in turn by the cordon of guards.

Where they were, toward the end of the procession, this was having a very salutary effect. The number of guards directly around them had diminished from eight to four, two walking on each side. The crowds were loud and people pushed one another, trying to get closer to see better, or to be in a better position for the tosses of goods. Once they got among the crowd it would be difficult to get to them, and from what Teyla could see the city was a rabbit warren of houses and lanes crowded closely together, leaning over one another on the steep hillsides, with terraced gardens and walls of various heights protecting buildings and streets. Fruit trees and growing plants filled the gardens, providing still more cover. If they could slip away from the guards, it would be very difficult to find them again. And perhaps it would not occur to Tolas to look until they reached their destination.

John stopped and bent down as though to retie his boot laces, and Teyla nearly ran into him. She saw, beneath his bent head, how he swiftly untied it before he made a production of tying it again.

Only one of the guards hung back. “Come on, now,” he said. The last of the other contestants passed them, two guards bringing up the rear.

“Sure,” John said with an affable smile as he stood up, ambling along behind them. Teyla had to admire the grace of it. They were now in the very back, with only one man behind them.

He did not need to say anything. She saw the set of his shoulders change an instant before he moved, and she was ready.

They were at a turn of the street, where it proceeded steeply uphill. Two small lanes ran into it, and there was a little square with a fountain, crowded tight with people pressed together. Behind the procession the crowd was breaking up.

John bent again, as though reaching for his boot, but this time he came up with a roundhouse that connected squarely with the last guard’s jaw, knocking him backwards just as Teyla seized his spear and broke it across her knee. Six feet long it was of no use to her, but a three foot section was very useful indeed. John darted back down the processional way with Teyla a step behind him before there were even shouts of alarm.

Dodging among the startled spectators, the broken shaft held to her side, there was no need to actually strike anyone. Most of the calls were not screams for help, but simply cries of startlement, with the occasional comment on how rude it was to shove past people.

Behind them, up the street, there were cries of alarm, but it had all happened so quickly, and at the end of the procession, that most of the guards now had to get through the crowd of spectators.

John dodged down a side street and Teyla followed. He did not even wait a moment before he took the first side turn, then leapt up a low stone wall covered in creeping vines and clambered onto the terrace above. Teyla followed. They slipped through the branches of three small fruit trees that hung low, then climbed over another wall into the alley behind a large house that faced the street above. No one was around. The inhabitants were probably in the front of the house watching the procession, or if this street was not one of the processional ways, perhaps they had gone down to watch. They hurried around the corner of the house and John flattened himself against the rough stone wall. He was breathing more heavily than she might expect, but he put his finger to his lips. She slipped in beside him and he leaned out a fraction, looking back.

There were no sounds of near pursuit. Away beyond the walls were shouts and music, but whether alarm or just the normal sounds of the festival she could not tell.

“It appears we have gotten away cleanly,” Teyla whispered.

John nodded. He turned away, checking in the other direction up the narrow space between houses, high walls rearing on both sides. It appeared this space was used as a refuse dump and sometime privy, as it stank badly. At the front of the houses it was masked from the street by a large bush and a dwarf fruit tree. They peered out.

The street ran steeply downhill to their right, presumably to join the lower street the procession passed on, while to the left it twisted around the side of the hill, houses and garden walls abutting it.

Come on, John said, and stepped out sharply, strolling along the side of the street going uphill. Teyla followed. It was true that if no alarm had reached this area it would be more suspicious to dart across people's gardens than to simply walk along the street purposefully.

Around the curve there was a drop to the left, a stone restraining wall along the edge of a bank that went down steeply toward the port. Above, to the right, a magnificent house took full advantage of the view, porches spread to catch the breeze.

Over the wall, Teyla said. Let us stop and plan. The wall was nearly as tall as she, and John had to help her up with her hurt shoulder, but once they sat in the shadow on the other side of the wall they were perhaps as safe as they could be. They could not be seen from above unless someone leaned over the wall and looked down, and the wall covered them from the houses above. Below, rough scrub and rocks made it a tough clamber of about forty feet to the trees and garden walls of houses. From the flat roofs of the houses below they would be visible, but at a distance that would make it difficult to tell who they were or what they were doing. Beyond, the sea stretched, the port off to their left. A few clouds littered the sky, perhaps signs of thunderstorms to come in the night.

John let out a long breath.

Ok.That was well done, Teyla said.

I thought so.

For a few moments they sat there companionably.

Now what? Teyla asked.

John pulled the radio out of his pocket and checked it again. It was still on standby, the low battery light on. If anyone had called they would have heard it. Which was in itself worrisome. What had happened that there had been no rescue team? Had the rescue team likewise run into the Wraith cruiser? Were even now Rodney and Lorne prisoners of the Wraith or, worse yet, dead?

John brushed his hair back from his bandaged brow. There is one flyable ship on this planet. The Wraith cruiser.

Teyla twisted around to look at him. Do you have any idea how to fly a Wraith cruiser?

No. But it has a comm board. And maybe I can figure it out. We captured that Dart a few weeks ago. I've had a look at the tech.

That Dart was blown to pieces, Teyla observed. I did not know there were anything like operable systems.

John made his so-so gesture. Not really. But Zelenka figured some of it out.

Radek isn't here. And we have no idea where he is, Teyla said. I am sure if anyone could figure out how to operate a Wraith cruiser it would be you and Radek, but to take the ship and fly it, the two of us?

Maybe, John said. It's a thought. He lifted his hand to his eyes, looking out to sea. But I've done waiting to be rescued. If they could have, they would have by now. We have to assume we are on our own.

Teyla nodded slowly. Then we need a plan.

First we need to find the ship, John said. They must have it parked somewhere. If most of the people don't know about it, we're looking for a hangar or a private airstrip of some kind. This island isn't that large. If it's here, it's close by.

If I were the pilot, Teyla said slowly, I should want it in the palace complex. It would be easier to conceal that way, and it would be possible to reach it quickly in the event of an emergency. I would not want to put it somewhere I must then reach on foot, which might take some time.

You've got that right, John agreed. It looked like that Wraith cruiser on Olesia was capable of a vertical takeoff. Which means they could be in pretty close, tucked away in a building or a courtyard or something. They wouldn't require a runway, like a 302 does.

Is that a big advantage? Teyla asked.

Oh yeah. John leaned back against the wall. There is no question that a helicopter, or a plane with a vertical takeoff, like a Harrier, can go places most aircraft can't. The problem we're never been able to solve is payload size. Even the biggest copters are a fraction of the size of a big plane. The vertical takeoff requires too much power. You can't get something the size of a C-40 in the air from a vertical takeoff. He shrugged. Apparently the Wraith can. Which is going to be a big, big problem to us in the future.

So even though the cruiser is quite large, it may be in a fairly small space? Teyla thought she had followed all that.

Bingo. And you are right that around the palaces is our best bet. The question is how to figure out where. He looked around, back toward the higher ground behind them, where the villas and palaces clung to the terraces of the island. We need to get up to the top, he said. If we can get an overview, we can probably spot it.

That area looks crowded, Teyla observed. There are many houses, and surely there are many people about.

John nodded. We wait until later. She followed his glance out to sea, to the spreading clouds rising in white billows in the afternoon sunshine. It looks like we are going to get a thunderstorm later on. We can move under cover of the weather. And that will give them a while to hunt around for us, maybe spread out and think we are gotten back down to the harbor or aboard a ship. Let's stay put for a while, and make a move when we're got weather and evening to help us.

I agree, Teyla said, though her agreement was not really necessary. He was in charge, and she had little reason to ever dispute his professional decisions. Whatever else John Sheppard might be, he was an excellent commander. She had thrown her lot in with the men from Earth out of necessity, but she stood by her decision. If she had had all the time in the world to consider, she could not have done better. We will wait, she said.