Death Game

Chapter Four

“So what have we got?” John asked, propping back against the firm pillows of the bed. “Dinnerwise.”

It was full night, and the bronze oil lamp cast a warm glow over the room as it swung back and forth on its chains. A few minutes before the soldiers had returned, bringing a large flat loaf of bread, a plate with several kinds of fruit, a covered dish, and a bowl. The bowl proved full of some sort of vegetable puree. Teyla had wrinkled her nose at the strange texture, but John licked some off a morsel of bread experimentally.

“Kind of like baba ghanoush,” he decided, and dipped the bread more lavishly.

“You are not supposed to eat much,” Teyla admonished.

“This isn’t much,” John said, tearing off another piece of bread. “Besides, if I was going pass out, wouldn’t I be unconscious by now?”

“How would I know?” Teyla said. “Do you think that I am suddenly become a doctor?”

John stopped, the bread in hand. “If I’m brain bleeding, there’s not anything to do about it. If you think I’m going to have these guys trepan me, you’re crazy. And if I’m not brain bleeding, then there’s not much point in missing supper, is there?” He lifted the lid on the round covered dish and an aromatic steam escaped. “Some kind of tea or thin soup,” he said.

Teyla lifted the dish and took an experimental sip. “Tea, I think. It is sweet.” She looked at her watch. “It has been nearly eleven hours. I suppose you should eat and drink something.” She handed him the warm dish.

“Unless you’d rather have me die of dehydration than concussion,” he said. John was grinning, which was better. He must be feeling at least some better to be able to joke about it. He took a cautious sip, then a longer one.

Teyla busied herself with the fruit, familiar sila and rannin, rare and expensive on Athos, but common to tropical climates throughout the Pegasus Galaxy. Here, this probably registered as an ordinary meal, not the kind of thing one would give prisoners but not the way one would entertain honored guests either. This was probably the meal the household was eating. She found this obscurely comforting. It suggested that their hosts weren’t sure of their status and had not decided their fate. Perhaps in the morning they could meet formally with Tolas and convince him that they deserved his help. Certainly these people lacked many things that could be proposed in trade. Jitrine had the training to understand many of the medical supplies Dr. Beckett used, and would surely be eager to try them.

Medical supplies. Teyla had put antibiotic cream on John’s stitches from the tiny first aid kit she carried in her pocket, but there were only three packets. There were more in her backpack, but without it they were very limited.

John had clearly been thinking in the same direction, as he put down the piece of fruit he was eating and leaned back. “We should inventory our stuff.”

“Agreed,” Teyla said, setting the chewy bread aside and sitting cross-legged opposite him.

John took his nine millimeter out of its holster and laid it on the sheet. “Pistol. Two clips for it in my pocket. A spare clip for the P90, but since I don’t have the gun…”

“Hunting knife and eating knife,” Teyla said, putting the larger and smaller side by side. “Another clip for the P90.”

“Let’s empty the pockets out,” John said, and started unbuttoning them. Two energy bars. His wallet, which he carried more out of force of habit than anything else. It wasn’t like they were going to ask him for his driver’s license. A pen. A flashlight. Sunglasses. Mini first aid kit. Swiss Army knife. Three packets of salt. Multi tool. One more field dressing. A magnetic compass. A packet of tissues. He looked at the pile on the bed. “Not so much, really. Everything was in the pack.” John looked up and boggled at the pile around Teyla.

Three packets of crackers, four granola bars, two juice packets, a chocolate bar, a bag of fruit leather, a bag of salted corn kernels, a flashlight, four field dressings, a flat box of pills, a compression bandage, a box of toilet tissue, lip balm, sunscreen, rubber bands, note pad, magnetic compass, water bottle, screwdriver, pair of socks, ball of yarn, two small candles, a lighter, and a paperback copy of Watership Down. John smiled at the latter.

“I have two MREs in my pack,” Teyla said. “And fifty feet of rope.”

“Do you always plan for the apocalypse?” John asked.

“Usually,” Teyla said serenely. “It is always better to be prepared.”

There was the sound of the bar at the door being moved, and they hurriedly repacked their pockets. It occurred to Teyla that it was very interesting indeed that their captors had let John retain his pistol. Perhaps they were so unfamiliar with firearms that they did not perceive it as a threat. Surely a pistol and two spare clips for it would be enough to end almost any confrontation their way.

Jitrine returned, accompanied by the ever present soldiers. “Is all well?”

“Fine,” John said, stuffing the last energy bar away.

Jitrine walked over and grabbed him by the chin, tilting his face up into the flickering light. “Not bad,” she said. “Your pupil is still dilated, but you seem alert. Does it hurt?”

John nodded. “Yeah, but not as bad as before.”

Jitrine looked and felt at his throat for his pulse. “You can sleep then. I have told Tolas that you will wish to speak to him in the morning. I will return and change the dressing then.” She let go of John and turned to Teyla. “How is your shoulder?”

“Much better, Doctor,” Teyla said respectfully. “May I ask you where we are, and what this place is called?”

“This is The Chora,” Jitrine said. “We are in the Thousand of Mabre, one-hundred and twenty auri from the city of Pelagia on the coast.”

“And Tolas? He’s the king or something?” John asked.

Jitrine snorted. “He is no more than the crudest sort of local official. The king in Pelagia would not know his name, and he would wash the floors in the palace of Pelagia.”

“I see,” Teyla said. “And does he make trade agreements? Our people would very much like to open trade with the people of this world.”

“Through the Gate of the Ancients?” Jitrine’s eyes grew sharp. “How do you plan to do that?”

John looked at Teyla and she read his glance — go on, you are getting somewhere. “You know of the Gate of the Ancients then?”

“Of course we do,” Jitrine said. “But it has been generations since the gate worked. Or rather, since the gate worked as it should. There was a time when it did as it ought, and men came and went from this place. But something happened, and now it is not possible to open the gate from here. People may pass through it into The Chora, as sometimes happens, but there is no way to reopen it going in the other direction. So you see, you cannot arrange trade with another world. You cannot even return to your own.”

Teyla felt a cold chill run down her spine. “The gate will not open from this side?”

“It has not in generations,” Jitrine said.

“Why?”

“We do not know,” Jitrine said. “Many scholars from Pelagia have studied it since the time of our second King Anados. But we are not stupid enough to take it apart or break its components when we do not understand them. The King has given orders that it is to be left alone, that future generations of scholars might work on it fresh without further damage.”

“And so no one comes through?” Teyla asked. “In ships?”

Jitrine’s eyes wavered. “It may be that…”

“Enough talk,” one of the soldiers said firmly. “Tolas said you could treat their injuries, not gossip all day.”

“Of course,” Jitrine said mildly, but her eyes flickered to John’s and he nodded imperceptibly.

Yes, she too is a prisoner, Teyla thought, and she is telling us all she may. And she knows something of ships that pass through the gate. Wraith ships? Or some other?

“Come along,” the soldier said, and drawing open the door escorted her out, her back stiff and straight.

After the bar was shot home, Teyla sat back down on the end of the bed.

“Not good,” John said. “If there’s been something wrong with the DHD for generations.”

“Rodney said there was something strange about it,” Teyla said. “Perhaps he can fix what is wrong. After all, he has much more understanding of how it works than people here do.”

John nodded, scrubbing his hand across his stubbled chin. “Rodney can fix pretty much anything wrong with a DHD short of it being blown up. He may have it fixed by now. Besides, we have the DHD in the jumper. Had the DHD in the jumper,” he amended.

“True,” Teyla said. “And surely by now Elizabeth has begun to worry at least. She will dial in and speak to Rodney, who can tell her that we are missing. And Radek and Ronon…”

“Are still on the island,” John said. “I don’t remember leaving them there, but…”

“They should be fine,” Teyla said. “There was a village at the other end, and it was a lush place with much water and food. I’m sure Ronon can look after Radek until help comes.” She did not add that it would be much harder for a rescue party to find John and herself. That was already evident.

Teyla got up and put the plate of food on the table, then pulled a chair over and stood on it so she could see out the window. Outside, the gardens were washed in bright moonlight, and a cool breeze whispered through the palm trees, their leaves waving together with a soft sound. It was very peaceful.

“See anything?” John asked.

“There is a garden,” she said. “The moon is very bright.”

“That could be good or bad.” He was propped up against the pillows, and the dark shadows under his eyes were not all cast by the hanging lamp.

Teyla climbed down awkwardly. “We should try to rest,” she said. “Tomorrow may be a very long day.”

The jackals or whatever they were howled louder. Rodney certainly hoped they were afraid of flashlights, because that’s what he had to keep them off. Ok, he supposed a pistol was also useful, but his chances of shooting jackals in the dark with a pistol seemed pretty nonexistent. And he was hungry.

Rodney jumped when the chevrons lit blue with the incoming wormhole, and got to his feet before it even stabilized.

“Sheppard, this is Weir.” Elizabeth’s familiar voice crackled over the radio. “Report.”

Rodney slipped the headset over his ear quickly. “This is McKay,” he said. “I’m at the gate alone.”

He could almost see Elizabeth’s frown. “Where is the rest of the team?”

“They dropped me here, oh, thirteen hours ago, and went to investigate a strange energy reading in some Ancient ruins on an island north of here,” Rodney said. “Since then there’s been no contact. And let me tell you, I am starting to be unhappy about that!”

“Thirteen hours?” Elizabeth’s brows would be rising. “That’s not like Colonel Sheppard.”

“No. It’s not. It’s bad. And did I mention I’m being stalked by predators?”

“I’m sending Major Lorne and a backup team through,” Elizabeth said.

“No, you’re not,” Rodney snapped. “Because I have been investigating the DHD/gate interface. And it’s screwed up. The control crystals that allow the gate to talk to the DHD have been removed and the systems have been rerouted. The gate can’t interface with any DHD. Not its own. Not the DHDs in the jumpers.”

“What?”

“I can’t dial out.” Rodney pulled the microphone a little further from his mouth to permit her to hear a particularly loud jackal scream. “If I could, don’t you think I would have hours ago? Right now anybody you send through is going to be trapped here with me, even if they come through with a jumper. We can’t dial back.”

There was a pause. “Understood,” Elizabeth said. “Rodney, what’s your recommendation?”

“Well, we could all just stay here on this forsaken planet forever, or I could fix the gate interface.”

“What do you need to fix the gate interface?” Elizabeth asked reasonably.

“I need control crystals, ones that can be repatterned. I also need light. All I’ve got is a flashlight and it’s midnight. I need a full toolset and a spare battery for my laptop to interface with the dialing mechanism. Oh, and I need some water! This is a desert. And there’s nothing to eat or drink. Also some jackal repellent would be useful.”

There was a long pause at the other end. Then Elizabeth spoke again. “Major Lorne says he’s willing to come through with the supplies you need, that he’s sure it’s not a one way trip.”

“That’s really nice, but it might be. I’ve never done this before.”

“I’m sure you can handle it, Rodney,” Elizabeth said in that tone he hated, the one that meant that she expected a miracle from him and wouldn’t thank him if he found one. “Lorne will be through within the hour. We need to find the control crystals for you.”

“Fine,” Rodney snapped. “And he can bring some dinner while he’s at it. I haven’t had anything in hours and I have blood sugar issues, you know.”

“I know,” Elizabeth said. “Lorne says he’ll bring everything you need. Weir out.”

The gate dimmed and the event horizon died. Rodney looked up at the endless sea of stars above. He supposed Major Lorne and a semi-automatic counted as jackal repellent.