SGA FIC: FOREIGN CONCEPTS [CHAPTER 6]
Jul. 22nd, 2009 09:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
x_erikah_xTitle: Foreign Concepts
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
x_erikah_x
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence and torture
Word Count: ~26,000 in 11 chapters
Genre: Gen, H/C, Action, team friendship
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex and other cameos
Spoilers: Set at the end of season five, but no specific spoilers
Disclaimer: Stargate and its characters belong to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Inc. No infringements of rights is intented.
Beta: Many thanks towildcat88. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Author’s Note: The full fic has 11 chapters, all finished and edited. I’ll post daily until it’s finished.
Summary: When the team first arrives on Milania, they are impressed with their level of accomplishment. The feeling soon fades when they discover how deep their xenophobia goes.
Teyla tried to sleep in the silence of the night as she lay in her bed staring at the ceiling. She had been unable to rest ever since the guards had come to drag John out, carrying him as if he was a bag of tava beans. She was comforted to have seen him and to know about Ronon, but she was also worried. John had been injured badly, with signs he had been mistreated for days. He had shown signs of torture and was unable to tell how he got them or why. He had been too tired and in too much pain for that. She swallowed the lump in her throat, hoping that Ronon and Rodney were all right.
At least now she knew which building John's cell was in. If they chose to do something, they would have to know each other's location. If she could get to the mines, where most likely all the men were sent, then they would be able to coordinate plans and positions in order to escape. She didn't know why Atlantis still hadn't sent help; they must have had problems locating them. Teyla didn't think John could afford to wait for long, knowing how the guards were treating him.
The longer they took to act, the less likely it was that they would be successful. She only needed to wait until she got the water duty in the mines.
###
A far away cry made Rodney turn to the side on his bed and stare at the wall. He had fallen asleep right away when he had touched his bed, but had awakened too early and couldn't go to sleep anymore. He ignored the distant screaming that came from time to time and tried to focus on his plan.
It was stupid and risky, but it was his only chance. Atlantis still hadn't come which meant that they were having problems finding them. It was up to Rodney to do something. The guards were stupid enough to leave him with tools and parts without having the first clue as to what Rodney was doing. It would work.
Please, it had to work.
Seeing Ronon and having news about Sheppard was somewhat comforting, even if a little worrisome to know about Sheppard's disappearance. Somehow the news that Sheppard was being the most mistreated of them all didn't surprise Rodney that much. As bad as Rodney was with watching his mouth, Sheppard could be really annoying when he wanted. And Rodney figured that staying in that place would make Sheppard especially want to. Sheppard didn't sit well in seeing other people getting beat up.
Rodney would have to do something sooner rather than later. The ventilator would be their best bet, but it would all depend on what pieces and equipment Rodney would be able to gather. Maybe create a distraction and have the rest of the team there to fight their way out, but for that it would have to be one hell of a distraction.
Maybe it was stupid of him to try it, but it would be even more stupid to simply lower his head and nod 'yes, sir' to the guards for the rest of his life.
###
Ronon stood up and tensed so much that he almost shook. Percle stood outside the cell, a smirk showing on his face. Ronon growled and launched at the bars, his arm reaching as far as it could, but still not even brushing Percle's pressed uniform.
"What did you do to him?" Ronon bellowed.
He stared at Percle's eyes, hatred filling Ronon. Percle's face went serious, then angry.
Percle gave one small step forward. "A little lesson for what happened at the mine. You continue with that behavior and he won't last long." He glanced at Sheppard's unconscious form on the floor of the corridor, two guards standing next to him.
Sheppard had bruises and lacerations on the side of his face, wrists and ankles and his clothes had stains of blood and dirt. Ronon imagined what those straps hid and snarled an ugly Satedan curse at Percle.
Percle smiled.
###
Kirple shot up from behind his desk and glared at Dorr.
“Dorr, I will not allow you to go over my authority and declare war on people who could be helping us through this internal crisis!”
“Do not forget, Kirple,” Dorr started, his voice wavering with anger. “They made the first move when they sent their reconnaissance team and then their machine right afterwards.” Dorr stepped forward and leaned his knuckles on the desk. “And then you were the one who allowed them into our capital. If there is anyone to blame for the political crisis, it is you for letting that disease loose in our land.”
“You well know the Lenans weren’t the ones responsible for Red Vernon. You should blame your secret lab.”
Dorr leaned into Kirple’s face. “I shall not blame my people for driving us into the future. A future that promises Milanian freedom from people like you.”
“I will not repeat myself, Dorr. I will not tolerate unfounded threats.”
“It is not a threat, Kirple.” Dorr backed away and put his hands behind his back. “The people have spoken.” He waved an arm to the door and his armed soldiers entered, guns drawn. “I have approved your official removal from office by popular demand as it is in our laws.”
“I will not--”
“Resistance will be met by death, Kirple. Please, allow yourself one last act of dignity and step away.”
###
John groaned at the bright light penetrating his closed eyelids. He turned away and remembered his injuries when his temple touched the mattress, making the cut there sting. He held a hiss and inhaled sharply. A loud metallic bang made his eyes snap open and his heart race. Rough hands grabbed both of his arms and dragged him from the bed. He fell to the floor with a grunt when his legs failed to sustain him.
A kick connected to his side forcing John to curl around himself and groan. He braced himself for more, but instead, he felt the hands trying to get him up again. He opened his eyes and when he was released of their hold, he was glad to stay half upright. He lifted his head and saw them facing him angrily.
"Get in line!" one yelled.
John walked slowly out of his cell, both from defiance and pain. He hunched and limped, holding his stomach as he followed the prisoners to a new day of forced labor. Some of the men around him stared.
A middle aged man with dark gray hair glanced back. "What did you do to receive the special treatment?" he whispered.
"The only stupid thing I did was get ambushed," John responded louder than he was supposed to and received a glare from the guards watching from the far wall.
The man nodded and continued walking to the food table. John glanced around and poked the man's shoulder.
"Why are these people prisoners here?" he asked in a low voice.
The man didn't look back. "We're outsiders," he answered quickly then turned away, heading briskly to a far away table.
John thinned his lips. He had imagined something like that by looking at the prisoners' appearances. They didn't look like the people from the city the team had visited. The facial bones were less angular and the skin color slightly darker than the people that obviously spent their lives inside an office building. Most of the people in the prison were workers. John wondered what the Chancellor's participation was in this. Why would he invite the team to negotiate and bring the Lenans to his world? The only answer John was able to get from this was that the Chancellor was either too naive to know what was going on inside his own government or that he pretended not to know. What John knew for certain was that this prison looked too military to be run by bureaucrats. Percle seemed to be the man in charge.
John finished eating and glanced back at the pot of food at the edge of the room as his stomach still rumbled. He didn't see any men returning there for seconds and wondered if he should risk his luck like that. He grasped his empty bowl as his hand shook from the lack of food of the previous day.
Before John could make his decision, a strong grip on his shoulder forced him up from his chair. He looked around and saw that all the prisoners were already in line and that he was the only one still sitting. John swayed slightly from a wave of dizziness that hit when he rose to his feet. The guard holding his shoulder pushed him violently, making John stumble several steps before he recovered his footing to walk normally.
John got into line and walked slowly out of the room.
If mining with a few sore muscles and a few scratches on his wrists and ankles had been hard, now John found it almost impossible. He could barely walk without having his vision gray out from time to time. He didn't know if it was because he was too weak from the torture, from not eating much at all, or the concussion he probably got from having his brain kicked around. It was probably everything combined.
John sat down on the mine floor, resting his head back for a few moments before gathering strength to turn and start working. He had almost filled half a bucket when a small woman came to bring him water and more oatmeal for lunch. He dropped the rocks down before he took the cup with shaking hands and drank greedily. When he finished, way too quickly to make a dent in his starving stomach, he looked up at her. She swallowed visibly and glanced around. She knelt beside him and gave him another full cup of the broth.
He never would have thought that some alien porridge could taste quite so good. He wasted nothing, licking to the last drop and not letting anything leak from the sides of his mouth.
John smiled a thank you and she smiled back as she got up and headed for another corridor.
"Hey."
John snapped his head up and saw Ronon standing beside him.
Ronon knelt. "What happened to you?" he asked worriedly.
John hesitated answering the question.
"Sorry," Ronon said as he closed his eyes. "It's my fault."
John frowned. "How could it be your fault, big guy?"
"Percle said he would... you know, if I misbehaved." Ronon sat and looked down.
John shook his head. "Ronon, they are only doing that to control us. You know they would probably have done it regardless of anything you did." Ronon remained quiet. "The Nazi bastards take pleasure in seeing us like this. Don't fall for their crap."
Ronon lifted his head again. "Saw Rodney."
"Really?" John almost smiled. "How is he?"
Ronon smiled. "I heard him before I saw him. He's okay. Says he has a plan."
John smiled too. That was so Rodney.
"Did he elaborate?"
"Didn't have time. We only talked for a few seconds."
"Saw Teyla," John said after a few moments. "At least I think so." He frowned as he tried to think past the blur in his head.
"What do you mean, you think so?"
"Uh, I was more out of it than in, so can't be sure I didn’t just dream it." John looked to the ground and grabbed a small pebble.
Silence stretched.
"You sure it's not my fault?" Ronon asked in a soft voice after a long moment.
John tapped Ronon's shoulder. "Yes. They know how to get under your skin. Don't feel guilty or they'll think they won."
###
Another new day. Again, Teyla watched as the first light of dawn illuminated her cell with a yellow glow. She had slept more that she had been able to the previous nights and felt somewhat rested.
She needed to be well rested today. For a few days she had watched where the groups of women were taken and she noticed that her group would always go to the place the group from the adjacent corridor had gone the previous day. That group had gone to the mines yesterday. Which meant that Teyla would go there today. Hopefully, her team would be all there and she would be able to see them.
When the bars to her cell opened, she whispered a small prayer to the Ancestors.
###
Shadows flickered and danced as the light from the weak lamp failed. It blinked several times when Rodney passed under it, making him stop to look at it. He felt the guard behind him halt and Rodney glanced back to see the ever present scowl.
"Uh, I'll have a look at it... It won't take any time at all."
Rodney stood on tiptoe and covered his hands with his sleeves to touch the lamp. He felt it unsteadily connected to the loose wiring and simply had to press them more tightly with the pliers from his set of primitive tools. The lamp immediately started to glow stronger, and Rodney sighed, relieved that he was able to avoid receiving a shock so far. Who in sane consciousness would leave all these loose wires around without any kind of protection?
Rodney felt a nudge on his back and promptly remembered he was supposed to be doing a check on all the ventilators of the mine instead of fixing lamps.
"All right, I'm going, I'm going..." Rodney was finding it increasingly hard to keep his voice low and respectful towards the guards. Maybe it was the full day without a beating that had him getting rebellious.
Rodney almost laughed at himself from thinking that. He also thought that maybe it didn't matter whether or not the guards liked the attitude. Rodney never cared about that. Why would he start now? Uh, maybe self-preservation. It would be wise to watch his language if that could get him electrocuted, or beaten down until his head cracked, or make his ribs puncture a lung, or until he had a heart attack from continuous abuse. Hmmm, on second thought, maybe it would be better not to get too loud around the guards.
Rodney arrived at the second ventilator of the day and checked the oil level. As he suspected, it needed changing.
Okay, who was he fooling?
It didn't really need changing. Leaving the stupid machine on for another day wouldn't make anyone suffocate, but it gave Rodney an excuse to not only show some work being done, but also to fiddle with it while looking for parts that wouldn't be missed but that would be of great value in overloading a baby like this.
Rodney rubbed his hands and started closing the main valve.
###
Chapter 7
Author:
x_erikah_xRating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence and torture
Word Count: ~26,000 in 11 chapters
Genre: Gen, H/C, Action, team friendship
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex and other cameos
Spoilers: Set at the end of season five, but no specific spoilers
Disclaimer: Stargate and its characters belong to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Inc. No infringements of rights is intented.
Beta: Many thanks to
wildcat88. All remaining mistakes are mine. Author’s Note: The full fic has 11 chapters, all finished and edited. I’ll post daily until it’s finished.
Summary: When the team first arrives on Milania, they are impressed with their level of accomplishment. The feeling soon fades when they discover how deep their xenophobia goes.
Chapter 6
Teyla tried to sleep in the silence of the night as she lay in her bed staring at the ceiling. She had been unable to rest ever since the guards had come to drag John out, carrying him as if he was a bag of tava beans. She was comforted to have seen him and to know about Ronon, but she was also worried. John had been injured badly, with signs he had been mistreated for days. He had shown signs of torture and was unable to tell how he got them or why. He had been too tired and in too much pain for that. She swallowed the lump in her throat, hoping that Ronon and Rodney were all right.
At least now she knew which building John's cell was in. If they chose to do something, they would have to know each other's location. If she could get to the mines, where most likely all the men were sent, then they would be able to coordinate plans and positions in order to escape. She didn't know why Atlantis still hadn't sent help; they must have had problems locating them. Teyla didn't think John could afford to wait for long, knowing how the guards were treating him.
The longer they took to act, the less likely it was that they would be successful. She only needed to wait until she got the water duty in the mines.
A far away cry made Rodney turn to the side on his bed and stare at the wall. He had fallen asleep right away when he had touched his bed, but had awakened too early and couldn't go to sleep anymore. He ignored the distant screaming that came from time to time and tried to focus on his plan.
It was stupid and risky, but it was his only chance. Atlantis still hadn't come which meant that they were having problems finding them. It was up to Rodney to do something. The guards were stupid enough to leave him with tools and parts without having the first clue as to what Rodney was doing. It would work.
Please, it had to work.
Seeing Ronon and having news about Sheppard was somewhat comforting, even if a little worrisome to know about Sheppard's disappearance. Somehow the news that Sheppard was being the most mistreated of them all didn't surprise Rodney that much. As bad as Rodney was with watching his mouth, Sheppard could be really annoying when he wanted. And Rodney figured that staying in that place would make Sheppard especially want to. Sheppard didn't sit well in seeing other people getting beat up.
Rodney would have to do something sooner rather than later. The ventilator would be their best bet, but it would all depend on what pieces and equipment Rodney would be able to gather. Maybe create a distraction and have the rest of the team there to fight their way out, but for that it would have to be one hell of a distraction.
Maybe it was stupid of him to try it, but it would be even more stupid to simply lower his head and nod 'yes, sir' to the guards for the rest of his life.
Ronon stood up and tensed so much that he almost shook. Percle stood outside the cell, a smirk showing on his face. Ronon growled and launched at the bars, his arm reaching as far as it could, but still not even brushing Percle's pressed uniform.
"What did you do to him?" Ronon bellowed.
He stared at Percle's eyes, hatred filling Ronon. Percle's face went serious, then angry.
Percle gave one small step forward. "A little lesson for what happened at the mine. You continue with that behavior and he won't last long." He glanced at Sheppard's unconscious form on the floor of the corridor, two guards standing next to him.
Sheppard had bruises and lacerations on the side of his face, wrists and ankles and his clothes had stains of blood and dirt. Ronon imagined what those straps hid and snarled an ugly Satedan curse at Percle.
Percle smiled.
Kirple shot up from behind his desk and glared at Dorr.
“Dorr, I will not allow you to go over my authority and declare war on people who could be helping us through this internal crisis!”
“Do not forget, Kirple,” Dorr started, his voice wavering with anger. “They made the first move when they sent their reconnaissance team and then their machine right afterwards.” Dorr stepped forward and leaned his knuckles on the desk. “And then you were the one who allowed them into our capital. If there is anyone to blame for the political crisis, it is you for letting that disease loose in our land.”
“You well know the Lenans weren’t the ones responsible for Red Vernon. You should blame your secret lab.”
Dorr leaned into Kirple’s face. “I shall not blame my people for driving us into the future. A future that promises Milanian freedom from people like you.”
“I will not repeat myself, Dorr. I will not tolerate unfounded threats.”
“It is not a threat, Kirple.” Dorr backed away and put his hands behind his back. “The people have spoken.” He waved an arm to the door and his armed soldiers entered, guns drawn. “I have approved your official removal from office by popular demand as it is in our laws.”
“I will not--”
“Resistance will be met by death, Kirple. Please, allow yourself one last act of dignity and step away.”
John groaned at the bright light penetrating his closed eyelids. He turned away and remembered his injuries when his temple touched the mattress, making the cut there sting. He held a hiss and inhaled sharply. A loud metallic bang made his eyes snap open and his heart race. Rough hands grabbed both of his arms and dragged him from the bed. He fell to the floor with a grunt when his legs failed to sustain him.
A kick connected to his side forcing John to curl around himself and groan. He braced himself for more, but instead, he felt the hands trying to get him up again. He opened his eyes and when he was released of their hold, he was glad to stay half upright. He lifted his head and saw them facing him angrily.
"Get in line!" one yelled.
John walked slowly out of his cell, both from defiance and pain. He hunched and limped, holding his stomach as he followed the prisoners to a new day of forced labor. Some of the men around him stared.
A middle aged man with dark gray hair glanced back. "What did you do to receive the special treatment?" he whispered.
"The only stupid thing I did was get ambushed," John responded louder than he was supposed to and received a glare from the guards watching from the far wall.
The man nodded and continued walking to the food table. John glanced around and poked the man's shoulder.
"Why are these people prisoners here?" he asked in a low voice.
The man didn't look back. "We're outsiders," he answered quickly then turned away, heading briskly to a far away table.
John thinned his lips. He had imagined something like that by looking at the prisoners' appearances. They didn't look like the people from the city the team had visited. The facial bones were less angular and the skin color slightly darker than the people that obviously spent their lives inside an office building. Most of the people in the prison were workers. John wondered what the Chancellor's participation was in this. Why would he invite the team to negotiate and bring the Lenans to his world? The only answer John was able to get from this was that the Chancellor was either too naive to know what was going on inside his own government or that he pretended not to know. What John knew for certain was that this prison looked too military to be run by bureaucrats. Percle seemed to be the man in charge.
John finished eating and glanced back at the pot of food at the edge of the room as his stomach still rumbled. He didn't see any men returning there for seconds and wondered if he should risk his luck like that. He grasped his empty bowl as his hand shook from the lack of food of the previous day.
Before John could make his decision, a strong grip on his shoulder forced him up from his chair. He looked around and saw that all the prisoners were already in line and that he was the only one still sitting. John swayed slightly from a wave of dizziness that hit when he rose to his feet. The guard holding his shoulder pushed him violently, making John stumble several steps before he recovered his footing to walk normally.
John got into line and walked slowly out of the room.
If mining with a few sore muscles and a few scratches on his wrists and ankles had been hard, now John found it almost impossible. He could barely walk without having his vision gray out from time to time. He didn't know if it was because he was too weak from the torture, from not eating much at all, or the concussion he probably got from having his brain kicked around. It was probably everything combined.
John sat down on the mine floor, resting his head back for a few moments before gathering strength to turn and start working. He had almost filled half a bucket when a small woman came to bring him water and more oatmeal for lunch. He dropped the rocks down before he took the cup with shaking hands and drank greedily. When he finished, way too quickly to make a dent in his starving stomach, he looked up at her. She swallowed visibly and glanced around. She knelt beside him and gave him another full cup of the broth.
He never would have thought that some alien porridge could taste quite so good. He wasted nothing, licking to the last drop and not letting anything leak from the sides of his mouth.
John smiled a thank you and she smiled back as she got up and headed for another corridor.
"Hey."
John snapped his head up and saw Ronon standing beside him.
Ronon knelt. "What happened to you?" he asked worriedly.
John hesitated answering the question.
"Sorry," Ronon said as he closed his eyes. "It's my fault."
John frowned. "How could it be your fault, big guy?"
"Percle said he would... you know, if I misbehaved." Ronon sat and looked down.
John shook his head. "Ronon, they are only doing that to control us. You know they would probably have done it regardless of anything you did." Ronon remained quiet. "The Nazi bastards take pleasure in seeing us like this. Don't fall for their crap."
Ronon lifted his head again. "Saw Rodney."
"Really?" John almost smiled. "How is he?"
Ronon smiled. "I heard him before I saw him. He's okay. Says he has a plan."
John smiled too. That was so Rodney.
"Did he elaborate?"
"Didn't have time. We only talked for a few seconds."
"Saw Teyla," John said after a few moments. "At least I think so." He frowned as he tried to think past the blur in his head.
"What do you mean, you think so?"
"Uh, I was more out of it than in, so can't be sure I didn’t just dream it." John looked to the ground and grabbed a small pebble.
Silence stretched.
"You sure it's not my fault?" Ronon asked in a soft voice after a long moment.
John tapped Ronon's shoulder. "Yes. They know how to get under your skin. Don't feel guilty or they'll think they won."
Another new day. Again, Teyla watched as the first light of dawn illuminated her cell with a yellow glow. She had slept more that she had been able to the previous nights and felt somewhat rested.
She needed to be well rested today. For a few days she had watched where the groups of women were taken and she noticed that her group would always go to the place the group from the adjacent corridor had gone the previous day. That group had gone to the mines yesterday. Which meant that Teyla would go there today. Hopefully, her team would be all there and she would be able to see them.
When the bars to her cell opened, she whispered a small prayer to the Ancestors.
Shadows flickered and danced as the light from the weak lamp failed. It blinked several times when Rodney passed under it, making him stop to look at it. He felt the guard behind him halt and Rodney glanced back to see the ever present scowl.
"Uh, I'll have a look at it... It won't take any time at all."
Rodney stood on tiptoe and covered his hands with his sleeves to touch the lamp. He felt it unsteadily connected to the loose wiring and simply had to press them more tightly with the pliers from his set of primitive tools. The lamp immediately started to glow stronger, and Rodney sighed, relieved that he was able to avoid receiving a shock so far. Who in sane consciousness would leave all these loose wires around without any kind of protection?
Rodney felt a nudge on his back and promptly remembered he was supposed to be doing a check on all the ventilators of the mine instead of fixing lamps.
"All right, I'm going, I'm going..." Rodney was finding it increasingly hard to keep his voice low and respectful towards the guards. Maybe it was the full day without a beating that had him getting rebellious.
Rodney almost laughed at himself from thinking that. He also thought that maybe it didn't matter whether or not the guards liked the attitude. Rodney never cared about that. Why would he start now? Uh, maybe self-preservation. It would be wise to watch his language if that could get him electrocuted, or beaten down until his head cracked, or make his ribs puncture a lung, or until he had a heart attack from continuous abuse. Hmmm, on second thought, maybe it would be better not to get too loud around the guards.
Rodney arrived at the second ventilator of the day and checked the oil level. As he suspected, it needed changing.
Okay, who was he fooling?
It didn't really need changing. Leaving the stupid machine on for another day wouldn't make anyone suffocate, but it gave Rodney an excuse to not only show some work being done, but also to fiddle with it while looking for parts that wouldn't be missed but that would be of great value in overloading a baby like this.
Rodney rubbed his hands and started closing the main valve.
Chapter 7
