SGA - 14 - Death Game (2 page)

Chapter Two

Teyla Emmagan hurried through the trees surrounding the oasis, her shoulder a dull throb of pain. The hot sun beat down on them. They would not evade the inhabitants of this world for long, and perhaps it was foolish to try.

“Colonel,” she said. “There is little point in running. We cannot hope to elude them.” Certainly if they left the trees and took off across the desert they would be easily spotted, and the cover around the oasis was by no means dense enough to hide effectively. “It would be better to seek them out.”

Sheppard stopped, turning back with the P90 ready in his hands. “You have a point,” he said. Sweat stood upon his face and the dressing that covered the wound to his head was already soaked through with blood. He didn’t look good.

There were distant shouts and the sounds of running feet. Someone yelled, “That way!”

They stood together beneath a stand of palm trees, shoulder to shoulder, a quarter turn off each other, covering overlapping fields of fire. It was hard to hold the heavy weapon with her right hand alone, and her left was entirely useless.

“I do not sense the Wraith,” Teyla said. “They are not close. All these are human.” Of course, she thought, she would not sense the Wraith cruiser unless it were near. She was not certain what the range of her Gift was, but surely only a few miles, forty at most, or more likely twenty. But enough to know that there were no Wraith among the pursuers bearing down on them.

“Understood,” John said, nodding sharply. “Let’s see what we can do with these guys.” He did not have to tell her to hold fire. Teyla knew that.

They came out of the trees cautiously, mostly villagers, wearing knee length tunics of light colored cloth, stained with work and toil. They were barefooted, and carried a variety of farm implements, stopping short when they saw her and Sheppard in the shadow of the trees.

Teyla could see the thought cross his face. “It would cost too much,” Teyla said quietly. “We would have to kill dozens to break out.” Possible, with the automatic weapons, but a terrible thing, to shoot villagers who had come to investigate the crash and as yet had threatened nothing.

John grimaced. “I know. I got that a long time ago.” Teyla had learned that it was not the way he did things, had seen it on Athos when the men from Earth first came there. Colonel Sumner thought nothing of her people, regarded them little, but Sheppard always saw them real and whole.

“We are friendly,” Teyla called out. “You see that we are human, and our ship has crashed.”

John gave them his most ingratiating smile, the one Teyla had begun to think of as the Smile of Wrongness, because it only appeared when something was badly wrong. “Hi, everybody.”

“Hold your hands where we can see them!” A man’s voice rang out, the local inhabitants crowding back away from him as he strode through the crowd. He was very tall, his head shaved in the summer heat, wearing a tunic that didn’t quite come to his knees and a bronze breastplate over it. He held a long spear in his hand, the point higher than the top of his head. “Do not move, or we shall regard it as an act of aggression!”

“The head honcho,” John said in a low voice.

Teyla nodded. She didn’t think the man looked particularly threatening. He seemed more annoyed than anything else, as a leader will when something spoils their scheduling and their day is suddenly interrupted by the unexpected.

“We’re very friendly,” John said with another ingratiating smile. “Just travelers with an accident.”

“They came from the sky,” one of the villagers began, but the tall man shot him a silencing look.

“We crashed our ship,” John said, turning toward him. “It was an accident. See? Me and my friend here are hurt. We don’t want to start any trouble.”

Teyla thought his voice didn’t sound right. He is more hurt than he admits, Teyla thought. It must be a priority to get medical attention, or at least to get John to a place he might rest out of the heat.

“I am Tolas, Ruler of a Thousand,” the man said. “Is it true you came from the sky?”

That would be the question, Teyla thought. Probably the only ships they had ever seen were Wraith. “We have never been here before,” she answered cautiously. “We came from the sky, but we are human, as you can see.”

She saw his brow furrow, then relax. Yes, she thought. They know the Wraith, and like all people they fear them.

“Who are you?” Tolas demanded. “And what do you want?”

“I’m Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard,” John replied, “and this is Teyla Emmagan. We’re explorers.”

“We did not mean to be here,” Teyla said, with a swift look at him. He looked pale even in the bright sun. “We were hurt in the crash of our ship. We would request that we be taken to a healer as soon as possible. We have things to trade, and are eager to come to agreements with you.”

John glanced at her sharply but didn’t argue. Worse, Teyla thought. He is bad indeed if he will not balk at that.

One of the villagers dragged at Tolas’ arm, and he leaned down to speak with him.

“Are you dizzy?” Teyla whispered. “John?”

He nodded, his jaw clenched shut, his fingers white on the stock of the P90.

Concussion, she thought. Perhaps it would not be dangerous in Atlantis, but they were not in Atlantis, and she was not Dr. Beckett.

Tolas straightened up. “We have a healer,” he said. “And we will take you to her in the name of humanity. We can discuss your trades later.”

“Agreed,” Teyla called back. “Now let us go.” She slung the weapon down, wincing at the pull against her left shoulder. Away from the crash site and the guests of people—that was the best they could hope for.

***

It was not terribly far to the nearest village, only two or three miles, but more than once John had to stop and lean on her for a few moments, too dizzy and nauseated to go on. The village looked much as Teyla had expected, a town of perhaps forty or fifty mud brick buildings near the small lake that made up the center of the oasis, surrounded by billowing palm trees and irrigated gardens that took up every bit of available room near the water. Domestic fowl ran loose, and children came running to see the newcomers, barefoot but unafraid.

“They must not be Culled often,” Teyla said to John in a low voice. “They are not frightened enough.”

He didn’t reply, just kept his head down and walked on doggedly.

Teyla sped up to catch Tolas, walking at the head of the party. “Where are you taking us?”

“To the Main House,” he replied. “It is where our visitors stay. And there I will have the doctor for you.” His eyes did not evade hers, as those of men often did, depending on the culture of their world. It was a good sign, Teyla thought, that he spoke to her comfortably, saying much about the place of women here. All too often she’d been ignored, or had the local inhabitants of a place speak only to Sheppard or McKay or Lt. Ford.

“We will be in your debt,” Teyla said formally. “My friend is hurt and we will appreciate your doctor’s concern.”

Tolas cast an appraising glance over John, his brows knitting. “The healer is skilled,” he said.

“I am glad to hear that,” Teyla replied.

The Main House was larger than she had expected, three stories surrounded by a wall of painted mud brick, a fortified house of some size. Inside the walls were gardens, and she dimly had the impression of tiled floors and cool interior as they were hurried through. John staggered, and she caught him with her good arm. “Not far now,” she said.

“Here,” Tolas said, and threw open a door. Teyla helped John through.

It was a small room with walls washed in pale blue paint, two tiny windows high up in the wall letting in light, furnished with three carved wooden chairs, a table, and a bed piled with blue blankets. A hanging lamp of bronze intricately worked with snakes hung from the ceiling above, unlit in the middle of the day, while a small side table held several pottery jars.

“The doctor will be here in a moment,” Tolas said, and backed out while she helped John to the side of the bed.

He lay back on the pillows, his eyes clenched tight as one will when the world seems to spin around. Blood had soaked through the bandage on his forehead and smeared across his face.

“Here,” Teyla said, taking weapon and pack from him and putting them on the floor. “Just lie still for a bit.” The room was surprisingly cool given the heat outside. The walls must be very thick to insulate so well.

“I think I’ve got a concussion,” John managed.

“I know you do,” Teyla said, putting her own things down beside his. Her shoulder was throbbing and her left hand mostly useless. “But we will not be here long. We will get back to Atlantis soon.”

“The jumper…”

“The jumper is destroyed,” Teyla said firmly. “But we left Rodney at the DHD, if you do not remember. As soon as we are overdue, Dr. Weir will dial in and Rodney will tell her that we have not returned. She will send another jumper through, and our crash site is very visible from the air. Major Lorne will fan out from there in a search, so I do not think it will be later than tomorrow morning that we will see them arrive, and then we will be back to Atlantis in no time at all.”

John started to nod, then looked like he thought better of moving his head. “Yeah. Only what about the Wraith? That cruiser…”

“Was not anywhere near the gate,” Teyla said soothingly, trying to lift the edge of the dressing on his head without tearing the scab if it had formed. He really should not lose more blood. “And Lorne and Rodney will be alert, since they will know we must have met trouble. Tomorrow at the latest we will be back in Atlantis, and Dr. Beckett will be complaining that you are injured again.” Stuck down, she thought, checking the bandage. Water would soak it free without pulling. “What is it he says? That he needs a loyalty scheme for you?”

John snorted. “Just about.” He twisted a little, uncomfortably. “How’s your shoulder?”

“I will manage,” Teyla said.

The door opened again and two men stepped in carrying long spears, their shaved heads glistening with sweat, bronze breastplates glittering. Between them stood an elderly woman carrying a bag. She was dark eyed and dark skinned, her graying hair caught up in a multitude of tiny plaits, each one wrapped round with copper wire. She wore a floor length robe of draped linen, much finer cloth than that of the soldiers who accompanied her, and her voice was lightly accented.

“I am Jitrine,” she said. “I am a doctor. I understand that you have been injured in an accident?”

“My friend has been badly hurt,” Teyla said, stepping aside so that she could come closer. “He has hit his head. It bled freely, and now he is also dizzy and sick.”

“Humm,” Jitrine said, and slid in to sit beside John, taking his wrist in her hand with the practiced motion of physicians anywhere. She frowned over it for a moment, then cupped her hand over his eyes. “Look at me,” she said sharply.

John blinked.

“You see?” Jitrine said to Teyla. “How his pupils do not respond to the light the same on each side? The left side is over dilated. That’s common with head injuries.”

“I see,” Teyla said, bending closer. The left pupil did not shrink when the light hit it as the right did.

“Now let me see the bandage,” Jitrine said.

“It has stuck,” Teyla said. “I thought water to soak it free?”

“Go and get some,” Jitrine said to one of the soldiers. When he stood stupidly she snapped, “Water. In a bowl. What do you think I will do while you are gone?”

She put her fingers to John’s neck, checking the pulse there, then lifted the corners of the dressing again. “Who did this, young woman? You?”

“Yes,” Teyla said, “And my name is Teyla. This is Colonel Sheppard, and we are travelers who have come here by accident. He was hurt when our ship crashed.”

“I’m still here you know,” John said. “You can talk to me.”

“We know,” Jitrine said tartly. “And you’re not going anywhere else. Not for quite a while. You will lie where you are while I tend you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” John said, the ghost of his old smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Teyla thought he must find Jitrine’s bedside manner as comforting as she did.

“Water,” the soldier said, bringing back a bowl. He and the other soldier were moving things around behind them, and one of them edged the table closer.

“Now to soak this off,” Jitrine said, dipping a clean cloth in the water. “And see if I can keep it from bleeding again. You will probably need stitches. I hate to mess up your pretty face, but there it is. Your wife here won’t mind too much, if you keep your wits instead.”

“I am not his wife,” Teyla said.

A third soldier came to the door. “Is all well?”

Jitrine did not look around. “Tell Tolas this will take some time. And not to interrupt me every few minutes.”

“Yes, doctor,” the soldier said. There was again the sound of shuffling about, and he went out and shut the door.

“There!” Jitrine carefully lifted the soggy dressing off. “Beautiful.”

Teyla tried not to cringe. The cut was long and deep, four inches from just above his eyebrow to somewhere in his hair, slowly seeping blood.

“Bad?” John asked. Of course he could see her face.

“I’ve seen a lot worse,” Jitrine said. “But it doesn’t matter so much what the outside of your head looks like. What matters is if your brain is swelling inside. I certainly hope not.”

“You know about brain swelling?” Teyla asked. She had not seen anything to lead her to believe there was much technology on this world, certainly not the CAT scans that Dr. Beckett insisted on every time she got hit in the head.

“I am a doctor,” Jitrine said tartly. “Not a village midwife. I was trained in the College of the Healers in Pelagia, where we learn the causes of decease from the corpses of prisoners. I have practiced as a physician for twenty years. I have seen a man die from brain swelling, and if it is necessary I will open his skull to relieve the pressure.”

“Um, no…” John began.

“I hope that will not be necessary?” Teyla said quickly.

“I hope not as well,” Jitrine said. “I lose one out of four that way. I’d rather give you better odds.”