Chapter 12: Tribulation
It was all just a dream right? It had to be. Two men sharing one brain was something out of a science fiction show. And yet, as Sheppard managed to crack one blurry eye open, the painful realization of the moment had sunk in. This was no dream. This was real---and he could move.
That one eye rolled round, focusing on his surroundings as John tried to make sense of it all. He remembered coming to the prison, remembered starting the brawl in the cafeteria, sneaking out and oh yeah---that beating. He remembered that, his whole body remembered that. But that wasn't him. No, it was McKay; that happened to Rodney and yet Sheppard felt like the savage mauling had been done directly to him. Every muscle ached, his face was throbbing and the other eye refused to open. Carefully, the Major raised a bruised and shaking hand to his face, feeling his right eye was swollen shut.
He shifted testing his legs, which hurt but worked fine and focused now on sitting up. With painstaking slowness, John pushed down on his palms and slid up the wall he found behind him, getting out of the curled position he had woken up in. As he did so, a sharp pain ripped through his side. Sheppard growled softly, stopping all movement as a hand went to his torso. Must have been a bruised rib or two, and hopefully that was all, Rodney didn't need to be running around with any broken ones.
There came a sudden realization then. It hadn't even really occurred to him at first because he was just waking up, things were so fuzzy and confusing. John's mind had only now graced the fact that he was moving things on his own volition. Quickly he looked to his hand, turning it back and forth from palm to face and didn't recognize it. Because it wasn't his own. Once again he touched his face, which wasn't his face----short nose, round chin, wide mouth. Yeah, he was still in McKay.
"Rodney?" Sheppard managed say, though his voice cracked something awful. He paused, testing it again with a puzzled look. "McKay?" It sounded louder, clearer; not echoing like it had all this time. "John Sheppard is a god amongst men." He coughed then, swallowing the bloody laced phlegm in his throat. Yep, that wasn't his voice---it was Rodney's. Sheppard sat there a moment, trying to make sense of it all when there was a sudden sound in front of him.
From an open doorway came an emaciated looking old man, carrying a unmarked metal can. He looked to be in his mid-sixties; chalky white hair sprouted from behind his large ears and curled round the back of his head, jutting this way and that; though the better part of his crown was completely bald. Under a wide, and wrinkled edged mouth grew a short puff of beard; bright sunken-in eyes concentrated ahead, seemingly unknowing John had spoke nor moved.
Sheppard looked briefly around the area he had found himself passed out in. The room itself was rather small, the walls covered with what looked like makeshift shelves held all sorts of odds and ends. Devices the Major thought not even Rodney could recognize, bottles and jars filled with clouded liquids, and rows and rows of wrapped cloth. Either the man was a pack rat, or some sort of mad genius. Maybe both.
Wherever they were, they were under ground; or at least very deep inside the prison for the walls were made of the same metal material as the rest of Othalin. The air on the other hand, smelled fresher yet still wet; and remarkably salty.
The elderly man went about pouring whatever was in the can, out of it and into a steaming cylinder atop small machine with a hot glowing ring. John took this as a burner, but nothing like he'd ever seen before. The craftsmanship was rather shoty; wires peeking out here and there out of the mismatched metal patches. But whatever was inside that bubbling container smelled pretty damn good. Perhaps it was John's hunger, but McKay's stomach growled lowly.
Pulling himself up higher onto the wall, feeling McKay's body settle all around him like it was his own; Sheppard decided it was high time to make himself known and get some answers. And besides that fact, within his head---technically Rodney's head; all was deathly quiet. It was obvious to the Major that something had happened when they were both unconscious; And some how he had gained complete control of the 'ship' as it would seem. But where was McKay? Either the physicist was still unconscious from the trauma or----and Sheppard pushed this from his thoughts almost immediately—Rodney was gone completely. No, John thought, he's in there. He could feel McKay in there, somewhere. Perhaps still submerged in that blackness John had been what seemed only moments before? He hoped so. Granted John had spent the last few weeks locked up in the physicist's mind, without a moment of peace. This quiet was lonely and it didn't feel right.
First Sheppard cleared his throat; which gained him absolutely nothing. The old man, draped in shabby, baggy linens that made him look even thinner, gave the Major no notice whatsoever and went about his business.
"Excuse me." It sounded so weird hearing McKay's voice slapped over his words; but for the time being, John would just have to get use to it. The elderly man jerked then, nearly dropping the empty can in his hand to the ground as he spun about.
He narrowed his bright eyes, shadowed only slightly by thick, bushy brows for a moment before a wide smile crossed his face; stretching out his wrinkles and strangely enough making the old man look ten years younger.
Clapping his gnarled hands together, the man exclaimed happily. "Well I'll be---he lives." He placed the can on a nearby table, one that held the cooking burner and shuffled towards John. Amazingly enough the old man bent down, squatting on his haunches.
"Barely." Sheppard said with a short laugh, which turned into an all out hacking cough, making the Major double over under its force. The elderly man patted John on the back, clucking his tongue in concern.
"Now, now young man. Just relax. Nice deep breaths---there you go." He replied gently, taking Sheppard by the shoulders and pushing him back to lean against the wall. "Don't worry, you're about as safe as you can be. I don't think those guards will be worrying about you for the time being."
Easing back, John's mind suddenly flooded to just before he passed out. He remembered hearing that hissing sound, felt Rodney's body being hauled away. He thought it might have been by the guards. "You really did save my skin back there. Thanks." Sheppard swallowed back on a parched throat with a wince.
"Eh, was nothing." The old man waved a hand, standing up as he gathered a stout cup and a small metal canteen. He poured to the cup's brim and handed it to John who took one look at the remarkably clear water and downed it. Aside from a slight saltiness, it was a lot better the then the sludge back at the prison mess hall McKay had made them drink.
The old man sat down with the canteen and reached over, pouring Sheppard another cup-full while he continued. "Just another excuse to use my little toys I suppose." He chuckled, placing the canteen on the chilled floor and pulled a device from his pocket and handed it to John.
"Oh---careful now. One good squeeze will set that off in your hand."
Sheppard held the device in his hand, well---in McKay's hand; and looked it over with his good eye. It appeared to be some sort of grenade like contraption. A small glass chamber at the bottom was filled with smoky white liquid while the top chamber was filled with grey powder. A thick pin separating the two chambers sat right in the middle and could easily be shifted under John's thumb, so he pushed no more. The weight was impressive, light and easy to palm and throw.
"I call it Neural Flash Gas. When the chemical on the bottom mixes with the shifted powder at the top it causes some nasty fumes. Throw it, and the impact of the two derivatives reacts with a bright flash. Those guards will wake up with a headache they won't soon forget. That's if Dran doesn't execute them first."
Pausing in his inspection, John handed the tiny bomb back, quirking a brow. "He really knows how to stress worker motivation, doesn't he?" He rolled up then leaning off the wall to sit up straight. Sheppard needed to get his bearing and back on is feet. More importantly, he needed to get Rodney up and running as well. "So you made that?" He asked, pointing to the stun device.
The old man nodded, running a loving thumb over the bottom glass chamber. "That I did. Made everything you see here. You're lucky I was on my way to the storage bays." The old man rose back to his feet, heading to the table he was working at earlier. "You look different then the usual drabble that comes through here. That's why I picked you up. Help yourself." He pointed to the canteen still sitting on the ground near the Major.
"Where are we, exactly?" John didn't hesitate to finish the cup of water in his hand and pouring himself another soon after.
"Why, deep in the bowels of Othalin. This system of vents runs all over. Brings fresh air into the citadel from the water outside that pumps through the draining pipes. That water you're drinking there comes from outside like the rest of it piped in here. Save I filter it. The muck topside looks like it was used to wash the floors." He remarked distastefully to the ceiling. The old man went about scooping a makeshift ladle into the steaming pot, dumping its contents into the concave curve of some scrap of metal. This he handed to John.
"Sorry, have to use your hands."
It looked like some sort of stew, and seemed much more appetizing then the slop they'd been served earlier that day. And to Sheppard's delight, smelled like heaven. Taking his time, due to the stew's heat, John went to work at it.
The old man smiled, seeing his cooking was apparently appreciated. "Dinner bell will be going off soon. Thought you could use that."
"You have no idea." John grinned, mouth half full.
Sitting down with the rest of the steaming cylinder, the old man joined him, remarking thoughtfully. "You'd be amazed at the things one can find in the upper kitchens pantries. You see the higher cuffs get the best cooking, while the prisoners are force-fed what's left. I simply sample what I can find, make my own." He smiled cleverly.
Swallowing, John heldout a cleanhand. "Well let me be the first to commend your cooking. I'm Major John Sheppard."
"Major?" The old man rose a bushy brow, taking John's hand and shaking it gently round the bruises. "Why that's a high cuff position. You in for treason?"
John paused his eating, replying slowly. "Reconnaissance." He wiped a thumb along his bottom lip, sucking the stew of it. "I'm here looking for a man named Gertz."
The old man coughed on his food then, inhaling deeply as his eyes flashed. "You don't say. Well looks like you really are a lucky one." He placed a hand to his chest, bowing shortly. "Estafeld Gertz---at your serves."
Sheppard nearly dropped his bowl, mouth hanging slightly open. "You're Gertz?" The old man nodded smiling pleasantly at the Major's shock. "You don't look like the description the Yu'set gave us."
"Othalin will do that to a man." Gertz replied sadly, perking up a moment after, placing his bowl on the ground and talking with excitement. "The Yu'set you say? I knew it! I must say you don't look like one of them, certainly don't talk like one."
"Well, I'm not." John replied. "I'm from a city called Atlantis in a system or so away from here. So you're really the guy who created the Aradis?" This was blowing Sheppard's mind. Just when he thought things were only going to get worse.
"Aradis?" The old man replied, puzzled by the word. He cupped a hand round his fuzzed chin, scratching it. "Why, I haven't heard that name in ages. Say---" Gertz crept up closer looking rather worried. "—you haven't seen it have you?"
"Seen it?" Sheppard laughed and begun to run a hand on the back of McKay's neck; stopping with a jerk when he realized what he was doing. He quickly yanked the hand away and regretted the sudden movement, reminded by the aching pain that he should really be taking it easy. But there wasn't any time for resting, he was already using up so much now. Things needed to be done, but this new development needed to be done first. "I've used it. On accident of course." John added. "Was kinda a fluke occurrence really."
The old man glanced off a moment, nodding to himself. "Yes, I agree--" He turned his gaze back to the Major a moment later, a wavering hand outstretched towards John as Gertz sat down across from him. "Why I thought the A'vok had recovered them all. Where---where did you find it?" He asked excitedly.
"P2M----ah, I don't think I ever overheard Dran calling it anything. But it was covered head to toe in jungle. Old abandon temple looking place. This ringing any bells?"
"My, my." Muttered the old man; sitting back with a hand to his lips and looking rather paled. " And you say you activated the Aradis? There was a transferal?"
"Yeah, just a bit." Sheppard sighed, tensing as he tried to stand up, testing the stability of his, rather, McKay's legs. John started to wobble backwards and Gertz lent him a guiding hand, easing him to his feet. The Major grimaced with every movement, bracing a hand behind him on the cold metal wall to keep steady. After a moment he continued. "Which is why, we've come to bust you out."
The old A'vok made sure John was standing sturdy before backing away to give the man room. "We?"
"Well, Rodney McKay---which is whose face you're looking at. Myself, and Carson Beckett our head of medical." John was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded. Without warning, he fell back against the wall, raising a hand to his forehead.
It felt like someone was taking a jackhammer to his brain. Maybe it had something to do with the switch. What he really needed to do was get the hell out of this vent and find Carson. He wondered then how the man was doing on the search for the Yu'set elder.
"You're in no shape to be busting anyone, out of anywhere son. Now, back down with you." Gertz said with a laugh, finding it touching that complete strangers had come all the way, from other planetary systems apparently, to find him. Sheppard resigned and let himself be guided back down to the ground.
"I suppose you're looking for a reversal." The A'vok crossed his arms, looking the battered man over.
John glanced up with both eyes now, though one was still blurry and only partially opened from the swelling. "If you don't mind." He gave a wry smile.
Gertz let out a hearty laugh and crossed the room, pulling something off a nearby shelf. He held it up to the Major. "Recognize this?"
Sheppard stared at the device clutched between the old man's hands for a moment, trying to place where he'd seen it before. The symbols carved along its metal borders finally clicked, the deep indents where he could place his hands brought John back to that fateful day. "I kinda hoped I'd never see that thing again Gertz."
"Ah ha! But this one, is different." Gertz exclaimed lowering the device carefully to the ground. He ran two fingers along the treasure-chest shaped box, over several symbols on the metal bordering. The box began to glow with a warm green light, humming gently. Several lights blinked on within each fingertip hole. "This dear boy, is your salvation."
Now it was John's turn to be amazed. "You mean you canfix usright now?"
Gertz nodded, interjecting. "With a bit of extra power, I'll have you back in your own body in not time at all." He raised a brow, muttering."Hopefully."
Sheppard's face fell then, resting a bruised arm atop a raised knee; he spoke downheartedly. "Only set back to that is my body's back at Atlantis. Thanks though."
The old man sighed, running his fingers over the symbols in the opposite order; shutting the device down. "That, would cause a problem." Gertz eyes shined brightly beneath his bushy brows, a smile crossing his lips. "Looks like you'll need my help once more Major Sheppard. I think it's high time I leave this place, don't you?"
John matched his smile. Quickly he reached into Rodney's pocket and pulled out the radio, placing it in his ear. Gertz watched intently, curious about the near invisible device. Switching it on, Sheppard listened over the static of the intercom. "Carson? Beckett you there?"
Nothing but silence came back. "Doc? Do you read me? What's your status?"
He was met by unbroken popping static. "Damn it." Sheppard hissed softly, glancing over to the elderly A'vok.
"A most amazing communication device." Gertz licked his lips, looking as enthralled as a child at the site of a bowl full of candy. "Might I see it?"
Shrugging, John pulled the radio from his ear and handed it to the old man. Gertz let the tiny device sit in his palm, then carefully picked it up between two gnarled fingers, letting out an audible gasp. "I've never seen such a thing. Zerreta commends your people's craftsmanship."
John, wasn't exactly sure he heard that right. "Pardon my bad ears, I did just have the tar kicked out of me. Did you say Zerreta?"
The A'vok nodded, pausing for a moment as his smile deepened. "She also says you're very brave for coming all this way for us." He gave John a wink. "Says you're handsome too."
No. No it couldn't be. Could it? Sheppard did a double take. "You're telling me, Zerreta's---inside your head. Like, I'm inside McKay's?"
Gertz simply nodded.
Clearing his throat, the old man stood. He handed a bewildered John back his intercom before gingerly picking up the device he'd built and placing it on his work bench. Through this he recalled their story. "When I was finally captured by the A'vok, some eight years ago; I was in the company of Mave Zerreta one of the greatest Yu'set minds in all their tribes. And I must say, was one of the most beautiful creatures to ever grace this old man's eyes." Gertz paused, chuckling to himself. "Hush now, I mean every word of it." He then went about gathering things together on the workbench into a large scrap cloth satchel. "We were brought here and dwelled in imprisonment for three long years. I would escape when I could and visit her only to watch this dark place sap the life from her with each passing day. All the while I'd come here, building, plotting our escape. I learned every inch of these airways."
"But that didn't help, did it?" John chimed in, seeing the elderly man's face droop.
Gertz looked to him then, with a mixture of both sadness and anger. "This was supposed to be my fate, not hers. Zerreta took ill, and in a last desperate attempt to save her life, I used a Aradis I had constructed from the odds and ends I smuggled from the prison."
"She's been with me ever since. In here." Gertz raised a feeble hand to his head, giving Sheppard a warm smile. "Best thing I ever did since leaving this city so many years ago."
"The Yu'set don't know." Sheppard said suddenly, more to himself then to the A'vok.
"I wouldn't suspect they would." Added Gertz helpfully.
John shook his head. "We were supposed to infiltrate this prison and rescue both you and the Mave. They think she's still trapped in here somewhere. Beckett's looking for her right now! I have to get a hold of him." Placing the com back in his ear, Sheppard was about to radio for the doctor again.
"Then we shall all leave this place." The old man nodded to himself. "Together." He shoved a few more things into his bag and slung the sac over his shoulder. Placing a few of his Flash bombs into his pockets, Gertz looked as if he was about to leave.
"Where you going?" John asked, not liking everything being so split up again. He finally had two pieces of the puzzle right in front of him. Now all he needed was to get to Carson and get the hell out of there. And now it seemed the old A'vok wanted to split.
"I need supplies. And you, my dear boy need rest. You'll do us no good running around with those wounds and you know it."
Sheppard let out a heavy breath. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Gertz had a point. He was in no shape to run a full on escape. Besides with the old man here, there was no way the A'vok could execute him. What John needed now was to get in contact with Carson and shift the plan into its final stages, whatever those were now. On top of that, he had to some how rouse the physicist up from wherever he was now. If he could in fact do that. The scenario kept changing right under John's nose. All he could do was give the old A'vok a reluctant nod.
"Excellent. Sit tight, I'll return soon." With that, Gertz slipped through a tunnel of air duct right behind him, disappearing in a flash of grey hair and tattered clothes; leaving Sheppard on his own. A few seconds later there was a blast of alarms. They sounded far away and muffled under what must have been yards and yards of metal. Dinner bell.
"Great." John muttered, pressing on his earpiece. "Carson you there, over." He waited a long moment, getting no response from the doctor. "Beckett if you're there. I know it sounds like McKay, but it's not. It's John. Whatever was supposed to happen, happened. I could use a little help here Doc."
Silence.
Sheppard dropped his hand, technically Rodney's hand on the man's lap, defeated.
"I lost my physicist." He said quietly, looking round the room. Listening to the clunk and clang of the air-vent around him.
John stared out into the center of the room, concentrating. "Rodney. Rodney if you can hear me. I need you to wake on up buddy. I know you don't feel well, and I know it hurts but you gotta come on back." The stillness that followed chilled Sheppard even more then the quiet on the other end of the radio.
"Damn it McKay. You're the most stubborn son of a bitch I know. You hear me in there? I can't do this on my own." Sheppard cleared his throat. "And I don't want to either. So you just pull yourself together." John looked around, listening. His frowned deepened.
"That's an order."
Perhaps it just wasn't time yet. He knew a thing or two about the effects of shock on a person. How a sudden trauma can turn the best man or woman into a hunk of jello. John had a sinking feeling he was losing the battle. Sitting in silence, Sheppard waited. Waited for any voice; Rodney's, Beckett's or otherwise. He wondered then just what the doctor was up to. Moreover, if he was all right.
Beckett was alright, in fact physically he was fine. Mentally, the man was a wreck. He paced back and forth in his cell, ignoring the constant stare of the prisoner in the cell across the way. Carson had other things on his mind. Like how in the world was he supposed to contact anyone without his radio. He paused then in his methodic pacing to reprimand himself. "You should have just stayed put Carson. You're a doctor, you're not fit for field missions. What was I thinkin'!"
Beckett thought back then on just what happened in the cafeteria. After his brief and gargled conversation with McKay while he was still hiding under the table, Carson decided to make a break for it. The fight behind him had seemed to shift somewhere else, away from him was the more important fact. Beckett had changed his position, crawling on his hands and knees under his 'protective' shield until he was at the other end of the long table. He looked beyond through what seemed like a sea of legs to where he could barely make out the entrance to the cafeteria. His eyes darted from one table to another figuring that if he could stay underneath them, he might have a good chance of reaching the doors unseen and more importantly, un-trampled.
Holding his breath, Carson waited as a scramble passed by and the way was clear. He darted out from under the table and dove beneath the next one across the way. That was easier then he thought it would be. It seemed everyone's attentions were drawn up in their own matters with the guards battling for control of the inmates and the inmates battling each other, plus the guards. All and all a heaping mess which Beckett planed to avoid.
Another opening afforded him passage into the second to last row near the door. The doctor took his time, ducking down when anyone came too near a table he was under. The sound around him was nearly deafening, but growing steadily less as the A'vok guards started to gain a stretch of control. Beckett scrambled down the row he was in from table to table, heading towards the mesh-tunnel leading to the food servers who had cleared out long ago; hauling their muck with them. However, one large vat wasn't so lucky and was dumped all over the floor, creating an even bigger mess. Avoiding this, Carson had cleared nearly seven tables when he paused to catch his breath under another, planning to cross over to the final row and hopefully move down enough that he could get a clear shot of the door. It seemed the fight was more congested towards this end of the cafeteria and Beckett at the moment was guiding himself on shear memory of the room rather then what he could see.
He was about to slip to the next row when out of no where there was light and fresh air as the table was literally pulled up and tossed away from him. Carson glanced up to find a rather bestial looking inmate, the one that had taken the second swing in the whole riot. The bovine mixed man glared down at the doctor with its pitch eyes ringed in white, much like a crazed horse. Bloody and bruised, the creature was about to take his rage out on the next thing he had seen, that being the doctor when there was a blast from somewhere beyond them both. Sparks flew from the thing's back as it howled falling forward and right on top of Carson.
Beckett had a brief moment to realize that a guard had shot the creature in the back and now it was slowly crushing the air out of him under its dead weight. Several guards came over, hauling the monstrous thing off the doctor, leaving Carson gasping for air as he himself was yanked to his feet. One A'vok looked him over and saw the man as no obvious threat. He ordered for Beckett to be taken back to his cell. It was at that point, when he was finally returned to the quiet of his imprisonment that Carson realized his ears were not only ringing, but vacant of an intercom.
It must have fallen out when he was buried beneath the beast-like convict; tossed aside and more then likely crushed underfoot. Though he had escaped the riot with his life and body intact, Carson had lost his only means of communication with Rodney. And now being locked up, he had no way to search the sectors he was meant to.
Beckett dreaded spending even another day in this place, let alone another eating period. But what other choice did he have? He didn't even know the condition of McKay and whether he succeeded in finding Gertz. He shuttered to think on then---or whether or not he and John were still alive even. Was he alone? Was this it? Spending the rest of his days locked up in a cage, fending for his life.
Shaking the troubling path of thoughts from his head, Carson resigned himself to thinking that this was only a small set back. If he knew Sheppard well enough, things were fine. They had to be. And besides, what choice did they have in the matter? A few days more would have possibly spelled an end for John and Rodney anyway, so something had to be done. Even the most reckless of plans was something. But look at where it had ended them up.
Beckett began his pacing once more, his attention so caught up in his own worry that he hadn't noticed several men stalking up to his cell door, and nearly jumped from his skin when the door suddenly slid open.
The doctor froze in his tracks, looking to find only one familiar face in the group of five men. Norweg stood, unemotional behind two armed A'vok guards while in the very front of them all, leading them was an even graver looking man. His towering stature and thin rimmed glasses lead Carson to believe that the A'vok staring him down at the moment was none other then Sylis Dran. The Commander simply gave a wave of his hand and two soldiers slipped from the group and came at Beckett. They detained him, one on each arm as the doctor struggled.
Dran walked up slowly, Malic filing in close behind him. Carson did his best not to look at the young A'vok and give him away. He didn't have to worry about this for long as Dran's savage words barked out.
"What were you and your friend Doctor McKay doing on that planet?"
Beckett blinked, unsure what exactly to say. He felt the grip on his left arm tighten as one of the guards shouted in his ear to answer him.
"Nothin' we----we weren't doin' anythin'."
Dran shot an irritated look to the guard on the left who increased the pressure on the doctor's arm, making Carson growl in pain.
"What, were you and the Doctor doing on that planet?" The Commander asked again, this time slowly and with a low threatening intensity. He stepped up then, closing the inches between them. "I have a knack for spotting liars. So don't think stoicism will get you far." Dran's whole expression lightened, taking on a pleasant, cooing tone. "Just, tell me the truth Doctor Beckett. And I'll let you see your friend. It's as simple as that." He smiled, though it was too sugar coated to be real.
Carson relaxed and cleared his throat, staring the A'vok down with a calm seriousness. "Did I stutter?" His jaw tightened. "We weren't doin' anythin'. You took the transferal device and destroyed the temple, what else did you expect us to do?" Beckett watched as Dran's face shifted from lighthearted to down right rigid.
"Is that, truthful enough for ya?"
With that, the A'vok's face fell and he laughed shortly. "It seems all your people have the same, pathetic resistance. Pity it didn't save McKay."
"What?" Beckett exclaimed, his strong façade crumbling away.
Dran rose a brow, smirking. "We found him in the food hall. Well, what was left of him. Tragic really but---" He gave a light gesture. "—that's prison life I suppose."
Carson's mind flashed catching his words before he said anymore. "But he wasn---" He let out a shallow breath. "I lost sight of him after the riot broke out." The doctor had received the radio transmission from McKay that he was safe in the corridors outside the cafeteria. How was he supposedly found inside it? Did something happen afterwards to the physicist? It didn't make a bit of sense to Carson. He thought then that The A'vok could have been lying to get him to break and answer his questions.
"No. You're the one who's lyin'." Carson said with a final resolve.
"What use would I have in lying Doctor Beckett?" Dran replied bluntly. "I have the means of making you talk without it. Besides, I find the truth more often then not----bites harder." He grinned, teeth shining beneath the flickering electric lights. "I think." The A'vok waved a finger to the air, speaking thoughtfully. "A night or two in the pond will, refresh your memory."
Beckett caught a flinch in Malic's face as the young man gave a flustered glance to the back of Dran's head. He sobered a moment later when the A'vok spoke to him.
"What do you think of that Norweg?"
Malic cleared his throat, feigning his pleasure. "I think that's more then suitable sir."
The Commander waved a hand and Beckett found himself being dragged out of his cell and into the hall; Dran following behind the group of guards with Norweg coming up beside him, trying his best to mask his concern.
They seemed to be traveling lower into the inner depths of the prison, continuing on the spiral for sometime. Passing the main entrance level, Carson was lead ever downward and through a corridor where the only light given was from the small circular lights stationed along the wall, blanketing them all in a sickly color.
As he was pulled along the wide and straight hall, Beckett could hear somewhere beyond them cries and wails. The most sorrowful thing he could ever imagine hearing. Like the bellowing from the pits of hell itself. They rounded a corner and came to an offshoot of open doors. Carson could barely see inside as he was lead passed several of them. He craned his neck to see the rooms were practically empty save for several small, round, and over turned bowl-shaped doors on the floor. What was all this? The doctor only had a moment to think as he found himself in one of the rooms now, the cries seem to come from out of the floor as a horrible realization crept over him.
Within the room, dimly lit, sat six round doors latched to the floor. They came up around seventeen inches off the ground, thick rusted bars curved and shaped in a diameter that looked twenty-four inches, barely enough room to fit an average sized man. With the way each was separated, it reminded the doctor of the pockets of an egg carton. An A'vok guard came by with a metal hook and hauled the half-circle hatch open, the hinges groaning under the stress. Beckett was pulled forward till the tips of his shoes were inches away from the hole in the floor. He couldn't help but look below, seeing the thin tube sinking near eight feet down onto grating.
"Wait! Wait NO!" He yelled as the guards pushed onward, holding on to him as the doctor's feet met the open air and he began to drop. Carson struggled but was slowly shoved down into the hole, chafing along its metal insides until a sudden slickness on the metal made him slide freely. His drop was short-lived as he hit bottom. Beckett had little room to breath, or even move his arms which had found themselves positioned in front of him; bent up, hands resting just under his chin. He might have had, not even three inches of extra space between his body and the tube. Beckett looked up to the near three foot stretch above him, seeing the hatch slammed down.
He managed to shift his arms round and place both hands on the metal incasing. "You can't do this!" He cried out, his voice echoing dully around him.
Above, Beckett suddenly saw Dran's face staring down at him, smiling coyly.
"Pleasant evening; Doctor Beckett." Was all he said as the Commander slipped out of sight. Carson braced himself, trying to push with both feet upwards but found the sides of the metal tube slick and slimy. He couldn't get a proper footing. Suddenly from below Carson heard a loud ping and a rushing sound. Unable to see below him because of his own body, Beckett felt a sudden movement down by his feet. It felt like liquid swirling around him.
Before he knew it, water rose up from the grating and passed his knees. Beckett panicked, shouting for them to let him out as the water continued to rise, coming up beyond his elbows and settling right around his shoulders. He waited in shear fear, arching his head up as the water level rose no more and there was a muffled sliding below him; more then likely a cover plate to keep the water in.
The water, murky and lightly fetid smelling was only slightly warm. The tight squeeze of the tube left no chance of the doctor floating upwards. In fact, if at any point Beckett slunk down, the water would probably rise up near his face. He shuttered, breath bouncing off the cylinder around him. Beyond him, Carson could still hear the howls of what must have been other prisoners meeting the same fate.
He clenched at his teeth, feeling a distinct sense of claustrophobia slip over him. Without movement he could only stand there and soak, gazing up to the grated door where the fresh air was too high to reach him. "Oh god." Carson whimpered, as a shiver ran up his spine. Did he feel movement below, was---was that something swimming in there with him? Beckett shut his eyes, unable to look at the rusted, slimy walls just inches in front of his face. Carson began a silent mantra in his head that this wasn't happening; trying to drown out the crying and begging he heard far off. Even if John and Rodney were still alive, they had no idea he was in there. Alone.
TBC.