Field of Daisies cont.
Interlude
When the three men were returned from their time in captivity, they were hardly in the best state of health. All three men had been beaten severely over a prolonged period of time, but Major Sheppard was the one who was in the worst shape of the group. Sergeant Campbell and Lieutenant Gordon both testified that the Major endured many beatings on their behalf. They also testified to the brutal, lingering deaths of their fellows, including their commanding officer, Colonel Marshall Sumner.
The men who held the group were never identified. According to the people who handled the transfer, they found the three inside a cell, having been abandoned to the elements. All three men swore by Holy God that they could identify their captors if they saw them again, but there was hardly any resources for a group to move around the countryside and gazing into the faces of everyone they came across. As a result, no one was punished for their heinous treatment.
After they healed, all three resigned their commissions. Lieutenant Gordon returned to his home in Ohio and rejoined his family, while Sergeant Campbell still lives in Washington, if my sources are correct. Major Sheppard's whereabouts became unknown, though he took the money given to him in compensation for his time in captivity and very little else. I suppose this solves that mystery.
I am afraid that is all I can tell you, my friend. I sense this is not perhaps what you were expecting. Major Sheppard was no deserter, Steven. He underwent a harsh captivity in the hands of the enemy and most likely managed to save the lives of two of his men. He should be lauded for his efforts.
I remain your good friend,
Hank T. Landry, General in the United States Army
Part Five
The next two days saw minor skirmishes taking place on the outskirts of Atlantis. Shots were fired from the tree line and the nearby tall grasses in the fields. A few of the townsmen were hit, but so far none had died. From his place up on the makeshift lookout tower, Ronon was able to confirm that their shots had hit a few of the Wraith in return, and they had not been as fortunate as the men of the town.
The entire situation was troubling. What they were enduring now was nothing like what had happened in the past. When the Wraith gang besieged Atlantis in previous years, there had been fierce fighting. The Wraith would repeatedly even charge the picket lines, firing and screaming like madmen, until they overwhelmed the defenders by sheer number and intensity.
John stared out at the tree line, his eyes narrowed in concentration. This was no concentrated attack. Whatever the Wraith's goal was, it was not to take or destroy the town.
"This is a waste of time."
John didn't turn to face Ronon, instead continuing to stare out across the field. "I know," he replied, "but until the Wraith decide to fall back, there's not much we can do."
Ronon nodded. "You still planning to go after the missing Athosians?" He asked.
"Yeah, and maybe even try to find out what the hell the bastards are up to these days. I've got the feeling that they're planning something big." John looked up at the taller man. "You don't have to go with me if you don't want to, Ronon. I can do this alone."
Ronon shot him an incredulous look. "The last time we were in a fortified Wraith hideout, we barely made it out. You need someone to watch your back." He paused a moment, and then shrugged. "Besides, since when do I turn down a chance to kill Wraith?"
John grinned and shook his head. "True. Okay, I guess you're coming too."
At that moment, Teal'c, who was acting as one of the lookouts, hurried past them, heading towards where Caldwell was standing with Hammond, Jacob, Jack, and a few other men. Curious, the two gunmen followed.
"... leaving, Sheriff Caldwell," the man was telling the sheriff. "It appears the Wraith are pulling out. We have been observing them and Simon Wells is still in the tower, keeping watch."
"Good," the Sheriff replied. "Maybe now we can all relax."
John cut in at that point. "Then it's time for me and Ronon to go," he said. "We can track these guys back to their hideout."
Hammond looked at him seriously. "You still believe you can rescue the Athosian leaders and the other captives?"
"Yes, sir," John answered. "Ronon and I should be able to get in and out with the prisoners before we're spotted."
"That's not what happened last time you tried something like this," Caldwell muttered.
Ronon shot the man a glare, while John shrugged the comment off. "No one's ever bothered to follow them so soon after an attack," he elaborated. "They won't be expecting it."
The other men glanced at one another, exchanging a series of looks. John raised an eyebrow. They looked like they'd been prepared for this. What were they planning?
"Sheppard, you two are biting off a lot more than you can chew," Jack said at last. "The Sheriff does have a point. The last time you two walked into a Wraith camp without someone to back you up, you got captured and came back here in pieces. I don't think Doc Beckett and Miss Fraiser fancy having another chance to patch you up again." He paused for a moment, his eyes pensive, as though considering his options. Then, he continued, "You're going to need all the help you can get. I'm coming with you."
John opened his mouth to instinctively object, only to be cut off when another man in the group, whom he recognized as Cameron Mitchell, spoke up. "Me too."
"I will come as well," Teal'c added, his face resolute.
John stared at the three men, then looked over at Ronon, who only shrugged. He sighed and turned back to them. "Okay," he conceded. "I hope you know what you're getting into. This isn't like defending the town," he warned them.
"We know that, Sheppard," Jack responded, "But you can't do this by yourself and expect to get yourselves, as well as the captives, out alive."
"The five of you will be on your own," Hammond cut in firmly. "If you don't return, we can't risk sending out a posse to look for you."
"I believe we understand that, Mayor Hammond," Teal'c answered for them.
John just shook his head. This had grown way out of his control. He eyed them all suspiciously, wondering yet again if this had been planned beforehand. After a moment, he said, "All right then. Let's get moving. We need to cover as much ground as possible."
It did not take them long to saddle their horses and gather what supplies they needed. They gathered together just outside the Mercantile, where several members of the town joined them, as well as some of the Athosians.
Vala stepped forward and handed them each a small bundle, filled with bread and a little fruit. "The bread's a new recipe," she told them, her tone distinctly sultry. "Daniel enjoyed it... immensely." The implication was clear.
John listened to the others laugh and smiled himself, but his attention was focused on Jinto, Bretta, and Tiern. All three of them had gathered around him and were looking at him imploringly.
"Thank you, Mr. Sheppard," Bretta whispered, her blue eyes wide, "Thank you for going after Father and the others."
"Yes," Jinto added, "We are very grateful." The boy kept glancing at the horses, looking like he was just itching to jump on one of them and demand that he go with them.
"You don't have to thank me," he assured them. He looked closely at Jinto. "You look after your sisters. And," he lowered his voice, careful of who might overhear, "If you could keep an eye on Miss Weir for me, I'd be much obliged to you."
Jinto looked up at him and nodded, proud to be given a task that seemed to be of great importance. John was satisfied. The responsibility of looking after his sisters and Elizabeth would keep the boy grounded and make him less likely to pull some stupid stunt, such as following them.
He gently nudged the three children up onto the front porch of the Mercantile and then mounted his horse, the rest of the group following his lead. John looked back towards the store and saw that Elizabeth had joined the three children, standing behind them. She stared at him, her face unreadable to most, but he saw the message in her eyes.
Be safe. Come home.
Acknowledging the silent words he just knew she was thinking, he tipped his hat to her before maneuvering his horse towards the way out of town, the others following him. None of them looked back at the large group that had stood there to see them off.
Part Six
The moment the group found the trail left behind by the Wraith, Ronon took the lead. He was the best tracker of the entire group, and John could count the number of times he'd lost or had been unable to pick up the trail of their prey on only one hand.
They followed the trail for two days, staying a respectable distance from the group they were shadowing. As they watched from a ridge as the group made camp on the second day, Ronon shook his head. "It's too easy. They're barely making an effort to hide their trail."
John glanced at him, and then back down at the camp, considering the possibilities. It was Jack, though, who voiced them.
"So," he said, "They're either new recruits and are completely clueless, or they're doing it deliberately."
John nodded. "In that case, this is a trap."
"I don't think it is," Mitchell said as he looked through a small spyglass that he apparently had in his possession.
The four other men looked over at him. "For what reason?" Teal'c asked.
He glanced at them, rolling his eyes. "They're pulling out bottles of whiskey," he told them. Mitchell handed the spyglass to John. "Take a look."
John took the looking instrument and peered through it down at the encampment. Sure enough, the group of outlaws were settling down around their small campfire, each with a dark glass bottle in their hands.
"Yeah," he said after a moment, "Jack's right. These guys are amateurs." He sighed, and then handed back the spyglass to Mitchell. I suppose that means we wait here for the night. If they get really drunk, they probably won't be up until well past dawn."
"Great," Jack quipped. "Another night of no fire and cold food. I'm getting too old for this."
The waiting was probably the hardest part for all of them, but they still managed to handle it. The next day, they followed the hung over gang at least another seventeen miles, when they came to Wayne's Canyon, a place that had been used as a hideout for thieves and gangs in the past.
"Apophis and his gang hid here for a while," Jack explained as they crept through the rock formations. "Then Sokar came in and kicked his ass. Then Apophis returned, only to be followed by a bunch of others. Ba'al, Osiris, Anubis." He shook his head. "And here I thought we might actually get a break from all of this. Then these guys come out in force."
They finished the journey in silence, coming upon a group of old, rundown shacks near one of the canyon walls in a particularly wide area. In the center of these shacks was a small corral with over a dozen horses. Hiding behind a group of large boulders, John borrowed Mitchell's spyglass and peered over.
"Well," he said after a long moment, "It looks like there's four guards stationed on the perimeter, along with about three others gathered around the third building from the left. All the other buildings don't seem to have anyone looking after it."
"You figure that's where they're keeping the prisoners?" Ronon asked, pulling his gun from its holster and checking its load.
John nodded. "Probably." He looked around, then turned to the others. "We should split up," he said. "We'll get into that building and get Miss Emmagan and her people out. The three of you should go to the other end of the camp and light a few fires. That should provide a long enough distraction for us to grab some horses and get of the area. And..." he paused to make sure he had their attention. "If someone gets in your way, use your knives if you can, and your gun only as a last resort. We're not here to be nice about all of this, but we don't want to alert the entire group that we're here."
Jack, Mitchell, and Teal'c quickly split off from John and Ronon, leaving them to make their way down to the guarded shack. The two gunfighters made quick work of the three guards, slitting their throats with a practiced efficiency and quietly lowering the bodies to the ground. Pulling out their guns, they quietly eased the door open and after checking for immediate threats, they entered.
There was a cramped, unlit hallway with only two doorways, which John surmised must lead to the two different areas of the shack. He crept forward, Ronon just behind him, and turned towards the right door. Slowly, he opened it, peering in cautiously.
He would later be surprised that the door was not locked, but at the time he did not think to question it. Inside, he found a large group of people, all either standing in corners or leaning against the walls, sitting or standing. His eyes swept over them and he immediately recognized two of their faces.
"Miss Emmagan, Halling," he said quietly. "It's me, Sheppard."
Teyla pushed herself up off the floor immediately and started towards him, Halling just behind her. "Mr. Sheppard," she greeted quietly, her face the picture of shock. "How... when..."
"Long story," he supplied quickly. He then nodded his head to the other occupants, absently counting the heads and coming up with six. "These all your people? We counted thirteen missing after the attack."
"This is what's left of us," Halling muttered darkly. "They've already killed five of us, though not before having their fun first."
"There were thirteen in the beginning," Teyla added, her voice hard.
John felt his blood run cold at hearing their words, but he ruthlessly pushed the feeling back. They had to get out, and he would rather do that in such a way that it did not involve a long shootout while they struggled to retreat.
"Come on," he said firmly. "Let's get the hell out of h -"
"Oh, I don't think so, Sheppard."
The new voice caused both Sheppard and Ronon to whirl around, their weapons drawn, only to find a shotgun and a pistol aimed right at their heads. John's gaze swept up the arm pointing the sawed-off shotgun and settled on the handler's face.
"Hey, Bob."
Bob was a big, burly man with oily black hair pulled away from sharp blue eyes that missed very little. And at that moment, those eyes were directly focused on him. The scar marring his facial features did little to add to what appeal he may have had.
"I've been waiting for this for a long time," the Wraith growled. "I should get quite a few slaps on the back for this, killing the two gunfighters who've been in a thorn in our sides for far too long. That'll leave Atlantis wide open for the taking."
John snorted. "If you really think Atlantis will allow itself to be taken," he shot back, "You're an idiot, Bob. Though, given who your predecessor was, I'm beginning to think that stupidity is one of the requirements for your position."
The larger man snarled at him. "You're one to talk, Sheppard. What in the hell were you thinking, coming in here?" He smirked. "I may not have been there, but the others just love to tell the story of how a group of us got their hands on John Sheppard and Ronon Dex and showed them what someone gets when they don't respect the Wraith."
John heard Ronon growl from his position next to him. He understood the man's feelings. That beating they'd received from Steve and his buddies still haunted his nightmares, not to mention the scars on his back provided a constant reminder of what had happened in those hellish hours. Narrowing his eyes, he hissed, "Well, in case you hadn't noticed, that particular group didn't live long to tell the tale themselves. They were actually pretty easy to kill. Even Steve."
Hatred glittered in Bob's eyes. Tightening his grip on both of the guns, he raised them slightly and said, "Goodbye, Sheppard. Enjoy the ride to hell."
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