Stargate Atlantis: Latitude

Chapter 22 - Wraith

For Rodney, the months of uncertainty were over, the guesswork proved correct; for here, in the green-tinted flesh, were the Wraith.

Just after dawn, following a night of discomfort, hunger and thirst, they had been herded outside and made to stand in a long line.  A Wraith commander, flanked by two drones, had walked the length of the line like an officer reviewing his troops and every so often, with a flick of his hand, would indicate to the drones to take someone out of the line and add them to the growing huddle off to one side.  The group consisted of the weaker, sicker looking people and once again Rodney wondered what would happen to them. Rodney had worried for Net for a moment, but, as she gazed at the Wraith with fascinated horror, he simply passed her by.  None of the young children were chosen.

Then had come the most humiliating part, and Rodney felt the full force of the Wraith's total disregard for any kind of basic dignity or decency.  They had been made to strip off and ruthlessly and unpleasantly hosed down, then the guards had come along the line with a bowl of a thick paste that they were directed to apply to any cuts or abrasions.  Rodney's took a while and Net had to help, which was even more humiliating.  Net didn't seem bothered by the whole nakedness thing and even giggled once or twice, which made Rodney wonder how old she was.

Struggling into the nasty orange overalls they were then given, Rodney asked her, and allowing for differences in day length and planetary rotation, worked out her age as about nine and a half in Earth years.

The next procedure seemed to be a step too far for Net.  They were made to stand in line once more and as the line crept forward and cries of pain were heard, Rodney realised some kind of device was being used to inject an implant into the arms of the prisoners.  He guessed it was some kind of tracker and wondered why it was necessary in a closed camp.

Rodney looked down at Net.  Tears were running down her pale face and her thin body was trembling.  He didn't know what to do.  How do you comfort a child in such a situation, where there's really no likelihood of anything good happening?  An idea occurred to Rodney.

"Net," he tapped her shoulder and allowed his fear to creep into his voice.  "Hey, erm, Net?"

She looked up, sniffing, her mousey brown hair in a tangle.

"Um... see, I'm not very good at this kind of thing," he said.  "Bit of a coward, actually, so I was wondering if you'd hold my hand while they, um...?" He nodded at the head of the line.

Net looked at him and then drew herself up straighter.  She took Rodney's hand in hers and said, determinedly, "I'll go first so you'll see it's not so bad!"

Rodney was surprised to find his eyes welling up at her stoic expression and the suppressed tremor in her voice.  He was even more moved when, reaching the head of the line, she stood in front of him, chin raised and held out her arm bravely.  She couldn't suppress a yelp of pain when the implant was injected and tears sprang to her eyes once more, though her head remained high.  Rodney knew his duty and, when his turn came gripped Net's hand tightly and let out a yell and a string of curses so that the guards looked at him scornfully.  Net, however, squeezed his hand reassuringly while thoughtfully repeating his words under her breath as if storing them away for future reference.

Then came the definite highlight of the day.  A table had been set up on top of which were steaming vats of some kind of stew and piles of bread.  The prisoners were given a generous portion as well as access to as much water as they needed.  Rodney and Net sat down on the hot, dusty ground together and ate in silence, both too keen to chase away their hunger for any kind of smalltalk.  Rodney felt energy flood back into his body and mind; he hadn't realised how weak he'd been feeling and when Net couldn't finish the generous adult's portion she'd been given, he was glad to finish it for her.