The Furies

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John Sheppard woke in darkness, unable to move, held upright by the thick fibers of the Wraith bonds. He could see nothing. The corridor was dim, and the alcove he was held in stood in deep shadow. If he could have leaned forward, perhaps he could have glanced up and down the hallway, but the bonds across his chest and throat were so tight that the slightest forward movement threatened to cut off his breath.

There was no sound. Either he was alone, or the other humans imprisoned here must be beyond speech.

A faint vibration through the soles of his feet did tell him something. This was not a planetary base. He was on a ship, each moment traveling further and further from anywhere his team would look for him.

Because he was stupid, and possibly terminally stupid. He’d been so sure that the message that had lured him to Gaffen was from Rodney McKay, his friend held captive by the Wraith and the subject of a terrible transformation. He was so sure that somehow Rodney had slipped out of the programming his captors had used on him and sent a cry for help. John had walked into the trap open eyed, going to the gate address Rodney had specified, only to wind up in the middle of a culling.

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