Jo Graham - Death Game

Ronon hauled himself aboard dripping. “That’s good,” he whispered.

The boat rocked freely on the incoming waves, bobbing up and down easily.

“We row?” Radek asked, proffering the oar.

Ronon looked at it dubiously, then at the furled sail on the mast.

The current was strong, already pulling them further out and down the beach, away from the village and possible pursuit. No doubt for a swimmer it would be dangerous, Radek thought. But fortunately they had a sturdy little boat. So it would help put distance between them and the boat’s owner.

“I think we need to go that way,” Radek said, pointing ninety degrees off the faint flush of dawn in the east. “Southward toward the mainland. There are many other islands, but eventually we will need to go south and west.”

“Sounds good,” Ronon said, leaning back against the mast and emptying water out of his boots. Instead of putting them back on he remained barefoot on the planks. “We should do that.”

Radek looked at him and at the mast, furled sail waiting. “So you’ll be sailing?”

Ronon frowned, and Radek thought for the first time he saw actual worry in the man’s eyes. “I thought you knew how to sail.”

John woke, and for a few moments couldn’t remember where he was. Not this again, he thought, and then it came flooding back, the crashed puddle jumper, the desert, the doctor who had stitched up his head. Morning light came in through the small window high above. Teyla was sleeping on the other side of the bed, drawn in on herself like a child, her bad shoulder uppermost.

Right, he thought. Morning. Captured. Out of here. Very important things. By now Rodney had surely called for backup, and Lorne’s team would be looking for them in a second jumper. Best to get on the radio and give them something to look for.

He sat up and a wave of dizziness washed over him. Not good. But on the other hand he wasn’t nauseous. In fact, he was starving. That was good. John had been hit over the head enough times to know that was a good sign. If you’re hungry, you’re probably not dying.

Gingerly he got one of the energy bars out of his jacket pocket. That would help. Munching on it, he tried the radio. “McKay, this is Sheppard. Come in. McKay, this is Sheppard.”

Only static answered him. They were probably out of range. The hand held radios worked less than a hundred miles, and Rodney didn’t know where they were, so the second jumper would have to fly patterns broadcasting to find them. He flipped the radio to standby to save the battery. It would alert him when there was a signal.

Teyla stirred and sat up. “Anything?”

John shook his head. “Nothing yet. They’ll have to fly patterns. I wish there was some way to alert them about the cruiser first.”

“Lorne will be careful,” Teyla said. “They will know something must have happened and will exercise caution.” She shoved her hair out of her eyes.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked.

“It hurts,” she said. “But it is an ache, not a sharp pain. I think it is bruised muscles, and they will heal. How is your head?”

“Better,” John said. “I’m hungry anyhow.”

“We must have Carson see to you when we are back in Atlantis,” she said. “I’m sure he will have much to say about having you in the infirmary again!”

“Yeah, well.”

The door opened to admit Jitrine with her bag. She was accompanied by a young girl in a much-washed tunic who put a tray down on the table and left. This time the soldiers did not come in, but stood outside the door until the girl left, then closed it and barred it.

Teyla got to her feet. “Why are we prisoners?” she asked. “We have done nothing, and we must speak with Tolas.”

“And why are you a prisoner too?” John asked.

Jitrine’s eyes narrowed. “The local officials in The Chora hate the King in Pelagia, and they resent all Pelagians, especially those with wealth and education. I was foolish enough…” She glanced away. “I will spare you the tale of my folly, but needless to say I offended Tolas, and since I am here, many auri from Pelagia with no means to send a letter, I am at his mercy. And he, like many others, is angry because the tribute due the King has recently increased.”

John scratched his ear. “Local tax problems. I get it. What do you know about the Wraith?”

“The Wraith?” Jitrine looked genuinely confused.

“Perhaps you know them by another name,” Teyla put in. “They are tall, pale men with white hair, and they feed upon humans.”

Jitrine shook her head doubtfully. “I have never heard of such,” she said.

“We saw a Wraith cruiser,” John said, frustration in his voice. “We know there are Wraith on this world.”

“There may be,” Jitrine said. “But it is a point of logic that the world is vast. Because there are Wraith on this world does not mean I have seen them.”

Teyla glanced at John as if to say, true enough, so he didn’t press it. “Have you seen their ships?” Teyla asked. “Small, pointed, very fast? Airships?”

“The sky streaks?” Jitrine asked.

“Sky streaks?” John said. “What do you mean?”

“We sometimes see streaks in the sky, thin clouds being etched across the heavens as though an architect drew a line on stone. Sometimes we see a silver point at the leading end,” Jitrine replied.

“Contrails,” John said with a nod. “They’re made when the ships pass through certain kinds of weather.”

“I have seen those,” Jitrine said. “But I have never seen anything like the men you describe.”

Teyla frowned. “Perhaps you have been fortunate,” she said.

One of the guards banged open the door. “Enough time,” he proclaimed, and looked past Jitrine to them. “Tolas will see you in the third hour.”

“Thank you,” Teyla said to Jitrine as she was hurried out. Then she looked at John doubtfully. “They have never known a culling?”

John shook his head. “It could be pretty thinly populated, if this village is any indication. Maybe they haven’t been culled in a long time.” He examined the breakfast tray. Something smelled very good. It smelled like… “Scrambled eggs!” He looked at Teyla and grinned in triumph.

She shook her head, smiling. “Now I know you are feeling better. We should eat before we speak with Tolas.”

Dawn came over the desert. The chill of the night gave way to morning warmth. Rodney stretched and yawned and took another drink of the long cold coffee in the thermos Lorne had brought. It was the last of the coffee. Sad. He wondered if there were any of the sandwiches left.

Lorne looked around, then let the P90 rest on the sling around his neck. “The animals seem nocturnal,” he said with far too cheerful a smile for someone who had also been up all night. “No more howling. How’s it going, doc?”

“It’s going,” Rodney said grimly. “I’ve never tried to repattern a main gate control crystal before, in case you’re wondering. It’s very finicky work. Screw up and I’ll damage the crystal.”

“That’s why I brought four of them,” Lorne said.

“Yes, well, I’m glad to know you have such faith in me,” Rodney said, putting his head back into the depths of the DHD. “I’ll get it.”

“Then we dial the gate, get a jumper and the backup team, and go hunt for Colonel Sheppard’s team,” Lorne said. “All in a day’s work.”

Rodney shone his flashlight up inside the DHD, looking for the right circuit. “Somehow I don’t think it will be that easy.”

Sunrise. It was breathtaking, really. The sun rose out of azure waters under a flawless sky sprinkled here and there with rose clouds. A light breeze blew out of the east, stirring the hair on Radek’s forehead.