Aaron Rosenberg - Hunt and run

“You’ve learned well, Ronon,” Nekai told him once he was armed again, and had removed the snare’s loop from his ankle. “There’s only one thing left now, one final step.”

“You said I passed,” Ronon reminded him, his grin fading a little bit. How many more tests would he have to endure?

“This isn’t a test,” Nekai answered. “More like a proving ground. It’s time.”

“Time for what?” But deep down, Ronon already knew the answer, and his mentor echoed it a second later, a predatory grin crossing his face.

“Time to hunt a Wraith.”

Snap! Ronon tensed, then forced himself to relax. He uncurled his fingers from around the butt of his pistol, unclenched his stomach muscles and his jaw, lay flat again, and forced himself to breathe slowly. Patience. He had to have patience.

Where were the damned Wraith? Why weren’t they here yet?

It had been over three hours since he and Nekai had separated. Nekai had suggested they wait another day, until they had both eaten and slept and Ronon had recovered from the stress and tension and effort of their recent mutual hunt. But Ronon had refused.

“Now,” he’d insisted. “I want to do this now.”

Nekai had decided not to argue. Probably he had seen the determination — what Melena had often called the “stonewall stubborn” on his face. Or maybe he had just accepted that it would be better to get this out of the way once and for all.

Besides, resting hadn’t really been an option. During the hunt there’d been the risk that the Wraith might detect their signals and come looking for either or both of them. Disguising the tracking devices now would only intrigue any Wraith already in the area. They’d either have to flee to another planet immediately — or let the Wraith come, and deal with them once they arrived.

Ronon was all for the latter. He’d been itching to kill Wraith since they’d first attacked his homeworld, and that itch had grown into an all-consuming rage once they’d killed Melena and the rest of Sateda and taken him captive. He’d suppressed the desire while training only by constantly reminding himself that what Nekai was teaching him would make him better able to kill Wraith and in much greater quantities.

Well, now it was time to put that to the test.

So Nekai had headed back toward a cave he’d selected for just such a purpose — the minerals in the walls would make him more difficult to pinpoint, he claimed. And Ronon had selected a likely spot, set a few snares and other traps, and settled in to wait.

And here he was. Waiting.

He hated waiting.

What if there hadn’t been any Wraith in the area already, he wondered for the hundredth time. What if none of them were within range to detect his tracking device? What if he was laying in wait for an enemy that would never show? How long could he wait? A day? Two? Eventually he’d need to move, if only to find food and water. Otherwise when a Wraith did show he’d be too weak to deal with it.

Snap!

Ronon went completely still. His ears strained, trying to pinpoint the location and source of that sound. It had been nearby, certainly, but not right beside — definitely within visual range if he dared to turn his head and look, which he did not. There were dry leaves and small twigs littering the ground here, which was one of the reasons he had chosen this spot. It was all but impossible for anyone to sneak up on him here.

Snap! Crunch! Crack!

Too many sounds, too close together, Ronon decided. More than one pair of feet tromping through the forest on this fine cool day. If they were Wraith there would probably be three of them, two soldiers and one commander, just as there had been before. The last time, Ronon had needed Nekai’s help to finish them off. Not this time.

At least, he hoped not. He had hunted animals without a problem, and had even gotten the drop on Nekai himself this morning. But that had been one man. This was three Wraith. He had never hunted multiple targets before, and suddenly Ronon found himself cursing Nekai’s oversight. Why hadn’t they gone after small packs and prides and other groupings, to get experience for exactly this sort of situation?

True, he had a plan. He thought it would work. But there was no way to be sure. Not until it happened. And if the plan failed? Well, that would be very, very bad.

Ronon waited, unmoving, and listened for more noises. They came soon enough, and confirmed what he had already guessed: three of them, all moving in this direction, all walking together. One of them was a little better at stealth than the other two, who didn’t care what they stomped on or how much noise they made.

Wraith.

Ronon grinned. Let them come, he thought. His hand tightened on the pistol but he still didn’t draw it. Not yet.

He had learned to be patient. At least patient enough to make sure his prey was exactly where he wanted them before he struck.

The noises were drawing still closer, and now Ronon thought he could make out actual footsteps mingled with the other sounds. Two sets, at least — the third was almost more an absence than a presence, a noise that did not accompany one-third of the dry-stick sounds that reached his ears. The commander was not bothering to avoid dry leaves or twigs, he could clearly care less about being undetected, but his step was naturally light enough not to register.

Still, the other noises and the sounds of the two soldiers made tracking their progress incredibly easy.

Ronon finally allowed himself to tense a bit as the three strangers passed into his line of sight. Wraith, just as he’d thought. And they were moving in the same configuration as the first trio he’d met, the commander in the lead and the two warriors flanking and slightly behind him.

Perfect.

Ronon had to force his hand away from his pistol. He had always been an excellent shot, and his time in the Satedan military had honed that skill to a razor edge. Then Nekai had honed it further. Military training taught you to aim for vital organs, to cause the most damage in a single shot. But that often left an opponent bleeding out and staggering around — they were no longer a threat so you didn’t much care how far they got before they finally dropped. Hunting was different. You wanted your prey to stay close — the further it got the harder it was to chase it down again, and the more likely some other predator would try to claim it. So you aimed for incapacitation, joints and killing blows — if you couldn’t kill right away you sought to immobilize your target so you could finish it off quickly.

Plus there was the whole issue of shooting from cover. That had been a completely new experience for Ronon — he had never been the “hide in the bushes, then attack by surprise” type. His attack formations had usually involved head-on charges, shooting and slashing all the way. But his last encounter with the Wraith had proven better than any lecture that such a technique would not be effective here. He couldn’t overpower three Wraith, not by himself. And he could never count on outside help or reinforcements, not even from Nekai. Especially not while hunting — if the Wraith ever figured out how their signals overlapped, they might devise a way to counter that, and then Ronon and Nekai would lose their one advantage, not to mention their one measure of cover.

So Ronon had to take out all three Wraith as quickly as possible, as quietly as possible, and by himself.

Which meant not shooting any of them. Not yet. He couldn’t guarantee he could take them all down before one of them tagged him, or called in help. And he couldn’t take that risk.

Instead, he slowly, quietly shifted his hands forward and lifted the vine he had coiled just in front of his head. It was the strongest one he could find, strong enough to withstand his yanking on it with no ill effect, and he had looped a section of it and made a crude but very effective slipknot. Now he shifted his weight slightly on the thick branch he had chosen for his perch, and raised the loop, gauging the distance to the figures approaching his tree.