Aaron Rosenberg: Hunt and run

“Got it.” Sheppard hurried back into the cockpit and slid into his seat, not bothering to remove his suit, and began but didn’t finish his preflight checklist. “So, want to tell us what’s going on?”

“Later,” was the only answer he got. “Once it’s safe.”

Couldn’t argue with that, Sheppard decided. The rest of the team had joined him back in the cockpit and had closed the bulkhead door behind them, slipping into their usual seats. He sat impatiently, one hand poised over the engine controls, until he caught Ronon’s nod. Then he fired everything up and immediately spun the ship around, putting its back to the other vessel —

— which was why the blast propelled them forward when the distressed ship exploded.

Even though he’d been half-expecting it, Sheppard had to fight the controls as the Jumper bucked and fought, the shockwave tossing it about like a leaf battered by a hurricane. The fact that they’d already turned had definitely saved them, though — if they’d still been alongside their viewports would have been shattered by the blast, and most of the Jumper’s systems fried as well. As it was, warning lights were flaring up all across the console, and klaxons were screaming through his helmet.

“We’ve got damage to the thrusters!” Rodney was shouting at him, “and to life support! Communications are out! Engine coolant levels are plummeting — we must have a crack in one of the lines somewhere! We need to set down!”

“Can we make it back to the gate?” Sheppard asked him, still battling the helm.

He got the answer he’d been half-expecting and completely dreading. “Not a chance! We’ll be out of power in minutes. Six at most.” And the Stargate was at least ten minutes away. Damn!

“There is a planet within range,” Teyla informed them quickly, her fingers dancing across the computer panel on her suit’s arm — at the moment it was a more stable option than the ship’s own systems. “I will enter the coordinates.” She tapped them into the ship’s navigation, and Sheppard nodded as it came up on-screen. Definitely closer than the gate. The only question was, would it be close enough?

“Not like we have much of a choice,” he muttered. “Okay, hang on — I’m going to floor it!” He stopped fighting the controls and settled for maximum speed, letting the ship’s own momentum carry it part of the way. Better to put that velocity to work, even if it wasn’t a smooth ride. They all still had their suits on, which was also a good thing — no telling how long the life-support would hold, and every little bit helped.

Hopefully, it would be long enough. Then, of course, they’d just have to figure out what to do next — stuck on an uninhabited planet in the middle of nowhere, with a dead ship, unable to reach the nearest gate, because someone had set an empty vessel as an ambush.

He sighed. Much as he hated to admit it, and never would out loud, Rodney was right for once. This really was ridiculous.

The instant Sheppard set the Jumper down — a little unsteadily but more or less in one piece — Ronon was on his feet and charging back through the cargo hold to the rear door. “We need to find cover!” he shouted over his shoulder. One hand was tapping the open command. The other had his laser pistol drawn. “Right now!”

“Now, hold on there, chief,” Rodney argued, clambering out of his own chair and following Ronon but at a distance — he knew the Satedan well enough by now to give him a wide berth, especially when he was this agitated. “What’s the rush? We’re on the ground, and that exploding ship is half a light year away — what’s left of it.”

“That isn’t the danger,” Ronon told him brusquely. “Not anymore.”

“What is the danger, then?” Teyla asked. She stepped up beside Ronon and rested one hand on his forearm, gently pushing his gun down until it pointed at the floor. “Ronon, if there is a threat here you must let us know. How else can we ready ourselves for it?”

“I — ” It was rare to see the Satedan at a loss for words — he didn’t speak much, but when he did he was very concise. To see him pausing now made Sheppard uneasy. But after a second Ronon shook his head and holstered his pistol. “It’s just a feeling,” he claimed. “I don’t think we’re out of danger yet.”

“I tend to agree with that,” Sheppard offered, rising as well and joining the rest of them, “if only because, as long as the Jumper’s this banged up, we’re sitting ducks. But our first priority has to be getting the ship up and running again, and getting back through the gate. We can send a military unit back to investigate the wreckage from that vessel, see what they can tell us about who set it and why — they’ll be better equipped to deal with any additional threats.”

Teyla nodded. “I agree — we should return to Atlantis as soon as possible.”

“No argument there,” Ronon admitted. His hand still rested on the butt of his pistol, though.

Rodney couldn’t keep quiet, of course. Especially since he had gotten his way. That put him in a good mood, which made him talkative. Of course, when he didn’t get his way he became grumpy, which also made him talkative, just more whiny. Really, Sheppard thought, there weren’t a lot of things that didn’t make Rodney talkative. Other than sleep and maybe strong tranquilizers.

“Well, now that we’ve all agreed,” he suggested, rubbing his hands together, “is it all right if I actually get to work? Or did we want to sit and bicker a bit more?”

“Shut up and get to work, Rodney,” Sheppard told him. “The rest of us will look around, see what sort of dirtball we’ve crash-landed on.”

“You and Teyla go,” Ronon corrected with a grimace. “I’ll stand guard.”

That earned him a stare from Rodney. “Over me? You’re going to guard me?” If anything, Ronon’s grimace became more pronounced, and that woke an answering grin from Rodney. “Well, now I’ve seen everything.”

“There’s air,” Teyla reported, and Sheppard saw that she’d tied her suit’s computer into the cargo bay door. Smart — that way she’d used the Jumper’s external sensors to run an analysis on their surroundings but her suit had done the processing. “Thin, but breathable. Temperatures are within comfortable ranges. No sign of any toxins. We won’t need the suits.”

“Great — let’s get them off.” Sheppard immediately started stripping his off, and the others followed his lead. The MOPP suits were great but they had a limited air supply, so if the air outside was breathable they were better off conserving their resources. And the suits hindered movement and obstructed vision, something he didn’t want to risk when they were scouting an unfamiliar location like this.

“Better — definitely better,” Rodney exclaimed once he’d hung his own suit back on the rack. “I hate wearing that thing — I feel like the inside of a glove. Yuck!”

“Just get the Jumper up and running again,” Sheppard instructed as the door lowered and they all filed out. “And get our comm link back up so we can call Atlantis — we haven’t hit our window yet but once we do Woolsey’s going to start worrying.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Rodney asked, automatically raising and closing the Jumper’s door again behind him. “He’ll send troops through to find us?”

“And what if whoever set that ship to explode is still here?” Ronon demanded. He’d dropped into a crouch the minute he was outside, pistol back in hand, eyes scanning the area. “What if they ambush the troops as they come through?”

Rodney turned pale and stared all around. “Right, comm link,” he whispered. “Got it.”