Aaron Rosenberg - Hunt and run

“Well, what now?” Rodney asked. “We can’t just stay in here forever.”

“No, we can’t,” his companion agreed.

“So what do we do?”

Again he caught a quick glimmer of the Satedan’s grin. “They’re hunting us,” he replied. “So we hunt them first.”

Rodney woke to a world of hurt.

“Oh, ow!” he complained, shifting slightly and producing a wave of sharp pain across his back, shoulders, and neck. Another twist and his legs and butt joined in, all protesting angrily.

“Shhh,” Ronon warned beside him.

“What do you mean, ‘shhh’?” Rodney snapped, but quietly. “We’re trapped in a tiny cave somewhere on a godforsaken planet in the middle of nowhere! Who’s going to hear me?”

“The people hunting us.”

That shut Rodney up, but only for a second. “Oh right, because they’re going around and putting their ear to every rock and cliff and hillside they can find, just on the off chance they’ll hear us in this little cave nobody knows exists?” He tried stretching again, but only succeeded in banging his elbow, forearm, and wrist on the low ceiling. The new injuries joined the chorus of older ones in shrieking at his misuse of his own body.

“Sound carries,” Ronon answered softly. “And we have no way of knowing if these walls have cracks in them. Our voices could be heard miles away.”

“But if they were,” Rodney argued, “wouldn’t that make us impossible to locate by sound alone?” He grinned, and was pleased to discover his face was one of the only parts of him that didn’t hurt. Thank God for small favors!

“Best not to chance it,” was all his companion replied. Which meant Ronon knew he was right but couldn’t admit it. The pleasure of winning yet another argument helped offset the pain of sleeping curled up in a hard rocky niche but didn’t drive it away completely.

“What time is it?” Rodney asked, though he did whisper the question. “How long have we been in here?”

“It’s almost dawn,” Ronon told him. “We slept maybe four hours.”

“Four hours? I’m useless without at least six.”

“Guess you don’t sleep much, then,” his companion said, and Rodney could tell the big lug was grinning.

“Ha ha, very funny. So when are we getting out of this lovely little hole in the wall? Dawn?”

But Ronon shook his head — Rodney’s eyes had apparently adapted enough to their environs that he could see the motion, even though the Satedan’s features were still a blur. “Too early,” came the answer.

“Too early? What are you talking about? We have to go find Sheppard and Teyla. We’ve got to get the Jumper up and running again. We’ve got to call Woolsey and let him know where we are!”

His companion turned and looked down at him. “They’ll be waiting for us at first light,” he explained. “It’s the best time to hunt — the prey’s still tired, not fully alert, and the early light can be misleading, even blinding at the right angles.”

“Oh.” Rodney thought about that. “So what do we do?”

“We wait until mid-morning. They’ll be getting restless by then, which means they’re more likely to make mistakes.”

“Great. So what do we do until then?”

Beside him, Ronon leaned his head back against the cave’s curving wall. “Sleep,” he answered. And within seconds he was doing just that.

Swell. “I can’t just go to sleep upon command!” Rodney whispered, but Ronon didn’t react. The Satedan had demonstrated plenty of times that he possessed that military knack for falling asleep instantly, though Rodney knew if there was danger Ronon would be awake again at once and fully alert. But he didn’t share that skill. He needed quiet, and calm, and a comfortable bed, and a soft pillow, and a warm blanket, and music playing, and —

Before he could even finish his list, Rodney was asleep.

“What is your name?” The masked figure loomed over Sheppard, leaning in close enough that he could make out angry blue eyes through the tinted goggles.

“Mickey Mouse,” Sheppard replied. He resisted the urge to spit, but did deliberately stick out his bottom lip. That caused his answer — and the hot air that went with it — to angle directly into his questioner’s face. The goggles fogged instantly, making the figure recoil and tear them off so he could see properly. Yep, blue eyes, and set in a narrow, pale-skinned face, Sheppard noticed. Human, unquestionably, but then he’d already figured their captors weren’t Wraith. This just wasn’t their style.

“Tell me the truth!” His interrogator struck him hard across the face, the blow knocking Sheppard’s head back against the rock behind him.

“Sure,” he answered, wincing slightly as he shifted away from the boulder. “What do you want to know?”

“Who are you, and why are you here?” The blue-eyed man demanded.

“We’re here because you idiots tried to blow up our ship!” Sheppard snapped, and instantly regretted it as his captor struck him again. “Look,” he continued more quietly, when the pain had died down enough for him to think clearly again. “What do you want from me? We’re not a threat to you — hell, I don’t even know who you are! And we only came this way because we picked up the distress signal you left on that shuttle. Let us go and we’ll leave and you’ll never have to see us again.”

The man laughed, a short, bitter sound. “You think I’d fall for that?” he asked. “You were just in the area and heard the distress signal? You’ll leave and never come back? Sure.”

“I didn’t say we were in the area,” Sheppard pointed out. “You’ve probably got scanners — you know we came through the Stargate. But yes, we’ll leave you alone. We aren’t interested in whatever you’re doing. We only came because we thought you needed help.”

“Or because you thought we were helpless,” the man corrected angrily, “and wanted to take us when we couldn’t fight back.” He hit Sheppard again, but this blow was more of an afterthought, a casual backhanded slap not really meant to hurt but that showed how helpless Sheppard was at the moment.

And that was plenty helpless.

Their captors had half-led, half-dragged him and Teyla across several foothills and to a small ledge along one of the steeper hills. They’d both had their hands bound behind them already, and gags tied across their mouth, but once they reached the ledge their legs were tied as well. A small smokeless fire provided a little heat and light against the cold winds that had risen as the sun had vanished, just enough warmth to keep Sheppard and Teyla from freezing to death as they huddled together, shivering.

Two more strangers had arrived just after dark, carrying on a whispered conference with the original four, but that seemed to be the extent of the group. They’d kept their facemasks and goggles on, at least as long as Sheppard could see them, so he hadn’t gotten a good look at anyone, but they were all armed, all wore the same armored jumpsuits, and all moved with the grace of experienced hunters. Which they clearly were, given how easily they’d captured him and Teyla.

The question was, what had they been hunting with that shuttle and now here on this miserable excuse for a planet?

And what did they do with their captures?

He’d apparently exhausted his captor’s patience, because Sheppard found himself being hauled to his feet and dragged back to the fire at the center of the ledge. Teyla was still there, and Sheppard was glad to see she didn’t look hurt in any way. Either these guys weren’t willing to interrogate a woman or they’d simply decided to start with him and keep at him until he broke. Or died.