Aaron Rosenberg - Hunt and run

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, but Ronon now held up that hand, palm out, and Rodney quickly quieted. He watched as his companion crouched down and tapped the spot Rodney had been about to step upon. The touch produced a strange, muted echo. A second, harder tap, almost a punch, and the ground caved in, revealing a deep hole.

“How did you know?” Rodney asked, staring. He had almost stepped in that!

“They used a tarp,” Ronon answered, standing again. “It was a little too even to match the terrain perfectly. And they dusted it with pebbles but they were too uniform about it.” He shook his head. “Sloppy.”

“Sloppy? It looked pretty convincing to me.” Rodney stood as well and stepped forward to stare into the hole. It looked more than deep enough and more than wide enough to swallow a man whole. “Did they dig that, or just find it and cover it up?”

“It’s a natural crevice,” Ronon replied. “They’re all over this area.” He gave Rodney a hard look. “That’s why you need to stay behind me.”

“Okay, I got it,” Rodney agreed quickly. He couldn’t argue that Ronon was a better hunter and tracker, and he had no desire to fall into one of those concealed pits. “But tell me why we’re not going straight to wherever these V’rdai are keeping Sheppard and Teyla?”

“Too many of them,” Ronon told him bluntly. “Even if we find them and they don’t see us, I’m guessing there’re at least four of them, maybe more. There’s no guarantee I can take them out before they shoot the hostages.”

“What? Why would they shoot them?” Rodney shook his head. “Why not try to use them for cover, or to bargain their way out?”

Now it was Ronon’s turn to shake his head, his dreadlocks flying. “They don’t think that way,” he explained. “They’re hunters, and soldiers. They’re used to dealing with Wraith. That means no bargains, no mercy, and no getting captured. Ever. If we attack they’ll kill the hostages and make a run for it, hoping we stop to check the bodies.”

Rodney gulped. “Okay, so we can’t just hit them straight on. Got it. What do we do?” He tried to put himself in Ronon’s shoes — and failed miserably. So he tried to think like Sheppard instead. That was a little easier, though horribly limiting. “We need a diversion.”

His companion grinned. “Exactly. And I know just the one to get their attention.”.

“There!” Ronon peered quickly around the rock they were stooped behind, then drew back, his motion swift but smooth. Rodney craned his head to look as well, and though he had only the briefest glance before he was yanked back down, he had seen enough to identify what they were looking at.

“A ship!” He tried to organize the few details he’d seen. “Well, a shuttle, really. No hyperspace, probably no weapons, maybe not even any shields. But it could get us to the Stargate, and even if they don’t still have that portable DHD you mentioned it must have some kind of communications array — I could contact Atlantis!” He was already halfway up again before a burly arm shoved him back onto his rear.

“No,” Ronon told him. “No communications. Not yet. We can’t let them find out about Atlantis.”

Rodney started to object, then thought about it. Much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, his companion was right. There was no guarantee the V’rdai didn’t have some sort of commlinks tied in to the ship’s systems. After all, they did. And if that was the case, and he used the shuttle to call Atlantis, the V’rdai would all hear it. They’d know exactly where he and Ronon were, and they’d also know about Atlantis. They’d even have the city’s subspace frequency. No, that wouldn’t work at all.

“Okay,” he agreed, “so we steal the shuttle, use it to find the others, head on back to the Stargate with it, and then Woolsey sends troops back to retrieve the Jumper.”

That met with another headshake. “They’ll have them up in the mountains, where a shuttle can’t reach,” Ronon explained. “And we don’t want to leave the Jumper in their hands. They might be able to get it working again, and then they’d have access to the gates and to Atlantis itself.” He looked pained for a second. “Adarr was a top-notch mechanic, and he could still be with them.”

Rodney hadn’t considered that, and he studied his companion for a second. They were going up against people who had been the Satedan’s friends, his comrades in arms, for almost two years. If it came down to it, would Ronon be able to take them down? Then he shook himself. Why was he even asking the question? This was Ronon, for heaven’s sake! He came close to knocking out his friends on a regular basis.

Still, Rodney was getting tired of having his ideas shot down. “Okay, I give up,” he said testily. “You don’t like any of my suggestions? Fine. Let’s hear yours. What do you think we should do with that shuttle down there?”

So Ronon told him. And, after his initial disapproval, Rodney had to admit it was a good idea. Almost as good as if he’d come up with it himself.

“Fine,” he said finally. “We’ll try it your way.”

“Fine.” Ronon risked another look, then rose to a crouch and gestured for Rodney to follow him. “Let’s go.”

“What, now? Shouldn’t we plan it out a bit more first?” Rodney was on his feet and following even as he complained.

“No time,” came the reply. “They could show up at any second.”

“Great. I just love pressure,” Rodney muttered. He kept glancing around, expecting strangers to appear behind every rock and boulder — he didn’t even know what these V’rdai would look like, so in his head they became monstrous figures with oversized, clawed hands and enormous jagged teeth and tusks and horns, a combination of men and a dozen different Earth predators. No one appeared as they made their way the rest of the distance out of the foothills, however, and the shuttle seemed quiet as they approached it.

“All right, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Rodney said to himself as he stepped up beside the airlock.

“Careful,” Ronon warned — the big Satedan had his back to the hull and was scanning the area for danger, pistol in hand. “They might have rigged it.”

“Thank you for that brilliant observation,” Rodney snapped at him, pausing just long enough to glare at his companion, “but I think I figured that one out on my own. This is my area of expertise, remember? So you do the whole shooting-and-killing thing, and let me do my work. Okay?” He didn’t even wait for the nod he suspected would never come. Instead he carefully cracked open the access panel and studied the mass of wires and chips inside.

The V’rdai had indeed rigged it. They’d done a decent job, too — anyone trying to type in the wrong access code would have gotten an exploding panel for their trouble, and it had enough of a charge to vaporize the would-be intruder’s hand, arm, and maybe chest and face as well. Of course, they hadn’t counted on a bona fide genius like Dr. Rodney McKay. It was child’s play for him to disconnect the charge, reroute power around the password protection, and enter an override. He paused before he activated it, however. He’d just noticed the secondary wiring, and the small array it ran to at the rear of the panel.

“I’ve got it,” he told Ronon, “and it was rigged. But there’s more. They’ve got it wired so it sends out a signal every time it opens or closes. Do you want me to kill that as well?”

“No, leave that alone,” Ronon instructed, which was what Rodney had thought he’d say. After all, if you were trying to lure people to you, you wanted them to know where you were. The very idea of deliberately attracting an enemy’s attention made his skin crawl, but he shrugged it off and initiated the override. The airlock slid open with a low hiss.