Aaron Rosenberg - Hunt and run

“Up,” the stranger commanded. The barrel didn’t waver in the least.

“Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice,” Sheppard acknowledged. He took the hand and let the stranger pull him to his feet. Male, Sheppard guessed, and in good shape, but beyond that he couldn’t tell — both of the strangers wore what looked like armored hooded jumpsuits, patterned in desert camouflage to blend in with the dirt and rock around them, and face-masks and goggles completely concealed their features. “Nice setup,” he admitted. “So where were you hiding?” he glanced down into the crevice, and — as he’d hoped — his captor’s gaze flicked to the hole as well. And so did his gun barrel.

“Now!” Sheppard yelled. He pivoted to the side, one hand grabbing the rifle and keeping it aimed past him while the other landed at the back of the stranger’s neck. The blow knocked the man forward a step, and Sheppard’s tug on the weapon continued the motion, causing the stranger to stumble — right into the crevice.

Turning, he saw Teyla flip her own captor over her shoulder. She landed on his abdomen as he hit the ground, her knee knocking the wind out of him, and his head bounced off a rock a second later, leaving him stunned. In an instant Sheppard was at her side, his knife out to sever her bonds.

“Let’s get out of here!” She nodded and fell into step beside him as they took up a quick march back toward the Jumper. She’d retrieved her P90 from where it had fallen and his had never left his shoulder, so they both covered the area as they moved quickly but carefully. The last thing they needed now was to stumble and shoot themselves in the foot because of some loose rocks.

They had made it away from the crevice and back to the boulder where they’d first seen it when a shot from somewhere zinged past Sheppard’s head, just missing his left ear. “Down!” he ordered. Teyla dropped to a crouch and he did the same, taking up cover behind the boulder. He returned fire, but he wasn’t entirely sure which direction the shot had come from. Their assailants could be anywhere.

“We need to get back to the ship!” Teyla offered, shooting past the boulder as well. But Sheppard had had time to think, and shook his head.

“No,” he decided. “We don’t want to lead them to the Jumper. If Rodney can get it up and running again, he and Ronon can call Atlantis for help. But if we get pinned down there, we’re sunk.” Teyla nodded, as he’d known she would. She understood tactics well enough to see his point. “Right now,” he continued, “our job is to give them as much time as possible to effect repairs. And maybe take down whoever these guys are in the process.” He squeezed off another round.

“We can stay here for now,” Teyla pointed out, “but they know this land and we do not. They have the advantage.”

“I know.” Sheppard rubbed at his temple. “And we can’t contact Ronon and Rodney, in case they’re monitoring — it’s possible these guys haven’t noticed them yet, and I’d like to keep it that way.” He frowned. “We’ll think of something.”

He ran out of time, however, as the boulder shuddered in front of them. And then shifted — toward them.

“Run!” he shouted, leaping to his feet and backpedaling rapidly as the boulder began to roll — directly toward him and Teyla. They abandoned all hope of cover fire and dove to the sides as it rumbled across their path and down the mild incline, narrowly missing them both.

“Nice trick,” Sheppard admitted, pushing himself back up to his hands and knees. He wasn’t surprised to find another gun barrel in his face, and let hands strip away his radio and submachine gun without a fight. “You probably had that boulder rigged for just that purpose, right? Best cover around, so you knew we’d hide behind it, and then you send it after us and catch us with our pants down.” The strangers didn’t reply, but he could sense their smiles even through their mottled facemasks. “Smart.” One bound his wrists while another kept him under guard. Two more did the same with Teyla.

“So which one of you did I push into the crevice?” Sheppard couldn’t resist asking. The one with the gun stepped forward slightly, the barrel poking him in the chest. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He shrugged. “Can’t really blame me, right?”

They still didn’t answer. Instead the one who had bound his wrists nodded to the others, and they turned toward the hills. The gunbearer shifted behind Sheppard and prodded him in the back, forcing him into motion. Teyla was ahead of him, the two of them kept ten paces apart. These guys were well-trained, Sheppard had to admit. Well-trained and well-equipped, and clearly after something.

The question was, what?

He only hoped Rodney was making headway on the Jumper. And that Ronon had heard the shots. Right now, that was all he could ask.

Time would tell if it was enough.

“Did you hear that?”

Rodney glanced up. “Did I hear what?”

“That.” Ronon wasn’t even looking at him — the big muscle-bound Satedan was staring off into the surrounding hills, his whole body tensed, head up, nostrils flared. He looked like a hunting dog and any second he expected the big man to go bounding off and return with a duck hanging from his mouth.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“There!” Now Ronon did glance at him, more of a glare really from beneath those heavy brows. “That! That was gunfire!”

Rodney frowned. Had he heard something just then? It was hard to be sure. He thought he might have, but maybe it was just because Ronon had told him there was something to hear. Sounds — or the absence thereof — could work that way. You could hear things just because you were listening for them. Especially if they were already supposed to be faint.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally, much as he hated that particular phrase. “Maybe.” He glanced around. “You think Sheppard and Teyla are in trouble?” Ronon wasn’t listening to him. He had gone back to gaze toward the horizon. “Ronon?” Rodney didn’t care for it when the big oaf stared at him, but he liked being ignored even less. “Are they in trouble?”

“Yes, they’re in trouble,” Ronon replied after a minute. He shook himself and turned his attention fully upon Rodney, making him squirm. “And so are we. We need to leave here. Now.”

“I’ve only just started isolating the damaged areas,” Rodney protested. “It’ll take me another few hours to get the Jumper operational again — at the least!”

But Ronon wasn’t listening. He simply grabbed Rodney’s arm and began hauling him away from the ship. “We can’t stay here,” he explained softly as he moved toward the hills.

“What? Wait!” Rodney tried to free his arm, but it was like a fly struggling against a vise grip. “We can’t just leave the ship here!”

“That’s exactly what we can do,” Ronon retorted. “We’re too vulnerable here.”

“Then we should get it up and running as soon as possible,” Rodney argued. “The sooner we’re off this world the better.”

Ronon was already shaking his head, and he hadn’t stopped moving. “Too late for that,” he said. “There’s no time.”

“Are we going after Sheppard and Teyla, then?” That did make some strategic sense, Rodney admitted to himself — three guards instead of one would afford him more protection while he worked. He could get the comm link up and running first, and let Sheppard or Teyla call in to Atlantis while he moved on to the navigation and propulsion systems. But his self-appointed shepherd was shaking his head again.

“We can’t go after them.”

“What? Why not?” Rodney struggled against the Satedan’s grip again. “Come on, you said they were in trouble!”