Aaron Rosenberg - Hunt and run

“Standard procedure,” Ronon agreed. “We knew that location, so it was compromised.”

“Well, the good news is, they’re nowhere near the Jumper,” Rodney pointed out. “We can get back there and fix it and get the hell out of here. Good luck following us then!”

“We need to get the communications up and running first,” Sheppard told the others. “Calling Atlantis and telling them what’s going on has to be our first priority.”

But Ronon was shaking his head. “No calls,” he said. “That’ll only make matters worse.”

“Worse? How?” Rodney demanded. “You think having Woolsey send a squad to back us up and to stand guard while I repair the Jumper so we can get off this rock is a bad thing?”

“No, I think blowing up anyone coming through the gate — and maybe us with them — is a bad thing,” the big Satedan snapped in reply.

That statement got Sheppard’s full attention. “Wait, blow them up? What’re you talking about?”

“Nekai will have rigged the gate,” Ronon explained. “It was something he’d been thinking about before I left, and I’m sure he’s long since figured out the details. Dial any place without disabling the charge — even if it’s just to send a message through — and it’ll activate. Probably has a motion-sensor trigger, so it won’t go off until something moves within range. Then — Boom! Won’t hurt the gate itself, but it’ll probably vaporize anyone near it — and ‘near it’ could mean anywhere from a few meters away to half a light-year.”

Sheppard frowned. It made sense, given everything the V’rdai had already done to them. But that only added another worry to the list. “They’ll try to dial us,” he reminded his friends. “When it’s been thirty-six hours and we haven’t checked in, especially since this was supposed to be a quick rescue mission. And when they can’t reach us, they’ll send a team through.” That put a time limit on all this, and a tight one at that.

Ronon didn’t seem too fazed, however. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “They won’t be able to dial the gate open from Atlantis. Nekai has it locked down — until we dismantle his lock or he removes it, no one can access the gate from the other side.”

Now Rodney was impressed. “So you think he perfected whatever he was using to do that? How?”

“I don’t know,” Ronon admitted. “Nekai never showed the rest of us that trick. He kept most of what he’d learned about the gates entirely to himself.” In the faint light of the small monitor Sheppard saw the big man’s mouth twist. “Just another way for him to keep us under his control.”

Rodney looked disappointed, and Sheppard couldn’t blame him. There was still so much they didn’t know about the Stargates and how they worked! “Maybe it’s something on his DHD,” Rodney mused, already caught up in the problem. He noticed the surprise on Sheppard’s face, though. “They scavenged one from a Wraith Dart — ask Ronon for the details. So maybe, when this mechanic of theirs jury-rigged it to his ship, he added a few features, and. ”

“This world has no gate of its own,” Teyla pointed out, bringing all of them back to the problems at hand. “Which means we will have to get the Jumper repaired, return to the gate we came through and disarm whatever trap Nekai has set there before we can return to Atlantis.”

Sheppard nodded. “So we get back to the Jumper and get it running again. Assuming we can.”

“Oh, I can fix it, no problem,” Rodney assured him. “I just need a little time. Preferably with no one shooting at me — for once. I’m sure I can figure out the lock on the gate, too, once I have a chance to study it.” Sheppard believed him, too. For all his bragging and all his arrogance, Rodney really was a genius, and the leading expert after Samantha Carter on the functions and uses of the stargates.

“He’ll have someone guarding the Jumper,” Ronon warned. “A pair, of course. They always move in pairs.”

“I noticed that,” Sheppard agreed. “Why is that? That feedback loop you were talking about before?”

Ronon nodded. “Exactly. The signal gets even more distorted when you add more Runners, but as long as you have two of them within five meters of each other, the Wraith can’t lock onto the signal.” He grinned, white teeth visible even in the shadows. “But we can. We’ve got two other things going for us. I know how they think, what they’ll do next. And I don’t have a tracking device. They won’t be able to find me with Nekai’s monitor. That’s even assuming Adarr tells him it was me.”

“You think he won’t?” Sheppard asked.

His friend shrugged. “I don’t know. Years ago, I would’ve said Adarr would tell Nekai — or anyone else — anything. He’s gotten hard, though. And he’s worried. He might keep it to himself until he’s sure what’s going on and why.”

“That will work to our advantage as well, if he does,” Teyla commented. “They will have no idea who to expect, or what your skills are, or how much you know about them.”

“Okay.” Sheppard sighed and forced his fatigue away. There would be plenty of time for sleep later, assuming they made it out of here and back to Atlantis in one piece. “Ronon, it’s your call. What do we do?”

The big Satedan grinned again. “I have a plan,” he announced, though softly. Sheppard listened while his friend outlined his idea. Rodney and Teyla were paying close attention as well. When Ronon finished, they all considered it.

“It’s risky,” Sheppard said finally. “But it should work.”

“It had better,” Rodney grumbled. “Otherwise we’ll never get out of here.”

“It’ll work,” Ronon assured them. “I know what I’m doing.” That much was certainly true. And the plan wasn’t the worst Sheppard had heard, or even the worst he’d put into effect.

“Right, let’s do it,” he said finally. “First thing in the morning.” He hunkered down, leaned his head back, rolled his shoulders to find a more comfortable position for them, and then shut his eyes. The fatigue was already rising up to wash over him in a soft blue fog. Within seconds he was asleep.

Rodney grumbled for a bit, complaining about damp caves and stone floors and hiding in caves and a whole host of other things. He shifted and wriggled the whole time, trying to find some imaginary soft spot on the hard rock, but his griping grew fainter and fainter, until at last he stopped talking altogether. That meant he must be asleep.

Teyla got up and switched sides so she was leaning next to Ronon. “Are you okay?” she asked him softly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He had his eyes closed, and Teyla thought he’d probably been asleep until she’d spoken, but with Ronon it was sometimes hard to tell.

“These were your friends,” she pointed out. “They saved your life, took you in, and trained you. They were your first family after you became a Runner. They gave you purpose.” Ronon didn’t reply. “And now they are hunting us,” she continued after a minute. “They are trying to kill us. We may have to kill them in order to survive.”

“They made that choice,” Ronon replied. “Not me. They would have killed me long ago if I hadn’t escaped.” Now he did open his eyes to look at her. “We can’t afford to show them any mercy,” he warned, “because they have none.”

Teyla tried to imagine the world from the V’rdai’s point of view. “I can see where being a Runner would set you against everyone else,” she mused. “It is a very solitary way of life, isn’t it? You have to trust in yourself and no one else.”

“There’s trusting no one and there’s attacking everyone,” Ronon replied. “Two very different things.”