“We have been shipwrecked!” Radek called back. “We are the only survivors!” Which sounded much better than ‘we are aliens from another planet who have stolen this boat without knowing how to sail it.’ That seemed a potentially problematic story. Stealing boats might be as illegal here as it was on Earth. It probably was.
In no time at all the sailors threw down ropes, and Ronon climbed up easily. Radek looked at the swaying rope with trepidation. This had never been his favorite part in the gymnasium. In fact, he’d never managed to climb the rope in his life.
Ronon leaned back over the side. “Give me your hand,” he said, and pulled Radek up as though it were nothing.
Towering over the sailors on the deck, his massive forearms bared, Ronon looked like some hero out of legend. They gave him a wide berth.
The one who might be the captain, a little better dressed, spoke. “You don’t look like fishermen,” he said doubtfully.
“My friend here is a warrior of great renown,” Radek said, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. “We took passage with the unfortunate fishermen, but last night there was a terrible storm.”
The captain eyed Radek skeptically, though he seemed to accept readily enough that Ronon was a mighty warrior. And certainly they knew there had been a storm. That was absolute truth.
Ronon looked dour and flexed a few muscles for effect.
“I am a scribe,” Radek said, waving his forefinger about. “I tell his mighty deeds.” He was suddenly very grateful that his polytechnique school had required ancient history. He could manage all these cultural things as well as Teyla. And certainly he could play the scribe.
At that there were a few nods and grins. The captain looked at Ronon, or rather looked up at Ronon. “He’s yours?”
“Yeah,” Ronon said.
The captain shrugged. “To each his own! It’s good luck to rescue the shipwrecked. After all, one day it may be us. We’re bound for the Holy Island with cargo. We’ll take you and your boy there if you like, and then you’re on your own.”
“Sounds good,” Ronon said gruffly.
Radek felt the blood rush to his face. Oh really. That sort of ancient cultural thing.
One of the crew looked at Ronon speculatively. “You’re not planning to enter the Games of Life are you? Because I’d put some money on you.”
“I might,” Ronon said even more dourly. Apparently he thought the role required extreme taciturnity.
Rather than…whatever Radek’s required.
“Tell me of these games,” Radek said chipperly. “My friend is ever anxious to try his sword against new opponents.”
From the gales of laughter that broke forth Radek gathered this was a worse double entendre in their language than in his native Czech, and he cursed the Stargate’s translations for the millionth time. It probably didn’t bear repeating in Satedan either, from the way Ronon gave him an absolutely incredulous look underneath his brows.
“You are ambitious, little man!” the sailor who had mentioned the games said.
The captain frowned, however. “You do not know of the Games?”
“We’ve come a long way,” Ronon growled. “I’m not looking for trouble.” He frowned in a way that suggested that anyone who helped trouble find him might not be made very happy. “And if you’ve got any water it would be a good thing.”
At that a skin bag of water was produced, and Ronon drank before he passed it to Radek. The water was stale, but Radek hadn’t realized quite how thirsty he was. Yes, it had only been ten or twelve hours, but they had been exerting themselves quite a lot, swimming in the towering waves and then bailing. He stopped himself before he finished the skin, both because he remembered that it was a bad idea to drink too much at once, and because Ronon might also want more. He had not drunk deeply before he passed it on.
Most of the sailors had lost interest and gone back to their work, and even the captain was forward looking up the mast at something.
“What the hell?” Ronon said in a low voice.
“I do not want to say we are from another planet,” Radek said. “That might be very imprudent.”
“No shit, with Wraith here,” Ronon said. He hunched his shoulders as though the transmitter was still there beneath his skin, a habit that would no doubt die hard. But Carson had removed the transmitter more than a month ago. The Wraith could no more find Ronon than any other individual human on this world. “Did you have to say…”
“I do not need to know what I said,” Radek said quickly. “We need to know how long it is going to take us to get to a port and what is going on and how we can get passage from this island to the mainland where the gate is. Unfortunately we have nothing to trade at the moment.”
“Nothing you’d like.” Ronon grinned wolfishly, and it took a moment for Radek to realize that was a joke.
“Very funny,” Radek said.
Ronon stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. “Wonder what these games are. Maybe I could win us some money.”
“If they have a coinage based economy,” Radek said. “Perhaps some sort of gladiatorial combat?”
Ronon nodded. “If it’s to the touch it might be worth a try. I don’t know what these guys think is good.”
“You are very good,” Radek said. He’d heard Sheppard all but wax rhapsodic about the Satedan’s fighting skills, and it took quite a lot to impress the colonel. “If it is not mortal combat it might be worth a try. It sounds as though these people have gambling, and perhaps you could win passage.”
“Everybody has gambling,” Ronon said. “I’d try it. See what you can find out.” He stood up and leaned on the rail in the wash of the wind.
“I should find out?”
“You’re the talker, aren’t you?” Ronon looked at him sideways. “What do I keep you for?”
“You are getting too much into this role,” Radek grumbled, but he ambled back along the deck to try to strike up a conversation with the captain.
The jumper took off from the island very precisely. Carson was being incredibly careful. Which suited Rodney just fine. He was all in favor of not crashing the jumper again. And not repairing the jumper again. He would really like to find everyone, go home, have dinner, and sleep in his own bed sometime this year.
“Ok,” Major Lorne said, coming forward and sitting down in the shotgun seat ahead of Rodney. “Let’s head back toward the gate. We’ll start there and fly concentric circles going out, starting with, say, a ten kilometer radius and working our way out in 20 km increments.”
“That’s going to take quite a bit of time,” Carson said.
Lorne nodded. “Yep. But if they’re on hand held radios we need to make at least a couple of passes within range or we may miss them, and the range varies based on weather, humidity, and whether or not they’re indoors. It’s more likely they’ll be close to the gate than on the other side of the planet, so let’s start near the gate and work our way out. That way the other side of the planet is the last choice.”
“That actually made sense,” Rodney said.
Lorne looked over his shoulder at him. “Thanks, doc. I do try to make sense sometimes.”
Carson shook his head. “Where could they have gone?”
“They got off the island somehow,” Lorne said. “We’re just going to have to make radio sweeps. Unless Dr. McKay can do something with the life signs readings?”
“Sorry, no,” Rodney said shortly. “Dr. McKay cannot. The people on this planet are human. Which means there’s no possible way to tell the difference between our people and them on the life signs detector. And the EM fields given off by our equipment are too faint to pick up unless we’re right on top of them. At which point we would have had them on the radio for ten minutes already.”