“I’m doing this by the book, ma’am,” Lorne said. “A search grid is the recommended way to find people.”
Elizabeth pulled Rodney’s laptop toward her. “I know you’re doing it by the book, Major. But we need to be a little more flexible, and take other factors into account. We know our people. We know what they’re likely to do. Now let’s look at this together. Where were the population concentrations that you observed?”
It seemed that only moments later Ronon was shaking his shoulder, that Radek must have barely closed his eyes. “Time to get up,” Ronon said.
Radek blinked and scrabbled for his glasses, which had slipped off. “Yes, yes. I am coming,” he said.
Ronon stood up, stretching his arms. It was still raining, though not nearly as hard as the night before. A chilly, gray morning — not the best for games. But perhaps it would distract the guards from their duty. He certainly would not want to be standing out in the rain for hours.
In the pre dawn darkness they made their way through the sleeping city, down a broad, curving path that led along the edge of a sharp drop. Poles marked the sides of it, sodden banners dripping from each one. Radek was sure in bright sunshine it made a fine show, but in the damp dawn it looked rather sad.
Ronon stopped ahead of him, holding his hand out. “There,” he whispered.
Below, where the path curved around, was a small paved area delineated with more banners. Beyond it, in the side of the hill, was an archway of white stone that gleamed in the dim light. He did not see any guards.
“This way,” Ronon whispered again, and slipped effortlessly off the path and into the jumble of rocks on the steep hillside, moving from one to another with surefooted grace.
Radek shook his head. He was likely to break his neck that way. Still, the best he could do was try to follow.
He must have been loud, for several times as they worked their way closer Ronon looked back at him with annoyance, but the sound of the rain covered all. A gloomy, dark morning with little to recommend it, Radek thought. He slipped on a jagged rock, sliding half way to his knees and banging his left elbow painfully. Ronon looked around again. He made a hand motion that Radek chose to interpret as ‘stay down,’ and so he did so while Ronon crept closer, almost invisible against the stones.
It seemed to Radek that Ronon was gone for a very long time. When he did return, climbing back toward where Radek waited, his expression was grim.
“What is it?” Radek whispered as Ronon sank down beside him.
“Wraith,” Ronon said.
“What?”
“There are Wraith here,” Ronon said. “That Wraith cruiser we saw day before yesterday? It must be set down somewhere around here.”
“It has not sounded like a Culling,” Radek said. Though admittedly his experience in such things was limited, he imagined it would involve a lot of shouting and fleeing.
“It’s not a Culling. These people are working with the Wraith like the Olesians were,” Ronon said. “Which explains where they’re getting this tech stuff. The two regular guards were down there and there was a Wraith with them. One of the masked guys, not one of the long haired guys.”
Radek sat very still. A horrible thought had occurred. Looking at Ronon, he saw the same thought written on his face. “Tribute,” Radek said.
Ronon nodded slowly. “Wraith like games. That’s why they make Runners.”
“This is a game like that,” Radek said. “A contest where everyone loses.”
“They let one guy go at the end and feed on all the others,” Ronon said. “It makes sense. They like to play with their food. I bet they’ve got a nice comfortable TV room somewhere and are watching the whole thing on camera, making their bets. It’s how they do with Runners, when they can. They send these video feeds after you, drones to follow you around and catch the action on tape.”
Radek shuddered. This man had spent seven years on the run from this. He could not even begin to imagine what that must have been like. “And they have Sheppard and Teyla,” Radek said.
“And a bunch of other people too,” Ronon said grimly. “Those people we saw on the ship. The old lady. Those kids.”
Radek shook his head. Truly, he should not be surprised by the scope of evil. But it was nice to think it less than it was, a constant mistake of the optimistic. “What are we going to do?”
Ronon smiled, and it was not a nice smile at all. “We’re going to screw up their little party. Are you with me, Zelenka?”
“Absolutely,” Radek said.
Teyla dreamed, and in her dream she was in Atlantis. She walked through the corridors like mist or smoke, the way it seemed to her when she reached out to the Wraith during the siege, when it seemed to her that she stood upon a hive ship. She walked through Atlantis, and doors opened ahead of her as they always did for John. They opened at her thought, live and bright in her mind.
Teyla came into the control room, the banks of machines humming quietly to themselves. The room was light and cool. Only the people were gone. Wraith manned every console. The daylight through the tall stained glass windows gleamed off long white hair.
She recoiled, backing into the doorway, as the nearest one turned. “Welcome home,” he said. Before she could scream, before she could so much as move, he bent his head, hair falling forward like a torrent of silver.
At the communications console the other Wraith did the same, ornamented leather whispering as he inclined his head in deference.
“The Osprey queens are always the most beautiful,” the first said, raising his eyes to her. “And the strongest. Atlantis is yours. What is your will, My Queen?”
She froze, horror creeping upward in her throat. She stretched out her arms, tight sleeves of white leather ornamented with silver, long greenish hands, the backs of them protected by bracelets of silver mesh fastening to wrist and first finger, ornamented with tiny gemstones. A Wraith queen’s hands.
A third Wraith stepped around the last console, his chin high and eyes bright. “Welcome home, My Queen,” he said. “You see we have saved the best for you.” He reached back behind the console, jerking someone forward into the light. With a swift motion, he shoved Sheppard to his knees, a torn gag stoppering his mouth beneath his eyes glittering with fear and pain. His shirt was open at the collar, the pulse jumping in his throat, ready and waiting…
Chapter Twenty-Two
Teyla shrieked, struggling in pitch darkness with something that held her fast, gripping her shoulder and her wrist. She twisted, trying to get her weight behind it. She must fight it. She must get free.
“Hey! Hey, stop it!” It was John’s voice. “Teyla! It’s a dream!”
It was John, this thing she struggled against, one hand of his behind her head to keep it from banging against the stone wall.
“It’s ok,” he said. “It’s just a dream.”
“A dream.” They were surrounded by impenetrable darkness. The cell. A cell on the Holy Island. That’s where they were. There were no Wraith in Atlantis. She was no Wraith. It was nothing but the stuff of nightmare.