There was a crashing screech of detonation and a blast of white light. Ronon shook off the whining from his ears and moved forward quickly, through tancoats lying on the floor, rocking and clawing at their eyes.
He emerged in the pillbox where the flagpole stood and punched out the single rifleman there who tried to oppose him. Ronon's blood was up, and on some level he realized he was enjoying this. It wasn't often he had to fight without killing his foes outright, and the challenge of beating these men using nonlethal methods was novel to him. He liked the way it was testing his skills in new and interesting ways.
Dex swung his short sword in a shallow arc and severed the cords holding the tan pennant to the mast. The banner fell to earth, dropping through the hole in the bunker roof and into his open palm. He tied the cloth around his shoulder and knotted it, then scrambled out of the bunker and on to the hill. "One down," Ronon announced to the air, saluting the airship with his sword, "one to go."
Rodney looked away from the gallery's gimbal-mounted telescope and grinned incredulously. "He's taken one of the flags. On his own."
Sheppard caught a glimpse of the running figure through the haze and then he was gone again, sprinting out of sight toward the opposite end of the battle zone. He fought to keep a smile off his face. Yeah, sure he was pissed at Ronon right now for getting in the middle of this, but there was a part of him that wanted to cheer him on as well.
"This is an outrage!" thundered Baron Noryn. "A clear and undeniable violation of the codes of engagement! I demand a cessation in hostilities immediately! This cannot stand!"
Across the observation gallery, Palfrun and his men were animated and bellicose. "You know the rules, Noryn!" said the other nobleman. "An engagement can only be closed when victory conditions are met, or by appeal to the Lord Magnate's veto… And I feel no such need to ask for it."
Noryn stalked toward the other man. "Rule breaker!" He stabbed a finger at Palfrun, and the gasps the declaration brought with it made it clear that on Halcyon, the insult carried an awful lot of weight. "Did you conspire with the outworlders in this? What did you grant them in order to employ that primitive thug?"
"Hey, now, watch it with the name-calling-" began Sheppard, but his voice was lost in a chorus of recriminations.
"I have no influence over this Runner. Perhaps you ought to address his master? Or better yet, why not improve the training of your riflemen so that one single attacker cannot so easily cut thought their lines?"
"I want this match stopped!" Noryn stamped his foot in impotent rage, his cheeks turning crimson. "I demand it! I insist that the Lord Magnate halt this cheating immediately!"
"You insist?" Daus's words were mild, but his voice silenced everyone. "You insist that I obey your demands, Baron?"
Noryn's bluster disintegrated. "I… My Lord, I spoke out of turn…"
Palfrun grinned at his opponent. "Play the game with good humor, old warrior. Try to lose like a gentleman."
Up on the dais, Kelfer and Muruw chuckled at the insult, amused by the sport.
Erony's father glanced at the other baron. "Ah, Palfrun. Always so quick to declare victory, yes? Should you not wait until the outcome of the day is clear?"
Hesitation showed on the bluecoat noble's face. "But… I had assumed… The Runner, I assumed he clearly intended to ally himself to me."
"Think so?" said Sheppard. "You can't be that good a judge of character, then."
"But what else would he hope to achieve? What…" Palfrun's words dried up as understanding crossed his pinched face. He went pale and faced Daus. "My lord! Perhaps I was, ah, hasty in my words to Baron Noryn. I feel now that, with your permission, a cessation of battle would serve us best."
"Indeed?" said the Magnate. "I do not grant it." Daus ignored the scattering of surprise. "Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard's man has violated the field of conflict and therefore, I deem that it falls to him to deal with this. Immediately." Daus laid a heavy, threatening gaze on Sheppard, masking nothing.
"He's kinda free-willed," said John. "I don't think I'd be able to talk him around."
"I do not expect you to," replied the Magnate. "I expect you to stop him by whatever means you wish to employ. Of course, if you decline, I will be forced to order my gunners to deploy sheetfire against the ground. It is an indiscriminate weapon, but quite effective on living targets."
"Father-" began Erony, but he silenced her with a wave of his hand.
"Fine," said Sheppard, "but I'm not guaranteeing anything."
Daus nodded. "Vekken, accompany the Lieutenant Colonel and ensure his safety as best you can. Sadly, the battle will continue around you, so do be careful."
Teyla stepped forward. "I will come with you."
"No," said the Magnate. "Three intruders on the field are quite enough."
Hill took his L85 off his shoulder, handing the assault rifle and an ammunition pack to Sheppard. "You might need this, boss."
"Thanks."
"You're not really going down there?" McKay's eyes wid ened. "I'm sure you haven't missed the whole bullets-explosions-warfare thing."
Sheppard took the rifle and shook his head. "I'm going. And this time, when I say I want the rest of you to keep out of trouble, I really, really mean it."
The cable rig dropped them at the edge of a shell crater, and the colonel shook off the rush of the descent. "Whoa. Like bungee jumping, but without the kick."
Vekken landed like a cat and gestured sharply at him. In his other hand, Daus's adjutant carried a compact version of the lance-rifles used by the rank-and-file soldiers, twin-barreled with a sickle-shaped magazine protruding from the top. Sheppard fingered the safety catch on the British-made rifle. He didn't want to shoot anyone if he could help it, but a hollow feeling in his stomach was telling him that he probably wouldn't have the choice. "Aim to wound, then." he said aloud.
"This way." Vekken broke into a run and John had to scramble to keep up. Smoke bombs were popping overhead, white fronds of mist settling over the ruddy-colored mud in lines, obscuring everything more than twenty feet away. Vekken's black coat bobbed out there, moving and weaving. Sheppard's pace was more cautious. This place looked like something from the Battle of the Somme, and the last thing the colonel wanted was to run straight into a minefield or a flooded crater. And who knew what other kind of weird weapons these people might have lying around?
"Damn it, Ronon. What the hell were you thinking?" But the question was irrelevant. Sheppard knew precisely what Ronon had been thinking. He'd known Dex long enough now to have the measure of the man; and it irked him to admit that under other circumstances, he too might have tried something just as reckless to short-circuit this cruel blood sport.
The clattering rattle of lance-fire reached his ears and he turned. Two tancoat troopers rushed forward, firing as they moved. Both men saw Sheppard in a crouch and turned their guns on him, bracketing him with shot.
"I'm not your enemy!" he shouted, but they ignored him. The Atlantis uniform jacket John wore wasn't the same shade of blue as the uniforms of Palfrun's men, but these two clearly thought it was near enough as made no odds. Needle rounds hissed past his head and Sheppard raised the L85. "Ah, damn it." Selecting single round fire, the colonel put one bullet apiece into the legs of both tancoats, sending them down in wailing heaps. He'd barely dealt with that when the high-pitched keening of a mortar round sounded. Sheppard glimpsed a foxhole from the corner of his eye and threw himself into it, yelling as he went. "Incoming!"
He landed hard and winced as a rain of muddy gobbets followed him into the dugout. Blinking away the shock, he glanced up-and into the barrel of another lance-rifle, hovering an inch from the tip of his nose.
At the other end of the gun was a kid in a powder blue long coat, his high hat at a cocked angle and lines of blood issuing from a cut on his cheek. His eyes were hollow and full of terror. Behind him were four more of Palfrun's troopers, clustered around the body of another of their number. The corpse didn't appear to have a head.