If Nekai noticed any of this, he didn’t try to intervene. Which was probably for the best. Every good commander knew you had to let the troops sort themselves out, and that’s exactly what Nekai was doing.
As it was, when he declared two weeks later that they were going hunting, the V’rdai were ready. They were just as dangerous as they had been with Setien — in some ways more so, because Lanara was less of a loose cannon and more of a hunter. If the team wasn’t as relaxed together, and didn’t joke and laugh as much on the way to the mission, no one was about to let that get in the way of killing Wraith.
But as they left the dome and made their way to the shuttle, Ronon realized that for the first time in over a year he felt as if the V’rdai were a team and only a team. They no longer felt like a family.
“So you just got up and left?”
Rodney could just see Ronon shaking his head, and felt the breeze caused by his braids. “Not quite.”
“Well, you said it didn’t feel like a family anymore.”
“It didn’t. It wasn’t. But it was still a team. A good team. And we still had a job to do, a purpose. I wasn’t going to walk away from that.” Rodney thought he caught a glimpse of a smile, but if so it was a small, sad one. “Besides, I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Okay, what happened?” Rodney was eager to find out. “Was it the new girl, Lanara? Did she do something that made it impossible to stay.”
“No.” Ronon sighed. “I wish she had. That would have been easier to handle. But it wasn’t her. It was Nekai.”
“What’d he do?”
“We were on another mission,” Ronon explained. “some planet I’ve never seen before, all sun and sand… ”
Chapter Twenty
“Shhh! I hear something!”
Banje’s whispered comment froze the rest of them. They were crouched down, waiting behind rocks — for once they’d wound up on a world of sand and stone rather than trees and dirt, and they were all feeling the lack of shade even as they appreciated the increased security of stone cover over wood and bark. Turen at least had been smart enough to position herself so the shadow from one of the surrounding boulders fell across her — if she was going to have to play bait the least she could do was wait in the shade.
Now her head came up, green eyes narrowed in concentration, head tilting slightly. She had apparently heard Banje, or had picked up on a noise herself. Either way, she was ready. And so were the rest of them, Ronon thought, tensing.
It had been two months since Lanara had joined them. She was now fully a member of the V’rdai, at least when they were on missions. Back at the dome was another story. She still didn’t mesh well with the others. But they could all live with that. It had been a miracle the original group had gotten along so well, and you didn’t expect miracles to repeat themselves.
Ronon brought his attention back to the matter at hand, sliding his pistol from its holster and readying it. He had a few new weapons, flash grenades Banje and Adarr had managed to cobble together from some supplies they’d located after the last salvage run, but he only had two of those and didn’t want to waste them. His pistol would probably be enough, and if not his sword was ready across his back as well. He’d caught sounds now as welclass="underline" a skitter of loose rocks, what might have been a footfall, something else clanking or jingling. It didn’t quite sound like Wraith — they were usually quieter than that — but they could be wearing new armor or carrying different weapons. It could also be people from one of the villages they’d spotted in the valleys below, though, so Ronon watched and listened for more details.
After a minute the sounds grew clearer. Definitely footsteps, a bunch of them, and metal against metal or leather or wood or even flesh, and something else as well. Something he wasn’t used to. Voices. Whoever was approaching was talking, and there were definitely several of them.
He relaxed slightly, and noticed Turen doing the same, though she stayed in her huddle. It could be a Wraith trick, but so far at least that hadn’t been their style. They were all about intimidation and stealth (when hunting), not deception. More likely these were people from some of those villages. Which meant they were simply a distraction.
If whoever it was stumbled upon them, however, it could ruin the hunt. They’d have to get rid of the strangers before the Wraith arrived.
Ronon started to stand, reholstering his pistol, but Nekai gave him a curt gesture to return to his cover. “Why?” Ronon whispered across to the Retemite. “They’re not Wraith — they’re natives.”
“We don’t know that,” Nekai replied sharply. “And even if they are, they could still be working with the Wraith. Don’t let your guard down!”
Ronon shrugged and ducked back down behind his rock, but he didn’t draw his pistol. There was no point. He understood why Nekai was being cautious, and appreciated that, but whoever was approaching was making no effort to hide their location. They weren’t a threat. Ronon was sure of it.
Sure enough, the voices and footsteps and jangling increased in volume, and then a group of people came into view. They stopped when they saw Turen, then rushed toward her.
“Ancestors!” one of them swore, his hand going to a waterskin at his side. “Are you all right?”
“Did you fall?” Another asked, also moving closer. “Are you hurt?”
There were five of them in all, Ronon saw. They wore loose shirts and thin baggy pants and sturdy studded sandals that laced up their legs, with cloths over their heads and necks and faces to protect them from the sun. The jangling had come from the packs they wore, from which hung a variety of small metal and wood and what looked like bone items. Ronon spotted cups, bowls, serving spoons, small lanterns, and other household items. These men were merchants, or peddlers. He guessed they moved from village to village, selling or trading items they’d made and repairing others.
Each of them had a sword, long and thin and curved, stuck through the sash they wore for belts, plus a long knife and a pistol. But none of them were reaching for those, or even turning to check the area for possible dangers. They were clearly not trained for combat, and not expecting any trouble. They saw in Turen only a woman in trouble, and their first impulse was to help.
Ronon started to rise again, knowing he was right and determined to move these men along before the Wraith spotted them and saw through the planned ambush.
He was halfway out from behind his boulder when a pistol shot sizzled through the air. It took the first peddler through the throat. He crumpled, surprise registering just before his face went slack. The waterskin fell to the ground with a dull clatter, water spilling out across the rock.
Stunned, Ronon turned and glanced behind him. Nekai’s pistol was still extended, and he was switching his focus to one of the other men, who were now starting to cry out as they realized their friend was dead.
“Take them down!” Nekai shouted. Turen rose from her stooped position, knives flashing out and forward and across, and the second man dropped with a gurgling shriek, thin cloth and flesh alike sliced clean through. His blood mingled with the water as his body joined the first on the ground.
Then the other V’rdai were shooting as well. The three remaining peddlers never had a chance. One of them had shown enough presence of mind to drop down, but Nekai had chosen this ambush site well and Lanara caught the man through the throat, his ducking motion becoming a stumble and then a facedown splat upon the rough terrain. The other two had simply frozen at the sudden violence, and were picked off just as easily.