He squinted up at the sky. The first tendrils of light were snaking across, filtering into the nighttime gloom and softening it as they touched. It was almost dawn.
“They’re going to hunt,” he answered Teyla, deliberately turning away from the guards so they would have a harder time making out what he was saying. “They’re hunting our friends.”
She nodded. “Dawn is a good time to hunt.”
“Yeah, it is.” He gave her a quick, reassuring grin. “But it doesn’t work so well if your prey’s waiting for you.”
And if he knew anything about Ronon, the big Satedan would be doing exactly that.
Sheppard just hoped Ronon was ready for these three. Because they obviously knew what they were doing, and they were deadly serious about it.
Then again, so was Ronon.
Chapter Twenty-three
“Let’s go.”
Rodney came awake slowly, groaning as Ronon nudged him again with his boot tip. “Leave me alone,” he whined under his breath. “Just let me sleep.”
“No time. We’ve got to get moving.”
“Can’t you just kill them all and come get me when you’re done?” Rodney asked, still refusing to open his eyes or uncurl from the position he found himself in. At least with his head resting on his arms he didn’t have to use the cave wall as a pillow. He was sure once he tried to straighten up, however, his entire body would inform him of the folly of such a sleeping position.
“What if they find you while I’m gone?” Ronon asked him. “You going to be able to defend yourself against a pack of trained hunters?”
That was a valid point, and Rodney finally, reluctantly blinked and looked around. Yep, still in the cave. “Fine, I’m awake,” he grumbled. “What time is it?”
“An hour or so before noon,” came the answer. “Come on.” Ronon turned and led the way back out of the cave, and Rodney slowly followed, after taking a minute or two to unbend himself and to rub some circulation back into his protesting limbs. Getting out of the cave and being able to stand up straight and stretch was a relief, though as he’d suspected it was followed by a fresh wave of aches and pains.
“Remind me never to go camping with you again,” he told his companion, who seemed none the worse for the night’s cramped accommodations. And the answering grin told him Ronon was enjoying his misery a bit too much.
“If you’re all done,” the Satedan said finally, “let’s go.”
“Where are we going, exactly?” Rodney asked as he followed the big man down out of the hills. He drew a food bar from one of the pouch-pockets along his leg and munched as they walked, then sipped a bit from the canteen hanging from his belt. It was a good thing Sheppard never let them go anywhere without emergency rations! The food, water, fresh air, and exercise were helping his brain unfog more quickly. “Are we going to go find Sheppard and Teyla?”
“Not yet,” Ronon replied. He was walking half-crouched — which meant he was now only the height of a normal man, Rodney thought — and studying the ground before each step.
“What? Why not? We have to find them and rescue them before these old friends of yours kill them!” Rodney half-trotted to catch up, determined to face Ronon and convince him, when the big Satedan’s arm shot out. Rodney ran right into the muscular obstacle and bounced off it, falling on the ground a few feet behind his previous position.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, but Ronon now held up that hand, palm out, and Rodney quickly quieted. He watched as his companion crouched down and tapped the spot Rodney had been about to step upon. The touch produced a strange, muted echo. A second, harder tap, almost a punch, and the ground caved in, revealing a deep hole.
“How did you know?” Rodney asked, staring. He had almost stepped in that!
“They used a tarp,” Ronon answered, standing again. “It was a little too even to match the terrain perfectly. And they dusted it with pebbles but they were too uniform about it.” He shook his head. “Sloppy.”
“Sloppy? It looked pretty convincing to me.” Rodney stood as well and stepped forward to stare into the hole. It looked more than deep enough and more than wide enough to swallow a man whole. “Did they dig that, or just find it and cover it up?”
“It’s a natural crevice,” Ronon replied. “They’re all over this area.” He gave Rodney a hard look. “That’s why you need to stay behind me.”
“Okay, I got it,” Rodney agreed quickly. He couldn’t argue that Ronon was a better hunter and tracker, and he had no desire to fall into one of those concealed pits. “But tell me why we’re not going straight to wherever these V’rdai are keeping Sheppard and Teyla?”
“Too many of them,” Ronon told him bluntly. “Even if we find them and they don’t see us, I’m guessing there’re at least four of them, maybe more. There’s no guarantee I can take them out before they shoot the hostages.”
“What? Why would they shoot them?” Rodney shook his head. “Why not try to use them for cover, or to bargain their way out?”
Now it was Ronon’s turn to shake his head, his dreadlocks flying. “They don’t think that way,” he explained. “They’re hunters, and soldiers. They’re used to dealing with Wraith. That means no bargains, no mercy, and no getting captured. Ever. If we attack they’ll kill the hostages and make a run for it, hoping we stop to check the bodies.”
Rodney gulped. “Okay, so we can’t just hit them straight on. Got it. What do we do?” He tried to put himself in Ronon’s shoes — and failed miserably. So he tried to think like Sheppard instead. That was a little easier, though horribly limiting. “We need a diversion.”
His companion grinned. “Exactly. And I know just the one to get their attention.”.
“There!” Ronon peered quickly around the rock they were stooped behind, then drew back, his motion swift but smooth. Rodney craned his head to look as well, and though he had only the briefest glance before he was yanked back down, he had seen enough to identify what they were looking at.
“A ship!” He tried to organize the few details he’d seen. “Well, a shuttle, really. No hyperspace, probably no weapons, maybe not even any shields. But it could get us to the Stargate, and even if they don’t still have that portable DHD you mentioned it must have some kind of communications array — I could contact Atlantis!” He was already halfway up again before a burly arm shoved him back onto his rear.
“No,” Ronon told him. “No communications. Not yet. We can’t let them find out about Atlantis.”
Rodney started to object, then thought about it. Much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, his companion was right. There was no guarantee the V’rdai didn’t have some sort of commlinks tied in to the ship’s systems. After all, they did. And if that was the case, and he used the shuttle to call Atlantis, the V’rdai would all hear it. They’d know exactly where he and Ronon were, and they’d also know about Atlantis. They’d even have the city’s subspace frequency. No, that wouldn’t work at all.
“Okay,” he agreed, “so we steal the shuttle, use it to find the others, head on back to the Stargate with it, and then Woolsey sends troops back to retrieve the Jumper.”
That met with another headshake. “They’ll have them up in the mountains, where a shuttle can’t reach,” Ronon explained. “And we don’t want to leave the Jumper in their hands. They might be able to get it working again, and then they’d have access to the gates and to Atlantis itself.” He looked pained for a second. “Adarr was a top-notch mechanic, and he could still be with them.”