Of course, this time the only person here was Ronon himself, and he wasn’t exactly in a position to hide. But Nekai had obviously wanted to be sure.
The V’rdai leader was wearing the same goggles and facemask as the rest of his team, so Ronon couldn’t see his expression, but he noticed the way the shorter man paused just within the clearing, studying him intently. If he’d had to guess, he’d have said his old mentor was surprised but not stunned, as if he’d seen something he’d been warned to expect but had refused to believe.
“Ronon,” he said finally.
“Nekai,” Ronon replied. “I’d say it’s nice to see you, but I can’t.”
“That’s sort of the point,” his former mentor agreed, but he reached up and pulled off the facemask and goggles. He looked much as he had the last time they’d faced off, though the hair was a bit grayer and the face a little more lined, especially around the mouth and over the brow. “Better?”
“Much.” Ronon swung lightly back and forth. “Why so surprised to see me? Didn’t Adarr tell you I was here?”
“He did,” Nekai admitted. “But I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. I thought you were dead.”
“Almost was,” Ronon said. “More’n a few times, in fact. Just not quite yet.”
Nekai circled around, and Ronon knew the Retemite was checking to make sure he didn’t have any concealed weapons on him. He saw the other man’s gaze flick up to his boot sheath, then visibly dismiss the knife there as clearly out of reach.
“You don’t show up on the tracking monitor,” Nekai said finally, stopping in front of Ronon again. He was still a good twenty paces away, much too far for Ronon to reach even if he’d had his knife in hand. His tone was level, almost mild, as if they were discussing the weather, but Ronon saw the way the other man’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. Annoyed? Incredulous? Worried? Or some combination of the three?
“No tracking device,” Ronon explained, trying to keep his own tone just as casual. His words came out rough, though, because his tongue felt heavy in his mouth from all the pressure pounding down on his head.
“Oh?” Was the only response Nekai made to that statement. If it had been any of the other V’rdai, the comment would have met with shock, amazement, jubilation, or terror. Or all of the above.
“I had it removed,” Ronon continued after a few seconds. “Funny, no explosion.” He tried to glare but that wasn’t easy when his eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets.
Nekai started to respond, but his shrug made it clear whatever he said would be another breezy explanation and Ronon cut him off before he got the first word out. “Don’t bother lying to me,” he said sharply. “We both know there was never an explosive there.”
For a second it looked like the Retemite would still argue, then he did shrug. “It was a necessary falsehood,” he admitted. “As long as all of you thought you couldn’t remove the tracking device, it forced you to stay together. It kept the unit bound by common need.”
“It kept us under your control, you mean,” Ronon shot back. “Just like the way you never let us near the Stargate, never told us the way you locked it from use or scrambled the last location you’d dialed. The same way you never told us your plans in advance, and didn’t bring new members to the base until you had them entirely under your thumb.”
“I did what I thought was best for the team!” Nekai snapped. “We needed each other to survive!”
“You needed us to follow you!” Ronon shouted, all those half-buried resentments finally emerging. “You needed blind obedience from each and every one of us! And when I dared to question you, you tried to kill me!”
“I obviously didn’t try hard enough!” Nekai shouted back. Then he stopped, shut his mouth, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he glanced at Ronon again, the V’rdai leader was in control of himself once more. “I’m glad to see you survived,” he said softly, and his eyes were surprisingly kind. “I’m glad you found a way to remove the tracking device — I wasn’t lying about seeing another Runner die from trying, just about the explosives. He carved open his own back and sliced through his own spine attempting to pry the damn thing out. Bled to death while I stood there, helpless, my hands soaked in his blood.” He glanced down at his hands, one still clutching the pistol, as if he expected to still find them crimson-stained. “The fact that you got yours out and survived — it’s a miracle.”
“I had help,” Ronon told him truthfully. “We could remove yours too, if you stop all this. Yours and the others. You could all be free of those devices forever.”
He’d thought the offer would tempt his old mentor, but Nekai’s jaw tightened instead. “Who’s ‘we’?” he demanded, his voice harsh with suspicion. “The Wraith? Did you fall in with them? Are you one of their loyal lackeys now?”
This time the blood Ronon felt surging through him had nothing to do with his upside-down state. “Come a little closer and say that,” he warned, his voice no more than a growl. Now he was the one forcing himself to calm down. “No, not the Wraith — you know I’d never go near them except to kill them.” He took a deep breath, considering what he was about to say and how Sheppard — and Woolsey — would react once they found out. If he lived long enough to tell them. “I found other friends. Good friends.” He decided he had to risk it. “I found Atlantis.”
“Atlantis?” Now the Retemite was staring openly, his mouth gone slack. “Are you joking?”
“It’s no joke,” Ronon said. “The lost city of the Ancestors. Only the Ancestors have long since gone. There are people there now. Good people. They’re using Atlantis as a base and trying to reach out to the galaxy. They’re fighting the Wraith.”
Nekai was still digesting this information. “Atlantis,” he said again to himself. “No wonder they knew how to use the rings! The technology they’d have access to! The weapons!” He was clearly imagining exactly what he could do with such resources. Then he glanced up at Ronon, greed plain in his eyes. “And you’re working with them?”
“I’m one of them,” Ronon replied simply. It was true. He’d started out as just a local who helped them, but he’d long since become one of the team. Atlantis was his home now, more than any other place, even more than Sateda. Maybe more than the V’rdai base had been.
“You could get us access,” Nekai started, and Ronon knew he’d have to nip those thoughts in the bud right away. He didn’t want his old mentor planning to invade his home.
“You don’t need access,” he assured the shorter man. “You could join us. All of you could. We could use your skills. You could go on fighting the Wraith, but with friends and allies and full use of the Stargates. And they can remove your tracking devices. You won’t have to run anymore.”
He could see Nekai was considering the possibilities, and held his breath. Would it be this simple? Could his old leader truly be swayed into signing on with Atlantis? If he could bring the entire V’rdai back to the city, he was sure Sheppard would vouch for their skills as hunters. Woolsey wouldn’t trust them at first, which was fair enough, but he was too canny to discard such valuable men and women without giving them a chance. He’d test them out, see how they worked with the rest of the Atlantis, and see if they could be trusted. Much as they’d done with Ronon himself, when he’d first met them. But if they upheld their end, the V’rdai would eventually be welcomed fully. They could stop running and have a real home again.
His own musings were cut short as he saw Nekai’s expression change. The hopefulness faded, and his puzzled look deepened into a frown and then a scowl. Uh-oh. Clearly the Retemite’s paranoia had only grown worse over the years.
“So you’re saying if I cut you loose and we all accompany you back, your new friends will take us all in?” Nekai asked slowly.
“Yes.”
“There has to be a catch,” Nekai stated. “What is it?” He glared at Ronon, and finally Ronon sighed.
“No more attacking noncombatants,” he said. “You can go after the Wraith, and you can defend yourself, but you can’t hit people unless they attack you first.”