It turned the orb toward Teyla and did the same; for a moment, there was a glimmer of something close to a human expression on its sparse features, a thinning of slit-like nostrils and a motion of the head. It took a step closer to the woman, holding the sensor globe higher. Teyla’s gaze met Ronon’s for a brief instant, and a silent communication passed between them.
Ronon willed himself not to move, not to give away even the smallest flicker of muscle-motion. He watched the alien and waited for his moment; and as he did a faint scent touched his nostrils. It was odd, almost sour-sweet like rotting flesh or an infected wound. It was coming from the alien, a meat-odor oozing from its pores.
As the creature turned, Ronon spotted an ugly purple-black bruise on the creature’s torso, where the stomach would have been on a man. An injury; and suddenly it was clear to him. This was the same one he had fought with outside the farmhouse, the one he had punched. Ronon remembered the dry texture of the flesh where he struck it, how the epidermis had powdered on his knuckles. Almost as if… As if it were decaying.
He had little time to process the thought. The alien’s head turned toward Teyla and the moment was upon him.
He reacted without hesitation, launching himself off his heels. He drove his fist straight into the bruise and the humanoid staggered, a thin gurgle escaping its lipless mouth. It spun back toward him, the sensor globe falling from its hand, raising the paralysis device. Ronon advanced, blocking and pushing the creature’s arm away. It was difficult; against the Satedan, the difference in the height and mass of the giant alien made the fight unbalanced. It hissed and grabbed him by the collar with its free hand. For a moment, they struggled against one other, strong versus stronger.
Then from nowhere Teyla slammed the sensor globe into the humanoid’s shoulders, drawing out a strained grunt of pain from the alien. The device fractured and cracked in her hands, knocking the creature off-balance. Ronon struck out again, punching the livid injury once more; the alien crumpled to the deck, its breathing shallow, a drool of watery purple fluid leaking from its mouth. The dark eyes fluttered closed and it became still.
“Did we… Kill it?” Teyla asked.
Ronon nudged the creature with his boot. “Maybe. I don’t think we should stick around to find out.” He scooped up the glass egg and turned it over in his hands. “Any idea how to use this?”
Teyla took it from him and examined it as she walked toward the door. “There are glyphs carved into the surface of —” The ellipse gave off a pulse of color and the door slid open. She moved it away and it closed again.
“It’s not just a weapon, then.”
“Apparently so.” She opened the door once more and took a cautious glance outside. “I hear no alarms.”
“That doesn’t mean there aren’t any,” Ronon replied, stepping out boldly. He looked up and down the corridor. “This way,” he said, pointing to the right.
Teyla frowned again. “What makes you think that is the way out?”
He flashed her a feral grin and started walking.
Sheppard ran a hand through his hair and came away with his palm covered in sweat. The heat of the day was heavy, a deadening layer over the landscape that drew out the moisture in his throat, the constant rays of the two suns beating down on the colonel and his men. Haze shimmered on the horizon, off toward the direction of the Stargate. Pausing to take a swig from his canteen, he followed movement in the long grasses, where some nimble deer-like animals were pawing at the dry earth. Sheppard thought about McKay’s earlier ‘Wild Kingdom’ comment and wondered if the scientist had something there. The data they had on M9K-153 (or Heruun, Sheppard amended mentally) described a world of burning deserts about the equator, but with rich tropical grasslands in the habitable zone — a lot similar to the African veldt back home on Earth. On any other day, he might have taken a moment to savor that; but not today. Right now, he had people missing, and until Ronon and Teyla were back and safe, all other concerns were secondary. Sheppard swirled the lukewarm water around his mouth and swallowed it, grim-faced. He was liking this mission less and less with each passing hour.
All they had to show for a day of searching was an inert Satedan beam pistol and lines of blackened, dead grass. Something about this whole situation was setting off every alarm bell in his trained soldier’s mind. John Sheppard wasn’t someone with much tolerance for being played, and he couldn’t escape the feeling that was exactly what was going on here. It made him feel powerless, and that frustrated the hell out of him. Every moment they wandered around in the scrub turning up nothing but dirt was a moment more some enemy force had two of his team — two of his friends! — as their prisoners. He glared up at the suns, squinting behind his sunglasses, looking for somewhere to focus his annoyance.
“Colonel?” He turned as Lorne called out. The major approached him, his t-shirt dark with patches of sweat. “We got a visitor. Says he’s ‘a friend of the voyagers’…” The other man gestured at a young boy trailing at his heels.
“Laaro,” said Sheppard, his eyes narrowing. “Look, I’m sorry buddy, but I’m real busy right now.”
The kid nodded, ignoring the brush-off. “Searching for your friends, yes.” He was panting, as if he’d been running. “But there is news. I had to bring it to you as soon as possible.”
Lorne raised an eyebrow. “This is your local contact, sir?”
“Something like that,” Sheppard replied, keeping his eyes on the boy. “What news?”
“You won’t like it.” Laaro said sagely.
Sheppard’s face twisted in a grimace. “McKay.” He said the other man’s name with a growl of annoyance. “What did he do?”
Laaro shook his head. “Rodney was quite brave, actually. But he had little choice. They had already threatened my parents.”
“Are they all right?” demanded Lorne.
“I’m sorry,” the boy went on, “but Rodney and Jennifer have gone.”
Lorne immediately toggled his radio. “Doctor McKay, Doctor Keller? Respond please.” He got nothing but static hiss in return.
“Gone where?” Sheppard crouched and took off the sunglasses, so he could look Laaro in the eye. “Gone as in taken gone?”
He got a head-shake in reply. “The Aegis only come after second sunset. These were the men who work for Soonir. He used to be an elder, until Takkol took away his status.” Laaro nodded solemnly. “My uncle says Soonir is a bad person.”
Sheppard straightened up and made a face. “I told McKay to sit tight.”
“So now we’re four people down?” Lorne shook his head. “Is kidnapping a national sport on this planet?”
“I’m starting to wonder.” He grimaced. Was this all part of some greater plan, whittling down their numbers, picking off the stragglers? “New standing orders. From now on, no teams of less than four people. I’m damned if we’re going to lose anyone else around here!”
A crackle from their radios hissed out into the air. “Colonel Sheppard? This is Rush, sir. We may have a situation here.”
Sheppard irritably snatched the walkie-talkie from his vest. “Go ahead, Sergeant. I could use some more good news.” He turned to the west; Rush and his team of marines were sweeping the edge of the search zone closest to the farm where Teyla and Ronon were last seen. He could just about make out a knot of figures over there, men in indigenous dress among the dark-clothed soldiers from Atlantis.
Over the radio, he heard raised voices in the background. “We intercepted a group of armed men and, uh, lions, I think.” Rush’s voice was wary. “There’s a local guy throwing his weight around, calls himself Aaren.”