Hunt and run

Chapter Seventeen

“This is crazy — you know this is crazy.” Frayne didn’t bother to look over at Ronon, but he didn’t have to — the two of them were the only ones in the new shuttle, and his voice carried easily.

“Maybe so,” Ronon agreed absently. “But it’ll work. And it’s better than leaving this wreck back at that city — or trudging through yet another forest, waiting to get jumped.”

The orange-haired pilot shook his head, then stopped and shrugged. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted after a second. “If I’ve got to go, I’d rather it was out here in space than down there on the ground. Quicker up here.”

Ronon leaned forward — this shuttle didn’t have a copilot seat, so he’d settled for the perch right behind Frayne’s pilot chair — and clasped the other man on the shoulder. “You’re not dying today,” he assured his friend. “And with any luck, neither am I.” He grinned to himself. “But the Wraith are.”

Something beeped on one of the nested consoles, and Frayne hit a few switches and tugged back on the controls. Ronon felt the ship slow, shedding its velocity as it fired reverse thrusters to counter the momentum. Everything shuddered for a few seconds, then stilled completely.

“We’re here,” Frayne announced, flicking a few toggles. He swiveled his chair around and stood. “Didn’t handle too badly, after all that. Not as tight on the axis as our others, though.”

“You did great,” Ronon assured him. And he had. The little Yadonite had figured out the strange shuttle’s controls in less than an hour, and had piloted it here from the planet without incident. Of course, that had been the easy part.

Another beep, and Frayne scanned the displays. “Incoming,” he announced. They both stared out the viewport, looking for any sign of an approaching ship, and after a second Ronon noticed a dull star that was growing larger.

“There,” he said, pointing it out, and Frayne nodded. Together they watched the shape expand, growing from a tiny dot to a small blob to a small triangular shape. After a few more seconds they could see a darker band across the front, which then resolved into a viewscreen as the shape itself became clearly a shuttle. One headed right toward them.

“Let’s hope Nekai knows what he’s doing with that thing,” Frayne muttered, “or he’ll ram right into us and then we’ll all go up.” Privately, Ronon agreed. The V’rdai leader was a competent pilot but not a great one, and this required a very delicate hand. That’s why the plan had been for him to bring their other shuttle close and then let Frayne cross in an atmosphere suit and pilot it the rest of the way.

But Nekai wasn’t always that good at following others’ directions. Ronon suspected it was because he’d been a leader for too long — he was used to giving commands, not taking them. It had been enough of a struggle getting him to go back and retrieve the other shuttle.

“No, it’s too risky,” he’d said when Ronon had outlined his barely formed plan. “Not just for you, but for us. We could lose the shuttle, we could lead the Wraith right back to our base, we could all get recaptured. This isn’t what I’ve trained the V’rdai for.”

“Maybe not,” Ronon had replied, tamping down his anger and impatience, “but it’s what a lot of us were trained for. Just not by you. I had a whole life as a soldier before the Wraith caught me. So did Banje. So did Setien and Adarr and Frayne. We can do this. And we can take our fight with the Wraith to a whole new level.”

Nekai had still shaken his head. “I won’t risk leading them back to our base.”

“You won’t be. Take two or three of the others with you. That way they can’t follow your signal. Adarr, Frayne, and whoever else you leave behind will stay here with me. When you bring the shuttle back through with that device we salvaged from the Dart, the rest of them can join you. Frayne and I will pilot this heap, and you can follow us. Simple.”

Nekai had looked up at him, one eyebrow arched in question. “What makes you think I can find this world again through the ring?”

That had gotten a snort from Ronon. “I know you memorize each combination,” he’d replied too low for anyone else to hear. “You may dial them at random but you never dial the same one twice. You can find it again.” He deliberately didn’t mention the list Turen had told him about — he’d never seen it and decided that if Nekai didn’t want to tell him about that himself, he wouldn’t let on that he knew. Not that it changed anything — it just meant Nekai was memorizing the next address on the list before they left the dome, because he never consulted anything when dialing and Ronon suspected the list was safely back at their base.

They’d locked gazes for a moment, but finally the Retemite had nodded. “All right. We’ll try this crazy plan of yours. But if you get blown to bits, don’t come crying to me.”

“Fair enough.”

That part had gone without a hitch, and a few hours later Nekai and the others had returned with one of their regular shuttles and the Dart’s ring-dialing device. Adarr and Setien had joined him — Adarr had stayed behind to work on the engines and Setien to stand guard — and they’d lifted off again almost immediately. Frayne had been right behind them. It had been a mark of the little Yadonite’s skill that he’d passed the other V’rdai on the way and led them to this spot instead of the other way around. They’d decided not to try taking the shuttles through a ring again, just in case the Wraith had some way to monitor when their devices were used, and had simply flown to a a patch of space within view of the ruined city’s planet instead.

Now they watched as the other shuttle slowed and finally stopped perhaps ten meters away. “Cutting it close,” Frayne muttered. He was already in his atmosphere suit, as was Ronon, but Ronon stayed in place as Frayne moved to the airlock. “Sure you don’t want to just come back with me and forget all this?” The smaller man asked as he cycled the portal open.

“No. This will work.” Ronon gestured toward their waiting teammates. “Go on. Bring them in.”

Frayne shrugged once and raised a hand in farewell. Then he was gone, floating out into space. He moved easily, bridging the distance between the two shuttles just as the other ship’s airlock also opened and Setien leaned out. She caught Frayne’s outstretched arm on the first attempt and hauled him in, then sealed the airlock again behind her. Ronon did the same on his ship.

After a minute he felt a faint shudder and saw the engines of the other shuttle light again. The ship pulled away, and accelerated smoothly — within a minute it had disappeared behind a nearby moon.

Ronon sank down onto the pilot’s chair. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

It felt strange, sitting here in a barely functional shuttle, no shields or weapons, no defenses, no place to hide. After all these months with the V’rdai, he’d gotten used to having them around — because of the tracking devices they were never more than five meters from at least one teammate at all times, and being all alone on this ship made him realize how much he missed that constant company. Even Frayne’s complaints or Adarr’s chatter or Setien’s boasts would be welcome.

But having the others nearby brought a degree of security, of safety. As long as they were together, the Wraith couldn’t track them.

And right now he needed them to track him.

His whole plan depended upon it.

Time passed. Ronon leaned back, stretched out his legs, and shut his eyes. No sense staring out at space, starting at every star that flickered. Far better to get some rest. He’d need it once things started happening.

A muted beeping woke him from his doze, and he sat up quickly, blinking as he stared out of the viewport. Was that a ship approaching? Yes. But what ship?

He rose to a crouch, his hand going to his pistol where he’d belted it outside his atmosphere suit. But he relaxed when the ship drew closer and he recognized its forward profile. The other V’rdai were back.

The shuttle grew larger so quickly Ronon had a moment’s concern that it might smash into him and through him, leaving a trail of twisted metal and bloody flesh in its wake. But it slowed when it was less than a hundred meters away, its thrusters firing in controlled bursts even as the ship’s angle shifted downward. It pivoted on its central axis as it dropped, rotating lengthwise, and slid up beside his stationary ship. With Frayne at the controls, the V’rdai shuttle brushed his ship so gently the hull barely rocked, and then eased to a stop directly beneath him. A second later, a short, sharp rap reverberated through the floor.

Ronon stamped once in reply. They didn’t have short-range communicators in their suits, and wouldn’t have risked using them even if they did, so for now stomping would have to suffice. That was fine, though. They didn’t need to communicate too much. The fact that the others had returned meant they’d detected an approaching ship. And out here, in the middle of nowhere, with a dead planet below? There was only one race that would bother to send a ship anywhere near this area.

The Wraith.

Which meant they weren’t here for the planet. They already knew it was dead — after all, they’d killed it.

No, they were here for him.

Of course, right now they’d be a little confused. Their tracking monitors had shown his device, clear as day, and they’d followed the signal out here to empty space. But now it had vanished again, courtesy of the other V’rdai separated from him by two metal hulls.

So the Wraith would be studying the area with their more conventional scanners. And they’d pick up this ship. Just sitting here, apparently dead in space.

Only it was two ships. One directly below the other. Nestled too close to be distinguished by anything but a close-up visual.

Which meant it was time for the second half of the plan.

Ronon stepped over to the console. Adarr had shown him what to push, and now he repeated the motions the tall mechanic had demonstrated, pulling this lever here and pushing this button there, then dialing this switch all the way to one side. The shuttle shuddered beneath his feet as its engines roared back to life, but he hadn’t released any of the building pressure yet. He hadn’t given the ship a direction or tapped into that thrust. It was all still potential, waiting for release.

He intended to release it. Just not in the way someone might expect.

Glancing over everything again to make sure he’d done it right, Ronon nodded and stomped once more before stepping to the airlock. He cycled it open and slid through, closing it again behind him. Then, using handholds Adarr had attached alongside while they’d waited back on the planet, he moved down to the bottom of the shuttle. The V’rdai ship was waiting there, its own engines quiet to avoid detection, its airlock open. Setien grinned at him as she crouched and reached down. Ronon caught her hand and allowed himself to be pulled inside.

“All set?” Banje asked as the airlock shut and Ronon was reunited with the rest of the team.

“Set,” he confirmed. He straightened slowly, letting his body adjust to the sudden change in orientation — what had been down for him in the other shuttle was now up here. “Where are they?”

“Less than four hundred meters, and closing fast,” Frayne answered from the controls. “Not a Dart, either. Way too big for that, though not nearly large enough for a Hive. Looks like a cruiser.”

Several of them shuddered at that, Ronon included. He’d seen cruisers over Sateda, during the battle. The Wraith used them to escort their Hive-ships — and to transport human prisoners, storing them for easy feeding. Whoever had detected his signal must have commandeered one to go after him. He hoped there were a lot of Wraith on board.

“Should be within visual range right about — now,” Frayne commented, and the others all started looking for signs of the approaching foe. Not surprisingly, Turen spotted it first, and pointed it out to the others. It had looked like a rock, dull and dark gray and lumpy, but it was definitely on an intercept course, and growing quickly.

“This had better work,” Nekai muttered to Ronon. “There’s no way we can take a cruiser otherwise.”

“It’ll work,” Ronon assured him, then glanced at Adarr for confirmation. The lanky man nodded. “It’ll work.”

They stayed where they were, no one daring to speak or move, as the Wraith ship slowed just above them. It was shaped like a Dart but much, much larger, with a wider body and broader wings and an expanded bridge section. Cruisers were capable of carrying Darts, but since it hadn’t released any Ronon hoped this one had flown in with an empty hangar. After all, the Wraith in charge was expecting a lone Runner on a stalled shuttle.

Too bad that wasn’t what was waiting for him.

“Time to go,” Banje whispered as the Wraith ship came to a stop. It was alongside the other shuttle, its forward airlock only a few meters away. Frayne nodded and nudged the controls, easing their ship down and away from the others, gliding to the side so the very shuttle they’d been hiding beneath concealed his departure. Within seconds they were a dozen meters away, and that distance increased rapidly.

Ronon looked at Nekai, who nodded his permission. “Now,” Ronon commanded. Frayne hit a control on his console, and they all heard the squawk as the shuttle transmitted a signal to the ship Ronon had just abandoned. Then Frayne was gunning their engines, putting as much distance as possible between them and the two remaining ships.

They were perhaps two hundred meters away when the shuttle exploded.

The shock waves buffeted them about, but Frayne kept a tight grip on the controls and kept them pointed well away.

Which was a good thing, because two seconds later the cruiser detonated as well.

That impact put the shuttle into a spin, throwing everyone against walls and ceiling and floor as it spiraled out of control. But only for a moment. Frayne soon had the ship stabilized again, and pivoted it around so they could admire the sight of debris being flung in every direction right where they had waited just a minute before.

“Beautiful!” Setien judged, slapping Ronon on the back hard enough to make him take a quick half-step forward. “Absolutely brilliant!”

“Nicely done,” Banje agreed. The others all nodded and added their congratulations and enthusiasm.

Ronon smiled and accepted it all. He was pleased. Everything had gone exactly as he’d hoped — better, even. The Wraith had detected his signal and then lost it but found the shuttle. They’d approached incautiously, assuming they had nothing to fear, and so hadn’t bothered to put up any shields. Adarr had rigged the engines to overload once they were activated, and then wired in the communications system so a message on the right frequency would trigger that activation. The shuttle had gone up, and clearly its destruction had damaged something within the cruiser enough that the Wraith ship had exploded right behind it. There was no way anything had survived that.

“Smart,” Nekai admitted, clapping Ronon on the shoulder and clasping his arm. “Our biggest victory yet. But let’s not try this too often, hm? I don’t know where we’d get more shuttles.” He was grinning when he said it, and Ronon grinned back. It felt good to have struck such a major blow.

And he vowed that it wouldn’t be the last. Or the most severe.

The Wraith wouldn’t know who had caused the explosion. But they might figure out a Runner had been involved. And eventually, they would learn to fear the Runners.

To fear him.

Because he was going to give them good reason to be afraid.

“Ronon Dex, conqueror of the Wraith,” Rodney declared, though not loudly — even at a whisper the sound echoed around them until it made his head ring. “So why didn’t you and your buddies simply slaughter every last Wraith? Would have saved us a lot of trouble, that’s for sure.”

“We tried,” Ronon growled. “We took out plenty of them. Not as many as Atlantis, but there were only seven of us, with barely any gear.”

“Sure, sure, you got notches in your bedpost and written commendations and merit badges, the works,” Rodney agreed. “Sounds perfect. If you like killing.”

“It was. And I do.” That last was said with deliberate menace, but Rodney waved it off.

“You didn’t go to all this trouble to keep me alive just to kill me,” he pointed out.

“No, I went to all this trouble to keep you alive so you can repair the Jumper and get us out of here. It’s Sheppard and Teyla I’m worried about.”

Rodney nodded. He was trying not to think about their two friends, and what might be happening to them right now. He was safe, if a little bruised, and sitting in a cave listening to Ronon’s equivalent of a campfire story. They’d been captured and were probably being beaten, maybe tortured — or worse.

“Okay, so we have the perfect killing team,” he said, forcing his attention back to Ronon’s tale. “A true hunter’s paradise. Why aren’t you still there with them?”

“Because nothing lasts forever,” Ronon answered after a minute. There was something different in his voice, and it took Rodney a second to place it. Regret. But more than that — grief. He’d only heard Ronon sound this way once before, when he’d talked about his wife and their homeworld, Sateda.

“Something happened, didn’t it?” Rodney asked. “What?” He was genuinely curious.

“We were at war with the Wraith,” Ronon reminded him, his voice dropping even lower. “And every war has casualties.” He didn’t say anything for a minute, and Rodney waited, not rushing him. He could tell this was something Ronon actually wanted to talk about, maybe even needed to.

Sure enough, after that minute of silence had stretched into two, Ronon picked up his tale again. “Sometimes it doesn’t take much to bring everything crashing down,” he started. “It can be something tiny. Or it can be something huge. Or it can be both at once. That’s what happened to us. ”