Hunt and run

Chapter Eighteen

“How’re the boots?”

“Shhh!” Ronon motioned Adarr to quiet, looking around quickly to make sure no one had heard them. Not that there was anyone to hear except Setien, and she was out in front as always. After a few seconds he decided it was safer to answer than to risk his other teammate’s asking again. “They’re good. Thanks.”

The lanky Fenabian smiled. Adarr had been the one who’d found the boots on their last salvage mission, and he’d been as thrilled as a puppy when he’d presented them to Ronon. They’d discovered stashed clothing and even footwear a few times before, but these were the first that were large enough to accommodate Ronon’s big feet. For the first time in well over a year, he was wearing proper boots instead of something Setien had cobbled together from scraps. He could definitely feel the difference, and his feet and legs thanked him for it every day.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that, however. They were on a new world, on the hunt once again, and this time Nekai had broken them into slightly different teams: the Retemite had paired himself with Frayne, put Turen with Banje, and then grouped Ronon, Adarr, and Setien. “We’re getting too comfortable in our ways,” he’d told them all. “We should each be able to work with anyone else in the unit.”

He was right, of course. And Adarr was easy enough to handle, other than having to tell him to keep quiet every ten seconds. Setien was an entirely different matter. She’d been with the V’rdai longer than Ronon, and she was used to doing things her own way and without being too encumbered by teammates. Plus, Nekai had left the situation nebulous — Banje was the V’rdai second-in-command, so obviously he had authority over Turen, but there was no clear command structure after that. Ronon had command experience and Setien didn’t, which might mean he was in charge of their trio, but try telling Setien that!

Ronon shook his head, though he couldn’t help smiling a little. Setien was certainly something. Over the past nineteen months, he and the aggressive Mahoiran had grown close. Very close. Neither of them was looking for a relationship, of course. Ronon was still grieving for Melena, and Setien never talked about anyone back home but he suspected, due to the nature of her occupation, she’d never wanted attachments in general. And that was fine. They were still Runners, which meant they still faced the possibility of having to disappear at any time — not exactly a healthy way to start a relationship. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t find comfort in another’s company — or that they couldn’t enjoy certain physical activities together as well.

Of course, with Setien that often meant sparring. Before or after. Or during.

But she certainly kept things interesting.

As if on cue, she let out a squawk of delight up ahead. “Pears!” she announced, throwing any stealth to the wind and straightening up to stare up at one of the trees around them. Nekai had a knack for finding them heavily forested worlds, which certainly made hunting and ambushing Wraith easier but also increased the risk of a distracted Setien. Just like now. She’d caught sight of the fruits, dangling well out of her reach, and was utterly transfixed.

“Not now,” Ronon warned, catching up to her and putting a hand on her arm. She shook him off, though not meanly, but didn’t look away from the object of her desire. “Besides,” he reasoned, “it’s out of our reach. We may find others closer to hand.”

That at least got her moving again. “Fine,” she said, shouldering past him and resuming her forward position. “But I get them first!”

“Who’d dare to get in your way?” Adarr muttered at her back, and Ronon stifled a laugh. The pale man was right — all the V’rdai knew the danger of getting between Setien and fresh fruit. She’d nearly trampled Frayne a few months back when the little orange-haired man had discovered a batch of wild strawberries.

They kept moving, eyes peeled. Ronon was stalking along in his typical hunter’s crouch. Adarr was alternating between imitating him and bouncing along like a little kid, oblivious to any danger. And Setien was moving with her usual confident stride, no stealth at all but still completely alert to any danger.

Something nagged at the back of Ronon’s head as they walked, but he couldn’t figure out what. They’d seen no signs of anyone else around, no hint of any nearby settlements, and no evidence of Wraith visitation. The trees were tall and broad and solid, their branches low enough for him to reach if he stretched but high enough that he could stand up straight and not worry about banging his head, the canopy thick enough to block most of the two suns’ light but sparse enough to allow some dappled beams to dance down and illuminate the forest floor. The temperature was pleasant, cool and brisk, and there were birds somewhere, along with an occasional chittering or scraping that suggested other woodland creatures. That was always a good sign — animals instinctively feared the Wraith, and would disappear at the first hint of the lifesuckers.

But something still felt wrong.

Ronon was trying to puzzle it out when he heard Setien give a triumphant cry. “There!” she shouted, and for a second Ronon expected to see Wraith up ahead. But instead she was pointing up slightly, toward another tree a short distance in front of her — and a thick cluster of pears that hung within easy reach. “They’re mine!” And she charged forward to claim them.

Which is when Ronon realized what had been bothering him. All of the fruit they’d seen had been out of reach. But there were plenty of branches within reach. They’d just all been stripped bare. And that meant either very industrious critters who didn’t like heights — or people. People harvesting the fruit.

And why would those people leave a single clump of pears where anyone could get them? They wouldn’t —

— unless it was a trap.

“Setien, no!” Ronon sprinted toward her, but she was ahead of him and moving just as fast to reach her prize. He was still several feet from her when she reached up, plucked one of the ripe, golden fruits —

— and vanished upward in a whoosh of air and leaves and bark.

“Setien!” Ronon skidded to a stop where she’d been standing and craned his neck, peering up into the thick foliage. There! He caught a patch of darker black against the shadows — that had to be her hair. “Setien, are you all right?”

“Unhh,” came a weak groan from up above. A few seconds later it was followed by a string of curses, each one louder and more depraved, and Ronon relaxed slightly. If she was well enough to curse, she couldn’t be too badly injured.

“What happened?” Adarr demanded, finally catching up. The lanky mechanic might have legs almost as long as Ronon’s but he flailed too much for them to build up much speed, plus his lean frame lacked heavy muscle.

“Setien triggered a snare,” Ronon explained quickly, studying the offending branch itself. He could see now where a notch had been cut into the wood to hold the rope or vine or whatever had been used. “The pears were bait, and she fell for it.”

“Who traps fruit?” Setien demanded from somewhere overhead. “That’s insane!”

“They caught you, didn’t they?” Ronon retorted, frustration and concern lending an edge to his voice.

“Is it Wraith?” Adarr asked, pulling his pistol and swinging around wildly. Ronon had to stop him and hold him in place before the other man shot one or both of them by accident.

“It’s not Wraith,” he assured the other man quietly. “They don’t set traps like this.”

“Oh. Right.” Adarr calmed down slightly. Unfortunately, that also meant he started talking again. “I guess that makes sense. I mean, we’ve never seen them set traps like that before, why start now? And why would they think anyone would just happen along on a random planet and grab that particular bunch of pears, anyway? Kinda weird.” He scratched at his chin. “So who did set it, then?”

“Hunters,” Ronon growled, one hand on his pistol as he studied the shadows all around them. “Probably meant it for a big cat or a small bear or something.” He risked a quick glance up at where he knew Setien had to be. “Looks like they got one.”

“I heard that!” Setien shouted down at him. “Just wait until I get out of this thing, I’ll — ”

“Can you?” Ronon cut her off.

“Can I what?”

“Can you get out?”

“Don’t you think I would have by now?” she demanded. Which was a fair point — she was hardly one to sit around waiting for someone else to rescue her. “No! It’s got me wound all around like a holiday present! I can’t reach my gun, my knife, or anything!”

“Probably for the best, really,” Adarr pointed out softly to Ronon. “If she could she’d have shot the vine or rope or whatever it is holding her up there. Then she’d have plummeted straight down.” He squinted up. “I’m guessing she’s at least twenty meters up, maybe more. That’s a hell of a drop, even for her.”

Ronon stared at him, a chill racing down his spine. It took him a second to find his voice. “Go get Nekai. Get all the others. Hurry.”

“What? But — ” The other man saw the look on his face and nodded, shutting his mouth quickly. “I’m on it.” Then he was gone in a flurry of limbs.

“What’re you doing?” Setien asked. “Why’d you send Adarr away? Just climb up here and cut me down and we can get moving again!”

“I’m working on it,” Ronon assured her, holstering his gun and grabbing the branch with both hands. He jumped and hauled himself up, then stood carefully, one hand against the trunk for balance, and studied his surroundings. No sign of the snare’s other end at this level, though that didn’t mean it wasn’t here — whoever had set this trap knew their woodcraft, and there was plenty of bark and leaves and branches to use for cover. “But we’re on a time limit.”

She understood at once. “How high am I?” There was no fear in her voice, but the outrage was gone as well. Now she was all business.

“At least twenty meters.”

“Oh.” He thought he heard her sigh, though he couldn’t be sure from this distance — it might have been a breeze rustling through some leaves. “I can’t even reach my gun. Or raise my fist.”

“I know.” He felt around the trunk carefully but didn’t find anything. So he wrapped his arms around it instead and shimmied up to the next branch to repeat the process.

Each climb took him closer to Setien, and even if he couldn’t locate the rest of the snare, if he could get close enough, he could try to swing her over to him, then cut her loose.

The problem was, she was well beyond the overlap range of the tracking device. Which meant she’d become fully exposed the second she’d been trapped. And every minute Ronon couldn’t reach her meant another minute the Wraith might notice her signal and lock onto it.

They’d gone from being the hunters to being the hunted again. Only this time Setien was bound and helpless. Ronon tried not to think about what would happen if he couldn’t get her free in time.

It felt like hours had passed before Adarr returned, though Ronon knew it had to be less than that. If for no other reason than that he hadn’t managed to make much progress in climbing. Adarr had clearly filled the others in on the situation, and Banje immediately called up to them as they all gathered around the base of the tree.

“Ronon, come down,” he said. “Turen’s on her way up.”

Ronon considered arguing for a minute, then nodded. He had height and reach and muscle over Turen, but the higher he climbed the thinner the branches became. He’d already had to climb past several because they wouldn’t support his weight. Once he got much higher the trunk might not be willing to hold him either. Turen was small and light and fast — she’d be able to get a lot farther than he could.

He passed her on the way, and she gave him a quick smile. “I’ll get her,” she assured him, but Ronon knew she was just trying to cheer him up. They had no idea how high Setien really was, or how difficult it might be to disarm the snare. They had to face the possibility that she was stuck up there until the original hunters returned to claim their prize — or until the Wraith beat them to it.

Back on the ground, Banje was conferring with Nekai. Ronon joined them. “This is my fault,” he told them at once. “I should have seen the snare. I should have stopped her.”

“You had no reason to look for traps here,” Nekai argued. “None of us did. We haven’t seen any signs of settlement anywhere — as far as we knew, this whole world was uninhabited.”

“It might still be,” Banje pointed out. “They may be using the ring to come through and hunt here, then return to their own world. That would explain why we haven’t seen any settlements anywhere.”

“If that’s the case, it could be a while before they return,” Frayne offered from behind them. “So that’s good, anyway.” The fact that he was trying to be hopeful only underscored the gravity of the situation.

“The Wraith won’t be as patient,” Ronon pointed out. “She’s been up there almost an hour, maybe more. No way they haven’t picked up on her signal by now.”

“If Turen can’t cut Setien down right away, she’ll get close enough to fog the signal again,” Nekai assured him. “We’ll hide and ambush any Wraith who show up. Then we can get her down at our leisure.”

Ronon nodded. But he still paced impatiently for the next half hour, waiting for word.

Finally, Turen called down, “I’m as close as I can get, I think.”

“How close is that?” Nekai shouted up.

“Ten, maybe twelve meters,” she answered. “No sign of the rest of the snare — whoever set this is really good. They’ve got the vine supported by upper limbs from three different trees, which is why it can handle her weight.”

“Hey!” Setien screeched at that, but she didn’t add anything further.

“If it’s ten meters, she might be okay,” Banje pointed out quietly. “If it’s twelve, though, they’re both exposed.” He looked at Nekai, who shook his head.

“We can’t risk both of them,” the V’rdai leader decided, his voice rough. “We need to get ready. Turen!” he called up. “Come back down!”

“I might be able to get a little higher — ” she offered, but Nekai cut her off.

“Come down right now!”

“Go,” Setien agreed. “They’ll be on their way. You don’t want to be up here when they arrive.”

“I can’t just leave you hanging here!” Turen argued.

“You can, and you must,” Setien told her. “Go down now. You can come back up after the Wraith are dead.” But even from down below Ronon could hear the dull cast to her voice, so unlike her. Setien was already preparing herself for the fact that she might not survive this situation.

“We’ve got to do something!” Ronon told Nekai angrily. “We can fashion a net, string it across the trees below her, and then cut the vine!”

“We will,” Nekai agreed. “As soon as we can. But we don’t have a net. And the Wraith will be coming. We need to deal with them first. Take cover.” Ronon didn’t move. “Now, Ronon!”

“He’s right, Ronon,” Setien shouted down to him. “I’m already bait — no sense in offering them more.”

Ronon growled but finally took shelter behind a tree. He had his pistol in hand already, fingers tight around the butt, and he drew his sword as well, keeping the blade low so it wouldn’t flash in the filtered sunlight. It had taken him and Turen weeks to fashion the jagged Dart fragment into a proper blade, and longer for him to find something he felt was suitable for the rest of the weapon. He had finally settled on using only Wraith trophies. A Wraith jawbone formed the hilt and handle. A braid of Wraith hair wrapped around that for the grip, and the leather coat he’d taken from the first commander he’d killed formed the scabbard. The sword served not only as a weapon but as a symbol of his hatred for the Wraith, and now he focused on that, trying to push his fear for Setien aside. He’d kill anyone who came for her. Then they would get her loose and all head back to their base together.

It seemed far too soon before they began hearing sounds in the forest, coming from the direction of the ancestral ring. “Wraith,” Banje whispered, alerting the rest of them, and Ronon strained to pick up what the Desedan’s sharp ears had noticed. But he didn’t hear anything.

At least, not at first. After another minute he picked up a faint rustling. It could have been the wind, but then he heard it again. And again. It was too regular to be a breeze. They were footsteps.

But soft ones, not the heavy warrior’s tread he was used to. He glanced at Banje, who caught his eye and then shrugged. He was puzzled as well.

Ronon peeked out from behind his tree — and froze, knowing that to move again might draw attention. He had seen a flash of white among the browns and greens and golds up ahead. Then another. And another. Even with so quick a glimpse, he recognized the shading. Wraith hair and flesh. Three of them.

But not warriors. The warriors wore those helmets to protect their heads, and those covered their hair and faces completely. These Wraith were bareheaded.

Which meant they were commanders. That explained why they were so quiet — the commanders were more graceful, more stealthy then the warriors they used for brute force.

But three commanders at once? Hunting together? The Wraith had never done that before!

The others had noticed now as well, and Ronon saw each of them tense in turn as they realized the same thing he had. The Wraith had changed their hunting tactics. And going up against three commanders was very different from taking out one commander and two warriors.

Especially without Setien.

Ronon started to raise his pistol, but a hand on his wrist stopped him. Nekai. The V’rdai leader had closed the distance between them so quietly Ronon hadn’t even noticed.

“Not yet,” Nekai whispered. “Wait until they stop beneath her. Then we’ll take them.”

Ronon hesitated, then nodded. It was the smart thing to do. They’d be more exposed that way, and they’d be stationary. He just didn’t like letting them get that close to Setien.

But he knew if she was down here she’d have agreed. They had to take out all three Wraith at once, to prevent them from summoning help, and this was the best way to do it.

He relaxed his arm slightly, and Nekai removed his hand. Then the Retemite slid away again, stopping a few feet to the side where he could take refuge behind another tree.

And they waited.

Within minutes the Wraith had reached the site of the snare. They moved silently, eyes wary, weapons drawn. These three would not be taken by surprise. When they stopped, they put their backs to each other, so that they had all sides covered. Only then did one of them glance up, and then only quickly.

“What have we here?” it called out, its words hissing from between its pointed teeth. “Setien D’onbach of the Mahoir? Quite the prize!”

“An odd place to find yourself,” one of the others commented, clearly speaking out loud for her benefit. “So high and so defenseless. Almost like a gift!”

“But who would make us such an offering?” the third pondered. “Not that we can refuse, of course.” Even from here Ronon could see its sharp grin.

“The question becomes, how to retrieve our present?” the first one asked. “We dislike climbing, especially when other dangers could lurk nearby.”

“Cut me loose and I’ll come down to you,” Setien offered, which made all three Wraith laugh.

“That is a good plan,” one agreed after their chuckling had ceased. “Yes, perhaps we should cut you down.”

Then they all raised their pistols as one, and began firing — straight up.

“No!” Ronon gave up all pretense of hiding and burst from his cover, charging the Wraith. He was already shooting at them as he ran, sword raised high to cut them down as soon as he was close enough. Behind him he heard commotion as the others followed, and more gunfire whizzed past him, targeting the three commanders.

But the Wraith had clearly been ready for any threat. They split up at once, diving behind nearby trees, and returned fire, continuing to shoot up into the branches every few seconds. And apparently their pistols had multiple settings like Ronon’s because he could hear the crackle of leaves and wood burning up above. Those were no stun-bolts!

He had winged one of the commanders before they could duck away, and now he targeted that one, circling the tree it was using for cover. They traded shots back and forth before Ronon was able to swing around the other side and lash out with his sword. The blade bit deep through Wraith leather and flesh, and he heard the commander gasp in pain as he dropped to his knees. Ronon was pivoting back around the trunk again in an instant, sword flashing as it leapt forward to strike the Wraith’s head from his shoulders.

One down, two to go.

But those two were firmly entrenched now, and the other V’rdai hadn’t been able to get the drop on them yet. Nor could Ronon, not without running right into their weapons fire.

“We need to go!” Nekai shouted, aiming at one Wraith but just missing him and striking the tree instead. Chunks of bark and wood flew.

“Not without Setien!” Ronon insisted. He looked for a way to get behind the Wraith but didn’t see one.

“They’ll have reinforcements on the way!” Nekai insisted. “We’ll all get killed — or captured!” The thought made Ronon shiver. But he wouldn’t abandon her. He couldn’t!

One of the two remaining Wraith fired upward again, and Ronon heard something snap up among the leaves. Then he heard what sounded like a strong wind — but it was coming straight down.

“Look out!” Banje yelled, ducking back behind a tree. The others followed his lead, except for Ronon — the Wraith were taking refuge as well, and he used the opportunity to cross the space to one of them. The Wraith commander had just enough time to glance up when Ronon’s shadow fell across him, sword blade and pistol bolt right behind it and both centered on his head.

The Wraith’s body dropped, Ronon turned —

— and leaped backward to avoid being crushed by a large shape as it crashed to the ground right beside him.

It was only when he picked himself up again that he realized it was Setien. The last shot must have struck one of the branches supporting her, and the others couldn’t hold her weight alone. Or it had severed the vine itself. Either way, she had plummeted more than twenty meters — for a second he berated himself for not trying to catch her, then admitted that was ridiculous. Falling from that height, she would have crushed him, and then they would both be dead.

For there was no question as to whether she’d survive. Not anymore. Ronon dropped to his knees beside her, trying not to notice the way her limbs were bent in every direction, or where bone poked through flesh. He ignored the blood seeping into the ground all around him, soaking his pants where his knees touched, and reached for her head. She was still alive, her eyes still blinking, though they were already glazing over and blood was trickling from her nose and mouth and ears.

“Always. knew. fruit would be. the death. of me,” she whispered thickly, and Ronon tried to smile. Behind him the remaining Wraith stirred — Setien’s impact had stunned him — then cried out and thrashed and stilled as five V’rdai shot him at once. But Ronon ignored them all.

“You can’t die,” he told Setien. “Who’s going to whip my ass in the ring?”

She managed a weak smile, though one side of her face didn’t respond. “Next. time,” she managed. Then her whole body convulsed and went slack, and the light faded from her eyes. She was gone.

Ronon didn’t know how long he sat like that, her head cradled in his hands, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. “We have to go,” Banje told him, his voice even softer than usual.

“I know.” Ronon laid her on the ground as gently as he could and allowed the other man to help him to his feet. He also knew they couldn’t bring Setien back with them. Not with the tracking device still imbedded in her back. She’d lead the Wraith right to their base the first time the rest of the team went out on a mission. And she wouldn’t have wanted that.

Turen stepped up beside Ronon and handed him something without a word. It was a pear, one of the ones from the trap, slightly bruised now but still fresh. Ronon nodded his thanks and placed it in Setien’s shattered hands, then clasped them around the fruit. If there was an afterlife, she wouldn’t arrive empty-handed.

Then he turned and let the others lead him back toward the ancestral ring. None of them spoke, not even Adarr. Ronon knew there had been other V’rdai before him, but not many of them, and not for a long time. Setien had been part of the unit for years. Things would never be the same without her.

They had a second nasty surprise when they got within sight of the ring. There were Wraith troops stationed around it, and several Darts whizzing overhead. Obviously the Wraith were finally taking them seriously, but now was exactly the wrong time for them to have to fight their way home.

Fortunately, someone must have discovered the three dead commanders soon after they left the scene. Within minutes of reaching the ring Ronon and the others saw the Darts take off, heading in the direction of the trap. Half of the troops followed. Only a handful remained to defend the ring, and they seemed to think they were safe from attack in the middle of a clearing. The V’rdai cut them down quickly, then sprinted to the ring as Nekai worked the controls, dialing open a portal and setting it to scramble the signal once they’d passed through.

A minute later, the gate closed behind them. They took two more jumps before returning to the shuttle, just to make sure no one had followed them.

Ronon barely remembered any of it.