Hunt and run

Chapter Twenty-eight

It was difficult to judge time with the blood pounding in his head and throbbing at his temples, but Ronon doubted it was more than ten minutes before he heard rustling among the brush on the far side of the clearing. Then one of the trees swayed slightly, its slender trunk and long thin branches moving more than could be accounted for by mere wind. Ronon glanced in that direction, then swung himself around to face away from it, squinting up into the sun, and waited.

A minute later, the foliage directly ahead of him parted without a sound and a figure emerged, pistol in hand and leveled at his head. It was classic Nekai, creating just enough noise to attract attention from anyone watching and then circling around to catch any potential ambushers flatfooted.

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.”

Nekai was already shaking his head. “Absurd,” he declared. “There are no noncombatants. Not anymore.”

“There are thousands of them!” Ronon insisted. “There are whole worlds who want nothing to do with the Wraith. Who want nothing to do with any of us! They only want to be left alone. How can you even think of them as combatants?”

“They may say they’re not involved now,” Nekai answered, “but it never lasts. The Wraith show up and tell them ‘hand over the Runners or die,’ and they turn on us in a heartbeat. They truss us up and offer us as gifts before the Wraith say a word, in the hopes it’ll appease their masters.” His mouth twisted into an ugly grimace. “They’ve long since chosen sides, and they picked the Wraith. That makes them as bad as Wraith themselves.”

“Can you really blame them for trying to save their own lives and their own families?” Ronon asked. “Wouldn’t you, if you were in their shoes? That’s not the same as fighting you. They’re innocents who’re being used.”

“No one’s innocent,” Nekai insisted. “And everyone turns on you, sooner of later.” His eyes were stone-hard as they skewered Ronon with a sharp gaze. “You did.”

“You attacked us first.” Ronon pointed out. “We wouldn’t even be here otherwise. You lured us in with that shuttle decoy, and then damaged our ship so we had no choice but to land here. If you hadn’t we’d never have known you were out here.”

Nekai shook his head. “I’m not talking about here and how,” he said, dismissing his own recent actions with a wave of his hand — the same hand holding the pistol, Ronon noted as its barrel waved disconcertingly close to his face. “I’m talking about when you left. You turned on me!”

“You were wrong!” Ronon shouted down at him. “You slaughtered people who wanted nothing but to help. They were defenseless, and kind, and you butchered them!”

“It was my call!” Nekai shouted back. “I was in command. And you disobeyed.”

“They weren’t a threat.” Ronon insisted.

“I don’t care if you thought they were or not,” Nekai argued. “I gave you an order, and you didn’t carry it out. We were at war and you rebelled.”

“It wasn’t war!” Ronon bellowed. “They weren’t our enemy! They were just people, people you murdered. That doesn’t make you a soldier or a hunter — it makes you a killer!”

“And you were too good for that, I suppose!” Nekai screamed at him. His face was completely red now, and Ronon could see the veins bulging out on his forehead and along his neck.

“Yes, I was!” Ronon replied, his voice hoarse. “And I thought you were too. Too bad you proved me wrong.”

“I did what I had to do!” Nekai answered. “It was us or them, and I chose us.”

“So did I,” Ronon said, his anger starting to drain away. “I just wasn’t willing to turn into them in order to do it.” He saw his old mentor stiffen as the implication hit home. There could be no doubt which “them” Ronon had been referring to.

“You might as well have,” Nekai responded after a moment. “You walked away from us, from your team, from your friends. From me. You left us behind.”

“Only because you gave me no choice,” Ronon reminded him. “It was leave or die, as I recall. And I was in no mood to die.” He stared at the man in front of him, the man who had taught him so much, the man who had given him a reason to live. “But I never truly left.”

“Yes, you did.” Nekai’s answer was filled with bitterness. “And when you did, you went from being one of us to being one of them.”

“If that was true,” Ronon told him, “why didn’t I hunt you like the Wraith did? Why didn’t I try to find you and kill you? I could have — I knew how you thought, how you fought, how you hid. Even if you abandoned the base once I left” — he could tell by the way the other man looked away that they had — “I could have figured out where you’d gone or at least narrowed it down enough to locate you if I searched hard enough.” He’d begun swaying from the force of his exclamations, and now he stilled himself so those swings slowed and gentled and finally stopped, leaving him to lock gazes with his old friend. “But I never did,” he said. “In all those years, I never once came after you. I didn’t agree with what you were doing but I left you alone.”

“I left you alone, too,” Nekai replied quietly. “Do you think I didn’t know how dangerous you were? I probably should have gone after you and killed you, just in case you turned on us. But I didn’t. And I could have found you easily enough — I still had my tracking monitor, and you still had a device in your back.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t. I left you alone. I didn’t think you’d ever turn on me, on us. I kept tabs on you from time to time, but you never came after us so I never went after you either.” He looked down at the pistol in his hand, studying it as if it were new to him somehow. “When your device disappeared, I thought you were dead.”

“Or that I’d figured out you were lying about the devices and the explosives,” Ronon accused, “and I’d somehow managed to remove mine.” He tried to flex his hands, though his fingers were tingling and going numb. “You must have heard the rumors that I was still alive, or that some Runner was, anyway. I know you did. The others had.”

“I heard them,” Nekai admitted. “And a part of me wanted to believe them. I liked the idea that you might have escaped your fate, stopped Running, found a new life.” The scowl returned and his voice grew harsh once more. “But I had to think you were dead. And the others had to think that, too. If they thought there was a chance they could survive on their own — if they knew someone else had done it, that you’d done it — they’d have started considering leaving themselves. They’d stop thinking as a team and they’d become separate people again. I couldn’t risk that.” He glared up at Ronon. “And neither could they. None of them would have survived on their own.”

“Why not?” Ronon asked. “I did. For five years. Until I found friends.”

“Or masters,” Nekai sneered.

“Friends,” Ronon repeated sharply. “No one forced me to do anything. I chose to go with them.” He smiled, thinking back on all the adventures he’d had with Sheppard and Teyla and the rest — yes, even with Rodney. “They’ve helped me, Nekai. The way you did once, but without the paranoia and the secrecy. They forge alliances with others instead of seeing everyone as an enemy.”

“So now you do what they want, and consider yourself lucky,” Nekai retorted.

“No, I do what I want and our interests coincide,” Ronon corrected. “They understand that I have my own goals, and sometimes we clash but they’re always willing to help me in the end.” He studied the Retemite glowering up at him. “I killed the one who tagged me, Nekai. He caught me again, tagged me with another tracking device, and then dropped me on my own homeworld so he could hunt me. And I killed him. And a whole lot of others. But I didn’t do it alone. My friends came to find me, and they helped me.” He thought back to that final showdown with the Wraith commander, and how he would have died if Beckett hadn’t killed the Wraith with the Jumper’s guns. “I couldn’t have done it without them.”

“You could have done it with us,” Nekai suggested.

“Maybe so.”

“We were a good team, once.”

Ronon smiled, remembering. “We were a great team.”

“We could be again.” Nekai had been holding his pistol the entire time, but now he holstered it. “Come back with me,” he urged. “Come back to the V’rdai. It’s where you belong — tracking device or not, you’re still a Runner. You’re still a hunter. Come back and we can hunt together again!”

It was tempting. Ronon admired and trusted Sheppard, and liked Teyla — he even admired Rodney for his mind if nothing else. But they weren’t like him. They never had been. They couldn’t understand what he’d been through and they didn’t have the same sort of skills he did. Sheppard was pretty good in a fight, and Teyla could hold her own as well, but neither of them were hunters. To be with the V’rdai again meant living and working with the only people who really knew what it was like to be a Runner. And it meant being with other hunters, and being able to set traps and ambush prey together without a single word.

Yes, it was tempting. And if he could go back to the V’rdai the way it had been when Nekai had first brought him in, with Setien and Turen and Adarr and Frayne and Banje, Ronon knew he might have accepted.

But that was a long time ago. Most of them were dead now. Adarr had changed. Nekai had changed. And the V’rdai had changed with them.

“I’ll come back,” Ronon said finally. “If you give up attacking innocents.”

Nekai ground his teeth together. “There are no innocents.” he insisted again. “There’s only us and them. That’s it! No other choices, nothing in between!”

Ronon sighed, though it was the answer he’d expected. “You’re wrong,” he told his former friend. “And I can’t be a party to that.”

The shorter man sighed as well. “I’m sorry it’s come to this,” he said, and he did sound disappointed and regretful. “But if you’re not one of us you’re one of them, and I can’t let someone with your skills and your knowledge of us go free.” He drew his pistol again.

“So that’s it?” Ronon asked him, his entire body tensing. “You’re going to shoot me?”

“You don’t leave me any choice.” Nekai raised his gun and pointed it at Ronon’s head, still keeping more than ten feet between them.

“Put the gun down,” Ronon urged. “You owe me a better death than that, at least.”

“It’ll be quick,” his old mentor assured him. “One shot and it’s over. You won’t feel a thing.”

“I’m a hunter, and a Runner,” Ronon reminded him. “Don’t take me out with a pistol. If you’re going to kill me, use a blade, at least. Give me a warrior’s death.”

Nekai considered for a second, then nodded and holstered his pistol a second time. “Fair enough.” He drew a long knife from his belt instead. “I’ll still make it quick, and as painless as I can.” He raised the blade and approached Ronon slowly. “I really am sorry.”

“So am I,” Ronon answered. “So am I.”

Nekai was less than five feet away now. Ronon hung as still as possible, watching as the other man took one slow step after another — and then stopped. The Retemite crouched down, and brushed at the leaves and dirt scattered in front of him. Then he grinned and lifted a loose rope coil from where it had been hidden just in front of his right boot tip.

“Did you think I’d forgotten?” he asked as he straightened again. “Your final hunting test, when you set a snare for me and then let yourself get caught by mine so I’d get careless? I’m not stupid, Ronon, and I don’t fall for the same trick twice.”

“It was worth a shot,” Ronon muttered as his former mentor tossed the snare aside, sidled over to right a bit, slid forward another step —

— and yelped in surprise, the knife flying from his hand, as something snapped tight around his foot and ankle. Ronon had a quick glimpse of the other man’s shocked expression as he shot upward, his feet yanked out from under him by the snare closing and the tree branch it hung from snapping aloft again.

At the same time, Ronon felt the tension of the rope holding him lessen. This is going to hurt, he thought just before the rope came plummeting downward, and he followed it head-first, his weight no longer supported by anything. He curled in, twisting in mid-air so he hit the ground with his rear first and then his back and sides and legs.

Pain exploded through him, both from the sudden impact and from the reawakening of nerve endings as blood flowed again to legs and upper arms and receded from hands and head and chest, but Ronon couldn’t let that distract him. He forced his body to uncoil, leaping to his feet, and drew his boot knife as he moved. One quick slash and it was over.

“There,” he said, sheathing his knife again and then stretching, letting his body work out some of the kinks it had gotten from its recent suspension. “Now we can talk more freely.”

Nekai glared down at him, their positions now reversed, but his eyes were still wide from shock as well. “How did you do that?” he demanded. “I found your snare!”

“The first one,” Ronon agreed. “Which made you cocky, so you missed the second one.” He grinned up at his former teacher. “I figured you’d remember what I’d done, but who’d look for two snares right next to each other?”

“How did you know which way I’d move?” Nekai asked, then shook his head as he answered his own question. “I’m right-handed, and you remembered that,” he realized. “You knew I’d approach you head-on if we were talking, and then I’d shift to the right once I’d spotted the first snare. Smart.” There was clear admiration in his tone. “You’re still as good as ever, Ronon. Maybe better.”

“I am better,” Ronon agreed. “I had to be. I had to survive on my own all those years.” He gestured up at the trees. “The first time, I didn’t think to link your snare and mine. This time I did — when your branch rose, it released the counterweight on mine.” He rubbed his backside and winced. “Of course, I could have done with a shorter drop, but it couldn’t be helped.” He bent and scooped up Nekai’s belt and pistol, which lay where they’d tumbled when he’d cut them loose. He was far enough out of reach that, even if Nekai could get to one of his many knives, he wouldn’t be able to attack with it. He’d never been that good at throwing them, and doing so while upside down would be almost impossible.

“What now?” Nekai asked. “You kill me instead?” Even hanging there, he kept his cool.

“I could,” Ronon pointed out. “And you were ready to do the same to me.” Ronon made a point of drawing his knife again, tossing it end-over-end so the handle smacked back into his palm — and then sheathing it once more. “But I won’t.”

Instead he gazed up at the man he had once called mentor, leader, and friend. “I didn’t kill the others, either. Except for Castor — I’m sorry.” He saw Nekai’s surprise in his eyes and the twitch of his mouth. “The rest are alive, just bound and gagged not far from our ship. Of course, they know now that the stories about me are true. And they know you’ve been lying to them. You won’t be able to control them like that anymore. You’ll have to start telling them the truth. They’re your team — you need to trust them.”

“I would have trusted you,” Nekai grumbled.

“But you didn’t,” Ronon replied. “You never let me in on your plans, any more than you did the others.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. No matter what you may think, I didn’t betray your trust. I’d think not killing you or the others would prove that.” He studied his captive. “I’m not your enemy, Nekai. And neither are most people. You need to learn that.”

Ronon turned to go, then stopped. “But if you ever come after me or my friends again,” he warned, his voice dropping, “I will hunt you down. And I will kill you. It’s your choice.”

“So you’re just going to leave me here?” Nekai called out as Ronon began to walk from the clearing.

“That’s right,” Ronon replied over his shoulder. “I know you’ll figure a way out of that eventually, if the others don’t wake up and get loose and find you first.” He met Nekai’s gaze. “I’d hurry though, if I were you. You’ve been by yourself for a while now — the Wraith will be homing in on your signal.” He could tell that had hit home. “Good luck.”

Then he was beyond the trees, and out of sight. He paused long enough to set Nekai’s belt and pistol down on a nearby rock, somewhere he was sure the other man would find them. No one deserved to be defenseless before the Wraith. With that done, Ronon straightened and began jogging back toward the Jumper, and the others. Back toward his friends. He hoped Rodney had the Jumper fixed by now. This hunt was over, but if they didn’t hurry they might get caught up in another one, and Ronon preferred to face the Wraith on his own terms, not theirs. He frowned and picked up the pace. It was time to go home.