SGA-13 Hunt and Run (34 page)

“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.

“That’s ridiculous!”

“That’s exactly what I said!”

“No, not that way.
Your
way. What you’re saying is ridiculous!”

“I know it is! Yet we did it anyway and look where it got us.”

“That’s not what I meant. I am definitely not agreeing with you!” Sheppard scrubbed at his face with one hand, as if that could rub away Rodney’s statements.

“Yes, you are!” Rodney insisted. “I said it was ridiculous right from the start, and you just agreed with me!”

“I didn’t agree that helping was ridiculous! I said you’re calling it ridiculous was ridiculous! You’re just — aaahhhhh!!!” Sheppard threw his hands up in disgust. He could never win! Arguments with Rodney never worked because there were two kinds of logic — real logic and Rodney logic. And never the twain would meet. But in Rodney-logic, Rodney was always right. Period.

It was a relief to spot something moving beyond the boulders, and Sheppard quickly turned all his attention upon the half-seen disturbance. He raised his pistol and took aim as best he could, sighting on the faint play of shadows across the rocks —

 
— and relaxed as Ronon stepped into view.

“Everything okay?” Sheppard called out as the Satedan approached them. His pistol was safely in its holster, which Sheppard took to be a good sign, though he knew all too well how fast his friend could draw and fire.

“Everything’s fine,” Ronon replied as he rapidly closed the distance. He wasn’t running and didn’t look back, but he was moving quickly nonetheless. “It’s time to go.”

“Good thing I fixed the Jumper then, isn’t it?” Rodney muttered as he opened the airlock and preceded the rest of them inside. “But don’t thank me or anything. I’m just saving all our butts yet again. It’s what I do.”

“Yeah, and it’s a good thing the rest of us took care of those hunters trying to kill us,” Sheppard couldn’t help retorting, “and that Ronon dealt with their leader all by himself, otherwise they’d have cut you down long before you could finish. But that’s okay — that’s just what we do.”