The slap of feet on the uneven dirt path.
A flurry of projectiles past his head; bullets, rocks, and... okay, that was a shoe.
"Rodney!" John screamed, diving behind the nearest large tree. "Come on! No, don't turn around, McKay!" Rounds fired in the midst of the commands, fear obvious under the authority. "Teyla, dial the gate! Ronon, get cover!"
The last order was lost in the sound of toppling shrubs and the yells of men trying to avoid the blasts of energy from Ronon's gun. The bullets being shot at them paused for a moment, but started right back up and Sheppard yelled out, "Get to the 'Gate!"
If they hadn't been running for their lives, Rodney would have made a remark, but the mate of the previous shoe slammed into his back and he dove for the shimmering blue puddle.
Teyla's feet greeted him on the other side, her toes an inch from his forehead, but he barely had time to register it before the pound of Ronon's feet filled his ears as he skidded to a halt beside him. John, having been unable to determine precisely where Rodney would be on the floor of Atlantis (the common area for SGA-1 to find themselves after a mission gone wrong), had leapt through seconds before the wormhole closed and landed squarely on the man.
"Ow!" Rodney declared and promptly tried to push himself up on his hands, the tactical vest digging annoyingly into multiple places. The movement jarred Sheppard who flipped to the side, laying there on his back as he stared at the ceiling.
Above him, he heard Elizabeth call, "Everyone all right?"
"Peachy," John responded without moving. "They didn't want to trade."