~ All For One ~
An Author's Note follows the chapter.
Word Count, Chapter 1: 1710
Characters: Sheppard, Rodney, Teyla, Ronon.
Rating: K+/T- for more-than-my-usual whump (depends on how graphic your own imagination is!). Minor language.
Disclaimer: 'Stargate Atlantis' and its characters are not mine. I would not have left them under the aegis of those whose interest lay elsewhere.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
"How many trading partners do we need anyway?" Rodney McKay, Astrophysicist Extraordinaire, asked grumpily. "This trip will probably produce nothing more than a bag of beans." He huffed a bit, partly in disapproval, but non-stop commentary while maintaining the team's pace made him short of breath.
The four of them were in a valley, walking through a wide, open field with green-turning-brown scrub vegetation. The path from the Gate followed a tree-lined meandering stream. The air was warm and humid, with a slight oncoming breeze to make it feel cool. John Sheppard looked at the steep walls on either side and thought of lateral moraines ~ boulders the size of houses and high ridges of earth appeared occasionally on the valley floor, most likely deposited by some glacier in a bygone era.
John tried to smooth the ruffled temper of the team scientist. "We can't spend all our time looking for leads to track down ZPMs. We need intel and friends." He lightened his approach. "We introduce ourselves to the neighbors, explain the neighborhood watch, we make nice. If we have to, we get some beans." And enjoy a nice, easy day for a change, John thought; they didn't have to be on the alert during a visit to Teyla's friends.
"Beans versus ZedPM. I am not comforted by the fact that you and Elizabeth seem to think they're of equal importance."
Teyla, ever the diplomat, interjected a calm rationale. "Colonel Sheppard is correct; we cannot fight the Wraith without allies." She altered her tone as she added inducement. "And this world has a plant from which is derived a beverage that tastes somewhat like your coffee..."
There was a minor pause while McKay pondered a ready supply of almost-coffee before he determined, "It's still beans, so we'll have walked all this way for not-very-much."
"You talk too much."
John was glad Ronon had finally joined the conversation, but the big guy had to know he'd just pushed McKay's button. As much as John could see the advantages of having Ronon on the team, he wasn't sure Ronon felt the same about being a team member. The man had been on his own for a long time ~ years, and adjusting to people and making decisions as part of a group had to be difficult for him. And probably harder was taking orders. More difficult still was looking at the larger picture, since his aim for so long had been entirely personal. The attitude John was picking up on Ronon's part was 'impatient resignation'; Ronon had agreed to be part of the mission and as such he would do what was required of him, but it was clear he was chafing at what he, like McKay, considered to be a waste of time. The other side of the issue was the team trying to adjust to a new member. In some corner of John's mind it felt as if they were abandoning Ford, not taking on a needed, interim team component.
Before McKay had time to respond to Ronon's comment, the team emerged from a copse of trees and rounded a huge boulder to find the town. John's first impression was of a large, old-west farming community, surrounded by crops, a main street with businesses, and residential areas parallel to the central avenue. At the outskirts the team passed dwellings with smaller attendant structures that John assumed were for animals. The houses were of simple design, the streets laid out in a grid. The area was well kempt and appeared to be prosperous, but... There was no activity. In the segment of town within his view, paths, yards and streets were empty. And John felt as if he were being watched, as if, behind the curtains, everyone followed the team's progress.
John walked briskly to the nearest house and knocked firmly on the door. He turned the doorknob and entered. Single story, minimal plumbing, essentially a one-room dwelling with a few extra walls. The place looked lived-in, but empty. "Not abandoned, exactly, just no one home," he reported.
"I do not understand," Teyla remarked as the four stood in the dust of the road and observed the stillness. "I have not personally visited for several years, but these people have been our trading partners for generations. Our last trade was not very long ago. Are there no life signs?" She addressed the question to McKay, who was pulling a handscanner from a pocket.
Ronon suddenly left the group and with a few quick steps reached around the corner of a blacksmith shop and from behind a bush brought forth a squiggling, complaining fury of elbows.
"Let me go! Stop it! Put me down!"
"Quiet." Ronon had the teen by the collar of his tunic and his hold was high enough that the youth was barely touching ground as he twisted and yanked while walking on his toes.
"Ronon. Ronon! Let him go!" Teyla ordered as the two approached the team. "I believe I know him. Ehrlim?"
"Teyla! I thought it was you." At his release Ehrlim moved to place Teyla between himself and Ronon while he eyed the big man carefully. "That's why I came forward."
"You have grown so much since I last saw you," Teyla exclaimed. "Jinto is always trying to catch up on your four-year difference. With Halling as father, I think he is gaining on you," she joked. "Where is everyone? Why are you the only one here?"
John felt Ehrlim's quick perusal of himself and McKay, but the teen's gaze remained on Ronon with fear and suspicion.
"Ehrlim, I would like you to meet my friends. John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, and this is Ronon Dex," Teyla said.
Ehrlim nodded at the two smaller men, but still kept his distance and maintained a wary eye on Ronon.
Teyla grabbed Ehrlim's shoulders and turned him to face her. "Where is everyone? What has happened here?"
As if a choice had been made, Ehrlim finally turned his eyes toward Teyla. "You have to leave. And you need to be quiet."
"Ehrlim, you must tell us. What is going on?"
"Raiders."
Teyla sucked in her breath and let go of the youth. "I see no sign of a culling, but the Wraith have come?"
Ehrlim shook his head. "Only raiders. We know of three other worlds that are also raided. We have a system and are safe until the raiders leave. I am the watcher this turn. You have to leave. And you must be quiet. Go!" He pointed in the direction of the Gate. "You have to hurry!"
"But where is everyone?" Teyla wanted to know.
"I think I know," McKay answered. He adjusted his LSD and tapped a few keys. "There's a whole mass of people-" He looked up from the scanner and pointed toward an outcropping in the valley wall. "...over there, I'd say in underground caves or tunnels and judging by energy readings-" He tapped more buttons. "...probably non-people as well. It's hard to tell."
"Livestock," Ronon verified.
"Raiders?" John inquired, looking at Teyla, then Ronon.
Teyla spoke with distaste. "They usually arrive in the aftermath of a culling, when the world is still in confusion."
John said slowly, "I'm missing something. These guys are thieves. Scavengers," he clarified, "who normally take advantage of chaos to pick up a few things, but here, today-," he looked around, "no culling, no confusion, but no one stops them?"
Teyla shook her head vigorously. "They are raiders, not scavengers. Scavengers visit only vacant worlds that are abandoned. Sometimes people return after a major culling to salvage items to take to their new world, or strangers come looking for things to sell; it is an unpleasant, solitary task, but one can make a living." She gestured at the team. "We are scavengers because we go to deserted worlds seeking Ancestor artifacts." She hurried past McKay's attempt to protest, speaking intensely to emphasize. "Raiders travel in numbers. They are organized and they attack occupied worlds." She firmed her lips in disgust. "Not all humans share a kinship because of the Wraith."
"They deal in everything," Ronon inserted. "Goods, livestock," and he added meaningfully, "people."
"Okay, guys, that's it. Let's go," John ordered.
"Uh, we do need to hurry." McKay's voice shook. "There are nine scattered dots slowly moving our way." He pointed to the other side of town and drew a horizontal line with his finger.
"Search party," Ronon confirmed. "Checking buildings."
"Where is Ehrlim?" Teyla asked in alarm.
John grabbed the loop at the nape of McKay's vest and yanked the man around to head back the way they had come. "I think Ehrlim knows what he's doing, a lot better than we do. C'mon!"
With weapons in hand the group was on the run. McKay suddenly halted in John's grip. "We won't make it." He was looking at the scanner. He pointed off to the side. "Seven more."
"Crap. Do they know we're here?" John asked urgently in a hushed voice. McKay looked blank. "Are they running? Has there been a change in their speed or direction? ...Rodney!"
McKay jerked and looked down. "I don't think so."
Four against seven, and no way to make a first move. John looked around. Open ground ~ no way to make a headlong dash to the Gate undetected, no way to reach a nearby boulder or trees without being seen by the group coming through the brush, no way to hide; raiders were methodically searching buildings in town and foliage outside town. John could almost hear Ronon's thoughts ~ one person might avoid detection, but not four.
Indistinct voices were drawing nearer, accompanied by the swish and snap of vegetation being trampled. John grabbed the handscanner from McKay, switched it off and tossed it into the shrubbery alongside a house, relieved that he didn't also have to deal with a computer. He addressed his team. "Casual, calm, quiet. And be ready." If they were going to get out of this they had to avoid any ruckus that would bring the other raiders; they couldn't go up against sixteen. John eyed Rodney ~ the man was literally scared stiff. Which made it three against seven.
. . .
Author's Note: This is another story that was started, something interfered, and despite periodically having added paragraphs and whole sections, I never managed to tie it all together to finish it. The 'boost' given by reader encouragement in my previous story has helped move me to the keyboard, but my muse is being stubborn.
Shameless I am ~ I'm again soliciting feedback, or maybe virtual brownies, TNT and 'gelignite, dried crushed inspiration all mixed into a small pangalacticgargleblaster' to get things moving. Maybe like Rodney I'll work better under pressure! Is anyone interested?
Feedback (and brownies!) would be appreciated.
Thanks for reading.