As soon as Sheppard could, he turned and fled, racing blindly through the trees, hoping that the pine needles covering the forest floor would hide his trail. His limbs still felt rubbery from the device Jenar had implanted, but they gradually loosened as he ran and soon, he felt normal again. His shoulder throbbed from where he had been shot earlier. It appeared the bullet had passed straight through, but it still caused his right arm some stiffness. The adrenaline from the fight and the stunner's effects had hid the pain until now. As it only seemed to be bleeding sluggishly, Sheppard felt that he could afford to keep moving and not spare the time to bandage it.

He was sure that ten minutes had passed but continued running. This was no time to hide. If what Jenar had said was true, they'd be able to find him no matter where he hid. He ran faster than he had ever run before, racing through the trees, fueled by adrenaline. It was only when the trees began to thin into shorter, scrubbier bushes and he saw a white expanse beyond them that he realized he had reached the desert.

Cursing, he hesitated at the thin line of dry trees that stood at the edge of a rocky expanse. The desert looked as though it used to be a giant lake bed, strewn with boulders and large rocks. There wasn't much sand, and the rocks would provide some cover, but Sheppard knew he was in deep trouble. His capture only half an hour ago meant that he was now without weapons, food or water.

There were mountains in the distance, but Gorav had told him the desert would take five days to cross at a good pace. Daytime was no time to travel in a desert, and he knew that he could never cross without water.

To stay and find water, or go?

Sheppard struck out into the desert, picking his way among the rocks. They were going to find him anyway.

It was nearing noon, with a full sun overhead, when Sheppard heard his first sounds of pursuit. It had been nearly an hour since his capture. He had managed to keep to the shade, moving at an easy jog between the giant boulders, but knew that if he didn't find water by the end of the day, he was dead. His tongue was already dry and he had stopped sweating a half hour ago. Thirst was beginning to become an obsession, and the heavy gravity of the planet made his limbs feel thick and slow. His shoulder wound had stopped bleeding, but he was sure that it was partly what was contributing to his dehydration.

Dry scrambling a hundred meters behind him caused him to stumble under the cover of a boulder just before a shot rang out, ricocheting off of a rock near where he had been standing seconds before.

There was a wordless shout, then a man's head emerged from behind a boulder fifty meters away. The man leapt across the tops of the boulders effortlessly, with no need to hide. He knew Sheppard was unarmed, but Sheppard was desperate.

The man jumped down a few meters away from where Sheppard hid, knowing his prey was close.

The Genii only had to turn his head a fraction before Sheppard was on him, silent and deadly in his quest for the gun in the man's hand. There was a short struggle, with Sheppard wrenching the man to the ground, his arm around the man's throat as the Genii desperately tried to lift his gun. Sheppard hit the man's gun arm again and again with his free hand until he was forced to let go. Grimly wrestling the shorter man to the ground, Sheppard's knee pressed against the young man's chest and his hands locked around his throat. The man had grabbed his wrists, trying to pry Sheppard off of him in order to breathe, and Sheppard shook off his weakening grip to grab a nearby rock and slam it against the man's head. Once, twice, before he went still. For a fleeting moment, Sheppard thought about finishing the Genii off, but decided against it.

Moving swiftly, Sheppard disarmed the man, transferring the pouch of food and water at the man's belt to his own. He didn't have time to tie the man up. If there was one hunter, there were bound to be more close by. Over the past few weeks he had observed that the Genii mostly hunted in pairs, so this one's partner had to be close by.

Taking a quick swig of water from the stolen canteen, Sheppard slung the gun onto his back, tightened his belt, and ran.

The water wasn't going to be enough to last him the entire journey across the desert. Sheppard was a tall, lanky man, and the water his body required was less than average, but one canteen would only last him a day. Two days at a stretch, and with the heat, he would be delirious by the end of the second day and as good as dead. He was glad he had served in Afghanistan. The heat and desert training he had experienced there had more than prepared him for this flight across the alien landscape.

Sheppard had run through the long hot afternoon without encountering anyone else, sticking to low ground and keeping behind the large boulders. As dusk fell, he climbed to the top of one of the highest boulders nearest him and lay flat, looking back towards where he had come from. One gift he found in the pouch was a pair of what appeared to be binoculars. They had a long range, and he lay in the dying sunlight, scanning the horizon.

The landscape was beautiful, strewn boulders awash in red, bronze and deep yellow light. There was a lot of volcanic rock mixed among the gigantic boulders, as well as white crystals. He suspected that long ago this may have been a volcanic bed and the mountains he was heading for may have been ancient volcanos. Dry, thorny trees grew sporadically among the rocks. How they survived with no water, Sheppard did not know.

The shadows deepened as the sun sank below the horizon, and it was as the last dying light faded that Sheppard thought he saw movement. He focused intently for several minutes on the horizon, then was rewarded with the sight of two men's heads bobbing through the rocks. They were jogging, and he quickly swept the area around them, checking for any other signs of pursuit.

Seeing nothing else, he estimated they would be on him in less than ten minutes. Climbing down from the boulder, he moved quickly, laying down the rope that was in the stolen pouch and tying one end around a narrow stone, burying the length in the sand and then hiding behind a large boulder across the way. It was a crude trap and would only serve as a surprise, but it would give him an edge.

He heard them before he saw them. Heavy footfalls and panting breaths. Daring not to venture a look from his hiding place, Sheppard listened, estimating when they would be on him and then pulled the rope.

The men went down in a tangle of limbs and Sheppard was on them, swiftly kicking their guns away and stamping on the hand of the man who had managed to grab his weapon. He aimed the stolen gun at the them.

"Freeze, or I'll kill you!" he snarled.

One of the men froze. The other, who he had disarmed, threw himself at Sheppard. The pilot sidestepped him, flipping the man easily onto his back in one smooth move and stabbing the gun into his head. The man gasped for air like a fish out of water, the air knocked out of him.

Sheppard glared at the other man, who still lay looking a bit shell-shocked on the floor. "Move and I'll kill him," he threatened in a low voice.

Moving back slightly, he motioned to the wheezing hunter. "Move slowly. Keep your hands where I can see them. Take the rope out of your bag and tie him up."

The man did as he was told, tying his comrade as Sheppard instructed. Sheppard let the gun hang from his shoulder as he tied the man next to his comrade and then rechecked all their knots. Ripping some cloth from each of their shirts, he stuffed it in their mouths, fashioning a crude gag, before raiding their belongings and giving them each a swift pat down. He discovered five knives hidden on the men in varying sizes. Feeling a bit like Ronon, he dumped them all into the pouch at his waist, slung their canteens over his shoulder, and stuffed their food packets into the pouch as well. He slung both their guns onto his back to join the third and then swiftly turned and melted into the darkness.

He couldn't afford to sleep tonight. That was two men who were probably ahead of the pack, although if anyone was able to move more swiftly, it could be that there were even men in front of him now. He was sure Jenar would have ordered the men to spread out and comb the desert floor. It would be easy to get lost in the maze of boulders if you didn't have a general direction to head in. Sheppard at least knew that he was heading towards the rising sun. As far as he was aware, the Genii didn't know that he knew where the Stargate was and hoped that would slow their search.

Feeling burdened by the weapons he had accumulated, he fixed the bullet casings to his belt and buried the two guns under a rock, keeping only one. The knives he shoved into his boots, belt and right armguard. He had enough water to last him on his journey across the desert, but now he had to be more cautious and avoid being found.

He had not been moving for more than fifteen minutes when a pebble falling from the rocks above caused him to whirl, the gun snug against his left shoulder and he fell to one knee. He saw nothing, but the hairs on the back of his neck rose when he realized his mistake and didn't turn in time to meet his attacker.

A man's body slammed at him from out of the darkness, bowling them both over. Sheppard's arm was twisted in the gun's sling and for a brief second, he was thankful he hadn't tried to fire with his wounded arm.

They rolled across the sandy ground, grunting and panting as each tried to wrestle the other down. Sheppard saw the glint of a blade in the moonlight and was barely able to lift his wounded arm to grab the man's wrist before he could slam the knife into his chest. The hunter sat astride him, bearing down with the blade, deadly intent in his eyes.

"You killed my partner," the man breathed.

"I've killed a lot of guys," Sheppard retorted.

"Left him in the desert to die. Pretty cruel if you ask me," the man responded.

Sheppard gritted his teeth. "Don't ... tell me about cruel."

He brought a knee up and managed to hook his ankle around the man's neck, pulling the Genii off and twisting their positions in a judo move that Ford would have been proud of. Sheppard had a good hand on the knife as the tip pressed against the man's throat, but he was reluctant to finish him.

The flash of another blade in the man's free hand changed his mind. The man tried to draw another knife from his belt and stabbed it towards Sheppard's thigh. Miraculously, the blade missed and slid across the leather.

"I'm sorry," Sheppard said. And he threw his weight into the blade. Hot blood spurted up at him as he hit the jugular. He pulled the knife out and threw it away, staggering back in the sand.

For a moment, he watched the dark blood pooling in the white sand, then shook himself, picked up his gun, and ran.