Stranded

Chapter 5

Ronon Dex stood with his arms folded across his chest, and eyed the small scientist. Radek Zelenka had been working non-stop for the last ten hours, feverishly concocting a computer program that would sort through the mountains of gate addresses stored in the Atlantis computer system.

Now, the quiet little man was half-awake, his program complete, and the computer churning through the data. Ronon, unable to sleep, and unwilling to admit to his concern over the fate of McKay, had found himself in the lab, standing sentinel and watching the physicist as he and his assistants worked.

Radek twitched as his eyes drooped shut. Leaning over, Ronon touched the man lightly on his shoulder and looked into his surprised, exhausted face.

"Get some sleep. I will wake you if anything happens," Ronon advised. He waited for the objections, the assertions that only he, Dr. Radek Zelenka, was capable of monitoring the system, but received none. Zelenka only nodded, then crossed the room to the cot standing in the corner. Without another word, he removed his glasses, collapsed onto the bed, and was fast asleep within moments.

Ronon took the seat before the computer screen, amazed at the scientist's compliancy. If it had been McKay, Ronon knew that his offer would have been received with a sneer, a snide remark and a shake of the head. Zelenka was much easier to deal with, that was certain.

But, still, he wasn't McKay. When Ronon Dex had first been offered membership to the most elite off-world team on Atlantis, he had been reluctant to accept for a number of reasons. Could he still take orders, especially from someone like Sheppard, a man he barely knew? Did he want to be a part of a team, or was he too accustomed to working alone? And could he actually work with a man as arrogant, as controlling, as…..cowardly as Rodney McKay?

Ronon shook his head as he watched the data scroll across the screen. McKay was no coward…he just wasn't very brave. And there was a difference. The scientist masked his multitude of fears and self-doubt with sarcasm and sharp complaints, but there was strength in the man. And, remarkably, there was honor.

And, although he was loathe to admit it, Ronon liked McKay. Sheppard had warned him that the scientist grew on you, to the point when you even began to enjoy the sarcasm and wit that spewed from Rodney's mouth. Ronon liked nothing more than baiting the physicist, waiting for the opportunity to jerk the man's chain. To the runner, Rodney McKay was a source of unending amusement.

But, Ronon thought, McKay was also his teammate, the chief scientist of Atlantis, a genius who managed to figure out ways to save their collective asses whenever they were threatened. And McKay was also his friend, whether Ronon was willing to admit it or not. Like Sheppard, the runner was having a hard time doing nothing, waiting and sitting, while McKay was probably dead or dying.

The computer beeped. Ronon sat up in his chair, his eyes reading the screen. His Ancient was rudimentary at best –Teyla had been teaching him the language – but he thought he could make out a gate address.

"Zelenka! Wake up – I think we've got something!" Ronon rose out of his chair, reaching down to shake the scientist awake. Radek sat up with a snort, then adjusted his glasses as he raced to the screen. As he read the information, a slow smile began to take shape on his face.

"Ronon, please contact Dr. Weir. We need to send a MALP."

oOo

Rodney McKay made it to the top of the ravine before collapsing in a heap, his breath coming in short pants, his mind teetering on unconsciousness. It had taken him more than an hour to scratch and claw his way up, grabbing on branches and rocks, scrabbling for footholds. More than once he slid backwards, falling and sliding on the unforgiving surface. His wound had reopened, and blood was once again pouring onto his shirt. Rodney had ignored the pain, ignored the new cuts and scrapes his hands and face were receiving, ignored the exhaustion overwhelming him. His focus was the top of the cliff.

And here I am. I think I'm gonna puke again.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the nausea to pass. He felt hot, and icy cold at the same time, and he suspected that he had a fever. Shock, maybe an infection, was starting to envelop him, and Rodney knew he had better keep moving.

Rest – just a minute more. Then I'll go.

He remained immobile for another long minute, then, with a groan, he propped himself up on one arm. Glancing at his shirt, he shrugged off his backpack, then removed more bandages from the rapidly emptying first-aid kit. He grimaced at the sight of his wound, which was bleeding freely now. Dried blood caked his belly, and he struggled to keep his stomach contents where they belonged. He re-bandaged his abdomen, popped a couple of aspirin, and swallowed some water.

"This is McKay. Can anybody hear me?" He played with the radio again, hoping that now that he was out of the ravine, he might get a signal. Nothing. Disappointed, but not surprised, he re-packed his gear, took one more swig of water, and staggered to his feet. He glanced around, trying to get his bearings.

Now, which way to the gate? Hmmm….

His eyes peered at the brush, and he nodded in satisfaction at the signs of broken twigs. Yup, this was the way. At least, he thought this was the way. Thank God he had listened to Teyla and Ronon when they were teaching him various tracking methods. Resigned, he took a step forward, ignoring his slight sway as he moved. He was making progress – he was out of the ravine. Onward to the gate.

TBC