Thanks to Oparu for beta'ing- yes, it's been a while. That's because of school (eye twitch) and stupid essays. But I've updated, no matter how short. And I love you reviewers--keeps the plot bunnies biting.
They'd only been walking about fifteen minutes before John put up a hand to stop them. Rodney hadn't been paying attention and ran directly into Ronon's back, and stuttered an apology before being quieted by the Satedan. Elizabeth couldn't figure out what was wrong, but from watching Teyla and John's expressions, she knew something was amiss. The slight wind unnerved her, and she unconsciously shivered.
Teyla turned to her, her hand firmly wrapped around the butt of her P-90. She pulled on Elizabeth's arm, leading her behind an outcrop of rock, with the other three following. Ronon kneeled beside her, his weapon out and ready. Though it should have reassured her, Elizabeth felt no more at ease than she had been five minutes ago. She couldn't stop herself from peeking out behind the boulders, and no one stopped her. In fact, John was doing the same thing five feet away.
She wasn't trained in military tactics. She knew nothing of the stealth techniques the team was using, but she could tell someone was out there. The long grasses waved in the breeze, but in certain parts they were still. Focusing her eyes on one of them, she could barely make out a shape on the ground. She forced herself to stare at him until she could be convinced he was real.
She got her proof—he'd moved. Just the tiniest bit, but she'd been watching him. At the same time, she got a flash of a glint off a gun muzzle, and lowered her head slowly behind the rock. She'd be fine right here, thank you.
John had seen it too, and muttered a curse before motioning to the others. He silently told Elizabeth and Rodney to stay there, while he, Teyla, and Ronon would attempt to flush out the ambushers. They nodded their agreement, and he dropped into a ready crouch, followed closely by the other two.
Rodney pulled out his pistol and checked the clip, though it was full. Elizabeth reluctantly did the same, the gun feeling unfamiliar and wrong in her hands. However, sometimes there was no choice; sometimes you had to fight. It didn't matter how much she didn't want to.
She heard John's voice ring out over the still landscape, tentatively probing the atmosphere. "Hey, this isn't quite the welcome we were expecting."
The answer was abrupt, clipped, and sounded slightly foreign. "Who- who be you?"
John looked in confusion at the rock. "Uh, it's John Sheppard and company, with our negotiator." He stopped when they began to whisper. "I can't understand them," he said, more to himself than the team.
Elizabeth listened hard. The whispers sounded familiar, but seemed incomplete, or at least muddled. She understood only parts of words, but what she could understand sounded suspiciously like Ancient. She listened again—yes, there was the word for "tell", and another for "people". The forms of words were odd, but she took in what she could and didn't like what she heard.
"That's Ancient," Rodney said, dragging himself to his feet, all the while watching her closely. "Isn't it?"
She nodded, concentrating. "Partly. It's—simplified, kind of, or at least a different form. They're saying…something about the Aldorans, I think. It…they. Death? No, kill. Killed. They killed them," she concluded, her expression morphing from confusion to fear.
John turned to her, taking a deep breath. "Are you sure?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No." At John's sigh, she added, "but I'm pretty sure that's what they said."
"Here- trade?" The voice from across the field startled them, and John looked at Elizabeth in vain.
"Uh, tell them we aren't going to hurt them," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Though I'm not sure it's going to matter."
Elizabeth blinked, and let off a string of Ancient dialect, as close to their language as she could muster.
There was silence, but the reply was hurried. The team heard a garble of syllables, but Elizabeth could decipher almost all of their answer. "You speak the language of the Ancestors," she relayed to the team. Their next sentence was easier. "How?"
John bit his lip, and advised, "Don't tell them about Atlantis, whatever you say."
She nodded, and began to talk. She'd fight with her preferred weapon: words.
The first burst of gunfire startled her. Her talk had been going fairly well, with only a few mishaps that involved a misunderstanding of words. She'd been able to tell them they came to trade with the Aldorans, and they'd replied that they hadn't seen them. She knew that was a lie, but she continued talking. It'd finally culminated in a question she'd posed: where do you come from? That's when the first weapons fire hit the rock, sufficiently melting it and her jacket. She'd been the only one leaning against the rock, and it proved to be a mistake. She managed to muffle the cry of pain as the heat hit her skin, but whimpered as she was dragged away by someone's hands—Ronon's? Rodney's? She couldn't tell. Her back was felt as if it were on fire, and there was a sizable hole in the rock.
John leaned his gun on the top of the rock. "Are you okay?" he asked Elizabeth, turning to face her.
She wanted to scream "God, no", but she suppressed it. He saw the pain in her eyes, Rodney's horrified expression at the view of her burned skin, and made his own conclusions. "Dammit," he swore, talking again to the boulders.
Elizabeth closed her eyes as pain lanced through her. Teyla pressed down on a particularly burned area and she half-screamed before she could stop herself. Rodney had rummaged through his vest before coming up with something that was equal to morphine, and she took it immediately.
"What the hell kind of weapon was that?" John asked as he watched her flinch. He peeled his eyes away from her pained face and looked squarely at Ronon.
He shrugged. Teyla answered for him. "I have never seen a handheld that has delivered so much destructive power."
Ronon looked out at the still grass. "We don't stand a chance against them if they've all got those."
The shooters yelled something again in Ancient. The team turned expectantly to Rodney, whose eyes widened. He shrunk away from the inquisitive glares. "I don't know Ancient—"
Through Elizabeth's haze of pain, she heard the phrase and unconsciously deciphered it. "Come out. They're saying 'come out'," she translated, keeping her voice mostly steady. "Come out or die."
John looked from her to the field. "We can't—" His sentence was cut short by another energy burst, which hit his P-90 squarely on the muzzle. He ducked, and the shot missed his head by inches, leaving the slight odor of burned hair. Looking at his gun, he tossed it aside. The barrel had completely melted. It seemed they had no choice.
Gotta love the Lizzie angst! Review if you want to, I'm not a review whore. I like them, though, and they brighten up my day, no matter if they're positive or constructive criticism.