Rodney sat next to Ronon, his arms crossed over his chest in a vain attempt to keep warm, and replayed the conversation between Trace and Kade in his mind. How many times had he been in the same situation? he thought as he stared out at the darkness. Colleagues demanding instant answers and not caring about him as much as his results.

Until Atlantis, Rodney reminded himself. When he had accepted Elizabeth's offer to lead the science division, he had only seen it as a way to prove to all of his detractors that he was everything they weren't. Then he'd stepped through the 'gate and realised he had found much more than an excuse to gloat at the next science conference.

Living in Atlantis had its moments of sheer terror, he thought with a wry smile. But he wouldn't trade it for life back on Earth. He had learnt more in three years living in the Pegasus galaxy than he had in thirty years living in the Milky Way. More than that, he was around people who cared about him as much as they cared about what he could do for them.

"Kind of nice," he muttered with a tiny smile.

"What?" Ronon asked.

"Nothing," Rodney replied, rubbing his forehead. He winced when his fingers found the bandage and dropped his hand back into his lap. "Just thinking."

"Should get some sleep," Ronon grunted, pulling off his duster.

A cool breeze blew across the camp, and Rodney zipped his jacket a little higher. He glanced at the townspeople sleeping in scattered clumps and tried to ignore the growing tension headache.

He was exhausted, but between the cooler night temperatures and the hard ground, Rodney wasn't sure how he was supposed to get any real rest. He shifted again, ignoring Ronon's disapproving glare.

"Don't look at me like that," Rodney grumbled. "I'm doing the best I can here."

Ronon shook his head, then with one last glance at the guards outside the stockade, he lay on his back with his leather duster pulled over him.

Rodney heard Dex's regular breathing a few minutes later and scowled. Sheppard had the same talent for falling asleep whenever and wherever he could. It was a knack the insomniac in Rodney envied.

"Lie down," Ronon ordered, never opening his eyes.

Rodney gave Dex a narrow-eyed stare, then with a long-suffering sigh, he laid down next to Dex and tried to get some sleep.

Sometime later, Rodney lay on his side, dozing, when low voices arguing nearby woke him. Now what? he mentally grumbled. He tried to sit up but was stopped by an arm braced across his chest.

"Hey!" Rodney started to exclaim.

A second hand clamped over his mouth, and Rodney immediately tried to squirm away from whoever was attacking him. He took a deep breath, intent on yelling for help, when the weight on his chest disappeared.

"Shh," Ronon ordered, removing his hand from Rodney's mouth.

Rodney lay still, forcing his breathing back to normal and tried to figure out what was happening.

It was still dark. Rodney heard the townspeople's regular breathing nearby and the dull flap of tent canvas brushed by the breeze. He was beginning to wonder if he'd dreamt the voices when he heard the crunch of footsteps near one of the tents.

"What's going on?" Rodney whispered, sitting up and staring at the tents barely visible in the moonlight.

Ronon crouched against the bars of the stockade with his back to Rodney.

"Ronon?"

Ronon glared at him, but Rodney scowled in reply and crawled over to Ronon. "Well?" he whispered.

"Something's wrong," Ronon hissed in reply.

Rodney was about to ask for more information when he heard footsteps nearing the stockade. Ronon gripped his arm, and Rodney pressed his lips together.

"You gonna tell him?" Harlan asked.

"Nothing to really say," Trace replied. "None of the obvious fixes worked, and I can't do more until it's light."

"Kade ain't gonna like that."

"Yeah," Trace admitted with a sigh. "But it's the truth. I can't snap my fingers and magically make the gun work again. I need time and light."

Rodney ducked his head at the all-too-familiar refrain.

"On your own head," Harlan replied, and Rodney heard the rustle of a tent flap.

"What else is new," Trace grumbled. There was more rustling of fabric, and then the camp was silent.

"You were right," Ronon whispered. "They can't fix it."

"Yeah," Rodney agreed, slumping against the wooden bars. Sometimes it really sucked being right all the time, he grumbled to himself.

Once he'd had a chance to study the cannon, Rodney had been surprised anyone had managed to make the gun work, much less someone without his level of knowledge in engineering. So how had Trace done it? he wondered. Luck? Some sort of innate talent? Whatever it was, Rodney was sure neither Kade nor his men cared that it was nothing short of a miracle their big gun worked at all.

Rodney thought back to his early days at the SGC. He had been well aware that no one at the command level had understood his theories on wormhole physics and the stargate network. All they cared about was results. When he was successful, it was accepted as SOP. When he failed … Rodney shuddered at the reminder of Teal'c stuck in the pattern buffer.

As he sat watching Ronon settle under the duster, Rodney felt a rare spurt of guilt that he had dumped another scientist in the proverbial soup by sabotaging the cannon.

What will Kade do to Trace? Rodney wondered. Probably more than just sending him off on a busy-work mission to Russia, he concluded.

Nothing you can do about it, Rodney reminded himself. Trace chose to join a group of bandits. He had to know what that meant if something ever went wrong. Still, he mentally argued, the cannon was functional until you came along.

Rodney blew out a breath. He wasn't used to fighting mental battles of right and wrong. He was usually right, and everyone else was wrong. He sat staring at the darkness until his eyes drooped, then laid down next to Ronon and fell into a fitful sleep.

He woke with a start when he felt someone shaking his arm. "Le'me'lone," he grumbled.

"Get up," Ronon ordered. "Guards are coming."

Rodney sat up with a groan, blinking against the morning light hitting him in the face. Most of the townspeople were awake. A few aimlessly paced the confines of the stockade. The rest spoke to each other in whispers or tried to reassure the children they would be going home soon.

Rodney stood and tried to stretch the kinks out of his back. "I'm going to be crippled for life," he grumbled.

"You're fine," Ronon replied with little sympathy.

Rodney glared at him, but Ronon ignored him.

"Breakfast," Ronon said, pointing to Trace and another man approaching them.

"Hope it's more edible than dinner," Rodney replied.

"Hands on the crossbars," the man carrying the pot ordered.

The townspeople shuffled forward, and Rodney and Ronon took their places along the edge of the stockade. Trace walked down the line, passing out the wooden bowls and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. When he reached Rodney and Ronon, Trace paused and glanced at the man ladling what looked to Rodney like a thin gruel into the bowls at the other end of the enclosure. As he turned, Rodney saw a faint bruise along Trace's jaw.

"You did something, didn't you?" Trace asked, glancing between Rodney and Ronon. "To the gun."

Rodney started to reply, but Ronon elbowed him in the side.

Trace eyed Ronon for a moment, then focused on Rodney. "Well, Kade thinks you did, and that's all that matters."

Rodney grimaced. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means -"

"No talking to the prisoners," one of the guards said, pushing Trace away from the stockade.

Trace gave Rodney a last glance, then wrapped his arms around his middle and ducked his head. The man with the pot reached their end of the line and dumped a ladle of gruel into each of their bowls.

Ronon swallowed the gruel without comment.

Rodney scowled at the contents of his bowl, then closed his eyes and slurped down his meager breakfast. Ronon took his bowl, handed both of them to Trace, and stood glaring at the guards surrounding the stockade.

Rodney stood next to him, watching the morning activity in the camp. Trace and another man rinsed the bowls in a bucket of water, then stacked them in a pile to dry. Rodney made a disgruntled face and tried not to think about the diseases he was being exposed to. Once done with the bowls, Trace disappeared inside one of the tents.

The rest of the men sat around various fires eating and drinking. Rodney noticed none of the men looked at the large tent on the other side of the camp.

"Undisciplined," Ronon muttered, shaking his head.

"What?" Rodney asked.

Ronon jerked his chin at the men sprawled around one of the fires. "Real soldiers know to use downtime to prepare for the next battle."

Rodney watched the men talking around one of the fires. He noted a few others were dozing.

Ronon snorted and fingered the hilt of the knife Rodney had given him. "Wouldn't take much to cut the ropes and break out of here. No need to wait for Sheppard."

Rodney studied the camp, then glanced at the townspeople behind him. Most of the men and women in the stockade sat staring out into space. Addie sat not far away from where Rodney and Ronon stood. A couple of the children sat beside her as she scratched something in the dirt with a stick. Rodney looked closer and realised they were playing a game similar to tic-tac-toe.

"You might make it back to Dakan," Rodney said. "But they won't. Are you suggesting we leave them?"

Ronon growled low in his throat, and Rodney saw his grip tighten on the wooden bars.

"That's what I thought," Rodney added.

The sun slowly climbed into the sky as Rodney watched the men in camp. "How long do you think it will take Sheppard to get here?" he asked a few minutes later.

Ronon shrugged and started to reply when Rodney heard raised voices coming from the large tent on the far side of the camp.

"Uh oh," Rodney muttered, glancing at Ronon.

Ronon pushed himself away from the enclosure and stood with his hands loose at his sides.

Rodney backed away from the wooden bars and noticed the others inside the stockade had stopped what they were doing and watched the camp.

"Then I'll find out!" Kade shouted. He stormed out of the large tent a moment later, followed by Wayne, and glared across the camp. "Where's Trace?" Kade demanded, kicking one of the men sleeping near the fire.

"I think he's in his tent," Harlan offered, pointing to one of the tents.

"Get him out here," Kade ordered. "I want to know the status of my gun."

Harlan gulped. "Sure thing, Kade," he muttered and hurried over to Trace's tent. He disappeared inside and returned a moment later, pushing Trace in front of him.

"Kade," Trace said, stopping in front of his fuming leader.

"Why are you still here?" Kade asked.

"I was just -"

"I don't care. You said you needed light." Kade waved his hand in the air. "It's light. Get me gun working."

Trace sighed. "I'm still not sure what's wrong -"

Kade gripped the front of Trace's shirt. "In that case, I'll get someone who does." He released Trace and pointed to Rodney and Ronon. "Which one sabotaged my gun?" he asked Wayne.

Wayne smirked and pointed at Rodney. "That one was closer to the gun. I'll bet it was him."

Rodney grimaced even as Ronon stepped in front of him.

Addie scrambled to her feet and pushed the children toward the huddle of townspeople on the far side of the stockade. Rodney couldn't blame her for wanting to get out of the line of fire.

Kade stalked over to the stockade with Wayne beside him. The rest of the men in camp crowded behind Kade, talking in whispers to each other.

"You," Kade growled, pointing a finger at Rodney. "I want to know what you did to my gun."

"Who says I did anything to it," Rodney retorted, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. "Maybe it just stopped working. Wraith tech can be so unreliable."

Kade narrowed his eyes into a hard glare.

Ronon shifted his weight and flexed his hands.

Rodney caught a glimpse of Trace lurking near the back of the crowd. He turned to Kade and added, "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

He saw Trace's petrified expression as he shook his head and felt Ronon tense beside him. "Shut up, McKay," Ronon hissed.

"Brave words," Kade growled. "Since you seem to know so much about it, you're going to fix my gun." He turned to Harlan and added, "Get him out of there."

"Not happening," Ronon replied.

"What's this?" Kade asked with a sneer. "Trying to protect your mouthy friend?"

"Something like that," Ronon replied.

"I can take him," Wayne said to Kade and cracked his knuckles. "Just give me a chance."

Ronon snorted, and Rodney shook his head.

"You think I can't?" Wayne demanded, taking a step toward the stockade.

"Get back," Kade ordered.

"But -" Wayne started to argue.

"I said get back!" Kade exclaimed. He swept his coat tail aside, and Rodney saw the particle weapon strapped to his hip. Kade rested his hand on the butt of the gun and motioned to Harlan.

"I gave you an order," Kade said, shifting his glare from Rodney to Harlan.

"Told you, he's not going anywhere," Ronon said.

"Ronon," Rodney hissed, eyeing the gun strapped to Kade's leg. "What are you doing?"

Kade unholstered the particle weapon and pointed it at Ronon. "I've been wanting to see what this would do to something other than the trees," he growled.

"Let me out of here, and you can have your chance," Ronon replied with a feral grin.

"Are you insane?" Rodney hissed.

Kade scowled for a moment longer, then pushed Harlan toward the stockade. "Get him out of there," Kade ordered.

"Umm, which one?" Harlan asked.

"The mouthy one with all of the opinions," Kade replied, flicking the barrel of the particle weapon at Rodney.

"Umm," Harlan hesitated with a glance at Ronon.

"Do it," Kade demanded. "Or the next time we hit a town, I'll leave you there to answer to the locals."

Wayne snickered and picked up a rifle leaning against one of the tents.

Harlan swallowed and stepped forward. He nodded to one of the guards, who untied the knot and opened the gate.

"You heard him," Harlan said, waving his hand at Rodney in a follow-me gesture. "Come on out of there."

Rodney glanced at the trail leading out of camp. Now would be a good time, Sheppard, he thought and sighed when there was no sign of John and Teyla coming to their rescue. He was still staring at the trailhead when he heard the sharp report of a rifle.

Several women screamed, and Rodney instinctively ducked away from the sound. Opening his eyes once the echo of the shot died, he saw a hole in the ground near his feet and Wayne standing outside the stockade with his rifle aimed at Rodney's chest.

"You were told to move," Wayne growled at Rodney as he chambered another round.

Ronon clenched his hands and stepped toward the open gate, but before he could do something they would both regret, Rodney raised his hands and stepped around Dex.

"McKay," Ronon hissed and grabbed Rodney's arm. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What I have to," Rodney replied. "I'll be fine," he added with a nervous smile. "They won't do anything to me if they think I can fix the cannon." He glanced at Wayne and lowered his voice. "I'll stall as long as I can. But since Sheppard is taking his sweet time getting here, I'm counting on you to find a way to rescue me. You can't do that if Wayne or Kade kills you."

Ronon glowered for a few moments, then released his hold. "Nothing happens to him," he growled to Kade.

"He does what he's told, and he'll be fine," Kade replied with a sneer.

Rodney scowled at the less-than-promising admission and walked out of the stockade with his hands raised. Harlan grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the stockade as the guard closed the gate and retied the knots.

"Tie his hands," Kade ordered.

Harlan took a length of rope from one of the other guards and tied Rodney's hands in front of him.

Rodney winced as the rope dug into his various bruises and scrapes. "A little blood flow to my fingers would be nice," he grumbled as Harlan knotted the rope. "How am I supposed to fix your gun with my hands tied?" he asked Kade once Harlan was done.

"Like I would let you actually touch my gun again," Kade replied, snapping his fingers. "Trace!"

The men behind Kade parted, and Trace stepped forward. Kade wrapped an arm across Trace's shoulders and pulled him close. "Since Trace can't figure out what you did," he tightened his hold, and Trace winced, "you're going to tell him how to fix it."

"And if it can't be fixed?" Rodney asked.

Kade let go of Trace and pointed the particle weapon at Rodney. "I kill you. Then I'll kill your buddy." He pointed the gun at Ronon. "Move." He stepped back, waving the particle gun between them. "Harlan, you go with them. Make sure our new friend here doesn't try to escape."

"I need to, umm," Trace pointed behind him, "get my tools." He waited until Kade gave him a stiff nod, then turned and hurried back to his tent. He reappeared a moment later, pulling a battered satchel over his shoulder.

Rodney glanced at Ronon standing with his hands clenched around the wooden bars of the stockade. He gave Dex a weak smile, then stumbled when Harlan pushed him toward the trail.

The trip down to the gun was made in silence. Rodney followed Trace down the trail, silently thankful that the path was easy to navigate, while Harlan brought up the rear. At least it's not Wayne, Rodney thought as he walked. Less chance of getting shot for no reason.

They reached the plateau where the Wraith cannon stood several minutes later. Rodney made another surreptitious study of the area, hoping to see Sheppard coming up the trail at the head of a rescue party. He didn't see anyone wearing Atlantis black and grimaced.

What was taking them so long? Rodney silently fumed, glancing at the mid-morning sun. I can't stall Trace and Harlan forever, Sheppard.

He glared at the trail as his mind bounced from frustration to fear. Maybe the problem wasn't that John was taking his sweet time. Were Sheppard's injuries worse than he'd let on? he wondered.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he muttered to himself.

If Sheppard's foot was broken and not just bruised, what then? Would Teyla come after them alone? Or would she try to get reinforcements from Atlantis before mounting a rescue? Rodney frowned, glanced at the cannon, and then toward the horizon. He calculated the distance and the time it would take for Teyla to hike back to the 'gate and ducked his head.

If Teyla went back to the 'gate, he realised, it could be the better part of a day before anyone reached Kade's camp.

"Assuming they came here straight from the 'gate," Rodney reminded himself.

"Pardon?" Trace asked, and Rodney shook his head.

"Nothing," Rodney replied, turning away from the trail.

"Get to work," Harlan ordered. "Kade wants the gun working before nightfall."

"Come on," Trace said, bobbing his head toward the cannon. "I tried to find the problem last night but couldn't get very far in the dark. Hopefully, we'll have better luck now that the sun's up."

Rodney grunted and searched the ground.

"What?" Trace asked.

"My backpack is gone," Rodney said, turning in a slow circle. "Your buddy over there," he nodded in Harlan's direction, "dropped it right here." He studied the ground again. "My tools are gone too."

"I brought tools," Trace replied, patting the satchel.

"This is a sophisticated piece of technology," Rodney argued. "Some of these components required specialised tools."

Trace shrugged and opened the satchel. "Haven't needed anything special before."

So much for that stall tactic, Rodney grumbled to himself. He made one last survey of the plateau, then followed Trace over to the cannon.

"I'm thinkin' the problem could be with the batteries," Trace said, pointing at the wooden box. He glanced at Rodney and added, "Maybe somethin' shorted?"

"Umm, okay," Rodney replied with a wary glance at the large wooden box. Just don't look too closely at the cannon, he silently pleaded.

Trace studied him for a moment, then knelt next to the wooden box housing the power supply. He placed two fingers against the bottom edge of the box, and Rodney heard a faint click. Trace released the latch on top of the box and opened it.

"So it was on purpose," Rodney murmured. "Clever."

Trace glanced at him with a shy smile. "Kade wanted to make sure no one could steal the gun, so I wired a line from the battery," he patted something inside the box that Rodney couldn't see, "to the latch as a sort of safety measure. Anyone touching the box or the latch gets a zap from the battery."

Rodney remembered the electrical shock he'd received when he touched the box. "You'll be happy to know your security system works."

Trace gave him a curious glance, and Rodney shrugged, then winced when the rope dug into his wrists.

"You can see for yourself," Trace said, pointing at the box's interior.

Rodney glanced at Harlan leaning against a rock near the trailhead leading up to the camp, then crouched next to Trace.

The inside of the box was a mass of wires radiating out from a series of red and yellow crystals aligned within a transparent housing.

"Wraith particle cannons have internal power," Rodney said. "Why did you pull the crystals out of the cannon?"

Trace looked up in surprise. "You've seen a gun like this before?"

"Mmm," Rodney replied, ignoring Trace's comment as he studied the components inside the box. "So why separate the power systems from the rest of the cannon? Another security measure?"

Tracce shook his head. "The power source for this gun," he patted the underside of the cannon, "was destroyed. And the gun for the batteries," he tapped the box with his foot, "was crushed. I wanted to see if there was a way to plug the battery for the damaged gun into the one that still worked."

Rodney forgot he wasn't talking to one of his scientists and stared at Trace. " Are you a complete idiot or merely thick? Do you have any idea how close you came to blowing yourself up?"

"It was a puzzle," Trace replied with a shrug. "I never really expected it to work."

Rodney remembered the Arcturus weapon and his failed attempts to solve an impossible puzzle. He realised the only difference between his attempt to make the vacuum energy power source work and Trace fiddling with Wraith technology he knew nothing about was that Rodney had expected his plan to succeed.

"The only reason you aren't dead is due to dumb luck. You understand that, right?"

"It wasn't that hard to figure out," Trace said.

"Not that hard …" Rodney shook his head, remembering the weeks Zelenka and the engineering team had spent crawling all over the dart they'd brought back from Thenora. "Unbelievable," he muttered and sank to the ground with his back against one of the carriage wheels.

Trace studied him for a moment, then pulled the wooden box closer. Rodney watched as he spent several minutes tracing the wires inside the box with his fingers and muttering to himself.

"Everything seems fine with the batteries," he said, looking up at Rodney.

"Power crystals," Rodney corrected with a tired sigh.

"What?"

"It isn't a battery," Rodney explained, pointing at the red and yellow crystals. "They are power crystals held in a matrix …" Rodney shook his head. "Never mind." He gave the wires and crystal packs a cursory glance. "Yes, it all looks fine."

Trace gave Rodney a measured glance, and Rodney mentally winced. You're supposed to be stalling, he reminded himself.

"Umm, okay." Trace closed the lid for the box and reset his boobytrap. "Then the problem has to be with the gun itself."

Rodney made a noncommittal noise as Trace crawled under the cannon and lay on his back. "I don't think it's a heat problem," Trace said as he studied the first set of connections between the cannon and the power box. "The last time it froze up, I had to rewire the power coup -"

"Why are you doing this?" Rodney interrupted, desperate to keep Trace from finding the missing power coupler.

"Don't know what you mean," Trace replied. He picked up a screwdriver and reached for the cover on the coupler's housing.

Rodney clenched his jaw and tried again to distract Trace.

"You're obviously intelligent." Rodney nodded at the box holding the power crystals. "A lot smarter than Kade or his men. You could do anything. Why waste your time with a bunch of thugs terrorising your neighbors?"

Trace twisted his head and glowered at Rodney.

"What?" Rodney demanded. "What would you call what you're doing?"

Trace ducked his head, then focused on the cannon. "You wouldn't understand," he replied.

"Try me."

Trace sighed and glanced at Harlan. He then squirmed out from under the cannon and sat with his shoulders hunched, staring at his hands in his lap. "Kade saved my life," he said in a low voice. "I owe him."

Rodney raised his hands and growled in frustration when he couldn't gesture. "What is it with everyone thinking they owe people these ridiculous debts?" he demanded.

Harlan glanced at them, and Rodney lowered his hands and his voice.

"Can't you see that Kade is just using you?" Rodney whispered to Trace. "Using your intelligence for his own gain?"

Trace shook his head. "I knew you wouldn't understand."

Oh, I understand, Rodney grumbled to himself. Better than you think.

"So explain it to me," he said to Trace.

Trace studied him for a moment, then sighed and sat cross-legged on the ground under the cannon. "When the Wraith attacked us last year, our village was left in ruins."

Rodney sat beside him, keeping Harlan in view from the corner of his eye. "So those of you in the camp are all that's left of your village?"

"No," Trace replied. "There are others. Most of the survivors, they stayed to try and rebuild what the Wraith destroyed. A few took their families and left, seeking refuge in one of the other villages."

"But you and your band of merry men decided that instead of doing that, you'd just pillage from anyone the Wraith left behind," Rodney said, not bothering to hide his disgust.

Trace flinched at Rodney's bald assessment. "It ain't like that."

Rodney pointed at Dakan in the valley below and snarled, "You are trying to fix a gun pointed at a town full of innocent people. It's exactly like that."

Trace scowled, and Rodney fought to get his temper under control. You're trying to get information, he reminded himself in a voice that sounded remarkably like Sheppard. Don't antagonise him.

Trace shook his head, shifted onto his knees, and reached for the housing cover.

"All right," Rodney said, raising his bound hands. "We'll table that for the moment."

Trace studied him for a moment, then sat down again.

Rodney blew out a silent breath of relief. "You still haven't explained what happened that you think you owe Kade something."

Trace looked over at Harlan and then down at his hands. "Before the Wraith came, I was a blacksmith's assistant. I've always been good with my hands." He glanced at Rodney with a shy smile. "Fixin' things just came naturally. The people in town would bring me all sorts of things, and I got real good at fixin' 'em. Eventually, I started buildin' things too."

"Such as?"

Trace picked up a handful of gravel and tossed the stones over the edge of the plateau one by one. "I, umm, designed a better heat exchanger for the smithy. Redesigned the water pumping system for the village. Things like that."

"So you and Kade were friends?"

Trace tossed a few more pebbles over the edge. "Not really. Not at first, anyway. Kade, Wayne, and some of the others, they had a reputation for gettin' into trouble when we were younger."

"What sort of trouble?"

Trace glanced up from the pebbles in his hand. "Oh, you know, drinkin' too much, gettin' into fights. Chasin' girls. I was more interested in figurin' out how to fix things or make 'em instead of carousin'. Kade eventually grew up," Trace smiled and threw the last few pebbles over the edge, "Well, a little bit, at least."

"So what happened?"

Trace dusted his hands on his trousers and sighed. "When the Wraith attacked, I was working in the smithy. A stray shot from a Wraith ship hit the building. I was, umm, trapped in the rubble."

Rodney felt a shiver up his spine and thought back to the night he and Sheppard had just spent trying to dig their way out of the partially destroyed jail. For the most part, they had been lucky. John had forced them into a corner that protected them from the worst of the debris crashing down around them. It wasn't until after the deafening noise subsided that Rodney realised that of the two of them, he could at least move. John's foot and leg had been trapped under several stone blocks.

Trace pulled up the leg of his trousers, and Rodney saw the slight bulge in his calf where the bones hadn't been set quite right. "Kade found me two days later, barely alive. He dug me out of the rubble, set the bones," Trace ran his hand over the bump on his leg, "and dragged me to the shelter some of the other survivors had built. So, you see, if Kade hadn't found me when he did …" The sentence petered out, and Trace looked down at the valley below. "I owe him," he whispered.

Rodney shook his head. "Maybe that was true a year ago. But now? Look at what's happening! From what I've seen, Kade doesn't care one way or the other about you or anyone else, for that matter. Probably never did."

Trace opened the satchel and pulled out a crude pair of pliers. "That's not true."

Rodney snorted.

"It's not," Trace insisted, pointing the pliers at Rodney. "Kade was rowdy sure, but he mellowed once he met Janey. No, this," Trace pointed at the cannon, "is all because of the Wraith."

Rodney made another frustrated attempt to gesture with his hands. "Lots of people, including the ones in that town down there, have suffered thanks to the Wraith," he exclaimed. "They didn't turn into thugs."

"Kade's not …" Trace paused and blew out a breath. "When Kade met Janey, he changed. He stopped drinkin' and fightin' and seemed to settle down. Then when his twin girls were born …" Trace smiled. "You ain't never seen a man more proud as Kade when those babes were born. He told everyone he'd been twice blessed by the Ancestors."

"Still -" Rodney started to say, but Trace interrupted.

"The Wraith culled Janey in the attack," Trace explained. "His daughters died when the village school was destroyed. They was just barely six years old. In the days after, Kade mourned for Janey and buried his two little girls."

Trace ducked his head and sighed. "Afterwards, he said all the right things, but some of us knew he wasn't right. Up here," Trace pointed to his head. "Or here," he added, pointing to his chest. "Kade would sit for hours, starin' at the graveyard behind the village. I tried talkin' to him a few times, but it didn't matter. He was too angry to listen."

Trace glanced at Rodney. "It was like he'd lost his reason for livin'. Then, a month after the attack, some of the village men found what was left of a Wraith ship in the hills." Trace patted the carriage for the cannon.

Rodney quirked his eyebrows in surprise. "You have weapons that can shoot down a dart?"

"Dart?" Trace asked with a puzzled frown.

"It's what we call the Wraith attack ships," Rodney explained.

"Oh. Umm, no. We didn't shoot it down. I think it crashed during the attack." Trace sighed. "Anyway, when Kade heard about the ship, he changed again. He was still angry, but there was a sort of manic determination in the way he moved and acted like he had found a purpose in life again.

"At first, I was relieved, you know?" Trace smiled. "Kade seemed more like his old self when he was with Janey. He didn't seem so distant anymore. I thought it was a good thing." Trace looked down at his hands in his lap. "Kade ordered some of the village men to bring the ship back to the village. Some of the people objected, but I was fascinated. Did you know some parts of the ship seemed to actually be alive?"

Rodney nodded. "Wraith technology incorporates self-sustaining organics. I've been studying …" Rodney paused and waved his bound hands. "Doesn't matter. Go on."

Trace sighed. "I spent days examinin' every inch of that ship. When I told Kade I thought I could fix parts of it, he asked if I could fix the guns. Stupidly, I said yes. He ordered me to find a way to get the guns workin' and …" Trace hesitated. "I agreed."

"Because you owed him," Rodney said.

"Yes." Trace glanced at the cannon. "I didn't know Kade planned to use it to attack people. I thought he was interested for the same reason I was. To learn more about it. To figure out how it all worked. Maybe protect our village if the Wraith ever came back." Trace hid his face in his hands. "Now it's too late. I told him once that I wanted to leave. Go back to our village. Kade said no. That he needed me to keep the gun working."

"Why, though?" Rodney muttered to himself, studying the cannon.

"Simple," Trace replied. "I'm the only one who knows how. I tried to teach a few of the others, like Wayne and Harlan, but they weren't interested."

Rodney waved his hands and shook his head. "Not that. Why is Kade doing this? Why attack your own people? They aren't a threat."

"I think …" Trace paused and gave Rodney a sad smile. "I think it's because he can't kill the Wraith who took his family away from him. He's taking his anger and hate out on the only thing he can."

Rodney thought about Ronon, consumed with the need for revenge to the point he was willing to die just for the chance to kill the Wraith commander responsible for the destruction of Sateda. Then there was Alex Vance. He had been so angry over losing his brother in Afghanistan that Vance had tried to kill him. Twice. Out of a misguided need for revenge.

Rodney had suffered losses over the last three years due to the Wraith. He swallowed as the memory of leaving Grodin alone on the weapons platform rose in his mind. Not to mention Ford left behind on a Wraith hive ship. Markham. Gall.

The difference was he had never wanted to kill someone over their deaths.

What would you do if it was Teyla? he asked himself. Or Ronon? Rodney felt a shiver run up his spine. Or John? The memory of watching a blip on a radar screen disappear moments before a hive ship exploded rose in his mind, and Rodney felt his heart skip a beat.

Maybe he just hadn't suffered the right kind of loss yet, he thought to himself. He tried to rub away the building headache and winced when his fingers found the bandage taped over his eye.

Trace sighed, lay on his back, and studied the underside of the cannon. "'Course, now that he's had a taste, he ain't goin' to stop."

"Taste?"

"Power," Trace replied. "Kade's got all these people followin' him, now." He nodded at Harlan. "He finally has somethin' he's always wanted."

"Oh?"

Trace nodded. "He was willin' to be just another farmer for Janey, but Kade has always been frustrated that he wasn't chosen for the town council and that no one ever seemed to listen to him."

"And now he's the guy in charge," Rodney finished. He glanced up the path toward the camp. And you've taken away his favorite toy, he thought to himself. Great. Any time you want to show up, Sheppard …

"Hey!" Trace exclaimed, sitting up. "The power coupler is gone."

Idiot, Rodney chastised himself. So much for distracting him.

"Did you know about this?" Trace demanded, glaring at Rodney.

Rodney glanced at the open housing and tried for an innocent expression.

"You did!" Trace exclaimed. "That's how you knew the batteries, or crystals, or whatever, weren't damaged."

"I can explain," Rodney started to say.

"Give me the part," Trace hissed, glancing at Harlan. "Quickly. If Kade finds out you deliberately sabotaged the gun, he will kill you."

Rodney shook his head. "I can't."

"I know you don't agree with what Kade is doing -"

"And you do?"

Trace waved off the question. "That's not the point. Kade won't care about what you or I think about his tactics. All he will see is someone trying to defy him. Now give me that part."

Rodney shook his head. "I couldn't give you the part even if I wanted to. It's gone."

Trace's expression shifted from frustration to fear. "What do you mean, it's gone. What did you do with it?"

"It was destroyed. Trampled."

Trace paled. "The stampede?"

Rodney nodded.

"That one of your people caused while trying to rescue the prisoners."

"Ezra is not one of my people," Rodney protested. "He did that on his own."

"It doesn't matter," Trace replied. "Kade is going to kill you, and probably me too."

"I'll think of some -" Rodney started to say but was interrupted.

"You're supposed to be workin', not jawin'," Harlan said, walking over to the cannon.

Trace swallowed and stood. "Just calm down there, Harlan. We were just discussin' things, and we think we know what's wrong with the gun."

"Then you better get to fixin' it," Harlan replied. "Kade's gonna want an update soon."

Trace and Rodney exchanged a quick glance.

"What?" Harlan asked, glancing from Trace to Rodney. Rodney saw the moment Harlan put the pieces together and gulped when Harlan raised his rifle and pointed it at Rodney. "You can't fix it, can you?"

"Harlan, wait," Trace said. He stepped toward Harlan and held his hands away from his body.

Rodney grabbed the carriage wheel and pulled himself to his feet, watching Harlan and Trace.

Harlan shook his head. "Sorry, Trace. I got my orders. You know what Kade'll do if I don't follow 'em. Kade said either he helps you fix the gun, or he gets shot. If you can't fix it … " Harlan rested his cheek against the butt of the rifle and sighted along the barrel pointed at Rodney's chest.

"Wait!" Rodney exclaimed, holding his hands out in front of him.

"Or there's a third option," a new voice said, and Rodney slumped against the carriage wheel in relief. "You can put that rifle down and surrender," Sheppard suggested, walking around the boulder near the lower path, his P-90 aimed at Harlan.