HUNT AND RUN
by Aaron Rosenberg
An original publication of Fandemonium Ltd, produced under license from MGM Consumer Products.
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METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER Presents
STARGATE ATLANTIS™
JOE FLANIGAN TORRI HIGGINSON RACHEL LUTTRELL JASON MOMOA
with PAUL McGILLION as Dr. Carson Beckett and DAVID HEWLETT as Dr. McKay
Executive Producers BRAD WRIGHT & ROBERT C. COOPER
Created by BRAD WRIGHT & ROBERT C. COOPER
STARGATE ATLANTIS is a trademark of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc.
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© 2010 Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. All Rights Reserved. Photography and cover art: © 2004-2010 MGM Global Holdings Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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For Dave, Peter, and Jenness, who let me bounce ideas off them — and for Jen, Arthur, and Adara, as always.
Prologue
“Is everything set?”
A shadowy figure moved through the dark, feet placed precisely to create no sound and leave no trace. She stopped beside two other shadows; these crouched down, fingers flickering as they worked.
“Almost, Lanara,” one replied softly.
“Good here,” the other, Misa, added, straightening.
“And here,” the first one, Adarr, agreed, standing as well.
“Fine. Move out.” Lanara turned and retraced her steps just as silently as before, now with two additional shadows at her back. “Ready, Nekai,” she called as she neared.
“On your mark,” a new voice answered, its words emerging without a point of origin.
Lanara shifted, sliding beyond the edge of the dark. She paused only long enough for Misa and Adarr to join her. “Mark.”
Behind them, a light began to blink on a panel. And somewhere, a klaxon began to wail. But here there were none but shadows to hear it.
“Now,” Lanara whispered as they departed, “we wait.”
Chapter One
“Okay, this is ridiculous,” Rodney commented as he strapped himself in. “Does anyone else think this is ridiculous?”
“No, Rodney, no one does,” Sheppard replied, most of his attention on the console as he powered up the Jumper and signaled the monitor crew to activate the gate. “It’s just you.”
“What’s ridiculous?” Teyla asked, and Sheppard rolled his eyes at her. Why did she have to encourage Rodney’s rants? Ronon, at least, knew better than to answer.
“This.” Rodney indicated the Jumper and them. “This mission. Some ship we’ve never heard of before sends out a distress call and we go running to the rescue? Why? What are we, the interstellar version of AAA? ‘Oh, don’t worry, ma’am, it’s just your drive coil — we’ll have you flying again in no time’?”
“We help people,” Sheppard reminded the scientist through gritted teeth, even as he maneuvered the Jumper through lift-off and through the gate in front of them. The familiar distortion kept him from adding anything else for a second. “It’s what we do,” he finished after he’d recovered from the disorientation. As always, he wondered if that would ever disappear — would he ever be able to pass through a gate without his brain and his senses taking a few seconds to adjust?
Probably not.
Now that he was able to focus again, however, he started checking their surroundings. The gate they’d come through was the free-floating kind, he saw, and it hung in outer space, its rippling surface and the glowing sigils around it edges providing weak illumination against the stark backdrop of space and distant stars. There wasn’t any sign of a ship nearby, so he began scanning for the distress signal. There!
“I’ve got a lock on it,” he told the others. “Maybe ten, fifteen minutes away. Hang on.” And he set the Jumper to close in on the other ship’s coordinates.
“Yes, but why do we do it?” Rodney was insisting. “It’s a valid question, you have to admit. Why do we help these people? Our mission is to explore this region, to catalog everything we find, and to improve our own knowledge, technology, and resources. How does fixing the flat on someone’s space jalopy add to any of that?”
“They might be a new race we have not encountered before,” Teyla pointed out. “And by helping them we earn their good will.”
“Great, that and two bucks’ll get you a cup of coffee,” Rodney muttered.
“It’s karma,” Sheppard told him. “You help them and sooner or later it comes back to you. That’s how the universe works.” At least he fervently hoped so — admittedly he was still waiting for returns on many of those investments.
“It’s not about getting something back,” Ronon announced. Sheppard turned around, surprised the big guy was even participating — usually he stayed silent during these constant arguments, watching the rest of them and frowning as if they were behaving like idiots. Which, admittedly, they often were. Teyla and Rodney were staring at the Satedan as well. “You help because it’s the right thing to do,” he continued. “That’s what separates us from animals.”
Not surprisingly, Rodney recovered from the shock first. “Wow, thank you for that staggering insight,” he sneered. “Ironic, hearing a lecture on morals from an unfeeling caveman.” Ronon glanced at him, not even a glare really, and Rodney shrank back but didn’t apologize. Then again, when did he ever?
“Ronon is not unfeeling,” Teyla defended her friend. She ignored the ‘caveman’ comment — they were all used to Rodney’s snide remarks, especially toward Ronon. “He has feelings just as anyone else does. But he has learned to do what is necessary, and to do so without that hesitation which could be fatal.”
“A fact,” Sheppard hastened to point out, “that’s saved your butt more than a few times.”
“Yes yes, I’m grateful for his reflexes and his martial skills,” Rodney acknowledged. “But that has nothing to do with this. We help others because it’s right? Because it shows we’re not animals? That’s just an excuse not to think about it. Really, I want to know — what do we get out of this?”
“Maybe,” Sheppard growled, reaching the all-too-familiar limit of his tolerance for Rodney, “they’ll have some magic way to shut you up. That would be worth any price.”
Teyla laughed and even Ronon grinned.
“Oh, ha ha,” Rodney grumped. But at least he didn’t continue the argument. Sheppard estimated it would take at least a minute before the scientist burst out with something inane again.
By then they’d be at the other ship. Hopefully that would keep him too occupied to speak further.
* * *
“There she is,” Sheppard pointed out a few minutes later, cutting Rodney off mid-breath and mid-argument. The silence had only lasted a minute before Rodney had felt compelled to pick up the same whine as before. But seeing the ship materialize on-screen brought his scientist self to the fore,
and cut off any other complaints he might have been about to make.
“Standard configuration for a local ship,” Rodney confirmed after a second of scanning the readouts. “Short-range, too. What’s it doing way out here? Have we got any planets within range?”
“A few,” Teyla responded, tapping her own console for confirmation. “But none inhabited. That is strange.”
“Are you picking up anyone onboard?” Sheppard asked. He was already looking the other ship over, trying to decide the best angle from which to approach. They’d use the Jumper’s ceiling hatch rather than the rear cargo door — it was smaller and wouldn’t leak out as much of the cargo bay’s atmosphere. There were ports on both sides, so he’d pivot the Jumper, bringing it in on its side so the ceiling hatch lined up with one of those. It would be easiest to come at it from the far side, looping under and around. That’d also give him a chance to make sure there wasn’t anyone lurking beneath it, too. He’d had a few too many ambushes sprung on him not to be cautious.
Behind him, Ronon obviously shared his concerns. “No outward weaponry,” the Satedan pointed out. “No shields, either. Definitely not a military vessel or even a proper scout ship. Most likely civilian, possibly merchant.”
“Which again begs the question, what is it doing out here?” Rodney interrupted himself as his console chimed. “I’ve got life-signs!” he announced. “Seven of them, all strong.”
“Hailing now.” Teyla was already typing in commands. “No reply,” she said after a moment.
“We’re still getting the distress beacon,” Ronon commented, “but they may be unable to respond further.”
“I’d say so,” Rodney told him, “seeing as how responding would require power and they haven’t got any!”
“If it’s powered down — ” Teyla began, but Sheppard had jumped to the same worry himself.
“ — then they’ve got no life-support,” he finished for her. He kicked their speed up a notch, and began the arc of the turn. “I’m bringing us in fast as I can — every second could count here!”
The others began suiting up while he piloted. Their MOPP gear wasn’t actually a spacesuit and wouldn’t last long in a total vacuum, but they would serve to get from the Jumper to the injured ship. Once inside, they’d keep out any airborne contaminants and could regulate body temperature. Each suit also had a small air canister and could recycle that for ten to twenty minutes if there wasn’t any other air present. Hopefully that would be enough. They did have one actual spacesuit on the Jumper, but Sheppard didn’t want to use that unless it was absolutely necessary. “I see no signs of damage,” Ronon pointed out once he had his protective suit in place. He was leaning on the back of Sheppard’s chair, peering over him out the front, but Sheppard had neither the time nor the energy to care. Besides Ronon knew better than to get in his way while he was flying. And he was right, anyway — the distressed ship looked structurally intact. No blast holes, no missing pieces, not even any major dents. Hell, it was in better shape than their Jumper!
“So if it’s not hurt,” Rodney asked, “why is it just floating here?”
“There could be any number of reasons,” Teyla reminded him. “The most likely is some form of internal power failure.”
“Or poison gas,” Ronon added darkly.
That earned him a glare from Rodney. “Oh, great! You just had to say that, didn’t you? What if our gas masks aren’t enough to deal with something like that? What if it’s acidic and eats right through our suits? Huh? What then?”
Ronon shrugged. “Then we die.”
“That’s your answer? Just like that?”
Sheppard could feel Ronon shrug again through the chair. “Hopefully,” he agreed. “It could be long and drawn-out and painful instead.”
“If you’re so eager to check,” Rodney managed after a moment of stunned silence, “maybe you should just go in by yourself!”
“We’re all going in,” Sheppard told him sharply. He spun the Jumper lightly on its axis, and eased the engines off just as their roof nudged up against the side of their target. The impact wasn’t even rough enough to count as a scrape. Damn, he was good! “The MOPP suits can handle it,” he assured Rodney as he stood and accepted his gear from Teyla. “And if the suit scanners do pick up anything beyond their rating we’ll back off at once and quarantine the entire ship, okay?”
“Fat lot of good that’ll do us after we’ve already been exposed,” Rodney muttered, but he fell into line a minute later as Sheppard led them through the bulkhead door into the cargo hold, and then to the Jumper’s ceiling access hatch.
“All set?” Sheppard asked everyone. He got two nods and a grumble he took to mean yes. “Then here we go.” He reached up and punched the release switch, and the hatch hissed open. The shuttle’s door was right beside them, inches away, and he simply grabbed the handhold beside their hatch and pulled himself up so he could hit the door’s access panel. It slid open — good thing it didn’t open outward! — with a faint hiss. Beyond it he could make out only darkness.
“Hello? Anybody home?” Sheppard hauled himself through both doors, taking a second to let his body reorient so the shuttle floor was ‘down.’ “Avon calling!”
“If we die,” Rodney warned as they clambered one after the other into the distressed ship, “I’m blaming you!”
“Fair enough.” Sheppard stepped to the side once he was through, allowing the others in, then closed the door behind them. No sense letting any possible contagions onto the Jumper if they could avoid it. Rodney was a coward and a complainer, but he wasn’t stupid and he did occasionally have some valid concerns. “Okay, let’s have a look around.”
They split up, though in a ship this size that didn’t mean much — even when he had reached the far hull Sheppard could turn around and see the others’ faces within their helmets. The Jumper had room for a crew of four and perhaps another six to eight passengers. This ship would be lucky to fit eight total. Especially since it didn’t have any seats in the back section.
“Light cargo,” Ronon guessed, completing a sweep of the interior. “Only the two seats up front, pilot and copilot, and the rest is cargo space.”
“And no sign of anyone,” Teyla added. “No bodies, no remains, nothing.”
“I’m not seeing any interior damage, either,” Rodney pointed out, sweeping a handlight along the walls and particularly over the panels. “I’d have to crack everything open to be sure, but at least on the surface there’s nothing to indicate why this thing isn’t zipping along somewhere.”
“Distress beacon was activated,” Sheppard reminded them, gesturing toward the front console, where a small light blinked on and off. “Somebody hit it. And this thing is dead in space, so something happened. We just need to figure out what.” Something about all this was bugging him, though. He just couldn’t put his finger on it right away.
Rodney didn’t have any such problem. “There’s nobody here,” he declared suddenly.
“I think we got that,” Teyla told him.
“No, listen,” the scientist insisted. “There’s nobody here. So where did those life-signs come from?”
It was Ronon who answered — sort of. “We need to leave,” he announced. “Now!”
“What? Why?” Sheppard turned but the Satedan was already striding back toward the shuttle door. “Hey, hold up, big guy! What’s going on?”
“We need to get off this ship at once,” Ronon insisted. “And touch nothing!” That last comment was directed sharply at Rodney, who had been in the act of reaching for an instrument panel near the front console.
“But if I can get in here — ” Rodney started to protest.
“Leave it!” Ronon repeated. “Or viruses will be the least of your worries!”
That shut Rodney up and got him moving in a hurry. By the time he reached the rest of them Ronon had the door open. He ushered them all through before leaping back into the Jumper himself. Then he pulled the shuttle door shut again, b
ut he didn’t shut the Jumper’s ceiling hatch.
“We need to push off,” he said instead. He gestured toward one of the collection nets that hung from a rack above one of the rear seats. “Sheppard, give me a hand.”
Sheppard knew better than to argue — Ronon never did anything without a darn good reason, and most of the time that reason was their immediate survival. The Satedan had survived seven years as a Runner, after all — and if being chased nonstop by the entire Wraith empire didn’t teach you to recognize danger signs, Sheppard wasn’t sure what could!
He handed Ronon the net and watched as the Satedan reversed it and used the butt of its handle to shove off against the shuttle’s hull. He could see Ronon’s muscles straining, and after a second the constant pressure nudged the two ships apart. Once they were separated the Jumper’s own slight momentum carried it further, and the impact against the empty ship forced it to drift in the opposite direction, widening the gap.
“Be ready to engage the ship’s drive,” Ronon warned as he finally pulled the ceiling hatch closed and air began to filter into the cargo hold again. Their MOPP gear had held — barely. “But don’t activate it until we’ve gained more distance.”
“Got it.” Sheppard hurried back into the cockpit and slid into his seat, not bothering to remove his suit, and began but didn’t finish his preflight checklist. “So, want to tell us what’s going on?”
“Later,” was the only answer he got. “Once it’s safe.”
Couldn’t argue with that, Sheppard decided. The rest of the team had joined him back in the cockpit and had closed the bulkhead door behind them, slipping into their usual seats. He sat impatiently, one hand poised over the engine controls, until he caught Ronon’s nod. Then he fired everything up and immediately spun the ship around, putting its back to the other vessel —
— which was why the blast propelled them forward when the distressed ship exploded.
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