Swell. “I can’t just go to sleep upon command!” Rodney whispered, but Ronon didn’t react. The Satedan had demonstrated plenty of times that he possessed that military knack for falling asleep instantly, though Rodney knew if there was danger Ronon would be awake again at once and fully alert. But he didn’t share that skill. He needed quiet, and calm, and a comfortable bed, and a soft pillow, and a warm blanket, and music playing, and —
Before he could even finish his list, Rodney was asleep.
“What is your name?” The masked figure loomed over Sheppard, leaning in close enough that he could make out angry blue eyes through the tinted goggles.
“Mickey Mouse,” Sheppard replied. He resisted the urge to spit, but did deliberately stick out his bottom lip. That caused his answer — and the hot air that went with it — to angle directly into his questioner’s face. The goggles fogged instantly, making the figure recoil and tear them off so he could see properly. Yep, blue eyes, and set in a narrow, pale-skinned face, Sheppard noticed. Human, unquestionably, but then he’d already figured their captors weren’t Wraith. This just wasn’t their style.
“Tell me the truth!” His interrogator struck him hard across the face, the blow knocking Sheppard’s head back against the rock behind him.
“Sure,” he answered, wincing slightly as he shifted away from the boulder. “What do you want to know?”
“Who are you, and why are you here?” The blue-eyed man demanded.
“We’re here because you idiots tried to blow up our ship!” Sheppard snapped, and instantly regretted it as his captor struck him again. “Look,” he continued more quietly, when the pain had died down enough for him to think clearly again. “What do you want from me? We’re not a threat to you — hell, I don’t even know who you are! And we only came this way because we picked up the distress signal you left on that shuttle. Let us go and we’ll leave and you’ll never have to see us again.”
The man laughed, a short, bitter sound. “You think I’d fall for that?” he asked. “You were just in the area and heard the distress signal? You’ll leave and never come back? Sure.”
“I didn’t say we were in the area,” Sheppard pointed out. “You’ve probably got scanners — you know we came through the Stargate. But yes, we’ll leave you alone. We aren’t interested in whatever you’re doing. We only came because we thought you needed help.”
“Or because you thought we were helpless,” the man corrected angrily, “and wanted to take us when we couldn’t fight back.” He hit Sheppard again, but this blow was more of an afterthought, a casual backhanded slap not really meant to hurt but that showed how helpless Sheppard was at the moment.
And that was plenty helpless.
Their captors had half-led, half-dragged him and Teyla across several foothills and to a small ledge along one of the steeper hills. They’d both had their hands bound behind them already, and gags tied across their mouth, but once they reached the ledge their legs were tied as well. A small smokeless fire provided a little heat and light against the cold winds that had risen as the sun had vanished, just enough warmth to keep Sheppard and Teyla from freezing to death as they huddled together, shivering.
Two more strangers had arrived just after dark, carrying on a whispered conference with the original four, but that seemed to be the extent of the group. They’d kept their facemasks and goggles on, at least as long as Sheppard could see them, so he hadn’t gotten a good look at anyone, but they were all armed, all wore the same armored jumpsuits, and all moved with the grace of experienced hunters. Which they clearly were, given how easily they’d captured him and Teyla.
The question was, what had they been hunting with that shuttle and now here on this miserable excuse for a planet?
And what did they do with their captures?
He’d apparently exhausted his captor’s patience, because Sheppard found himself being hauled to his feet and dragged back to the fire at the center of the ledge. Teyla was still there, and Sheppard was glad to see she didn’t look hurt in any way. Either these guys weren’t willing to interrogate a woman or they’d simply decided to start with him and keep at him until he broke. Or died.
Sheppard hoped they were patient.
“Are you all right?” Teyla asked softly as the blue-eyed captor shoved Sheppard hard enough to make him stumble. She caught him on her shoulder before he could bash his head against the rocky ground, and with a few nudges and hip-checks helped him twist around so he could sit upright again.
“I’ll live,” he replied just as quietly, “or at least I will until they get tired of this game.”
He’d wondered how sharp the blue-eyed man’s hearing was. It proved to be sharp enough. “You think this is a game?” the man demanded, grabbing the front of Sheppard’s shirt and hauling him up again, far enough that Sheppard’s knees were off the ground. The captor was still hunched over at that point, and Sheppard realized he’d be as tall as Ronon if he stood up fully. Great.
“This is no game,” the man continued, shaking him vigorously. “This is your life! You will tell us what we want to know if you wish to have any chance to survive to the morrow!”
One of the other captors approached, resting a hand on the first one’s arm. This one was shorter, and something about the gait suggested female to Sheppard, though he couldn’t be sure. If it was a woman, she was slender enough that any curves were hidden by her jumpsuit. “Enough,” she said, and her voice, though deep, confirmed his guess as to her gender. “You won’t get anything out of him that way.”
The first one dropped Sheppard like a heavy trash bag. “Maybe not,” he agreed, “but it makes me feel better.”
The second captor studied Sheppard and Teyla for a second, and he wondered if he might have found a potential ally. Her next words crushed that hope. “I say just kill them and be done with it,” she offered, her voice showing no more concern than if she’d been commenting on a distant rock formation. “Kill them, go after their friends, and move on.”
“We need to know who they are, where they came from, and what they know,” the blue-eyed man insisted. “They could be bait!”
“They are bait,” the woman replied. “Bait for their friends. Bait we’re using in our trap. Not bait for a trap for us.”
“How do you know that?” Those blue eyes were wide, darting here and there. Sheppard could almost smell the tall man’s panic. “How can you be sure?”
“We’re not part of a trap,” Sheppard offered. “We were just trying to help.” He was glad Rodney wasn’t here to tell him “I told you so” about the danger of helping strangers, though he hoped the scientist would get here soon. Or rather, he hoped Ronon would get here soon, and would have Rodney safely in tow. He wasn’t sure how much longer these people’s patience would hold out.
His comment earned him a swift, hard kick from the woman. He managed to twist enough to take it in the side instead of the head, but the tip of her boot caught him right between two ribs, producing an explosion of pain all along that part of his torso. “Shut up!” she warned him in a hiss. “Bait doesn’t get to talk!”
“Then why does he keep telling me to?” Sheppard muttered, winning a second kick for his sense of humor. I always knew being a smart-ass would be the death of me, he thought as he determined to lie there and shut up rather than give her another excuse. Not that it seemed she needed one.
“Leave them,” one of the others called out — Sheppard thought it was the one who’d arrived last the night before — and the other two obediently turned and rejoined their three companions on the far side of the ledge. Sheppard waited until they were safely ensconced before crawling back over to Teyla and pulling himself up to a sitting position again.