“Yes, sir, but…”
Sheppard clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a few more weeks,” he said. “Light duty for a few more weeks. You don’t want to screw that leg up permanently. Right now Cadman’s covering for you on the team, and as soon as Beckett says you’re ready, I’ll give her back to Carter. But you know that’s not going to be today.”
“I know,” Lorne said. And he did know. But he’d hoped anyhow.
Chapter Six
Hunger
Ronon made his way back along the cliff’s edge at a trot, one eye on the declining sun. It was already brushing the tops of the trees, but if he hurried, there should be enough time to get McKay and Jennifer to the gap he’d found. And down, and across, and up again… But they could do it. He could do it. They wouldn’t be able to get very far once they’d crossed the river, not in the waning daylight, and it would be a long march the next day — probably too long, reasonably calculated, to reach the Stargate, but it was better than he had feared.
McKay was still sitting under the tree where Ronon had left him, but Jennifer had made her way to the stream, was filling the water container. That was a good idea — she’d come a long way since he’d first met her, and he couldn’t help an approving nod.
“Keller! McKay! I’ve found a way down.”
Jennifer looked up quickly, and Ronon saw the relief in her face.
“That’s wonderful,” Rodney said, sourly, and hauled himself to his feet. “Is it far?”
“Nope,” Ronon answered. Well, by some definitions, it wasn’t. He eyed the stream warily. “Better cross further back from the edge.”
It took almost two hours to reach the break in the cliff that Ronon had decided was the best place to cross. There was an easier slope another couple of kilometers further along, but here the opposite bank had given way, and it would be an easy scramble up to the other side. Rodney balked at the top, staring down at the rocks and the rushing water. The river came close under the cliff here, and water foamed around the heaped stones.
“You know, this doesn’t look like all that great a place to climb down. One false step, and you’ve got a sprained ankle, or worse.”
“You don’t have to worry about that right now,” Ronon said. He couldn’t help grinning at the look McKay gave him, offended and appalled in equal measure. Jennifer smiled too, and began to pick her way carefully down the rocky slope. Ronon watched long enough to feel confident that she was going to be all right, then looked back at Rodney.
“Come on, McKay.”
“This isn’t —” Rodney’s heel slipped as he spoke, and he flailed for balance. Ronon reached without thinking, caught him by the upper arm and held him steady. Rodney grabbed at his sleeve, and they stood frozen for an instant, Rodney’s handmouth against the coarse fabric. It took all Ronon’s willpower to hold still, not to shove him away. Rodney looked stricken, eyes wide and golden as if with shock.
“I’m good,” he said, in a strangled voice, and Ronon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He let go, and Rodney scrambled down the slope in Jennifer’s wake. Ronon could feel himself shivering, as though he’d been out on Atlantis’s balconies unprotected. He stiffened his shoulders and made himself follow.
Jennifer was waiting for them by the water’s edge. She’d found a long stick — probably the trunk of a sapling — among the debris, and held it up at their approach. “I thought — you know how people rope together for things like this? Maybe this would work.”
“Good idea,” Ronon said. He was amazed that his voice sounded even close to normal. He tapped the wood against the nearest rock, decided it felt solid enough. “Let’s go.”
They edged into the river, holding tight to the sapling. Ronon took the lead, feeling for unseen potholes, the water rushing up past his knees, numbing his skin. Jennifer clung with determination to the middle of the pole, and Rodney brought up the rear, yelping as the cold hit him.
“Ow! Isn’t this likely to give us all hypothermia or something?”
“Suck it up, McKay,” Ronon said without thinking, and that felt strange and normal at the same time.
The riverbed was treacherous underfoot, stones the size of a man’s fist shifting uneasily in the current. No potholes, though, at least not in this relatively smooth stretch, and, though the current was strong, it was at least steady. Then Jennifer cried out, and Ronon whipped around to see her falling, her hands peeling away from the wood. She was light enough that the current took her instantly, rolling her over in the waist-deep water, and it took all Ronon’s control to keep from diving after her. Rodney lunged toward her, black coat billowing, ready to tangle them both. Ronon curbed the impulse to join him, instead kept tight hold of the stick, let the current take it toward them. Then Rodney had reached her, had her by the jacket and then her hand, and his other hand closed firmly on the sapling. Ronon braced himself to take their joined weight, held firm as first Rodney, then Jennifer dragged themselves to their feet and resumed their careful progress. On the far side, Jennifer collapsed onto the nearest rock, and Ronon gave her a worried look.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, her wet hair straggling over her face, then grimaced and began to bind it back again.
“What happened?” Rodney asked.
“A stone turned under my foot,” Jennifer answered. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Rodney asked. “Because that’s the way people break ankles, not that I’m staying I told you so —”
“I’m fine,” Jennifer said again. “I’m a doctor, remember? I’m not hurt.” She stood up as though to prove it, and Ronon, watching carefully, saw no sign of injury. She might be sore in the morning, but for now she’d be better off if she kept moving.
“OK,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Rodney said. “Just wait a minute.” He was just as wet as Jennifer, the white hair plastered to his skull, water pooling at his feet. “We’re both soaked through. We should stop, dry out — maybe we could even camp here overnight, there’s lots of wood, and plenty of room.”
“It’s not safe to camp in a streambed,” Ronon said.
“Oh, come on, you can’t seriously be worried about flash floods,” Rodney said. “The sky’s completely clear.”
“Ronon’s right,” Jennifer said. “We need to keep going.”
Get as close to the Stargate as they could, Ronon thought. That effort would have taken it out of McKay. He said, “Not much further.” He pointed downstream to a spot where dirt and gravel spread in a fan from the collapsed cliffside. “Just there. Once we get to the top, we’ll see about going on.”
Rodney was profoundly grateful for the steel rod he’d salvaged from the lifepod, leaned heavily on its support as he followed the others down the streambed. They were going back the way they’d come — not that it made any real difference, and there’d been no way to get down the cliff on that side anyway, but it was somehow even more discouraging to have to retrace their steps. At least Jennifer was all right. She was limping a little, but she was going to be fine. A night’s rest was all she needed. He could feel his own body shifting, the bruises from where he’d banged against the rocks healing as he walked. It was a complete waste of energy, and he had no idea how to stop it, wondered if any Wraith did. Probably not — as far as he could tell, they had no compunctions about feeding, a Wraith in his situation would already have drained both the others, and be well on his way to the Stargate by now.
And that, of course, he couldn’t do, no matter what Jennifer said about this retrovirus. It was too much of a risk, she’d already said the first version hadn’t worked, and there was no way to test this one safely. And besides, she was Jennifer. He couldn’t think of her like that, any more than he could think it of Ronon. Though perhaps just a taste — just a sip, just enough to keep him steady on his feet, to get him to the Stargate so that they could bring him back to Atlantis. Ronon was strong, nearly as strong as two men, he could spare just a little —