The problem wasn’t with her skills. It was with her personality. Lanara, the rest of the V’rdai discovered, was not an easy woman to get along with. She was short-tempered and sharp-tongued, had a vicious sense of humor, thought very highly of herself, and expected people to jump every time she issued an order. Her possessive attitude toward Nekai had instantly earned her Turen’s dislike, and the two had survived as bunkmates less than a night before Turen kicked Lanara out and threatened to gut her if she ever returned. The fact that Lanara then stalked off to Nekai’s tent and spent the night there didn’t help matters. He and Banje cleared out one of the supply tents the next day, and gave the new space to Lanara, but the damage had already been done. Ronon knew Turen well enough by now to know that she would do what she was told, and that she would hunt and fight alongside Lanara when necessary. But the two women would never be friends, and if it ever came down to going the extra distance for the prickly Kadrean, Ronon suspected Turen would find an excuse to come up short.
Frayne didn’t like her much better. The short Yadonite didn’t take well to arrogance, and had tolerated Setien’s overconfidence only because her boasts were so amusing and so shameless. Lanara was just a little more conniving, a little more manipulative, a little more aware of her own behavior, and that put Frayne on edge.
Adarr was the most easy-going of the V’rdai, and he did his best to be friendly with Lanara. But she wasn’t much interested in friends, and all his attempts to entertain her or engage her in conversation fell flat. Eventually he just left her alone.
Ronon didn’t care for the newcomer much either. She was a poor substitute for Setien in every way except hunting, and they already had hunters. He was civil with her, but didn’t even bother trying to be her friend. That actually seemed to suit Lanara fine, and Ronon was surprised when Banje pointed out one night that he probably got along with her better than anyone else outside Nekai himself.
Banje, for his part, recognized Lanara as a potential rebel and was quick to squash that. On her second day he made it very clear to her, in his quiet way, that he was Nekai’s second-in-command and that she would follow his orders or leave at once. To her credit, Lanara agreed and abided by it. She never once refused a direct order, and never directly challenged Banje’s authority, though her arch comments and barbed remarks made it clear she thought she could do a better job.
If Nekai noticed any of this, he didn’t try to intervene. Which was probably for the best. Every good commander knew you had to let the troops sort themselves out, and that’s exactly what Nekai was doing.
As it was, when he declared two weeks later that they were going hunting, the V’rdai were ready. They were just as dangerous as they had been with Setien — in some ways more so, because Lanara was less of a loose cannon and more of a hunter. If the team wasn’t as relaxed together, and didn’t joke and laugh as much on the way to the mission, no one was about to let that get in the way of killing Wraith.
But as they left the dome and made their way to the shuttle, Ronon realized that for the first time in over a year he felt as if the V’rdai were a team and only a team. They no longer felt like a family. .
*
*
*
“So you just got up and left?”
Rodney could just see Ronon shaking his head, and felt the breeze caused by his braids. “Not quite.”
“Well, you said it didn’t feel like a family anymore.”
“It didn’t. It wasn’t. But it was still a team. A good team. And we still had a job to do, a purpose. I wasn’t going to walk away from that.” Rodney thought he caught a glimpse of a smile, but if so it was a small, sad one. “Besides, I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Okay, what happened?” Rodney was eager to find out. “Was it the new girl, Lanara? Did she do something that made it impossible to stay.”
“No.” Ronon sighed. “I wish she had. That would have been easier to handle. But it wasn’t her. It was Nekai.”
“What’d he do?”
“We were on another mission,” Ronon explained. “some planet I’ve never seen before, all sun and sand. . . .”
“Shhh! I hear something!”
Banje’s whispered comment froze the rest of them. They were crouched down, waiting behind rocks — for once they’d wound up on a world of sand and stone rather than trees and dirt, and they were all feeling the lack of shade even as they appreciated the increased security of stone cover over wood and bark. Turen at least had been smart enough to position herself so the shadow from one of the surrounding boulders fell across her — if she was going to have to play bait the least she could do was wait in the shade.
Now her head came up, green eyes narrowed in concentration, head tilting slightly. She had apparently heard Banje, or had picked up on a noise herself. Either way, she was ready. And so were the rest of them, Ronon thought, tensing.
It had been two months since Lanara had joined them. She was now fully a member of the V’rdai, at least when they were on missions. Back at the dome was another story. She still didn’t mesh well with the others. But they could all live with that. It had been a miracle the original group had gotten along so well, and you didn’t expect miracles to repeat themselves.
Ronon brought his attention back to the matter at hand, sliding his pistol from its holster and readying it. He had a few new weapons, flash grenades Banje and Adarr had managed to cobble together from some supplies they’d located after the last salvage run, but he only had two of those and didn’t want to waste them. His pistol would probably be enough, and if not his sword was ready across his back as well. He’d caught sounds now as well: a skitter of loose rocks, what might have been a footfall, something else clanking or jingling. It didn’t quite sound like Wraith — they were usually quieter than that — but they could be wearing new armor or carrying different weapons. It could also be people from one of the villages they’d spotted in the valleys below, though, so Ronon watched and listened for more details.
After a minute the sounds grew clearer. Definitely footsteps, a bunch of them, and metal against metal or leather or wood or even flesh, and something else as well. Something he wasn’t used to. Voices. Whoever was approaching was talking, and there were definitely several of them.
He relaxed slightly, and noticed Turen doing the same, though she stayed in her huddle. It could be a Wraith trick, but so far at least that hadn’t been their style. They were all about intimidation and stealth (when hunting), not deception. More likely these were people from some of those villages. Which meant they were simply a distraction.
If whoever it was stumbled upon them, however, it could ruin the hunt. They’d have to get rid of the strangers before the Wraith arrived.
Ronon started to stand, reholstering his pistol, but Nekai gave him a curt gesture to return to his cover. “Why?” Ronon whispered across to the Retemite. “They’re not Wraith — they’re natives.”
“We don’t know that,” Nekai replied sharply. “And even if they are, they could still be working with the Wraith. Don’t let your guard down!”
Ronon shrugged and ducked back down behind his rock, but he didn’t draw his pistol. There was no point. He understood why Nekai was being cautious, and appreciated that, but whoever was approaching was making no effort to hide their location. They weren’t a threat. Ronon was sure of it.
Sure enough, the voices and footsteps and jangling increased in volume, and then a group of people came into view. They stopped when they saw Turen, then rushed toward her.
“Ancestors!” one of them swore, his hand going to a waterskin at his side. “Are you all right?”
“Did you fall?” Another asked, also moving closer. “Are you hurt?”
There were five of them in all, Ronon saw. They wore loose shirts and thin baggy pants and sturdy studded sandals that laced up their legs, with cloths over their heads and necks and faces to protect them from the sun. The jangling had come from the packs they wore, from which hung a variety of small metal and wood and what looked like bone items. Ronon spotted cups, bowls, serving spoons, small lanterns, and other household items. These men were merchants, or peddlers. He guessed they moved from village to village, selling or trading items they’d made and repairing others.
Each of them had a sword, long and thin and curved, stuck through the sash they wore for belts, plus a long knife and a pistol. But none of them were reaching for those, or even turning to check the area for possible dangers. They were clearly not trained for combat, and not expecting any trouble. They saw in Turen only a woman in trouble, and their first impulse was to help.
Ronon started to rise again, knowing he was right and determined to move these men along before the Wraith spotted them and saw through the planned ambush.
He was halfway out from behind his boulder when a pistol shot sizzled through the air. It took the first peddler through the throat. He crumpled, surprise registering just before his face went slack. The waterskin fell to the ground with a dull clatter, water spilling out across the rock.
Stunned, Ronon turned and glanced behind him. Nekai’s pistol was still extended, and he was switching his focus to one of the other men, who were now starting to cry out as they realized their friend was dead.
“Take them down!” Nekai shouted. Turen rose from her stooped position, knives flashing out and forward and across, and the second man dropped with a gurgling shriek, thin cloth and flesh alike sliced clean through. His blood mingled with the water as his body joined the first on the ground.
Then the other V’rdai were shooting as well. The three remaining peddlers never had a chance. One of them had shown enough presence of mind to drop down, but Nekai had chosen this ambush site well and Lanara caught the man through the throat, his ducking motion becoming a stumble and then a facedown splat upon the rough terrain. The other two had simply frozen at the sudden violence, and were picked off just as easily.
Within seconds the only people standing were Turen and Ronon. She was wiping her blades clean and returning them to their sheaths. Ronon thought he saw her hands shake slightly, but wasn’t sure. He was too busy turning to glare at Nekai, who was finally rising and stepping toward the carnage as well.
“Let’s get out of here,” Nekai said, finally lowering his own pistol. “This hunt’s ruined.”
“Ruined?” Ronon stared at him. “The hunt? What about them?” He gestured at the bodies.
“What about them?” Nekai squinted up at the sun. “Scavengers will find them soon enough. The sun will finish whatever they don’t. But no way the Wraith won’t notice the stench, or the blood. We’ll have to retreat, try again another time.”
“Never mind the hunt,” Ronon shouted, stepping closer to the other man. “You just murdered five people!”
Nekai met his glare, the Retemite’s scowl showing he was starting to grow angry as well. “‘You’?” he repeated softly. “We’re a team, Ronon. A unit. You’re one of us. Don’t go thinking you’re not.”
Ronon brushed the distinction aside. “Fine — we just murdered five people!”
“We did what we had to do,” Nekai answered. “That’s all. Now let’s go.”
He turned away, but Ronon wasn’t finished. “We didn’t have to do this!” he insisted. “They weren’t a threat to us!”
“Of course they were,” Nekai replied. “They interrupted our hunt. They could have attacked Turen.” The look of gratitude and hero worship she shot him almost turned Ronon’s stomach, especially after the violence he’d just witnessed. War was one thing, but slaughter was another. And this hadn’t been war.
“They didn’t draw a single weapon,” he pointed out. “They were offering her water! They were asking if she was hurt!”
“You’re going soft,” Lanara sneered, stepping close to Nekai. Turen’s happiness vanished instantly, replaced by the scowl she often wore these days. “They’re sympathizers. Sympathizers deserve to die.”
“Sympathizers?” Ronon glanced around at the others. Frayne and Adarr wouldn’t meet his eyes. Banje did, but his expression was unreadable. Turen was still scowling, as were Lanara and Nekai — he thought Turen was more annoyed at Lanara than at him but it was hard to tell. “What did you see that could possibly suggest they were sympathizers? They didn’t mention the Wraith, they aren’t carrying Wraith weapons, and they didn’t look like they were trying to hurt or capture Turen. They were going to help her! How does that make them sympathizers?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Nekai answered brusquely. “They weren’t part of this unit. That makes them the enemy.”
Ronon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What?”
“Look,” his mentor said, stepping a little closer to him. “You know the Wraith as well as I do. You know what they can do. They can get to anyone. They could turn them, or torture them, or simply bribe them. The point is, if we’d let them live, the Wraith could have used them to get information about us — and that would put all of us at risk. It would put our mission at risk.” He laid a hand on Ronon’s shoulder. “We couldn’t trust them not to turn on us, or to be turned against us. We can’t trust anyone except ourselves. It’s us against the Wraith, and with their influence that means we have to treat it as us against the rest of the galaxy. Everyone else has to be considered hostile. It’s the only way we can survive. The only way we can continue our hunt.”