fic (Unstoppable ( SG Atlantis/ST: TNG) PG
Title: Unstoppable
Fandoms: Stargate Atlantis/ST:TNG
Author: karrenia
Characters: Ronon Dex and Ro Laren
Rating: PG
Prompt: If We'd had a Moment to Ourselves/We'd be Unstoppable
Disclaimer: Stargate: Atlantis belongs to MGM, Geeko Film Corp and it its respective producers and directors as do all of the characters who appear here or are mentioned; they are not mine. Ro Laren and the characters of Star Trek: the Next Generation belong to Paramount, etc, again; they are not mine. The title is from the Calling song by the same name.
"Unstoppable" by Karen
The crash and booming of laser fire and gravitational bombs going off both in the distance had finally subsumed to a dull roar.
Ronon Dex, all of his senses and considerable skills on the alert for the slightest sound that might give away the presence of those who pursued him, wondered if perhaps the Wraith might, just might have it all backwards this time.
There was a strange invisible link between the, as much as a primal instinct as that between prey and predator. Granted, the single beacon that he had managed to establish half a hundred klicks due west of his present position should have more than enough power to get a distress signal to his friends and allies at the Atlantis base; but until then, he was on his own. With a grim smile he darted down yet another empty street, his boot soles skidding on the loose rock, dirt and debris, the barrel of his weapon clenched in a white-knuckled grip. He was an old hand at playing this type of game and he had the advantage of terrain, and with a little luck and a lot of skill, he might just get out of this mess alive. After all, he had survived other chases; why not this one?
Ronon looked up at the lowering sky, judging from the position of a gibbous moon in the sky overhead that he had best get a move on before full night came on; the Wraith had better night vision than he did. For all their ugliness, brute strength and ruthlessness; they were not stupid, in fact, they were had all the cunning of sharks smelling blood in the water.
He shook his head to clear it of the inevitable cobwebs and edging into one of the abandoned buildings where he had chosen to make a stand, gave the his immediate surroundings a quick but through 360 degree inspection.
Satisfied that there was no immediate threat Ronon ambled over into the interior of a ramshackle home that had seen better days careful to avoid making any sound on the loose rock, broken glass that might give away his position should he be mistaken about how close his pursuers were. As it was all he manage to stir up was a thick haze of dust and soil and broken pieces of furniture.
Through the broken panes of the leaded glass windows thin stripes of moonlight streaked in to provide what little light remained.
Movement at the corner of his eye brought him around in a quick spin move and accompanied by the sound of shattered glass and splintering wood another figure emerged from out of the debris.
It took him a few seconds to register what he was seeing, and a few moments longer to mentally classify this person into one of two categories: threat, not a threat.
A female, human perhaps but in the dim lighting it was difficult to be certain. She stood about average height for an human female, had dark eyes and shoulder length hair cut straight down on her shoulders, and a nose that appeared crinkled in either fear, defiance or thought. He could not be sure; not without a closer inspection.
As he took a few steps closer to the woman he realized that she wore a rather intricate and interesting looking earring in one ear, and the remains of an official-looking crimson red uniform with a silver pin attached to the lapel; one he could not recall ever having seen before.
The woman who crouched in the shadows of the broken debris of the small house had been unconscious for the better part of two days; the last twenty four hours of which she had spent trying to evade the pale-faced, angular, and ugly things that to her way of thinking made even a Cardassian look better by comparison.
Granted that might have been the fever that had broken half and hour ago speaking, but still whatever the things were that had been prowling about on this mud hole of a planet had been downright persistent.
Ro Laren wondered, at that moment, if by lying low in this abandoned house was doing her any could. Granted, it did provide shelter from the elements, and a place to lie up until she felt better. There was certainly no sense in running around being chased by things while she was burning up with a fever, was there?
She had treated her fever with the emergency first aid kid and eaten the last of her field rations a while back. Now that she could once more think clearly she attempted to reconstruct the circumstances of how she had wound up here.
The terrain did not match anything she had seen in the dossier she perused before accepting to go on the away team assignment, or when they had beamed down from the Enterprise, however there was a little resemblance. And where did the hunters come from?
Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, did she regret not pressing Admiral Reed for more details, but it was rather late to be mulling over missed opportunities. It was time to move, to come up with a plan to get out of her current predicament.
She scrambled to her feet wincing a little and then looked down at the remains of her tattered Starfleet uniform. "Damn, I must look a fright," muttered Ro aloud and then checked her pockets for her phaser; reassured on that count as she thought, 'If I am going to get any farther than this I am going to need a lot more than just one weapon, I am also going to need a lot of luck, skill and all in the resources at my disposal. Still, a bunch of crazy hunters notwithstanding, I''ve survived the Cardassian Occupation. I can handle this... No problem..."'
Her thoughts were interrupted when she sensed rather than saw another presence in the room. Ro took a quick glance at the tall stranger with the tousled man of dark hair and the tattered remains of what looked to be some kind of battle gear and squaring her shoulders and pinning with her best level and flinty gaze she demanded. "Who the hell are you?"
Ronon, despite his circumstances, would never allow himself to lose control of the situation returned her level gaze with one of his own before adding: "I was just about to ask you the same question."
"I asked you first," Ro added, realizing that the he carried several canteens of water and she might actually learn more and turn this situation to her advantage by being a little more well, less taciturn and hostile and as she licked her dry lips and swallowed; she wanted to ask for some of that water.
"Just someone passing by, and you?" replied Ronon.
"Not good enough," she replied. "Care to try again?"
"What are you doing here?" he asked instead.
"Trying to get as far away from," she gestured with her left hand to the view outside of the narrow windows of the room that they were standing in," here as possible. Wherever here is, of course. I think the natives are getting restless and while I don't know or care what they're hunting or why, I certainly would not want to them to confuse me with their prey. Catch my drift?"
Ronon thought this over, shuffling his feet in the dusty floor and regarding the dark-haired woman carefully. She was no Wraith, and certainly did not seem in either her manner, voice, or by any other measure one of the Wraith worshipers, so what was she doing of Sateda abandoned long ago by its native population? It was a nagging question, and one he could not find a ready answer to it.
Still, whoever or whatever she was, he certainly could not leave her to fall victim to the Wraith or to starve, or die of thirst, his own well being and survival, while important, there was no reason to let her die here.
“You haven't shot me yet with that weapon you carry," he replied with a small sardonic smile creasing the corners of his mouth. "I guess that's a definite plus in your favor."
"Agreed, and you haven't shot me with that big0-honking weapon you carry, so I guess we're even on that score. Care to give some of that water, why don't you? Been a long time dry."
Ronon nodded and unslung one of his canteens from its leather cord and handed it over to her. She accepted it with a nod and removing the cap tilted to her mouth and several healthy swallows of the tepid liquid. "Thanks." she finally said and handed the canteen back to him.
"What are those things?" she asked.
"The Wraith," he replied surprised that she should have to ask; after all this time he had begun think that there wasn't anyone alive in the Pegasus Galaxy who had not at least heard of the Wraith.
"Wraith," she tried on the word for size, and then spit on to the dusty floor as if the very sound of the name tasted like bile.
"Are they after you?" he asked.
"Don't think so," she replied. "I think they're after you, but I couldn't be sure because I spent most of time here trying to recover from a fever. For a few moments there I could sworn that I was having a nightmare when I woke up on this rock and saw those things coming at me in the distance."
Ronon averted his face from her, the shadows lengthen as the daylight faded and night came on, finally, seeming to come to some kind of decision regarding whether or not to trust her, he finally muttered. "A nightmare is a good way to describe it. And you are correct in your surmise that they are indeed hunting me."
"Look you still haven't told him who you are or why those 'things, what the ell are they anyway, are after you, but I think we'd stand a better chance working together than trying to go it alone."
"Agreed," Ronon replied another smile slipping out, this one a genuine for this yet as unidentified woman in a tattered uniform and a nonchalant confident and take no guff attitude; he took a couple of steps toward her and extended his forearm out to her waiting for her to clasp it. "The name is Ronon Dex."
Ro, still unwilling to trust made a decision of her own and reached out to grasp the big man's forearm and wrapped her fingers around it. "Ro Laren, but my everyone calls me Ro."
"Ro, it is then." Ronon smiled and released his grip on her hand.
"Do you have a plan?" asked Ro, some but not all of the tension seeping from her mind and the bunched muscles of her back and shoulders.
"I believe I do," he replied.
"Then let's get to work on it, shall we?" Ro replied the challenge and determination brightening her dark, intense eyes.
The crash and booming of laser fire and gravitational bombs going off both in the distance had finally subsumed to a dull roar.
Ronon Dex, all of his senses and considerable skills on the alert for the slightest sound that might give away the presence of those who pursued him, wondered if perhaps the Wraith might, just might have it all backwards this time.
There was a strange invisible link between the, as much as a primal instinct as that between prey and predator. Granted, the single beacon that he had managed to establish half a hundred klicks due west of his present position should have more than enough power to get a distress signal to his friends and allies at the Atlantis base; but until then, he was on his own. With a grim smile he darted down yet another empty street, his boot soles skidding on the loose rock, dirt and debris, the barrel of his weapon clenched in a white-knuckled grip. He was an old hand at playing this type of game and he had the advantage of terrain, and with a little luck and a lot of skill, he might just get out of this mess alive. After all, he had survived other chases; why not this one?
Ronon looked up at the lowering sky, judging from the position of a gibbous moon in the sky overhead that he had best get a move on before full night came on; the Wraith had better night vision than he did. For all their ugliness, brute strength and ruthlessness; they were not stupid, in fact, they were had all the cunning of sharks smelling blood in the water.
He shook his head to clear it of the inevitable cobwebs and edging into one of the abandoned buildings where he had chosen to make a stand, gave the his immediate surroundings a quick but through 360 degree inspection.
Satisfied that there was no immediate threat Ronon ambled over into the interior of a ramshackle home that had seen better days careful to avoid making any sound on the loose rock, broken glass that might give away his position should he be mistaken about how close his pursuers were. As it was all he manage to stir up was a thick haze of dust and soil and broken pieces of furniture.
Through the broken panes of the leaded glass windows thin stripes of moonlight streaked in to provide what little light remained.
Movement at the corner of his eye brought him around in a quick spin move and accompanied by the sound of shattered glass and splintering wood another figure emerged from out of the debris.
It took him a few seconds to register what he was seeing, and a few moments longer to mentally classify this person into one of two categories: threat, not a threat.
A female, human perhaps but in the dim lighting it was difficult to be certain. She stood about average height for an human female, had dark eyes and shoulder length hair cut straight down on her shoulders, and a nose that appeared crinkled in either fear, defiance or thought. He could not be sure; not without a closer inspection.
As he took a few steps closer to the woman he realized that she wore a rather intricate and interesting looking earring in one ear, and the remains of an official-looking crimson red uniform with a silver pin attached to the lapel; one he could not recall ever having seen before.
The woman who crouched in the shadows of the broken debris of the small house had been unconscious for the better part of two days; the last twenty four hours of which she had spent trying to evade the pale-faced, angular, and ugly things that to her way of thinking made even a Cardassian look better by comparison.
Granted that might have been the fever that had broken half and hour ago speaking, but still whatever the things were that had been prowling about on this mud hole of a planet had been downright persistent.
Ro Laren wondered, at that moment, if by lying low in this abandoned house was doing her any could. Granted, it did provide shelter from the elements, and a place to lie up until she felt better. There was certainly no sense in running around being chased by things while she was burning up with a fever, was there?
She had treated her fever with the emergency first aid kid and eaten the last of her field rations a while back. Now that she could once more think clearly she attempted to reconstruct the circumstances of how she had wound up here.
The terrain did not match anything she had seen in the dossier she perused before accepting to go on the away team assignment, or when they had beamed down from the Enterprise, however there was a little resemblance. And where did the hunters come from?
Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, did she regret not pressing Admiral Reed for more details, but it was rather late to be mulling over missed opportunities. It was time to move, to come up with a plan to get out of her current predicament.
She scrambled to her feet wincing a little and then looked down at the remains of her tattered Starfleet uniform. "Damn, I must look a fright," muttered Ro aloud and then checked her pockets for her phaser; reassured on that count as she thought, 'If I am going to get any farther than this I am going to need a lot more than just one weapon, I am also going to need a lot of luck, skill and all in the resources at my disposal. Still, a bunch of crazy hunters notwithstanding, I''ve survived the Cardassian Occupation. I can handle this... No problem..."'
Her thoughts were interrupted when she sensed rather than saw another presence in the room. Ro took a quick glance at the tall stranger with the tousled man of dark hair and the tattered remains of what looked to be some kind of battle gear and squaring her shoulders and pinning with her best level and flinty gaze she demanded. "Who the hell are you?"
Ronon, despite his circumstances, would never allow himself to lose control of the situation returned her level gaze with one of his own before adding: "I was just about to ask you the same question."
"I asked you first," Ro added, realizing that the he carried several canteens of water and she might actually learn more and turn this situation to her advantage by being a little more well, less taciturn and hostile and as she licked her dry lips and swallowed; she wanted to ask for some of that water.
"Just someone passing by, and you?" replied Ronon.
"Not good enough," she replied. "Care to try again?"
"What are you doing here?" he asked instead.
"Trying to get as far away from," she gestured with her left hand to the view outside of the narrow windows of the room that they were standing in," here as possible. Wherever here is, of course. I think the natives are getting restless and while I don't know or care what they're hunting or why, I certainly would not want to them to confuse me with their prey. Catch my drift?"
Ronon thought this over, shuffling his feet in the dusty floor and regarding the dark-haired woman carefully. She was no Wraith, and certainly did not seem in either her manner, voice, or by any other measure one of the Wraith worshipers, so what was she doing of Sateda abandoned long ago by its native population? It was a nagging question, and one he could not find a ready answer to it.
Still, whoever or whatever she was, he certainly could not leave her to fall victim to the Wraith or to starve, or die of thirst, his own well being and survival, while important, there was no reason to let her die here.
“You haven't shot me yet with that weapon you carry," he replied with a small sardonic smile creasing the corners of his mouth. "I guess that's a definite plus in your favor."
"Agreed, and you haven't shot me with that big0-honking weapon you carry, so I guess we're even on that score. Care to give some of that water, why don't you? Been a long time dry."
Ronon nodded and unslung one of his canteens from its leather cord and handed it over to her. She accepted it with a nod and removing the cap tilted to her mouth and several healthy swallows of the tepid liquid. "Thanks." she finally said and handed the canteen back to him.
"What are those things?" she asked.
"The Wraith," he replied surprised that she should have to ask; after all this time he had begun think that there wasn't anyone alive in the Pegasus Galaxy who had not at least heard of the Wraith.
"Wraith," she tried on the word for size, and then spit on to the dusty floor as if the very sound of the name tasted like bile.
"Are they after you?" he asked.
"Don't think so," she replied. "I think they're after you, but I couldn't be sure because I spent most of time here trying to recover from a fever. For a few moments there I could sworn that I was having a nightmare when I woke up on this rock and saw those things coming at me in the distance."
Ronon averted his face from her, the shadows lengthen as the daylight faded and night came on, finally, seeming to come to some kind of decision regarding whether or not to trust her, he finally muttered. "A nightmare is a good way to describe it. And you are correct in your surmise that they are indeed hunting me."
"Look you still haven't told him who you are or why those 'things, what the ell are they anyway, are after you, but I think we'd stand a better chance working together than trying to go it alone."
"Agreed," Ronon replied another smile slipping out, this one a genuine for this yet as unidentified woman in a tattered uniform and a nonchalant confident and take no guff attitude; he took a couple of steps toward her and extended his forearm out to her waiting for her to clasp it. "The name is Ronon Dex."
Ro, still unwilling to trust made a decision of her own and reached out to grasp the big man's forearm and wrapped her fingers around it. "Ro Laren, but my everyone calls me Ro."
"Ro, it is then." Ronon smiled and released his grip on her hand.
"Do you have a plan?" asked Ro, some but not all of the tension seeping from her mind and the bunched muscles of her back and shoulders.
"I believe I do," he replied.
"Then let's get to work on it, shall we?" Ro replied the challenge and determination brightening her dark, intense eyes.