Stargate Atlantis: Latitude

Chapter 5 - Traveling

John set down his bundle on the ground.

"You got furs!" exclaimed Rodney.  He sniffed and then prodded the bundle.  "Smelly, old furs," he said, less enthusiastically.  "Oh well, beggars can't be choosers!" he continued, beginning to untie the rawhide.

"Leave it, McKay," John said, crouching down and shoving the blocks of peat roughly in the game bag. "I think we should go, now, before daybreak."

"Why?  You haven't slept at all!" said Rodney, "and I haven't much."

"Doesn't matter.  I er... ran into someone in the village.  A woman with a baby.  We should go in case the villagers plan on hunting us down."

Rodney huffed, but got to his feet, picking up the messenger bag full of dried fish into which he'd also forced their remaining supplies from the pod.

By the pale moonlight they followed a rough trail east for a couple of miles along the shore of the lake and then, just as the sun was beginning to light the sky, turned south into a ravine which cut up into the hills.

John had been silent the whole way.

"What's wrong, Sheppard?" asked Rodney.  "What happened back there?"

"Nothing," replied John, shortly.

"Yes, there is something, so spit it out!"

John sighed and looked uncomfortable.

"I'm thinking about that woman, that's all," he said.  "She was terrified.  Terrified of me." He paused, stopped walking, looked down at his feet.  "It's my job to protect people like her, not to scare them.  Or steal from them."

"You did what you had to," said Rodney quietly.  "They'll be okay.  They looked like they had enough to get through the winter.  Anyway," he said more brightly, "When we get home we can come back with a jumper and repay them, bring them some...  more fish or something!"

"I think they've got enough fish."

"Okay, well chocolate then, or coffee..."

They plodded on into the morning, Rodney keeping up a constant commentary, his voice echoing off the rocky sides of the ravine.

oOo

John and Rodney continued south, traversing mountain passes and valleys, sometimes climbing up above the snowline, sometimes sticking to the sheltered lowlands. They saw animal tracks, and once, when the wind was blowing in their faces, sweeping away their scent, they startled a herd of deer-like creatures which galloped away in a flurry of antlers and grey-brown fur. The creatures stopped in the far distance and once motionless, disappeared into the muted colours of the landscape.

With their tattered furs, carefully rationed peat blocks and whatever firewood they could find they were able to survive each bitter night.  Some days they were mostly silent, their journey a never-ending endurance test of one foot in front of the other, battling against icy winds, no thought for the landscape around them other than as an enemy to be conquered. Other days they were overwhelmed by the stark beauty of their surroundings.  Once, having endured a freezing night and a hard climb up a scree-covered ridge, they found themselves at the head of a valley and looked down over a huge glaciated curve filled with mist like a bright white lake, the sunlight glinting off sparkling streamers of water falling down the sheer sides of the gigantic U-shape.  They stood, shoulder to shoulder.  John wasn't sure whether he was uplifted by the sight or dwarfed into insignificance.

One evening, huddled around their campfire in the shelter of a rocky outcrop, Rodney was chewing thoughtfully on a tough piece of dried fish.

"I've been thinking about the cavemen," said Rodney.

"They weren't cavemen, McKay," interrupted John.

"Yeah, whatever," Rodney waved a hand dismissively. "So, firstly, is that the highest level of development on this planet?  Because if so, we're screwed!"

"How d'you figure that?" John asked, morosely chewing his fish.

"Hello?  Huge ocean for us to cross to reach the gate?  You're not doing that on a raft!"

"Oh, guess not."

"Secondly!" Rodney continued, waving a fishtail at John, "Why couldn't we understand them?  I get that their language was pretty primitive, but we should have got 'Strangers go home!' or words to that effect!"

"We didn't come through the Gate?" said John, trying to get a fish bone out of his teeth.

"Shouldn't have to!  We've landed on planets before without coming through the gate and got the Ancient's super-translation service!"

"Gate's not working?" said John, his fish tasting even more like bitter cardboard than usual.

"Could be," said Rodney.  "In which case, we'll have to hope it's something I can fix!"

John couldn't bring himself to care much about the workings of the Stargate; his concerns were more immediate. He worried constantly about food; their supplies were dwindling fast and there was nothing to be scavenged in this inhospitable terrain, nothing to be gathered and no animals unwary enough to be caught by inexperienced hunters with no weapons.  They'd even both tried nibbling the Asgard food but it had given them stomach pains almost straight away.

Rodney had been increasingly pale and shaky before each meal until John had made him chew on the dried fish between meals to try to stabilise his blood sugar.  John kept a tight hold of their food supplies, not because he thought Rodney would take more than he should; exactly the opposite, in fact.  When they stopped to eat, John could pretend that he had eaten his share as they walked along and Rodney, who had taken to plodding, head down, unaware of his surroundings, was easily fooled.  First John had stopped eating at midday, then he cut back on his breakfast ration, and as their supplies grew less and less, he began to cut back on his evening meal too.  He was constantly hungry with a raw, grinding ache and had to force his unwilling body to carry on, finding it hard to catch his breath when they were climbing and feeling his heart beating wildly.

They had both lost weight, but one morning when John stood up to douse their fire his vision blurred and greyed and his legs collapsed beneath him.  He didn't pass out, but it was close.  He sat, head resting on his drawn-up knees, waiting for the hissing in his ears to subside and his head to stop spinning.  Rodney slept on, oblivious.

John opened one of the very few ration packs they had left and quickly ate half of it, washing it down with water, worrying about how few water purification tablets they had left.  He felt better, but was still very hungry.  He folded the top of the pack to eat later; he would hold off as long as he could.

His thoughts ran along a familiar groove; what could they gather? How could they hunt?  Should they keep going in the same direction?  Had he chosen the right route?  He knew that if they didn't encounter some kind of civilization, any kind of help soon, they would both starve.

Rodney groaned and sat up slowly, shivering.  John passed him a ration pack and while Rodney, still half asleep, ate it, he packed away their belongings while sitting down, unwilling to try his legs again with Rodney watching.