SGA - 14 - Death Game by Jo Graham

lieutenants for the team? Kroger or Kruger or whatever his name was? It’s not like Cadman was the only Marine around. Ok, maybe she was better than Kroger, who as far as Rodney could tell had one setting—shoot it now. Cadman had a brain somewhere under that beret. Unfortunately he was too closely acquainted with Cadman’s brain.
    “Let’s go,” Lorne said, and Carson dialed the gate precisely, watching the event horizon open before them.
    Elizabeth didn’t say anything on the radio. There was a time not long ago when she’d have said something like “be careful” or “come back safe” but now that went without saying. Carson and Lorne wouldn’t go looking for trouble. Trouble was more likely to find them.
    Carson eased the indicators forward, and the puddle jumper leaped through the gate.
    ***
    The seas were boiling. Not literally, of course. They were actually quite a comfortable temperature, neither cold enough to be hypothermic, or hot either. Radek thought he should know, since he had been continually soaked for the last hour. It was most unpleasant, but not nearly as unpleasant as it would be to be unceremoniously deposited in the sea. Which began to seem increasingly likely.
    The little fishing boat ran before the wind. Or rather, the little fishing boat limped laboriously up waves that seemed entirely too large, while above the heavens split with lightning and the downpour soaked him to the skin. The bottom of the boat was awash, though Radek was not sure whether that was from the rain pouring down or the seawater sloshing over the sides. In either event, he was fairly sure it was not supposed to be there. Filling up with water was a bad sign in a boat.
    Ronon was holding onto the sail, apparently keeping it attached to the mast by sheer physical strength, while Radek attempted to bail with a rusty bucket. A few liters of water went out, and a dozen came in. This was a battle he was losing. Still, this was a thunderstorm, not a hurricane. Perhaps they could last it out, stay ahead of the water long enough to gain a respite.
    Which was more or less their entire strategy in the Pegasus Galaxy for the last year and a bit. Bail, and hope it stops raining.
    Ronon bellowed something, but the wind tore away his words. Radek saw him silhouetted against sky and sea, braided hair slicked back now, holding onto the mast like some sort of pre-war engraving of Ulysses. He saw for a moment what Ronon must have been yelling about, a green dark wave rising behind them, no larger than ten or twelve feet tall, but enormous from the perspective of a small fishing boat wallowing low and half swamped.
    “Shit,” Radek said, and had time to take a deep breath.
    And then the wave broke over them.
    He struggled up through troubled water, kicking one shoe loose in the process, white foam coating the surface. He couldn’t see. By some miracle, or perhaps because of the strap, he still had his glasses on but they were so streaked with sea water that he couldn’t see anything but a vague impression of green sea, foam, and lowering sky.
    “Ronon!” he yelled, and then took a breath as another wave climbed above him.
    Relax, he thought. Remember, this is not the first time you have been in the sea. Ride the wave up to the crest and over, or dive through the crest before it breaks. Do not fight it. Do not waste your strength. Relax and go with it.
    Radek stopped clawing at the water in an adrenaline fueled haze. Up and over. Try to get a look from the top. “Ronon!”
    “Over here!”
    He heard the shout back, but as he could not tell from which direction it came it was not as useful as that. Between his glasses and the perspective of being inches above the water, he had no idea where he was relative to Ronon.
    Something brushed past his leg like a snake, and he recoiled. Surely not sharks, or hungry Pegasus Galaxy sea snakes?
    It was a rope. It was a rope attached to a sail. Radek grabbed onto it, a spatter of rain hitting him