SG1-25 Hostile Ground Page 12

  Someone rapped on his door and he looked up to see Makepeace standing there.

  “Come,” he said, switching on his desk lamp to alleviate the gloom.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?” Makepeace said as he stepped inside.

  Hammond nodded. “Shut the door, Colonel, and take a seat.”

  A muscle in Makepeace’s jaw tightened, a spike of anxiety, as he closed the door and perched tensely on the chair in front of Hammond’s desk. Very different from O’Neill’s studied nonchalance, he couldn’t help noting. Makepeace managed to be at once hard and tense, like iron under stress. It was his strength, no doubt, but also a weakness. Hammond had always suspected that O’Neill’s flexibility, his propensity to bend — the rules, his ideas, and his strategy — was at the core of his talent for leadership. But, that be as it may, O’Neill wasn’t there and Makepeace was.

  “Colonel,” Hammond said, picking his way through the conversation carefully, “there is something I need to brief you about regarding SG-1.”

  “Sir?” His hands were fists, resting on his knees.

  “Regarding the need to bring them home.” Makepeace’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything and Hammond continued. “You may have noticed that we are in close contact with the Tollan at the present time.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “That’s because our alliances, both with the Tollan and the Asgard, are in a fragile state. We are trying to rebuild them, but it’s proving difficult — especially without Colonel O’Neill. As you know, he is a particular friend of the Asgard.”

  Makepeace gave a curt nod. “Yes sir, I understand.” A beat, then “Can I ask why our alliances are so fragile?”

  Hammond spread his hands flat on the desk and tried to decide how much he could reveal. It made him angry, furious, that he should be forced to doubt his own people, that the treachery of one of their own had driven his allies to demand this secrecy. He looked across the desk at Makepeace, fixed him with a searching look, and made his decision: he couldn’t keep his teams working in the dark any longer. “There have been some thefts, Colonel. Technology and weapons, stolen from our allies by a rogue off-world team operated by Colonel Maybourne.”

  Makepeace’s face was like granite. “I see.”

  “The disappearance of SG-1 has only exacerbated the situation,” Hammond continued. “Some among our allies suspect them of complicity, and they’re using that against us, to justify ending their alliances with us.”

  A long silence fell as Makepeace absorbed the news. Stoic as ever, he didn’t even look surprised. “Those alliances have always been a raw deal for us, sir,” he said eventually. “Maybe we’d be better off without them, relying on our own knowhow instead.”

  “Better off without them?” Hammond repeated, aware of the edge creeping into his voice. “Colonel, those alliances are the only things that have kept this planet safe.”

  Makepeace nodded, but then said, “But maybe we relied on them too much, sir. Maybe we should have built up our own capability instead.”

  It was an old argument, he was weary of it. “Maybe we should have,” he conceded with a sigh. “And maybe we relied too much on Colonel O’Neill’s friendship with the Asgard. But we are where we are and it would certainly serve our enemies’ interests if the Asgard withdrew us from the Protected Planets Treaty.”

  Makepeace shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “But that’s not an imminent danger, is it, sir?”

  He hesitated before he answered, but there was no point in hiding the truth. “Colonel, if we don’t find Colonel O’Neill soon, I believe it’s a very imminent danger.”

  Makepeace stood up, paced the length of the room and back again. “What kind of timescale are we talking about, General?”

  “We’re talking days, Colonel.”

  “Days?”

  “Our allies wanted O’Neill to —” He stopped himself before he said more; he daren’t talk about the SGC mole. But, if they didn’t retrieve SG-1 soon, all secrecy would be moot because there’d be a Goa’uld fleet in orbit and then everyone would know everything. Of course by then it would be too late and, instead of searching for SG-1, they’d be scrambling around looking for an Alpha Site and wishing like hell the Appropriations Committee hadn’t put the kibosh on O’Neill’s plan. He ran a hand over his head, trying to scrub away the panic. It was dangerous and only ever produced bad decisions. “Colonel,” he said after a moment, “I’m telling you this because there’s a chance that SG-1 has been abducted by those who would profit from the collapse of our alliances. And I need you to factor that possibility into your search.”

  “You mean the Goa’uld?” He stopped pacing and fixed Hammond with a probing look. “You think the Goa’uld might have done this deliberately, to damage our alliances?”

  “The Goa’uld,” he said. “Or Maybourne.”

  “Not Maybourne.”

  Hammond lifted his eyebrows at the colonel’s vehemence.

  “He —” Makepeace broke off. “He’s a slime ball, sir, but he’s not a traitor.”

  “Son, Colonel Maybourne is nothing but a traitor: self-serving, conniving, and unscrupulous.” He cocked his head, studying Makepeace’s unyielding features with sudden doubt. “Don’t tell me you’re sympathetic to his cause?”

  “Absolutely not, sir, but he’s an Air Force officer. He wouldn’t harm his own people.”

  Hammond shook his head. “I don’t know who his people are, anymore, Colonel. But there’s too much at stake to rule out any possibilities.”

  Makepeace frowned. “Yes sir. I understand.”

  “Give it some thought,” Hammond said, studying the troubled expression on Makepeace’s face. “Anything your team can discover, or remember, that might shed light on the whereabouts of SG-1 will be valuable.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to locate them, sir,” he promised. “I’ll —” He cleared his throat. “Everything I can, sir.”

  Hammond nodded. “I know you will, son.”

  After Makepeace had left, Hammond sat in silence for a while. On his desk, the red phone gleamed dully in the light of his lamp and he stared at it until it blurred. It had always looked ominous, recalling as it did those long fearful years when Earth had been poised on the brink of mutually assured destruction, but today it seemed to take on an even graver significance. If O’Neill wasn’t back before the scheduled mission to Tollana then he’d have no choice but to make the call, but until then he was determined to cling to what little hope remained and to carry on believing that next time the Stargate opened it would be to welcome his people home.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  He’s digging. There’s something he needs, something he can’t live without. It’s buried and he can’t reach it. He’s digging, but earth is collapsing in on all sides, faster than he can dig it out, burying him in black, loamy dirt.

  “Jack?”

  Someone says ashes to ashes and he can’t breathe. He has to find a way out, he can’t stop digging. Hands pull on his arms, dragging him away. There’s nothing you can do. I’m sorry, he’s gone. He fights them off, he wants to hit them, to scream, but his voice is locked in his throat and he can’t make a sound, he can’t —

  “Jack!”

  He jerked awake with a gasp, and for a moment the only real thing in the world was the hand on his arm.

  “You were dreaming,” Daniel said, voice raspy.

  Rigid from the nightmare, he had to force his body to relax before he could work enough moisture into his mouth to speak. “Sorry,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. This happened sometimes, to all of them: bad dreams. Opening his eyes, he looked around, but could only see darkness and had to fight off a slight nightmare-induced panic when he remembered they were underground. Ripping the Velcro cover off his watch he looked at the time — 0300 hours MST, which didn’t mean much here, but told him they had about twenty-four hours before the operation to Tollana began. He could feel pressure like a band tightening around his hea
d, and that choked scream from his dream still clogged his throat.

  “I think it’s morning,” Daniel said. “Sam and Teal’c went to find a bathroom about half an hour ago.”

  Taking a breath, easing the tension, Jack just lay there for a moment. At least he wouldn’t have to try to sleep again. Rubbing the grit from his eyes, he sat up and reached for his flashlight and matches. Rustling across the straw-covered floor, he lit the lamp in the corner and the room brightened enough that he could see Daniel. The sight did nothing to help his dark mood; Daniel wasn’t looking good at all.

  “How you doing?” Jack asked, trying not to betray his concern as he dropped down onto his bedroll and started lacing his boots.

  Daniel made a non-committal gesture which, given his propensity to underestimate, most certainly meant he felt as god-awful as he looked. Jack ran a hand through his hair, considering his options. There weren’t many. “Maybe you should stay here? We’ll come back for you when we find a way home.”

  Staring up at the ceiling, Daniel said, “I don’t want to slow you down, but I think we both know that if there’s any chance I can get back through the gate in the next twenty-four hours I should take it.”

  Jack closed his eyes and swallowed hard before he said, “That bad, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Daniel said shortly. “Definitely infected, probably verging on septicemia by now.”

  “I’ll give you another antibiotic shot, we’ve got one more.”

  Daniel turned his head to look at him, his glasses glinting in the lamplight. “Thanks,” he said. “But you know that won’t be enough.”

  Jack nodded and reached out to press his hand against Daniel’s forehead. He was burning up. “God, Daniel…”

  “Dose me up with everything you’ve got left and let’s just get home,” he said with a weak smile.

  Jack forced a smile of his own. “You know Fraiser’s going to kick your ass for this, right?”

  “At this point,” Daniel said, turning to stare up at the ceiling again, “I’m actually looking forward to it.”

  Sam sat amid a small group of Aedan Trask’s people with one of their weapons in her lap. Aedan himself stood a little apart, watching her through narrowed eyes. But he seemed relaxed enough about letting her handle the gun and just leaned one shoulder against the cavern wall, sipping at a steaming mug of the herbal infusion they called tea.

  Sam had refused the offer of breakfast — these people obviously had limited resources — and instead shared out the content of her Apple Maple Oatmeal MRE pack. In return, she’d gotten this close look at one of their weapons.

  It was like nothing she’d ever seen before and it was almost certainly not of Goa’uld design. There was something organic about its flowing lines, from the rounded muzzle through to the segmented handle.

  “It has a stun setting?” she asked, looking for some kind of interface that might regulate the power output.

  Aedan shook his head. “No settings,” he said. “It’s only designed to incapacitate.” He shrugged. “Unless you’re very weak. That’s why we didn’t use it on your friend Daniel.”

  That surprised her. “It’s a non-lethal weapon?”

  “The Devourers prefer to consume their prey alive.”

  She looked up to see if he was joking, but there was no irony in his face. “But they must —”

  Her question was interrupted by a shout from the other side of the room. “Carter!”

  The colonel was awake, standing next to Teal’c at the head of the passage leading from their sleeping quarters. Still buoyed by the thawing tension of the previous night, she waved in response and climbed to her feet. “Thanks for showing me this,” she said, returning the weapon to the young lad next to her. “It’s fascinating.”

  He grinned and colored a little, making Sam smile.

  Then, with a nod to Aedan, she began picking her way through the people toward the colonel and Teal’c. “Sir,” she said as she drew closer, “I was just looking at one of their weapons. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Fascinating,” the colonel said, without interest. “Now gear up and get ready to move out.”

  “Move out?” She glanced at Teal’c. “Where to, sir? Back to the gate?”

  He ignored her question — so much for last night’s bonhomie — and instead summoned Aedan over with the kind of curt gesture usually reserved for airmen.

  Obviously irritated by the colonel’s manner, Aedan muttered a few words to the people around him before strolling over. “Jack O’Neill,” he said. “Good morning.”

  “These ‘Devourers’,” the colonel said, without preamble. “Where can I find them?”

  Aedan gave a gruff laugh. “You don’t,” he said. “You hide from them.”

  “Say I wanted to find one,” the colonel pressed, his patience clearly thin. “Where would I look?”

  Aedan shook his head and sipped his tea. “Up,” he said.

  Sam frowned. “Up?”

  Aedan gestured toward the ceiling of the cavern. “They fly,” he said. “And if they see you, they take you. And then you die.”

  “Teal’c,” the colonel said, “you think you could take down a glider with your staff weapon?”

  “It is possible, O’Neill. But not easy.”

  And suddenly Sam understood his plan. “You think we’ll be able to recover some kind of DHD from a wrecked glider, sir?”

  “You said they probably had one on board.”

  “I was speculating,” she pointed out.

  “And yet it’s the best plan we’ve got,” he said, as if he was willing her to agree. But she couldn’t, she knew there was a better plan. After a moment, the colonel turned back to Aedan and said, “Thank you for your… hospitality. We’ll be leaving now and we’ll need our weapons.”

  Aedan nodded. “You’re strange people,” he said, “not to know or fear the Devourers. I don’t know whether to admire or pity you.”

  With a flicker of a smile, the colonel said, “Go with ‘admire’.”

  Aedan’s expression softened a fraction, but all he said was, “Either way, if you seek out the Devourers you will end up dead.” He nodded to Teal’c and Sam. “I will have your weapons ready for you topside. Elspeth will show you the way.” Then he walked away and Sam watched him until he disappeared down one of the other passageways.

  “Okay,” the colonel said. “Let’s grab our stuff.”

  He headed back toward their sleeping quarters and Sam followed, Teal’c at her shoulder. “Sir?” she ventured. “Are you sure this is wise?”

  “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Carter.”

  “No, sir,” she said as they entered the small room where Daniel lay looking sallow and fevered. “But I just think the further we move from the gate the less chance there is of a rescue team finding us. And, sir, Daniel’s really not well and —”

  “I know!” He spun to face her, anger sparking in his eyes. “I know Daniel’s sick. I know.” He took a breath, calming himself. “That’s why we have to go. We have to get home today.”

  “Sir,” she said carefully, “our best chance of getting home is staying close to the gate and waiting for rescue.”

  His jaw tightened in the way it did when he was biting back words and he turned around and started to pack up his gear. “We have no idea if rescue’s coming, Carter.”

  “But it is, sir.” She tried another tack. “Think about it: if you’d left the vicinity of the Stargate on Edora your radio wouldn’t have picked up our signal and Teal’c would have died in that cave. You’d still be there.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, rolling up his bedroll with quick, angry movements. “Three months,” he growled, stuffing it into his pack. “I waited three damn months on Edora, Carter. Do you think we have anything like that time?”

  She didn’t answer, couldn’t quite think around that slap in the face. Didn’t he know what those three months had been like for the rest of them, not even knowing w
hether he’d survived the fire rain? Not knowing whether all they’d bring home in the end was a body? She felt a swift flare of anger that she could barely control and dared not open her mouth to reply.

  “God, Jack,” Daniel sighed from where he sat propped up against his pack.

  No one spoke for a while. Sam, furious and hurt, moved to her pack and started shoving everything back inside. It didn’t take long and she was done before the colonel, which gave her a bleak moment of satisfaction. Still too angry to risk speaking, she silently began to help Daniel.

  “We have one day,” the colonel ground out. “Twenty-four hours or we are so unbelievably screwed, you wouldn’t believe it.”

  Daniel frowned in confusion and Sam shared it. What was he talking about? But then Daniel’s eyes widened in understanding. “Because of me, you mean?”

  The colonel didn’t answer. “You’ve got five minutes,” he told them, hefting his pack over one shoulder and stalking out.

  The tension eased once he was gone, but Sam searched Daniel’s face in concern. “What do you mean because of you?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at her and said, “I’m not doing so well, Sam. I need a doctor. Soon.”

  “Okay,” she said, swallowing a sudden surge of fear. He didn’t need to deal with her worries on top of his own. “Okay, so we’ll get you home.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Teal’c offered his hand to Daniel and between the two of them they got him onto his feet. Jaw set, he looked doubtfully at the pack on the floor.

  “You cannot carry that, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c said.