SG1-25 Hostile Ground Read online

  Makepeace shook his head — a lie among so many other lies. “Only that it’s got something to do with SG-1.”

  “I can’t believe they called off the search,” Ferretti said with a shake of his head, fist tapping lightly on the table in frustration.

  “I guess they have their reasons, Major.”

  Whatever Ferretti’s response might have been, it was cut off when Hammond’s office door opened and he stepped into the room. Everyone got to their feet and he nodded in acknowledgment. His face was grim, as grim as Makepeace had ever seen it. Something dark curled tight in the pit of his stomach, something like dread. Or guilt.

  “As you were,” Hammond said, taking his customary seat at the head of the table.

  He waited until everyone was seated, his hands resting on the table, fingertips pressed together. He was the picture of control, of calm under pressure. Makepeace’s fear kicked up a notch; he could feel his pulse racing, heart thumping in his chest.

  “What I’m about to tell you,” Hammond said gravely, “will come as a shock to most of you. I know it did to me.” He swept his gaze over them all and Makepeace forced himself to meet those cool, incisive eyes without flinching. “Several weeks ago,” Hammond said, “I was contacted by the High Chancellor of the Tollan Curia. She informed me that Colonel Maybourne had established an off-world base, and that he was running rogue teams from that base to steal weapons and other technologies from our allies.”

  The shock was palpable. Though he couldn’t feel it himself, Makepeace could still see it reflected in the faces of his colleagues and hear it in their low outraged murmurs.

  It’s not like that, he wanted to say. We’re doing it to help, to make us stronger.

  Hammond held up a hand for silence. “Unfortunately, that’s not the worst of it,” he said. “It seems that someone in this command, someone in an off-world team, has been working with Maybourne to smuggle plans and stolen technology back to Earth through our Stargate.”

  This time, Makepeace didn’t need to fake the shock that hit him like a left hook.

  They knew. Hammond knew.

  His hands clutched the table, knuckles turning white. He glanced at the door, but there was no way out, no way to escape this. Mouth dry, muscles like iron, all he could do was sit and wait for the ax to fall.

  “Who is it?” Colonel Reynolds said, taut with anger.

  “We don’t know,” Hammond said. “And that’s the problem…”

  Hammond was still talking, but Makepeace wasn’t listening. The only sound in his ears was the white noise of relief, a blank space where thought used to be. They don’t know it’s me. Thank God, they don’t know…

  He took a breath, deep and slow, relaxing his muscles, returning to the room.

  “…unfortunately,” Hammond was saying, “and for obvious reasons, Colonel O’Neill has been unable to conduct that investigation. And it is my duty to tell you that, as a result, both the Tollan and the Asgard have withdrawn from their alliances with us.” Hammond spread his hands on the table, pressing them flat as if to steady himself. “As of 1800 hours today, Earth stands alone.”

  “Sonofa —” Ferretti cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir.”

  Hammond shot him a wry look. “Under the circumstances, Major, I concur with your sentiment.”

  “But the Asgard wouldn’t abandon us,” Reynolds protested. “Over one rotten apple? That’s insane, sir.”

  “It appears,” Hammond said, “that the Asgard have their own problems. And whatever we may think of their decision, the fact remains that Earth is no longer covered by the Protected Planets Treaty.”

  Makepeace cleared his throat, conscious that he’d been silent until now. “It’s not like we’re entirely helpless, sir,” he said. “And if we’re lucky, the Goa’uld won’t figure out what’s happened until we’ve had time to fortify our defenses. It’s not like the Asgard are going to send them a memo.”

  That raised few, faint smiles around the room, but not for the general. If anything his expression grew bleaker. “Unfortunately, Colonel, we have reason to believe that Apophis is already aware of the situation. In fact, our contacts among the Tok’ra believe he’s assembling a fleet.”

  “A fleet?” His heart jolted, skipping a few beats. “Already?”

  “As we speak, Colonel. I’ve just briefed the President and he has authorized DEFCON2. Our immediate priority is mounting what defenses we can muster.” He frowned, his glare turned inward. “Our most critical problem is that we have no established Alpha Site available. It won’t be easy, but we will need to look at options for a full-scale evacuation.”

  Evacuation. DEFCON2. Apophis. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. This wasn’t why he’d risked his neck for Maybourne’s operation. He’d wanted to make Earth safer, more self-reliant. Not weak, not vulnerable.

  “Sir,” Reynolds said, leaning forward across the table, “what if we dig out Maybourne’s mole ourselves and hand him over? Hell, I’d be happy to beat the life out of the bastard myself. Sir.”

  Makepeace’s mouth tasted like sandpaper, too dry to speak, as if it were trying to keep him from saying the words that would condemn him. It’s me. I confess.

  He could have admitted to it, could have handed himself over right there. But he didn’t, he said nothing. He was too afraid.

  “Even if we could discover the perpetrator’s identity,” Hammond said, oblivious to Makepeace’s silent act of cowardice, “I’m not sure it would help. The Asgard have already made their decision. In truth, I think it was probably made some time ago.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Yes, Colonel, but it’s also the reality in which we must operate.”

  Hammond got to his feet, everyone else following suit. “The President, Vice President and Joint Chiefs are already on their way here. The Pentagon is sending a strike team in with them, to coordinate their evacuation, and they’ll brief you when they arrive. In the meantime, prepare your people and await further orders.” He paused, and then added, “Needless to say, this information remains Top Secret. The President has yet to decide what, if anything, to make public at this time.”

  Dark looks crossed the room, stoic but bleak. This wasn’t the first time disaster had threatened and they knew the drill. Even so, the tension in the room was sharp enough to cut steel.

  “I won’t pretend this isn’t serious,” Hammond said into the silence. “I won’t pretend that our world isn’t facing grave danger. But I do know that we have beaten the Goa’uld before.”

  “Yeah,” Ferretti said, “but only thanks to SG-1. And they’re not here.”

  Hammond fixed him with a look. “Son,” he said, “we beat Ra way back when we had nothing but sticks and stones to throw at him. We beat him then, and we can beat Apophis now. Because we won’t lie down, we won’t accept defeat. We will fight — each one of us here, and every man and woman on this planet. And that gives me hope. It should give you hope too.”

  But it didn’t give Makepeace hope. All he felt was alone and foolish — the Judas at the feast. And as he watched his friends and colleagues slowly filter from the room, exchanging words of grim determination, all he could think was I did this.

  I’m the reason the Goa’uld are coming.

  Daniel watched as a group of three Amam stepped into the room. They all looked similar to his eyes — the consequence of some kind of cross-species bias, he figured — and it was difficult to tell if the one who had saved him was among them.

  They were all tall, powerfully built, and appeared to be male. Two had long white hair, braided in parts, but the third creature’s hair was jet black. They stopped in the doorway, sniffing at the air, teeth bared.

  Everyone in the room had gone silent and still. Daniel found himself scarcely breathing as, on some unspoken signal, the Amam stalked further into the room and the door behind them slid shut. Their yellow, alien eyes swept over the cowering prisoners as they sauntered past. Browsing, Daniel thoug
ht, with a sick sense of dread. Opposite him, Jack watched the Amam with tight-lipped intensity.

  Two of the creatures halted close to Teal’c, but the one with black hair continued on toward Daniel. He stopped when he was in front of him, head cocked to one side as he studied him.

  “Um, hi?”

  “Daniel…” Jack, warning him to shut the hell up.

  The Amam ignored them both, drew a step closer as it examined Daniel. It didn’t speak, but reached out one taloned finger and scratched it down the side of Daniel’s face. Teeth bared, it drew closer.

  “Daniel!” Jack was cursing, struggling helplessly.

  “Ah,” Daniel said to the Amam, drawing back as far as he could. “Listen, maybe we can —”

  A commotion at the far end of the room interrupted and the Amam pulled away with a hiss. Someone was shouting, begging. Daniel looked with horror as one of the creatures pulled a man free of the tendrils that held them all in place. Wiry and thin, the man beat at the Amam’s arm until it let him go and he fell, knees buckling, to the floor.

  “Please,” he begged, scrabbling backward. “Please don’t…”

  The Amam stalked after him with slow, deliberate strides, like a cat toying with its prey. Desperate, the man got to his feet and started backing up toward Daniel.

  “Please. Not me, please…”

  He was crazed with fear and looked half starved. Daniel wondered how long he’d been in this place, what he’d seen here. The black-haired Amam in front of Daniel stepped out into the frightened man’s path, waiting as he backed away from the creature advancing on him.

  “Please…” Arms outstretched before him, warding off the enemy, he didn’t see the Amam at his back until he bumped into him. In horror, he turned his head, his mouth open in a silent scream as the Amam bared its teeth and grabbed the man’s arms, pulling them behind his back and holding him helpless as the other creature approached.

  The man’s mouth worked, opening and shutting until, at last, a hoarse scream escaped. “No!” he rasped, as the Amam lifted a hand, exposing claws and a strange mouth-like organ on its palm. “Help me!” the man begged, turning to Jack. “Please, help me!”

  Jack’s expression was grim as stone. “I’m sorry,” he ground out.

  But suddenly, like a flash, Daniel understood what was happening and he almost laughed with relief. “It’s okay!” he said. “He’s not going to hurt you. He’s going to help you!”

  The man looked at him as if he was insane, and in that moment the Amam closed on him and drove his hand hard against his chest. A scream of pain and terror tore from the man’s throat, his head flung back against the creature that held him still.

  For the space between two heartbeats, Daniel expected to see the man healed and healthy. But then something else started to happen, something hideous.

  “Oh my God,” Sam gasped, horrified.

  The man withered. Before their eyes, his body aged and wasted until, after no more than a few seconds, he was nothing but a desiccated corpse. The Amam released him, throwing back its own head in a moment of ecstatic pleasure as the body crumpled to the floor.

  Across the corridor, Daniel met Jack’s dark gaze. He looked as dangerous as a loaded gun and a hair’s breadth from snapping. “Don’t do anything stupid,” Daniel warned, but Jack’s expression didn’t change and his gaze didn’t waver for a moment.

  The raven-haired Amam swung hungrily toward Daniel and he flinched, braced for the end. But when the creature struck, it didn’t reach for him. It reached for Sam and dragged her from the wall, throwing her staggering into the center of the chamber.

  And that’s when Jack went nuts.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Carter!”

  Sam dropped into a low, wary crouch. Her firearms were missing, but her dive knife was still in its holster and she reached for it, moving slowly, as she watched the Devourer watch her.

  The colonel was struggling, desperate but helpless. “Hey. Hey!” He yelled at the Amam, trying to draw its attention away from her. “Over here, you ugly bastard!”

  But it didn’t even glance in his direction. Its attention was fixed entirely on Sam as it took a predatory step forward.

  She retreated, her knife raised. “Stay back,” she warned. The Amam bared its teeth and she had the distinct impression it was enjoying itself.

  Risking a quick glance over her shoulder, Sam found she was backing herself into a dead end; there was nothing behind her but more pods, more people. Damn it. Heart thumping, tuning out the colonel’s increasingly frantic shouts, she tried to assess her options. There were three Amam and they were all armed. Black Hair was stalking her, the other two were watching from further down the corridor — standing between her and the only exit. They had height and weight on their side, and she remembered the way the creature on the planet had flung the colonel aside like a ragdoll, so she guessed they had strength too. Speed was an unknown, and she was fast. If she could somehow disarm the creature in front of her…

  She took another step back.

  “You do not fear,” the Amam said. Its voice was precise, as if it was unaccustomed to speaking her language. “Your lifeforce will be all the sweeter for your resistance.”

  “Goddamn sonofabitch,” the colonel growled, flinging himself against his bonds again. But it was hopeless and he knew it. “Carter…”

  She licked her dry lips. “It’s okay, sir.”

  “You can take him,” he growled. “You can do it, Major.”

  “Maybe I should let you run,” the Amam mused, closing in on her — forcing her to step back again. Soon, she’d hit the wall and there’d be nowhere left to go. “The hunt always enhances the final pleasure.”

  Sam let her vision narrow, her focus entirely on herself and the creature. She had one chance. Perhaps the colonel saw the shift in her, because he fell still and silent and all she could hear was the hammering of her heart and the rush of blood through her ears. If she let the Amam back her up against the wall, she was dead. She had to act and she had to act now. Without taking her eyes off the creature, she readjusted her hold on the knife. Her palms were sweaty but the rubber handle still gripped well. Subtly, she shifted her weight forward onto the balls of her feet. Her mouth was dry, her throat tight, but her vision was clear and her senses sharpened by the adrenaline flooding her body. It was now or it was never.

  Without warning, she threw herself at the creature, barreling into it with her shoulder and thrusting her knife up in a gutting motion toward its belly. For a moment it seemed to lose its balance, momentum carried her forward and her heart jumped as she made a grab for its weapon. She was going to do it!

  But triumph only lasted a moment.

  A powerful blow struck her across the face, slamming her backward so hard she hit the floor with an oomph that knocked the breath from her lungs and the knife from her fingers.

  She scrambled to her feet, fighting for breath, but the Amam didn’t give her a moment. It was on her, large fingers curling into her jacket as it lifted her off her feet and held her dangling in mid-air.

  “It has been too long,” it hissed, “since I fed on one such as you.”

  And then it smashed her against the wall, holding her there with one hand at her throat as it raised the other to expose the feeding organ on its palm.

  “Go to hell!” she spat, gripping the arm at her throat and trying to push it away. It was hopeless, but she refused to die without a fight.

  “Carter!”

  She couldn’t turn her head, but, from the corner of her eye, she saw the colonel watching her in horror. She didn’t want the face of her killer to be the last thing she saw so she held onto the colonel’s gaze, let it anchor her as the creature snarled.

  “I will savor you,” it breathed, like a vile caress.

  She shuddered, choking in a gasp past the fingers at her throat. “Sir…”

  His eyes widened in panic. “Carter!”

  And the creature struck,
driving its hand into her chest and crushing her against the fleshy wall of the chamber. She screamed, flinging her head back as pain lanced into her heart.

  Dimly, she could hear the colonel shouting and cursing but her ears were ringing, head swimming as her life was wrenched out through her chest. Her fingers were numbing, her legs jellifying and then —

  It dropped her. Clutching its hand as if it burned, the Amam staggered backward, gasping for air as it fell to one knee.

  Sam didn’t wait to wonder why, she just acted. Forcing her body to work, she aimed a kick at the creature’s chest and sent it sprawling onto its back. Then she was on it, pulling the stun weapon from its holster in one swift move and firing once, twice, three times. It jerked beneath the crawling electrical charge, and then lay still.

  She spun, caught the second creature a moment before it grabbed her, and threw herself backward as she fired again. The third had its weapon drawn, but she dodged the first blast and landed two clean shots to the creature’s head. They sent it to its knees and the third laid it out completely.

  Only when all three were down did Sam let her own knees give way and she crumpled, gasping for breath, to the floor.

  “Carter…”

  She couldn’t reply, just rolled onto her hands and knees and concentrated on breathing past the pain that still knotted her chest.

  “Sam?” Daniel this time. “Sam get up…”

  Just a few more breaths.

  “Major!” It was an order and she responded instinctively, sitting back on her heels. At least the world had stopped spinning, even if her mind felt upside down. “Carter.” The colonel was speaking to her like she wasn’t quite there — maybe she wasn’t. “Carter, you have to get the knife.”

  Yes, the knife. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and pushed herself back to her feet. Her knees buckled at the first attempt, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand. The knife lay close to Daniel, hidden in the shadows. Her legs wobbled as she walked, but she was breathing easier now, although she still felt weak from whatever that thing had done to her. Grabbing the knife, she braced herself for a moment against the pod holding Daniel. Then, with visceral pleasure, she plunged the blade into the tendrils that held him in place, sawing at them and grimacing at the oily substance that leaked out when the blade sliced deep.