SG1-25 Hostile Ground Page 8

  “We’re too far from the gate to get a radio signal now,” she said and gave a bemused kind of shrug. “For what that’s worth.”

  He studied her pinched expression. “I don’t suppose you know what’s been bugging Colonel Jackass recently?”

  Sam smiled at the moniker, but it soon faded. “I think it has something to do with Edora,” she said, glancing at Jack and lowering her voice. “I overheard him telling —” She stopped dead, her hand suddenly gripping Daniel’s arm.

  Up ahead Teal’c had signaled a halt and both he and Jack were dropping into a crouch. Sam did the same, helping Daniel down too. He tried not to hiss in pain as the wound in his side compressed.

  After a long few minutes of him trying to be silent while in fairly excruciating agony, Teal’c and Jack rose to their feet again and walked on. Daniel shared a look with Sam, who just shrugged and helped him up.

  But they walked in silence now, and through the trees Daniel could see that the ground ahead was starting to fall away. Teal’c and Jack stopped just at the point where the ground plunged downward, dropped to their stomachs and crawled forward until they could peer over the edge. Slowly, Daniel and Sam caught up.

  Keeping below the ridgeline, Sam stopped him while they were still out of sight of whatever lay below. He was breathless, his wound was throbbing, and he didn’t object when Sam maneuvered him toward a fallen tree so that he could rest. Not that sitting hurt any less — in fact it was worse — but his legs were feeling decidedly gelatinous and his head was starting to spin. Sam pressed half a power bar into his hand. He smiled and hoped it would help.

  Teal’c and Jack lay still, watching. Then, on some unspoken signal, they squirmed back down the slope and stood up, trotting downhill to where Daniel and Sam were waiting.

  “Looks like there are some caves down there,” Jack said, as he got close enough to talk. “We saw Teal’c’s guys head inside.”

  “How steep’s the descent?” Sam asked, her tone excruciatingly cool.

  Jack matched it exactly. “Not bad if we go around the side.” He’d found his sunglasses, despite the dour weather, and Daniel couldn’t see much more than his straight, uncompromising mouth.

  “I will assist Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c offered. “It is not far to the cave entrance. With luck, you will be able to rest there.”

  Jack frowned behind his sunglasses and said, “I’ll take point. Carter, cover our six.”

  “Yes sir.”

  With Teal’c helping him walk, Daniel moved faster. Which was good, because Jack looked like he was in a hurry. He loped downhill with his loose-limbed stride, weapon held casually in both hands — if you could ever hold a semiautomatic machine gun casually.

  Behind him Daniel could hear Sam’s careful footsteps, but whatever she was thinking she kept her thoughts to herself.

  Ahead, the trees started to thin as they descended into a shallow valley. The air was dank and misty, but despite that he could still make out the caves, a natural formation of blocky rocks that rose out of the scrubby grass in a low, elliptical lump.

  Jack slowed as he drew near, casting a glance over his shoulder and waiting for the rest of them to catch up. “Okay Daniel,” he said, “let’s take this nice and easy. We don’t want to surprise anyone.”

  “Yeah just… give me a moment…” He was feeling decidedly woozy, a slow and steady thumping building inside his skull. Not that he was going to admit it, but he was starting to feel a lot worse.

  “Daniel?” Sam touched his forehead. “You’re hot.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Jack just said, “Let’s do this.”

  With O’Neill up front and the others ranged behind him, they cautiously approached the shadowed entrance to the cave. Daniel had been in enough dark, damp caves in his life to be expecting a familiar fusty aroma, but there was none beyond the muddy, grassy scent of the ground. He peered into the gloom, past Jack’s head, and realized at once that they were looking at —

  “A door,” Jack said, stopping dead. “It’s a goddamn door.” Moving closer, he pressed his hand against it. “Iron.”

  “That’s… interesting,” Daniel said. “So now what?”

  For a moment they all looked at each other. Then Jack said, “I guess we knock?”

  It felt a bit silly, them standing there in front of the door and knocking like trick-or-treaters in search of candy — or a way home. With a ‘what-the-hell?’ shrug, Jack lifted his hand and rapped on the door. It rang like a bell.

  But as the echo faded Sam said, “Colonel?” Her weapon was raised, trained on the top of the rocks. A man stood there, a silhouette against the white sky.

  “Oh… hello…” Daniel began.

  But then another man joined the first, and then a second. Jack lifted his gun, taking a step back, covering his team as Teal’c’s staff sprang open.

  “O’Neill,” he said, turning slowly. “We are surrounded.”

  “Yup,” Jack said.

  From all sides, men and women emerged from the misty valley. Dressed in a mishmash of clothing — animal skins and heavy woolen fabrics — they regarded SG-1 with wary curiosity. But the most remarkable thing about these people, as far as Daniel was concerned, wasn’t their clothing or their long, braided hair. It was the smattering of sophisticated weapons they were holding, all of which were aimed firmly at him and his team.

  “Teal’c?” Jack said, not lowering his weapon. “I distinctly remember you saying ‘bows and arrows’…”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Standing on the ramp, Dr. Fraiser at his side, Hammond could see the open wormhole behind him reflected in the window of the control room. It stayed there, shimmering and beautiful, for a second or two more before it dissipated and left the gate room a darker, more somber place.

  “I don’t know about you, sir,” Fraiser said, “but I’m glad to be home.”

  “You’re not alone, doctor.”

  “I’ve been in warmer morgues than that place,” she said as they started to walk down the ramp. “Metaphorically speaking.”

  “The Tollan have never been known for their warmth and hospitality,” he said, although in truth it was the Asgard’s attitude that really troubled him. But this was neither the time nor the place for that discussion.

  However, it seemed that Dr. Fraiser’s thoughts were running along the same line. “I’d like to go and check in with the infirmary, sir, but if you’d like me to stop by your office later… ?”

  They’d reached the bottom of the ramp and behind the doctor he could see the blast doors open. Harriman headed straight toward him like a man on a mission.

  “I appreciate that, doctor,” Hammond said. “Give me a call when you’re done in the infirmary.”

  “Yes sir.” And with that, and a smile for Harriman, she was gone.

  “Sir,” the sergeant said, turning to walk with Hammond as he headed out of the gate room. All around them the SF’s were standing down and the air had that static fizz he would forever associate with the Stargate. “You have a visitor waiting, General.”

  He stopped. “What kind of visitor?” If it was Kinsey —

  “It’s General Carter, sir. He arrived about an hour ago.”

  Of course. He’d contacted the Tok’ra a couple of days back and wasn’t surprised Jacob had come — the question was, did he come officially or unofficially? And would the Tok’ra offer any help locating SG-1? “Did he come alone?” Hammond said, heading through the blast doors and out into the corridor.

  “Yes sir. He’s waiting in the briefing room.”

  Hammond nodded and headed up the narrow stairs and into the control room. If Jacob had come alone, then he’d probably come unofficially, which, in turn, probably meant that the Tok’ra couldn’t, or wouldn’t, help — just as Colonel Makepeace had predicted. However, Hammond wasn’t about to rule them out just yet. Jacob Carter had a powerful motive to find SG-1, and help was help, whether or not it was officially sanctioned by the Tok’ra
High Council.

  “Sergeant?” he said, as he crossed the control room to the stairs. “Bring me everything Dr. Rothman has on the Jaffa symbol Colonel Makepeace retrieved from P5X-104.”

  “Yes sir.”

  He stopped, one foot on the lowest step. “And Sergeant? See if you can rustle us up some coffee and sandwiches. Common hospitality doesn’t stretch to lunch on Tollana and I haven’t eaten since 0600 hours this morning.”

  When he reached the briefing room, he found his old friend sitting at the long conference table, staring out pensively into the gate room. Jacob turned when he heard Hammond enter and rose to his feet. “George,” he said.

  “Good to see you, Jacob. Although I wish the circumstances were different.” They shook hands and Hammond took his customary seat at the head of the table, gesturing for Jacob sit back down.

  He did, hunched forward and with his hands clenched tight on the table in front of him. There was tension in every line of his body. “I take it there’s no news?”

  “No, I’m sorry. We’ve searched P5X-104 but found no trace of SG-1. As far as we can tell from the DHD, Earth was the last planet dialed but the wormhole never connected with our Stargate. Or with the secondary gate, currently in storage in Nevada.”

  Jacob nodded. “You have a theory?”

  “We have two,” he said, just as Harriman entered with a file tucked under one arm and balancing a tray with two coffees, several sandwiches, and a couple bags of potato chips. The man was a miracle worker.

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” Despite the situation, his stomach was growling and only his good manners stopped him from digging in right away. He gestured to Jacob to help himself as he took the file from Harriman. It was a thin file; Dr. Rothman hadn’t managed to find out a great deal, but at least it contained the photographs Makepeace had taken.

  Once they were alone again, and he’d taken a couple of bites of sandwich, he turned back to Jacob. “So, I was saying — we have two theories.”

  Jacob wasn’t eating. He just sipped his coffee, looking dour and concerned. “Go on.”

  “Theory one,” Hammond said, wiping mayo from his fingers. “We think the gate on ‘104 may have been hit by staff-cannon fire which caused the wormhole to skip to another gate somewhere between P5X-104 and Earth.”

  “You’ve set up a search?”

  “We have teams out right now — it’ll take a week to check all the closest addresses.”

  Jacob nodded, frowning. There was an inward-looking expression on his face and Hammond realized he was communing with Selmak. He took the opportunity to finish his sandwich. After a moment, Jacob looked up and said, “What’s your second theory?”

  This one, Hammond liked even less. “That the dialing sequence was interrupted before it could connect and SG-1 were captured by the Jaffa on the planet. There was quite a firefight at the gate.”

  Jacob rubbed his hands over his face. “There’s a third theory,” he said, meeting Hammond’s eyes with a bleak look.

  But the third option wasn’t even worth considering. “If the wormhole collapsed while they were in transit,” Hammond said, “then they’re gone and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  For a moment they sat in silence, but then Jacob sighed, as if rallying himself, and said, “Whose Jaffa? Who was on the planet?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us.”

  Hammond pulled the file closer and took out the photo of the fallen Jaffa, the symbol tattooed onto his forehead stark against his deathly skin. He passed the picture to Jacob, who looked at it briefly before passing it back. “Hecate,” he said.

  Hammond nodded. “Yes, Dr. Rothman had gotten that far. What do you know about her?”

  When Jacob spoke again, it was in Selmak’s resonant tone. “She is a minor Goa’uld of whom we know very little. It is likely that she is allied with a more powerful System Lord however, or she would not risk such an open attack. We will endeavor to find out more.”

  “Thank you,” Hammond said, although it was little enough to be thankful for. “In the meantime,” he added, since he had Selmak’s attention, “are the Tok’ra able to help us look for our people?” He lowered his voice even though they had the room to themselves. “Major Carter notwithstanding, you’re aware of the urgency to retrieve Colonel O’Neill?”

  Selmak nodded. “We are. The Asgard and Tollan are both in contact with our High Council. Unfortunately, the Tok’ra have also suffered thefts of technology and, because of that, and because of our ancient alliances with both the Asgard and the Tollan, the Tok’ra cannot offer you any help.”

  It was a struggle not to vent his anger and, for a moment, Hammond said nothing, clamping his jaw against words he knew wouldn’t help. But it was Jacob Carter sitting there, and it was his daughter who was lost. Keeping his voice as even as he could he said, “You have to know that this mole in the SGC is just one person — one person among the billions on this planet. You can’t punish us all for their crimes.”

  Selmak retreated, letting Jacob come forward. Perhaps, wisely, he felt that this was something best discussed between old friends. “Look, George,” Jacob said, “God knows I agree with you. And I don’t for a minute think that anyone in SG-1 had anything to do with this…”

  “SG-1… ?” That news had spread fast.

  Jacob gave a wry smile. “Oh yes, we heard about the most recent theft. The Tollan were very quick to point out that it happened while SG-1 was AWOL.”

  “Missing,” Hammond corrected.

  Jacob conceded the point. “The Tollan don’t trust the Tau’ri, George. They never really have. We’re too… unpredictable. The Asgard persuaded them to trust Jack because — Well, for some reason the Asgard like him and the Tollan trust the Asgard. But with Jack out of the picture? I gotta tell you, it’s not looking good.”

  “You don’t need to tell me,” Hammond said, poking at the remains of the sandwiches. His appetite had suddenly vanished. “But Jacob, we’re talking about Samantha.”

  “I know.”

  And for a moment, in that tight voice and anxious frown, Hammond glimpsed the man he’d once know, a man grieving for his lost wife and struggling to parent his children.

  “Believe me,” Jacob said, “I’ll do everything possible to help find Sam — unofficially. I’ll talk to my contacts, see if anyone’s heard anything, and find out what I can about Hecate. But there’s nothing I can do to move the High Council on this. And don’t think I haven’t tried.” Then he let out a long, controlled breath — it sounded like the prelude to bad news. “And George,” he said, “there’s something else.”

  “Go on.”

  “Rumors,” he said. “We’ve heard them from a couple of different operatives now.”

  Hammond didn’t speak, just sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. Waiting.

  Jacob held his gaze for a long moment. “They say the Asgard are close — and I mean close — to withdrawing Earth from the Protected Planets Treaty.”

  It was the worst news, but far from unexpected. “All because one man is missing?”

  “It’s not just that,” Jacob said. “There’s something odd with the Asgard — something going on that they’re not telling us about.”

  Hammond thought back to Thor and Tyr, to their uncompromising insistence on O’Neill’s involvement. “What do you mean?”

  Jacob shrugged. “We don’t know exactly, but they’ve been pulling ships out of our galaxy for over a year now. From a military standpoint,” he said, “it looks a hell of a lot like they’re falling back to defend a safer position.”

  Mind racing, and not at all happy with the conclusions he was reaching, Hammond said, “At the negotiations today, Thor mentioned something about a threat in their galaxy.”

  “Yes,” Jacob said. “That’s all they’ll say. But whatever this threat is, I’m beginning to wonder if they’ve still got the capacity — or even the will — to maintain the Protected Planet Treaty at all.”<
br />
  “So this is just an excuse? A way to fall back without losing face?”

  Jacob spread his hands. “Perhaps. Like I said, we don’t know any more than you do.”

  “In which case,” Hammond said, starting to make the connections, “they’ve got no good reason to help us clear up this mess, have they? And that might just explain why they’re so damned insistent that Colonel O’Neill is the only man who can solve the problem.”

  “They’re certainly making it difficult,” Jacob agreed.

  “Sonofa —” He swallowed the curse, outraged, yet somehow unsurprised by the turn of events. “So what do we do?”

  “Find Jack O’Neill,” Jacob said. “Find my daughter. And don’t give the little gray bastards a reason to pull the plug.” Then he leaned closer, across the table, and dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. “Because there are plenty of Goa’uld out there looking at Earth with hungry eyes, George. And the only thing holding them back is that damn treaty.”

  Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

  They’d seen them coming. Of course they’d seen them coming. Daniel had already told them they’d been spotted the night before. Damn it. What had he been thinking?

  Furious with himself, Jack backed up another step and tried to cover his whole team while figuring out how the hell to get out of this.

  Everything, everything was going wrong.

  There were people all around them, forming a loose but complete circle. They didn’t look aggressive, but the kick-ass weapons they carried — and what the hell were they? — definitely meant business. To his left, one of the men stepped forward. He was young — they were all young — but he had the swagger of a leader. His long braided hair was pulled back from his face and he wore a coat stitched together from the skins of whatever critters lived on this rock. A dark, close-cropped beard framed narrow features and a pair of piercing eyes marked him out as both smart and dangerous.

  He looked like he knew what to do with the weapon he was aiming at Jack, but, despite the high-tech gun, he also had a bow slung across his back and a knife hanging from his belt next to two scrawny rabbits.