Fic: 'Falling Back to Earth' (3/7)
Falling Back to Earth
Chapter Three
Jack’s hand taps impatiently against the butt of his weapon as he waits for the hastily formed group of marines to finish gearing up. It’s taken just over 8 hours to get to this point. He’s had to convince Hammond to send a retrieval team to the address provided by Sha’re, and get a new team thrown together, properly briefed and outfitted. It feels like it’s been days.
But here he finally is, standing with Daniel Jackson about to step onto an unknown alien world. Again. To be honest, he hadn’t been thrilled at the prospect of taking Daniel along again, but as usual, Daniel had been convincing.
“I can understand the language, the customs. You’ll need me,” had been all Daniel said, Sha’re standing calmly behind him, a silent, but no less stubborn presence.
Jack knew he was right.
Movement out in the hall catches Jack’s attention, but rather than the four marines they are waiting on, it’s Ferretti walking over to them. He’s got his arm in a sling and probably shouldn’t even be out of bed to judge from the pallor of his skin.
“Wish I could go with you, sir,” he says, his voice tight.
Jack can appreciate the sentiment. Ferretti and Kawalsky have been pretty close since the first mission. Sharing a secret like Abydos has a way of doing that. “I know you do, Major.”
He touches his injured arm, grimacing. “She really saved my ass out there.”
“What?” Jack asks, turning to look at him.
“Carter,” Ferretti says, still looking a little sour about the whole thing. “Got one of them down, right when I was sure my goose was cooked.”
Jack isn’t surprised to hear that, not really, but all he can think is the one sentence that’s been haunting him since he first heard that damning crackle on his radio.
She shouldn’t have even been there.
The marines bustle in then, the room tipping towards chaos as the gate begins to spin.
“Good luck, sir,” Ferretti says, snapping off a salute.
Jack returns the salute, glancing up at Hammond in the control room.
Hammond looks like he wants to say something, but in the end merely nods his head, giving the mission the go ahead. Jack is relieved. He’s not sure he can pull off the lie if Hammond asks him point blank. Can you keep a clear head and do this?
He doesn’t have a fucking clue.
“I’m first,” Jack says, striding up past Makepeace and his marines. “Daniel, you follow last, got it?”
Daniel lifts his hands, stepping behind the heavily armed marines. “Sure, whatever you say.” Maybe he’s trying to convince Jack he’s capable of behaving.
Jack will believe that when he sees it.
“Let’s go,” he says, stepping into the event horizon.
Jack doesn’t step out into a temple like on Abydos or even a desert, but a large clearing open to the sky with rows and rows of tall stones stretching outwards like some crazy Stonehenge. At first glance, there are no other signs of civilization, no guards, no people at all. Why the hell would the aliens take their people here? He really hopes Sha’re didn’t get the address wrong.
Behind him, the marines have materialized, spreading out in standard formation. None of them show any signs of nausea or discomfort at the disturbing ride, but Jack knows that’s mostly bravado.
“Doesn’t look like an alien planet,” one of the marines mutters.
“What were you expecting, purple trees?” another shoots back.
Jack’s too busy scoping out what looks like a worn path leading away into the trees to shut them up. It’s probably their best chance of finding civilization.
Daniel steps up next to Jack, reaching out to touch one of the stones. “Amazing,” he says.
“Daniel,” Jack says, pointing towards the path.
Daniel squints in the indicated direction. “Yeah,” he agrees. “This looks like it’s a ceremonial space, perhaps only used in special religious functions? That path will probably take us to any more permanent settlements.”
“Walkable distance?” Jack asks, remembering just how far from the pyramid the Abydonian’s city had been.
Daniel shrugs. “If they’re at anything like the level of technology as the Abydonians, they would have to be. But I really can’t say for certain.”
It seems Daniel has learned a few lessons over the last year as well, not making rash promises without thinking them through. “Something tells me Ra didn’t walk a whole lot.”
“No, probably not.” Daniel’s eyes dart to the marines. “Either way, I’m not sure bursting into a city armed to the teeth is the best approach.”
Jack glances at the marines, noting how tightly wound they are, fingers taut on the trigger. No, probably not the best strategy. He can’t be sure they won’t start shooting first and they are here for a rescue, not a standoff. Jack and Daniel alone may be able to slide in unnoticed if they are lucky.
Jack crosses back over to Makepeace, the ranking Marine. “Daniel and I are going to check this place out. You boys hold this position. And get that ridgeline rigged in case our exit isn’t quite as smooth as we might hope.”
“Yes, sir,” Makepeace says. “You come in hot, we’ll have a party waiting for you.”
Now that is enthusiasm Jack can get behind. Makepeace turns to his men and snaps off orders.
“All right, Daniel,” Jack says, tugging him away from the stones. “Time to say hello to the natives.”
They start down the path.
* * *
Sam wakes slowly, pain pounding in her head like she’s suffering from a four-alarm hangover. She doesn’t know how much of that is from the throbbing lump at the back of her skull and how much is from that horrible device the Solid Gold dancer had used on her.
If the pain weren’t bad enough, she opens her eyes to find that she is no longer in uniform, instead wearing a thin, white shift sort of thing that barely covers her body, dipping low in front and not reaching her knees. She refuses to think about the fact that someone undressed and redressed her. She’s got enough trouble as it is.
The next bad piece of news is that she seems to be in a room full of similarly dressed women. The room they are in is like one giant bed, full of soft surfaces and silks and decorative pillows. Whoever these metal-clad aliens are, subtlety is clearly not their forte.
None of the women are talking or even looking at each other, and Sam wonders if that is due to language barriers or just a result of the fear that hovers like a stench in the air.
She turns to the woman closest to her, really no more than a girl of fourteen if Sam had to guess. “Excuse me,” she says. “Can you tell me where I am?”
The girl merely lowers her eyes and shifts around to look in a different direction. Okay. So much for that.
Sam glances around the room, observing the women. It seems as if someone has gone to great lengths to find one of every type of woman in the galaxy. They are dark and fair, thin and voluptuous, red heads to deep blue-black hair and everything in between. Skimming the women, Sam doesn’t see anyone resembling the description of the missing Sergeant, or anyone familiar from Abydos.
If this enemy has stuck to the pattern established by the original abduction, it is unlikely any of the men were taken from Abydos. It’s a comfort, but only skin deep because it means that if she’s going to get out of here she’ll have to do it herself. No waiting around for rescue.
For a second, she imagines Jack’s reaction at finding her missing from the temple, but shoves it quickly aside. Pushing gingerly to her feet, she looks down the length of the room. At the opposite end is what appears to be an open doorway flanked by columns. Is it possible that escape can be that easy?
Sam picks her way through the room. The women watch her progress with growing agitation, one going so far as to shake her head with a quiet hiss as Sam passes. At the doorway, Sam comes to a stop, but as far as she can tell, there is nothing there. Cautiously, she sticks one finger out, stretching towards the door. An unseen force shield of some sort leaps into existence, zapping her finger. She curses, pulling back and sticking her fried finger in her mouth.
So much for that exit.
Not ready to give up, she moves methodically around the entire perimeter of the room, looking for any exits other than the obvious. The women still watch her with wide eyes. She doesn’t find anything even remotely promising by the time she’s circled back around to the door.
Closer inspection of the wall near the door reveals something that might be an access hatch of some sort. Glancing around, Sam’s eye falls on the decorative torch-like things on the wall every five feet or so. Reaching up, she pulls one down, blowing the flame out. It takes her nearly 20 minutes, but she manages to wrangle together a rough tool of sorts from the metal of the sconce. With it, she wedges the panel open. Inside is technology unlike anything she’s ever seen. Rather than circuits or wires, there are crystals of various sizes and colors.
A soft hum added to the light shining out of the hatch tells her she’s discovered more than someone’s secret stash of jewelry. It seems more mechanical than that.
She cautiously taps one with a finger, not knowing if they carry current or not. There’s no shock, but she still thinks it’s probably smart not to touch more than one at a time. She stares at the crystals, wondering if it is possible that simply pulling one of the things out of place could somehow lower the shield. Or just give her one hell of an electric shock.
What if she simply smashed them all with her torch?
At the sound of approaching footsteps, she twists to her feet and leans against the wall in front of the open panel, shoving the broken light fixture under one the decorative pillows with her foot.
She does her best impression of vacancy and submission that she can muster, but one of the guards still detours from his friends, heading directly for her. Damn.
“What are you doing?” he demands and she thinks it may be the same guy with the gold tattoo from Abydos.
She doesn’t answer him, just stares at the floor and tries to look helpless.
The guard doesn’t seem to buy her innocent act though, as he grabs her arm, forcibly moving her away from the front of the panel, staring down at the exposed hardware. Taking her wrist, he forces her hand up, and the tool she’d tried to hide in the folds of her skirt. He squeezes her wrist until she lets go of it with a gasp of pain. He kicks it away.
“You dare meddle with secrets of the gods?” he accuses.
Sam doesn’t think that’s the sort of question that’s really supposed to be answered.
His fingers tighten on her arms and she tenses, waiting to see what sort of punishment she will receive. He reaches for her chest and she tries to step back away, but he only touches her dog tags. “Where do you come from?”
Sam looks up him, surprised by the question. Something in his expression makes her actually answer. “Earth.”
He shakes his head. “This means nothing to me.”
Right. She wracks her brain, trying to think of another way. She gently tugs against his grip on her hand. “May I?”
Reluctantly, he lets go of her wrist and she ducks down to the remains of the lamp she dismantled, swiping her finger through the pile of ash she dislodged. Turning to the wall, she sketches the point of origin for Earth. The guard almost automatically wipes it away with his palm, but not before she sees recognition on his face.
He grabs her again, shaking her a little as he stares down at her, and he’s damn intimidating, but Sam refuses to look away.
His eyes narrow. “Why are you not afraid?”
She looks up at him and takes a risk. A huge, stupid risk, but her instincts are telling her it’s well past time for stupid. “Because that thing you serve is not a god.”
Something flashes in the guard’s eye and he strikes her across the face, brutal and unexpected, knocking her to the floor.
He leans down, pulling her up close to him again like he might try to get another hit in, but his hands are surprisingly gentle on her arms. “Do not speak of such things again,” he says, somehow a warning rather than an edict, and now she sees the other guard behind him, standing just close enough to have heard her reckless proclamation.
She lowers her eyes, just to show she’s capable of being smart, that she gets what he’s saying. “I understand.”
The guard takes another moment to look at her, his eyes lingering on the bruising that is no doubt blossoming over her face. “Yes,” he says, nodding. “This is safer.”
She has no idea what he’s talking about, but the next thing she knows, he is shoving her away, corralling her towards the rest of the women. The second guard gestures at her, moving as if to take her, but the first one barks something in their language and points at another woman instead.
This one is so quiet, so hopeless, that she doesn’t even bother protesting as the guards manhandle her out of the room.
After they are gone, Sam slowly counts to one hundred and then crosses back over to the panel next to the door.
She’s got a long way to go to hopeless.
* * *
They’ve been walking for nearly fifteen minutes when Jack abruptly stops in the middle of the path, Daniel almost running into him from behind.
“Jack?” Daniel asks, doing a little jig to keep his feet.
Jack doesn’t answer, just grabs Daniel’s shoulder and forces him off the trail and into the overgrowth covering the slope.
Daniel opens his mouth to protest but Jack shushes him. “Someone’s coming,” he whispers, hunkering down behind a bush when he’s decided they are high enough to get a clear view of the path below.
Daniel cocks his head to one side, listening. The shuffle of feet on the path is clearly audible now.
Eight or so figures appear on the path, walking in uniform formation. They are all wearing the same outfit, something that looks like a hood and cape made out of snakeskin. They carry staves, but look to be made of wood rather than the metal weapons Jack’s seen before.
Daniel shifts, turning his body down the hill like he’s thinking about bouncing down there and introducing himself. Jack doesn’t hesitate to grab Daniel by the scruff of his neck, stalling his movement.
“They don’t look like soldiers, Jack. More like priests,” Daniel insists. “I could speak to them, find out--.”
Jack pushes him down behind a strand of trees. “Not a chance in hell, Daniel,” he bites out, his voice low. He is not letting Daniel’s curiosity get anyone killed. No way, no how. “We do this quietly. No rushing ahead blindly. There is way too much on the line.”
Daniel’s brow scrunches at the vicious edge in Jack’s voice, a bit like a bloodhound picking up on a new scent.
“Besides,” Jack rushes on before Daniel can ask the questions he can see building, “I promised Sha’re I’d bring your ass back in one piece.”
Daniel’s expression clears at the thought of his wife. He nods, sitting back on his heels. “Yeah, okay.”
Appeased that Daniel is actually going to stay put, Jack reaches for his radio. “Makepeace, you’ve got about half a dozen hostiles heading your way. They don’t look armed, and Daniel seems to think they might be priests. See if you can stay out of sight.”
“Understood, sir. And if we’re seen?”
Jack presses his lips together. “Then find a way to keep them quiet and out of the way for a few hours.” They can’t afford to blow this.
“Yes, sir.”
“Going radio silent. O’Neill out.”
Jack settles back on his heels, visualizing the progress of the priests down the path and estimating how long it will take them to near the gate. He’s got his ears strained for the sound of gunfire. He trusts the Marines’ ability to blow shit up a lot more than their ability to blend into the scenery.
Next to him, Daniel has pulled out a small notebook and pen and seems to be jotting down a few observations. Jack glances at the page and sees a rough sketch of the stones near the gate and the priests with words like ‘theocracy?’ and ‘sun worship?’ scrawled next to them.
Jack’s just glad to have Daniel’s attention focused in a safe direction while they wait.
A half hour later, the priests are heading back up the path looking as serene and untouched as they had on the way out. Jack closes his eyes with real relief. Giant hurdle number one dealt with.
Daniel shifts, putting his journal away.
Jack puts out a hand to keep him still. “We’re going to give them a bit of a head start and then follow,” he says, pulling out his field glasses to watch the priests’ retreat.
Daniel settles back down without further protest. “Tell me about Captain Carter.”
“What?” Jack asks, keeping the glasses firmly pressed to his eyes.
“I didn’t really get to talk to her before…,” Daniel trails off awkwardly.
Jack feels his gut clench.
“I just want to know what she’s like.”
Jack makes a vague sound of annoyance and tries to refocus on the priests. They’re turning a corner now, but despite his best intentions, that isn’t what he’s seeing anymore. In his mind, Sam is shooting him a wicked grin as she leans over a pool table. She’s unexpectedly soft and vulnerable on early Saturday mornings as she hogs all the blankets on his bed. She’s staring at a wormhole for the first time with something bordering on pure rapture.
“Jack?” Daniel prods.
Jack clears his throat, stowing his field glasses with jerky motions. “She’s a geek, Daniel. What else is there to say?”
“And a soldier,” Daniel observes. Jack doesn’t bother correcting him. “Did you know her before?”
“I never served with her,” he says, pushing to his feet and adjusting his pack. Technically, it’s true. “Hammond assigned her.”
“Oh,” Daniel says. “Some first mission, huh?”
Yeah, some first mission, Jack thinks, squashing down that small, dangerous part of his brain that wants to do nothing but slam heads together, or worse, panic. He forces himself to remember Sam as she was in the gateroom, armed and competent and in her element. Wherever she is, she’s fine. They all are.
“Let’s get moving,” Jack says, leading Daniel back down to the path.
* * *
Sam cautiously pulls a crystal, a long, thin green one, but can’t see any change in the shield blocking the door. As far as she knows, all she’s done is kill the air conditioning. She’s been doing this for hours, pulling crystals and resetting them, but she feels like an ape playing with silicone chips for all the good it’s done her.
She’s been at it for another hour or so when there’s a shuffle of sound approaching from the hall again. She shoves the crystals back in place, spending one foolish moment trying to figure out if she could stow one on herself somehow. She’s not sure she’ll ever figure out what it is, but at the very least, maybe she could use it as a weapon. Poke someone’s eye out, maybe?
Glancing down at her dress though, she comes to her senses and abandons the crystals. Dropping back into the groups of women in the room, she works to make herself as inconspicuous as possible as a crowd of figures enter the space.
This time there aren’t simply soldiers, but also a collection of flamboyantly dressed men. One is wearing what looks like an entire ostrich; another is apparently overly fond of leather. They vary in skin color and clothing, but all share a common elegance, a sinuous sort of grace that is inexplicably menacing as they move through the space, their hard, empty eyes surveying the women like objects in a market. Some poke the women, pulling back their lips to see their teeth, one even going so far as to lift the dress away from the body of a woman to inspect her.
Sam tenses, preparing to fight if she needs to, but none of the men pause by her. Most seem to take one look at her face, the bruise there, and shake their heads like she’s not worth the trouble.
This is safer.
In the end, four women are dragged off.
The dozens of women remaining seem to breathe a sigh of relief, but Sam isn’t completely convinced that the women taken might not be the lucky ones in the long run. Only the four original guards are left, their long, staff-like weapons held stiffly in front of them.
Sam catches the eye of the guard and the regret she glimpses there raises the hair on the back of her neck.
He turns his back to her and sweeps out of the cell.
She’s running out of time.
:: next::
Chapter Three
Jack’s hand taps impatiently against the butt of his weapon as he waits for the hastily formed group of marines to finish gearing up. It’s taken just over 8 hours to get to this point. He’s had to convince Hammond to send a retrieval team to the address provided by Sha’re, and get a new team thrown together, properly briefed and outfitted. It feels like it’s been days.
But here he finally is, standing with Daniel Jackson about to step onto an unknown alien world. Again. To be honest, he hadn’t been thrilled at the prospect of taking Daniel along again, but as usual, Daniel had been convincing.
“I can understand the language, the customs. You’ll need me,” had been all Daniel said, Sha’re standing calmly behind him, a silent, but no less stubborn presence.
Jack knew he was right.
Movement out in the hall catches Jack’s attention, but rather than the four marines they are waiting on, it’s Ferretti walking over to them. He’s got his arm in a sling and probably shouldn’t even be out of bed to judge from the pallor of his skin.
“Wish I could go with you, sir,” he says, his voice tight.
Jack can appreciate the sentiment. Ferretti and Kawalsky have been pretty close since the first mission. Sharing a secret like Abydos has a way of doing that. “I know you do, Major.”
He touches his injured arm, grimacing. “She really saved my ass out there.”
“What?” Jack asks, turning to look at him.
“Carter,” Ferretti says, still looking a little sour about the whole thing. “Got one of them down, right when I was sure my goose was cooked.”
Jack isn’t surprised to hear that, not really, but all he can think is the one sentence that’s been haunting him since he first heard that damning crackle on his radio.
She shouldn’t have even been there.
The marines bustle in then, the room tipping towards chaos as the gate begins to spin.
“Good luck, sir,” Ferretti says, snapping off a salute.
Jack returns the salute, glancing up at Hammond in the control room.
Hammond looks like he wants to say something, but in the end merely nods his head, giving the mission the go ahead. Jack is relieved. He’s not sure he can pull off the lie if Hammond asks him point blank. Can you keep a clear head and do this?
He doesn’t have a fucking clue.
“I’m first,” Jack says, striding up past Makepeace and his marines. “Daniel, you follow last, got it?”
Daniel lifts his hands, stepping behind the heavily armed marines. “Sure, whatever you say.” Maybe he’s trying to convince Jack he’s capable of behaving.
Jack will believe that when he sees it.
“Let’s go,” he says, stepping into the event horizon.
Jack doesn’t step out into a temple like on Abydos or even a desert, but a large clearing open to the sky with rows and rows of tall stones stretching outwards like some crazy Stonehenge. At first glance, there are no other signs of civilization, no guards, no people at all. Why the hell would the aliens take their people here? He really hopes Sha’re didn’t get the address wrong.
Behind him, the marines have materialized, spreading out in standard formation. None of them show any signs of nausea or discomfort at the disturbing ride, but Jack knows that’s mostly bravado.
“Doesn’t look like an alien planet,” one of the marines mutters.
“What were you expecting, purple trees?” another shoots back.
Jack’s too busy scoping out what looks like a worn path leading away into the trees to shut them up. It’s probably their best chance of finding civilization.
Daniel steps up next to Jack, reaching out to touch one of the stones. “Amazing,” he says.
“Daniel,” Jack says, pointing towards the path.
Daniel squints in the indicated direction. “Yeah,” he agrees. “This looks like it’s a ceremonial space, perhaps only used in special religious functions? That path will probably take us to any more permanent settlements.”
“Walkable distance?” Jack asks, remembering just how far from the pyramid the Abydonian’s city had been.
Daniel shrugs. “If they’re at anything like the level of technology as the Abydonians, they would have to be. But I really can’t say for certain.”
It seems Daniel has learned a few lessons over the last year as well, not making rash promises without thinking them through. “Something tells me Ra didn’t walk a whole lot.”
“No, probably not.” Daniel’s eyes dart to the marines. “Either way, I’m not sure bursting into a city armed to the teeth is the best approach.”
Jack glances at the marines, noting how tightly wound they are, fingers taut on the trigger. No, probably not the best strategy. He can’t be sure they won’t start shooting first and they are here for a rescue, not a standoff. Jack and Daniel alone may be able to slide in unnoticed if they are lucky.
Jack crosses back over to Makepeace, the ranking Marine. “Daniel and I are going to check this place out. You boys hold this position. And get that ridgeline rigged in case our exit isn’t quite as smooth as we might hope.”
“Yes, sir,” Makepeace says. “You come in hot, we’ll have a party waiting for you.”
Now that is enthusiasm Jack can get behind. Makepeace turns to his men and snaps off orders.
“All right, Daniel,” Jack says, tugging him away from the stones. “Time to say hello to the natives.”
They start down the path.
* * *
Sam wakes slowly, pain pounding in her head like she’s suffering from a four-alarm hangover. She doesn’t know how much of that is from the throbbing lump at the back of her skull and how much is from that horrible device the Solid Gold dancer had used on her.
If the pain weren’t bad enough, she opens her eyes to find that she is no longer in uniform, instead wearing a thin, white shift sort of thing that barely covers her body, dipping low in front and not reaching her knees. She refuses to think about the fact that someone undressed and redressed her. She’s got enough trouble as it is.
The next bad piece of news is that she seems to be in a room full of similarly dressed women. The room they are in is like one giant bed, full of soft surfaces and silks and decorative pillows. Whoever these metal-clad aliens are, subtlety is clearly not their forte.
None of the women are talking or even looking at each other, and Sam wonders if that is due to language barriers or just a result of the fear that hovers like a stench in the air.
She turns to the woman closest to her, really no more than a girl of fourteen if Sam had to guess. “Excuse me,” she says. “Can you tell me where I am?”
The girl merely lowers her eyes and shifts around to look in a different direction. Okay. So much for that.
Sam glances around the room, observing the women. It seems as if someone has gone to great lengths to find one of every type of woman in the galaxy. They are dark and fair, thin and voluptuous, red heads to deep blue-black hair and everything in between. Skimming the women, Sam doesn’t see anyone resembling the description of the missing Sergeant, or anyone familiar from Abydos.
If this enemy has stuck to the pattern established by the original abduction, it is unlikely any of the men were taken from Abydos. It’s a comfort, but only skin deep because it means that if she’s going to get out of here she’ll have to do it herself. No waiting around for rescue.
For a second, she imagines Jack’s reaction at finding her missing from the temple, but shoves it quickly aside. Pushing gingerly to her feet, she looks down the length of the room. At the opposite end is what appears to be an open doorway flanked by columns. Is it possible that escape can be that easy?
Sam picks her way through the room. The women watch her progress with growing agitation, one going so far as to shake her head with a quiet hiss as Sam passes. At the doorway, Sam comes to a stop, but as far as she can tell, there is nothing there. Cautiously, she sticks one finger out, stretching towards the door. An unseen force shield of some sort leaps into existence, zapping her finger. She curses, pulling back and sticking her fried finger in her mouth.
So much for that exit.
Not ready to give up, she moves methodically around the entire perimeter of the room, looking for any exits other than the obvious. The women still watch her with wide eyes. She doesn’t find anything even remotely promising by the time she’s circled back around to the door.
Closer inspection of the wall near the door reveals something that might be an access hatch of some sort. Glancing around, Sam’s eye falls on the decorative torch-like things on the wall every five feet or so. Reaching up, she pulls one down, blowing the flame out. It takes her nearly 20 minutes, but she manages to wrangle together a rough tool of sorts from the metal of the sconce. With it, she wedges the panel open. Inside is technology unlike anything she’s ever seen. Rather than circuits or wires, there are crystals of various sizes and colors.
A soft hum added to the light shining out of the hatch tells her she’s discovered more than someone’s secret stash of jewelry. It seems more mechanical than that.
She cautiously taps one with a finger, not knowing if they carry current or not. There’s no shock, but she still thinks it’s probably smart not to touch more than one at a time. She stares at the crystals, wondering if it is possible that simply pulling one of the things out of place could somehow lower the shield. Or just give her one hell of an electric shock.
What if she simply smashed them all with her torch?
At the sound of approaching footsteps, she twists to her feet and leans against the wall in front of the open panel, shoving the broken light fixture under one the decorative pillows with her foot.
She does her best impression of vacancy and submission that she can muster, but one of the guards still detours from his friends, heading directly for her. Damn.
“What are you doing?” he demands and she thinks it may be the same guy with the gold tattoo from Abydos.
She doesn’t answer him, just stares at the floor and tries to look helpless.
The guard doesn’t seem to buy her innocent act though, as he grabs her arm, forcibly moving her away from the front of the panel, staring down at the exposed hardware. Taking her wrist, he forces her hand up, and the tool she’d tried to hide in the folds of her skirt. He squeezes her wrist until she lets go of it with a gasp of pain. He kicks it away.
“You dare meddle with secrets of the gods?” he accuses.
Sam doesn’t think that’s the sort of question that’s really supposed to be answered.
His fingers tighten on her arms and she tenses, waiting to see what sort of punishment she will receive. He reaches for her chest and she tries to step back away, but he only touches her dog tags. “Where do you come from?”
Sam looks up him, surprised by the question. Something in his expression makes her actually answer. “Earth.”
He shakes his head. “This means nothing to me.”
Right. She wracks her brain, trying to think of another way. She gently tugs against his grip on her hand. “May I?”
Reluctantly, he lets go of her wrist and she ducks down to the remains of the lamp she dismantled, swiping her finger through the pile of ash she dislodged. Turning to the wall, she sketches the point of origin for Earth. The guard almost automatically wipes it away with his palm, but not before she sees recognition on his face.
He grabs her again, shaking her a little as he stares down at her, and he’s damn intimidating, but Sam refuses to look away.
His eyes narrow. “Why are you not afraid?”
She looks up at him and takes a risk. A huge, stupid risk, but her instincts are telling her it’s well past time for stupid. “Because that thing you serve is not a god.”
Something flashes in the guard’s eye and he strikes her across the face, brutal and unexpected, knocking her to the floor.
He leans down, pulling her up close to him again like he might try to get another hit in, but his hands are surprisingly gentle on her arms. “Do not speak of such things again,” he says, somehow a warning rather than an edict, and now she sees the other guard behind him, standing just close enough to have heard her reckless proclamation.
She lowers her eyes, just to show she’s capable of being smart, that she gets what he’s saying. “I understand.”
The guard takes another moment to look at her, his eyes lingering on the bruising that is no doubt blossoming over her face. “Yes,” he says, nodding. “This is safer.”
She has no idea what he’s talking about, but the next thing she knows, he is shoving her away, corralling her towards the rest of the women. The second guard gestures at her, moving as if to take her, but the first one barks something in their language and points at another woman instead.
This one is so quiet, so hopeless, that she doesn’t even bother protesting as the guards manhandle her out of the room.
After they are gone, Sam slowly counts to one hundred and then crosses back over to the panel next to the door.
She’s got a long way to go to hopeless.
* * *
They’ve been walking for nearly fifteen minutes when Jack abruptly stops in the middle of the path, Daniel almost running into him from behind.
“Jack?” Daniel asks, doing a little jig to keep his feet.
Jack doesn’t answer, just grabs Daniel’s shoulder and forces him off the trail and into the overgrowth covering the slope.
Daniel opens his mouth to protest but Jack shushes him. “Someone’s coming,” he whispers, hunkering down behind a bush when he’s decided they are high enough to get a clear view of the path below.
Daniel cocks his head to one side, listening. The shuffle of feet on the path is clearly audible now.
Eight or so figures appear on the path, walking in uniform formation. They are all wearing the same outfit, something that looks like a hood and cape made out of snakeskin. They carry staves, but look to be made of wood rather than the metal weapons Jack’s seen before.
Daniel shifts, turning his body down the hill like he’s thinking about bouncing down there and introducing himself. Jack doesn’t hesitate to grab Daniel by the scruff of his neck, stalling his movement.
“They don’t look like soldiers, Jack. More like priests,” Daniel insists. “I could speak to them, find out--.”
Jack pushes him down behind a strand of trees. “Not a chance in hell, Daniel,” he bites out, his voice low. He is not letting Daniel’s curiosity get anyone killed. No way, no how. “We do this quietly. No rushing ahead blindly. There is way too much on the line.”
Daniel’s brow scrunches at the vicious edge in Jack’s voice, a bit like a bloodhound picking up on a new scent.
“Besides,” Jack rushes on before Daniel can ask the questions he can see building, “I promised Sha’re I’d bring your ass back in one piece.”
Daniel’s expression clears at the thought of his wife. He nods, sitting back on his heels. “Yeah, okay.”
Appeased that Daniel is actually going to stay put, Jack reaches for his radio. “Makepeace, you’ve got about half a dozen hostiles heading your way. They don’t look armed, and Daniel seems to think they might be priests. See if you can stay out of sight.”
“Understood, sir. And if we’re seen?”
Jack presses his lips together. “Then find a way to keep them quiet and out of the way for a few hours.” They can’t afford to blow this.
“Yes, sir.”
“Going radio silent. O’Neill out.”
Jack settles back on his heels, visualizing the progress of the priests down the path and estimating how long it will take them to near the gate. He’s got his ears strained for the sound of gunfire. He trusts the Marines’ ability to blow shit up a lot more than their ability to blend into the scenery.
Next to him, Daniel has pulled out a small notebook and pen and seems to be jotting down a few observations. Jack glances at the page and sees a rough sketch of the stones near the gate and the priests with words like ‘theocracy?’ and ‘sun worship?’ scrawled next to them.
Jack’s just glad to have Daniel’s attention focused in a safe direction while they wait.
A half hour later, the priests are heading back up the path looking as serene and untouched as they had on the way out. Jack closes his eyes with real relief. Giant hurdle number one dealt with.
Daniel shifts, putting his journal away.
Jack puts out a hand to keep him still. “We’re going to give them a bit of a head start and then follow,” he says, pulling out his field glasses to watch the priests’ retreat.
Daniel settles back down without further protest. “Tell me about Captain Carter.”
“What?” Jack asks, keeping the glasses firmly pressed to his eyes.
“I didn’t really get to talk to her before…,” Daniel trails off awkwardly.
Jack feels his gut clench.
“I just want to know what she’s like.”
Jack makes a vague sound of annoyance and tries to refocus on the priests. They’re turning a corner now, but despite his best intentions, that isn’t what he’s seeing anymore. In his mind, Sam is shooting him a wicked grin as she leans over a pool table. She’s unexpectedly soft and vulnerable on early Saturday mornings as she hogs all the blankets on his bed. She’s staring at a wormhole for the first time with something bordering on pure rapture.
“Jack?” Daniel prods.
Jack clears his throat, stowing his field glasses with jerky motions. “She’s a geek, Daniel. What else is there to say?”
“And a soldier,” Daniel observes. Jack doesn’t bother correcting him. “Did you know her before?”
“I never served with her,” he says, pushing to his feet and adjusting his pack. Technically, it’s true. “Hammond assigned her.”
“Oh,” Daniel says. “Some first mission, huh?”
Yeah, some first mission, Jack thinks, squashing down that small, dangerous part of his brain that wants to do nothing but slam heads together, or worse, panic. He forces himself to remember Sam as she was in the gateroom, armed and competent and in her element. Wherever she is, she’s fine. They all are.
“Let’s get moving,” Jack says, leading Daniel back down to the path.
* * *
Sam cautiously pulls a crystal, a long, thin green one, but can’t see any change in the shield blocking the door. As far as she knows, all she’s done is kill the air conditioning. She’s been doing this for hours, pulling crystals and resetting them, but she feels like an ape playing with silicone chips for all the good it’s done her.
She’s been at it for another hour or so when there’s a shuffle of sound approaching from the hall again. She shoves the crystals back in place, spending one foolish moment trying to figure out if she could stow one on herself somehow. She’s not sure she’ll ever figure out what it is, but at the very least, maybe she could use it as a weapon. Poke someone’s eye out, maybe?
Glancing down at her dress though, she comes to her senses and abandons the crystals. Dropping back into the groups of women in the room, she works to make herself as inconspicuous as possible as a crowd of figures enter the space.
This time there aren’t simply soldiers, but also a collection of flamboyantly dressed men. One is wearing what looks like an entire ostrich; another is apparently overly fond of leather. They vary in skin color and clothing, but all share a common elegance, a sinuous sort of grace that is inexplicably menacing as they move through the space, their hard, empty eyes surveying the women like objects in a market. Some poke the women, pulling back their lips to see their teeth, one even going so far as to lift the dress away from the body of a woman to inspect her.
Sam tenses, preparing to fight if she needs to, but none of the men pause by her. Most seem to take one look at her face, the bruise there, and shake their heads like she’s not worth the trouble.
This is safer.
In the end, four women are dragged off.
The dozens of women remaining seem to breathe a sigh of relief, but Sam isn’t completely convinced that the women taken might not be the lucky ones in the long run. Only the four original guards are left, their long, staff-like weapons held stiffly in front of them.
Sam catches the eye of the guard and the regret she glimpses there raises the hair on the back of her neck.
He turns his back to her and sweeps out of the cell.
She’s running out of time.
:: next::