by Stargate
Clearing his throat he leaned forward in his seat, elbows on knees, and looked out at the city. Up close, its beauty was flawed. Generous curves in peeling gold swelled out in an ample underbelly as Carter skimmed the ship around its base, looking for somewhere to land. Nothing. Pulling back, she took them up in a steep climb past plump towers, stretching toward the true beauty of the stars. Jack wondered how he'd ever considered the city beautiful; it looked like a fat, painted whore, corrupt and rotting beneath cheap perfume and tacky lingerie. A parody of beauty, just what you'd expect from a snake-head.
"Any ideas, sir?" Carter's voice radiated cool restraint.
"I'm looking." He moved closer to the window. Somewhere dark - but not too deep. Always think about your exit. Especially here. "What about there?" A flat rectangular space drifted beneath them. An abandoned roof garden perhaps? It was barren now, half shaded and half bathed in starlight.
Following his line of sight, Carter dipped the ship. Towers soared above them as she hovered above the empty roof. "There's no way to tell if it's structurally sound," she warned. Which meant they might end up in the basement with half the city crumbling in on top of them.
"Better idea?" It was a genuine question, not sarcasm.
She gave a little shake of her head. "No sir, and we don't have a lot of time."
True enough. The last thing he wanted when they got back was a welcoming party. "Okay, take us down," he decided. "But keep your foot on the gas, just in case."
"Yes, sir."
It was elegantly done, a gentle landing that he barely felt. For a moment after the ship came to rest they both sat still, holding their breaths. But there was no cracking of stone, no screeching of metal under torque, just silence.
Slowly he breathed out. "Thank you for flying Kinahhi Airways."
Carter almost smiled, but at the last moment the comers of her mouth flattened into a resigned line. Bowing her head she pushed herself out of the pilot's chair and headed for the door. "I'll go get Daniel and-"
"Carter?"
She turned, her usually expressive eyes guarded. "Sir?"
He nodded out the window. "Good job." It was less of an apology than a peace offering.
Lips pressed tight, she nodded. "Thanks."
Then she was gone and he could hear her quiet voice talking to Daniel, and Teal'c's baritone rumbling soothingly beneath. It did little to ease the knot in his belly; they were here, Baal's palace. Deserted or not, he was taking no chances.
Fingers clenching, he rose and went in search of his weapon. If the bastard was here, he wouldn't be taking him alive. No damned way.
"Stay close," the colonel barked from up front. He didn't need to repeat the order. Dark and damp, the only sound on Tsapan was the constant howl of the sea wind through derelict towers and empty streets. It tugged at clothing and surprised them with sudden gusts whenever they turned a corner. Lights hung like phantoms above them, and Sam guessed that the power required to drive the antigravity device unintentionally illuminated the abandoned city.
She kept her hands on her weapon as they moved cautiously through the streets, heading down as she'd suggested. The power plant had to be at the bottom of the city. But there was no sign of life, no sign of life recently passing.
Caaaaaaaaw!
Almost jumping out of her skin, Sam jerked her gaze and weapon up toward the sky - the wide wings of a sea-bird wheeled away. Feeling foolish, she lowered her gun only to catch O'Neill doing the exact same thing. "What kind of bird flies around at night anyway?" he grumbled, tugging his cap lower and resuming his wary exploration of the city.
`A nocturnal one' was the obvious answer, but she refrained from pointing it out. They were all jittery, the colonel especially, and even Teal'c held his weapon ready for use. Only Daniel seemed oblivious to the danger, pausing periodically to peer at something in the gloom, holding up his flashlight and muttering quietly to himself until O'Neill chivvied him onwards.
Eventually he refused to be herded, waving off the colonel's abrupt order. "Wait. Just wait a minute." Impatiently, O'Neill returned to where Daniel stood staring at a wall. No, Sam realized, not a wall. A door. "I think I've found something." There was writing on it, an alien script that Sam couldn't recognize. Carefully, Daniel brushed his fingers across the words and said, "This isn't Goa'uld."
Teal'c took a step closer, peering over Daniel's shoulders. "It is not."
"It's Kinahhi."
O'Neill frowned, dark eyes shadowed. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that the Kinahhi use this door." He pushed at it, but it wouldn't budge. "Might be a way down to the power plant."
With a nod, O'Neill pushed at the door too, then shouldered it hard. Still nothing. "Teal'c, see if you-"
A shadow passed overhead.
Heart leaping into her throat, Sam flattened herself against the wall. Above them, high amid the turrets, loomed the silent, blocky shape of a Kinahhi transport.
"I hope that's not our ride home," Daniel murmured quietly.
It stopped, hovering. Then slowly it began to descend.
"We've been made!" Sam hissed.
O'Neill whipped his head back and forth, assessing their options, then made a decision. "Teal'c," he barked, "the door. On three."
One, two- Thud! The door splintered under their combined weight, as Teal'c and the colonel stumbled through and bright yellow light spilled out into the street. Grabbing Daniel's sleeve, Sam tugged him in after her.
"Sir, the light!"
"I know, I know!" O'Neill was scanning the room for the source. There! She saw it too, a large amber globe fixed to the brightly colored wall. In two strides he was across the room and brought down the butt of his P90 hard, smashing the globe and plunging them all into safe, protective shadows.
Until a flashlight darted around the room.
"Turn it offl" O'Neill snapped.
It remained on. "Look," Daniel said, the light fixing on a narrow opening and a flight of stairs leading downward. "A way out."
"Or a dead end."
"We're not getting out the other way," Sam pointed out, backing up toward the staircase. Outside the Kinahhi ship must be landing; she hated that she couldn't hear it. She wondered how many soldiers they'd brought. SG-1 wouldn't stand a chance in a firefight, especially with Daniel and Teal'c already wounded. "Sir, the only other option is to hand ourselves over."
His snort of disdain was inevitable. "Teal'c, get Daniel down there. Carter and I'll cover your six."
Weapon raised, Sam moved to the stairs as Daniel and Teal'c headed down into the unknown. She risked a quick glance at O'Neill, standing so close his elbow bumped hers as they began their slow retreat. His face was determined and some of the tension she'd seen before was gone. He probably found the adrenaline rush relaxing.
"Heads up, Carter," he murmured. Beyond the shattered door the bulking shape of the Kinahhi transport crept into view. Slowly they retreated down the stairs, cramped and claustrophobic, barely daring to breathe and waiting for the first shot with every step.
CHAPTER SEVEN
brooding General Hammond sat at his desk, ostensibly reviewing the base's Standard Operating Procedures before the moming's SOP meeting with his team leaders. But no sooner had he scanned a sentence - always the same sentence, it seemed - than his eyes found themselves drifting up to the clock ticking quietly on the wall. It read 18:59, which gave SG-1 just one more minute to report before they were officially considered out of contact.
He watched the red second hand tick relentlessly onwards. Tick, tick, tick, tick. The minute hand moved, landed on the twelve, and right on the button the phone rang.
"Hammond."
"Sergeant Davis, sir. SG-1 are six hours past their deadline."
"I'm on my way." Closing the SOP manual with guilty relief, he pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the control room. It was not unusual for SG-1 to miss their scheduled report times - he sometimes thought they actually courted disaster - but on this mis
sion it was a surprise. The only danger he'd anticipated them having to face were the Earth-bound machinations of Kinsey. Or, at most, being irritated to death by the smarmy little diplomat they'd been forced to baby-sit. So what the hell could have gone wrong?
Davis was studying the silent `gate and turned when Hammond stepped into the control room. "No contact at all, sir."
"And there's no problem with the `gate at our end?"
"No, sir. SG-13 came back without incident just an hour ago."
"Very well," Hammond decided, "dial up Kinahhi. Let's find out what the hell's happened to our people."
The stairs seemed endless. Above him the faint glow from the surface had faded and only the dancing beams from Teal'c's and Daniel's flashlights cast any light below.
Carter fell back at his side, their footfalls and her steady breathing loud in the cramped space. "I don't think they're following us, sir."
"Doesn't make any sense. They must have seen us."
"Perhaps we're not the reason they're here?" she whispered. "Whoever they are."
"So why the hell were they trying to land on our heads, Carter?"
"Coincidence?"
She didn't sound convinced, and neither was he. But perhaps she was right, unless... He stopped, Carter automatically stopping with him. Ahead, the booted steps of Daniel and Teal'c slowly faded along with their dancing flashlights, leaving them alone. He said nothing, listening, silencing his breathing as he'd long ago learned. Waiting for the other side to give away their position.
Time drifted, lengthened and contracted, measured only by the slow count down from one-hundred to six, five, four, three, two, one...
Nothing.
He moved, the rustle of his jacket sounding loud and out of place. "I think we're alone."
"Yes, sir. We should-Argh!"
Brutal, narrow hands slid around his neck, throwing him flat against the wall. Cutting off his air. There was a strange, hungry snuffling and a wave of foul breath washed over his face as he blindly hit out. His fist connected with flesh and bone, hard and leathery. Its fingers briefly lost their grip on his throat, and Jack managed to gulp some air as he slid his hand over the strange, angular features and found its chin. He pushed up, hard, snapping its head back as he slammed his knee up, crunching painfully against solid bone. But it was the other guy who let out the thin shriek, his sinewy fingers slipping loose as he fell back and disappeared into blackness.
"Carter?" Jack barked. "Carter!"
The solid thwap of flesh hitting stone, laced with another groan of pain, was his only answer, followed by a hissing, scrabbling sound fading into silence. And then a breathless, "I'm okay, sir."
Thank God! He found his flashlight. The crisp, white beam sliced the darkness and half-blinded Carter. She flung a hand over her eyes and yelped.
"Crap, sorry."
Swinging the light away, he just caught sight of a pallid, emaciated figure scampering up the stairs until it literally disappeared into the wall. Heart racing, he'd taken half a step to follow when Carter grabbed his arm, "Sir, wait. There could be more."
"More what?"
In the scant glow of his flashlight, Carter's face was pale. "Kinahhi?"
Perhaps. He rubbed at his bruised throat. Whatever had attacked them, they were strong. Half of him wondered if Baal had left something nasty behind, some shadow of his evil to plague the city. The idea made him shiver. "Come on," he told Carter. "Let's get out of here."
She nodded, clearly spooked as hell. He didn't blame her. The hair on the back of his neck was still on end, as if a thousand pairs of unfriendly eyes were watching his back.
Waiting.
The thin shriek echoing down the staircase froze Daniel mid-step. "What was that?"
At his side, Teal'c slowly turned to look up into the blackness above. "I do not know, Daniel Jackson."
"We should go back. Jack might need-"
Teal'c's hand landed firmly on his arm. "We must not. The stairs are too narrow for us to be of any assistance should O'Neill and Major Carter be under attack. If they are not, we would only hinder their escape from the Kinahhi. We must do as O'Neill ordered and proceed."
Daniel said nothing, letting the growing silence on the stairs enfold him. Teal'c was right - cold military logic - but that didn't make it any easier. For a moment he closed his eyes and allowed the headache to overwhelm him. Damn it hurt, like a hand contracting into a fist behind his eye. Ruthlessly he pushed it aside, squinting determinedly into the darkness through a nausea he kept at bay with nothing but willpower. He refused to become a liability.
There were no more screams, only relentless silence. Reluctantly he turned back to the steep stairs below. As he stood staring, he thought he saw something in the dark. "Teal'c, turn off your flashlight."
Wordlessly, the Jaffa obeyed and they were plunged into total darkness. Gradually, Daniel began to see a soft amber light far below, reflecting dimly on the wall where the stairs turned an abrupt corner.
"It appears we are almost at the bottom."
"Yeah," Daniel agreed. "Question is, what's waiting for us down there?"
The smiling face of Bill Crawford filled the monitor, flickering with hazy static as he did his best to reassure a deeply skeptical George Hammond. "They're being well cared for by the Kinahhi medics, General. And they're getting some well deserved rest."
The general was glad the video link only went in one direction; it allowed him to scowl to his heart's content. "Nonetheless," he insisted, "I'd like to speak to Colonel O'Neill." With his team out of contact, he certainly wasn't going to take the word of Kinsey's puppet as evidence of their safety. He wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth, and frankly he just didn't buy the story that SG-1 were "resting". Resting? When the hell did they ever rest?
Crawford glanced off to one side, obviously being prompted, before he returned his attention to the camera. "I'm sorry, General, but the Kinahhi insist that the `gate be deactivated immediately. It's a breach of protocol for it to have been opened at all during this security lock-down."
Angry, Hammond took a step forward and wagged a finger at the blind image of Crawford's face. "Vow you listen to me, Ambassador. Unless I see evidence that my team are alive and well within the next ten minutes I'll-"
"Is there a problem, General?"
The good-ole-boy tone grated in Hammond's ears like nails on a chalkboard. "Senator Kinsey," he said stiffly, turning around. "I thought you were on your way back to Washington."
The Senator didn't crack a smile. "I came to say goodbye, General." He glanced over at Crawford. "I repeat, is there a problem?"
Schooling his features to an impassivity he found difficult, Hammond switched off the mike and considered his next move. To admit that SG-1 were, to all intents and purposes, missing was to give Kinsey too much information. He wanted to neither confirm any suspi cions the Senator might be harboring, nor offer a weapon with which Kinsey could intensify his attack on the SGC. On the other hand, to allow Kinsey to effectively bully him into backing down was tantamount to abandoning his people. And he'd walk barefoot over hot coals before that ever happened.
In the end he chose what he hoped was a middle path. Turning his back on the Senator, he spoke quietly into the mike, weighting every word with a promise of dire consequences. "I expect to speak with Colonel O'Neill first thing in the morning," he told Crawford. "And I will hold you personally responsible for ensuring that I do so."
Without letting Crawford reply, he severed the video link and squared up to Kinsey. The Senator's blue eyes, narrow and calculating, moved from Hammond's face to the monitor and back. "SG-1 letting you down again, General? I told you you'd regret sending such a troublesome-"
"The only thing I regret," Hammond snapped, "was having to send that imbecile Crawford with them. They deserve better." Straightening his shoulders and brushing off the sudden outburst, Hammond lifted his chin and added, "Now, if you'll excuse me Senator, I have work to do."
; He hadn't even reached the door before Kinsey spoke again, menace apparent in his quiet lilt. "You should know this, General. If SG-1 in anyway jeopardize our negotiations with the Kinahhi, they'll be out of the SGC so fast they won't even have time to kiss their own asses goodbye."
Hammond didn't dignify the threat with an acknowledgement, pulled open the door and left without pause. But he couldn't stop Kinsey's words from trailing him down the corridor like the stench of stale cigarette smoke.
Something was going on. And, as always, he was on the wrong side of the Stargate to be able to do anything but wait, and pray that his faith in SG-1 would be rewarded yet again.
The corridor at the foot of the stairs opened out widely into an ornate circular chamber filled with concentric rings of elegant pillars, at the center of which flickered and hummed an incongruous column of lights and glowing crystals. An add-on, if ever he'd seen one. But what caught Daniel's eye wasn't the technology, it was the mosaic ceiling above. Glittering like a rainbow sky it bathed the room in a multihued light, lending it a silent, breathtaking quality that was enough to render him speechless. This was what it was all about, touching a myth. Touching something that no one on Earth had seen for thousands of years - if at all.
Despite the throbbing in his head, he craned his neck, "Wow." Then he reached for his camera. The ceiling needed study, and far more time than Jack would be likely to give him. Snapshots would have to do. But it was priceless, utterly priceless. Yahm, depicted as a sea-serpent - how apt - was writhing on the end of a lightning bolt wielded by a god whose fist was a swirling black mass of thunder; no doubt Re'ammin the Thunderer. Otherwise known as Baal. Baal the bloody, Daniel's mind silently reminded him. Baal the merciless. Baal the sadistic son-of-a-
"Daniel Jackson, I believe I've found what we seek," Teal'c's quiet voice was loud in the still room and Daniel snapped his head down suddenly. Too suddenly! The rush of blood exploded in a flash of pain behind his left eye and the next thing he knew...
