Sethnakht nodded. “I can understand his point.”
“So can I,” Sam said. She knew what was at stake — there was Ellie to think of, always, and Aset and Tamit and their lovely house by the river, with its garden and the lotus flowers painted on the walls. “But — it’s Teal’c.”
Sethnakht nodded again, slowly. “So. There’s nothing else we can do today. Let us consider the problem, you and I.” He smiled. “Because I know you’ll think of nothing else anyway.”
“I think I’m missing something,” Sam said, and shook herself. “Tamit! Take Ellie, will you?”
“You can go, too, Ankhaf,” Sethnakht said, and the scribe scrambled to his feet. Sam loosened the ties that held Ellie on her back — the baby squirmed, waking — and Tamit took her into the shade, clucking to her. Sethnakht seated himself on the edge of the granite block, opening his parasol, and Sam settled herself next to him.
“Danyel must have had this problem in his own time,” Sethnakht said. “What was his solution?”
“A metal iris,” Sam answered.
Sehtnakht snorted. “All the copper and gold and silver in the kingdom wouldn’t cover that circle. Even if I could work out how to shape it, which I could. And then how would you move it aside to use it?”
“Precisely,” Sam said.
“Wood, perhaps?” Sethnakht squinted at the piles of timber waiting for the workmen. “Or must it withstand attack?”
“I don’t think so,” Sam said. She was starting to see the glimmering of an idea. “That’s maybe not necessary. The iris kept anything from materializing fully, but allowed the wormhole to form. But if there’s anything inside the gate, the wormhole won’t form, just as it won’t close if there’s something sticking into it.”
“So if your object is to keep any of the Goa’uld from opening the door from the other side,” Sethnakht began.
“Then all we have to do is place something inside the gate,” Sam said. “It doesn’t even have to be heavy, just — large enough.”
“Heavy linen,” Sethnakht said. He stopped. “Or the sail of a boat.”
“Yes!”
“Rigged so.” Sethnakht handed her the parasol, fumbled for a piece of charcoal. He found it, drew a circle, and then a cross inside it. “If a mast is placed behind the gate, with the sail attached —”
“And then we draw the sail forward, through the ring,” Sam said. “That would keep the wormhole from forming.”
“And to open it, we withdraw the sail,” Sethnakht said, “and let the wormhole form naturally.”
“Yes,” Sam said again. “OK, we’ll need some kind of quick-release on the front side, and some way to be sure that all the rigging comes back with the sail, so that nothing is left in the ring — but that’s easy.”
Sethnakht nodded. “But how will we know when to open the ring for you?”
“We’ll set specific times,” Sam said. “You’ll clear the ring for, oh, five minutes, max, and if we don’t dial in, put the sail back and wait for the next time.”
“Safer for us,” Sethnakht said. “But much more dangerous for you.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Sam said. “Not if we can save Teal’c.”
“I’ll speak to Pharaoh as well,” Sethnakht offered, and Sam nodded.
“Thank you. It can only help.”
There was little point in waiting, Sam thought, so she and Sethnakht went straight to the palace, their little entourage in tow. It was the fourth hour of the day, and the chamberlain gravely informed them that Pharaoh was on the archery range with his men, but that the Lady of Egypt would be pleased to receive them in his stead. The Lady of Egypt was not the Fighting Hawk’s wife, but his mother, the extremely redoubtable Queen Nithotep.
Unlike Danyel, Sam was not a history person, and she’d gotten the impression in school that the abasement of women was a historical constant, at least until the late twentieth century. It had been a considerable surprise to her to discover that women not only wielded substantial amounts of power here, but that average women enjoyed an amount of freedom she hadn’t imagined. Women owned land and entered into contracts, could sue for divorce or have children without marriage, and every woman from the poorest farmgirl to Pharaoh’s mother worked. True, the work was different, but Sam was absolutely aware how much effort went into the logistics and supply for a palace the size of a small military base. Nithotep wielded more power than the Executive Officer at the SGC and cared for just as many in many of the same ways.
She and Sethnakht waited with Ellie, Tamit and Ankhaf in the courtyard outside while Nithotep finished a meeting with someone or other, who at last filed out preceded by three scribes. And then it was their turn.
Nithotep was perhaps a decade older than Sam, fifty instead of forty, small and fine boned, with darker skin than her son, thin as a reed beneath her wig of black hair combed straight around her face in what Sam could only think of as a short bob. Her eyes were painted with blue minerals, and her sheath dress was of white linen stamped with geometric patterns that looked something like a net of dark blue. It covered her from just above the ankles to just below her breasts, thin spaghetti straps over her shoulders the only covering above the high waist.
“My Lady Queen.” Sethnakht sank into a deep bow, and Sam followed.
“Architects,” Nithotep said, coming around the little table and looking at them. “Is this a matter that pertains to building? Or to the matter of Teal’c, of which my son has informed me?”
“The latter,” Sethnakht said, with a glance at Sam. “I think we have devised a way by which the gate could be unburied, and yet be inoperable most of the time.”
Nithotep’s eyes flickered from Sethnakht to Sam. “I understand that you very much wish to help your friend. But you must see how my son decides. He is the guardian of this realm, and he cannot put the wellbeing of any one person above that of his people, no matter who that person may be.”
“I do understand that, my queen,” Sam said. It was never a good idea to look away from Nithotep. It seemed dishonest. “I too do not wish to endanger this realm, or my own family. But Sethnakht and I have an idea that we think will make it much safer to use the Stargate. We can block it in such a way that an incoming wormhole cannot form. It would only need to be open for a few minutes at carefully planned intervals in order for us to come and go.”
“And this would mean the Goa’uld could not use it, Sa-Mantha?” Her eyes were very sharp.
“I won’t say it’s impossible,” Sam said. “If they dialed at exactly the right moment, yes, they could use it. But it would be a tremendous coincidence for them to accidentally hit on precisely the right few minutes rather than any other minutes in the last three years.”
“And at any other time the Stargate would not work?”
“That is correct, my queen,” Sethnakht said.
She nodded slowly. “Tell me how this is accomplished.”
Even with all Sethnakht’s work gangs diverted to the project, it took some days to free the Stargate and erect the mast and sail behind it. The youngest of Pharaoh’s river captains produced a sail that could be split lengthwise to make a single long strip of reed matting, and offered advice on the rigging that drew it through the gate. Jack spent most of that time drilling the unit Hor-Aha had detached to guard the gate, and allowed that he was satisfied. They were mostly veterans who had fought the Goa’uld before, with a sprinkling of level-headed recruits, all armed with zats and staff weapons. If somehow the Goa’uld managed to dial in during the seconds between the release of the sail and them dialing out, then they’d have to hold to gate for thirty-eight minutes. Maybe less, but as he watched Sergeant Basa put them through their paces, he thought they could do it. He just really hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Hor-Aha and his attendants, including the Queen Nithotep, arrived in the middle of the afternoon, as the workers were stirring from the noon rest. Sam and Sethnakht showed them around the gate, still with a mound of dirt f
illing the lower curve of the ring. Jack trailed behind the royal party, watched as Sam demonstrated the sail’s release and the team ready to draw it forward again as soon as the wormhole vanished. It looked good to him, and he wasn’t surprised to see Pharaoh nod several times.
And then it was his turn, Hor-Aha coming toward him across the hot sand, trailed by a servant with his parasol and his sandal-bearer and the rest of the court. Jack bowed — it was easier to do it when you thought of it as a salute — and Hor-Aha nodded in acknowledgement.
“So, O’Neill,” he said. “Once again you confound me.”
“You were right,” Jack said. “But — there had to be another answer. And Sam’s good at that.”
“She is,” Hor-Aha agreed. “And her solution seems to be a good one. Show me what you’ve done.”
“Right.” Jack gestured to Basa, who waved his men into position. “The chance we’ll need this is pretty small, I know Sam’s told you that. But just in case —” He went though the plan, a small group in front of the Stargate to draw fire, the bulk of the men on either side to pick off the Jaffa as they came through.
Hor-Aha nodded again. “That is a post of great danger, before the gate.”
Basa cleared his throat, and Jack said, “Go ahead.”
“With respect, Lord, those men all volunteered — there were more who were willing, but these were all O’Neill said we needed. All of them have fought at Teal’c’s side, and wish to see him safe and well.”
“Teal’c is blessed by his friends,” Hor-Aha said. “Very well.”
“We’re doing everything we can to protect them,” Jack said. “We’ve got breastworks ready, and the main attack’s going to come from the sides.”
“Show me these breastworks,” Nithotep said, and Basa bowed.
“At once, Lady.”
They turned away, followed by most of the court, and Jack realized she’d done it on purpose. He was left almost alone with Hor-Aha, and that usually wasn’t a good sign.
Pharaoh smiled as though he’d guessed the thought. “I will give you leave to do this, never fear. You have countered all my worries, and I know the debt I owe Teal’c. This small risk I will gladly take for him. But I wished to ask you — Sa-Mantha accompanies you? And Danyel?”
“I couldn’t stop them,” Jack said, honestly. “And I’m glad to have them.”
“And what of Ellie?” Hor-Aha asked. “Should not her mother remain behind?”
Jack looked away. “Teal’c deserves the best chance we can give him, and that means all of us. Look, I don’t think — if something happens, Aset will take care of her. Danyel’s given her the deeds to the house and the farm.”
“And I will care for her as though she were my own,” Hor-Aha said. “Should something happen. But it will not come to that.”
Jack looked at him, a young man, rather ordinary-looking in spite of the heavy wig and the gold collar spread across his sweating chest, the kohl smudged at the corners of his eyes. A young man, but also a father, and offering the one thing he had that might make things easier. Jack swallowed hard, wished he had the words to say how grateful he was. Danyel would, and he’d make Danyel send a letter, but for now —
“Thank you,” he said.
Hor-Aha extended his hand, and Jack took it, clasping Pharaoh’s wrist.
“You are welcome,” Hor-Aha said. “But it will not be needed.”
“Amen to that,” Jack said.
Chapter Eight
The sun was rising as Sam made her way down to the dock, the dew cold between her toes, her shadow stretching behind her almost to the walls of the house. Jack was up before her, as she’d expected, a black silhouette against the molten light, fishing pole in hand as he studied the currents. The sound of her foot on the boards of the dock wasn’t loud, but he turned at once, relaxing as he saw who it was. She held up the basket she was carrying and he smiled.
“What’ve you got there, breakfast?”
“Bread and beer,” she said, and settled herself cross-legged beside his stool. “Ellie’s still asleep, but I — wasn’t.”
“Me, neither,” Danyel said, behind her, and she looked up to see his rueful smile. “I don’t suppose there’s enough for three?”
“I think so,” Sam answered, and poured the first cup of beer. One of them would have to drink out of the jar, but that was fine. A bird broke from the reeds, wings whirring, and in the courtyard a cock crowed.
“OK, kids,” Jack said. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” Sam said, with honest surprise. She swallowed her mouthful of bread. “Ellie was asleep, for once…” She let her voice trail off, and Jack looked at Danyel.
“Talk.”
“I don’t have anything to say,” Danyel said.
Sam leaned forward to look at him around the wall of Jack’s knees. “Are you all right?”
She could feel Jack’s silent laugh, and Danyel shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“The hell,” Jack said. “You’re so quiet it’s unnatural.”
“So you’d rather I was talking so that you could ignore me?” Danyel asked.
“Maybe.”
They could go on like that all day. Sam said, “I want to know what’s wrong.”
There was a little silence then, Jack frowning at his fishing line, Danyel staring into the sun. The river breeze was still cool, and she hunched her shawl further on her shoulders, glad she’d worn it.
“I’m worried about the timeline,” Danyel said at last.
“Oh, is that all?” Jack said. “Everything else is going to be a piece of cake —“
“No, of course not,” Danyel said. “But you’re not taking Egeria into account.”
“You said yourself, the symbiotes can’t be trusted,” Jack said. “Why should we believe it?”
“Because Egeria appears about now,” Danyel said. He sounded unusually subdued. “And if this is Egeria, and we don’t let her take a host and go do what she’s going to do — the vanishing of the Tok’ra is an even bigger change to the timeline than Ra taking Earth’s Stargate.”
“But we don’t know,” Jack said again.
“It almost doesn’t matter,” Danyel said. “Look, the only thing I can think of is to talk some poor bastard into becoming Egeria’s host and sending them off through the Stargate before we bury it again. And I don’t — I can’t do that, Jack.”
“You’re not going,” Sam said.
Danyel gave her a look. “You might at least let me say it. Besides, who else is there who knows what they’re getting into?”
“Other people at the temples,” Sam said. “Some of the people who trained to become hosts.”
“We shot most of them,” Jack said. “The ones who wanted to be chosen were pretty much Goa’uld supporters.”
“And the rest of them — why would they do it?” Danyel slid forward so that he could look at both of them. “Look, it’s not like I want to do this, but I don’t see an alternative.”
“These are the Tok’ra,” Sam said. “They’re the good guys, right?” Danyel looked dubious at that, but she plowed ahead anyway. “I bet somebody at the temple would want to help fight the false gods, and I can’t think of a better way to do it.”
“But they don’t know —“
“And you know too much,” Jack said. “Suppose this Egeria isn’t the right one, suppose it’s lying? If some Goa’uld turns one of those weird hand things on you, what does that do to the timeline?”
“OK,” Danyel said. “That’s a problem, yes —“
“So we find a volunteer,” Jack said. “Worst case, Pharaoh finds us somebody who was going to be executed, and we give him to Egeria.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sam said.
“Whatever.” Jack pulled in his line, glancing over his shoulder at the house. Following his gaze, Sam saw a lamp moving in the courtyard, and heard the wail of a hungry baby.
“Sam’s right,” Danyel said. “I think �
��“
“You think too much,” Jack said. He pushed himself to his feet, and extended a hand to help Sam. She let herself be hauled up, and Jack looked down at Danyel. “And it’s time for breakfast.”
“That’s not going to solve anything,” Danyel said, but he was smiling.
“No,” Jack said. “But it might shut you up.”
“For a while,” Sam said, grinning, and started back up the path to the house.
It was early evening before all the preparations were complete. Jack took a long look at the fading sunset behind the buildings that would someday be a city, and reached for his watch. Danyel already had his in hand, ready to set it to match.
“Seven-oh-six,” Jack said, and Danyel nodded, his fingers deft on the tiny bezel.
“OK, got it.” He held out the watch to Aset, who took it with careful respect. Danyel had taught her to tell time during the rebellion, Jack knew, along with half a dozen others who were now dead. Now she would be the one to say when the Stargate would be cleared, ready for them to dial in. He checked his own watch again out of reflex. Twelve hours from when they opened the gate, Aset would order the sail removed, leave it clear for exactly ten minutes. If they didn’t dial in, she’d do it again six hours after that, then four hours from then, then two hours, and one final time two hours after that. Twenty-six hours. Surely that would be enough time — and it would be, he told himself firmly. Plenty of time. Get in, get a larva, get out: that was the mission.
“Ready?” Sam called from the DHD. They were all dressed in the long sand-colored robes Danyel said people wore on Abydos, hot and confining after a few years of near nakedness. Jack felt for the zat hidden beneath the folds of his robe, and hiked a sleeve irritably out of his way. The mark on his forehead, Ra’s insignia drawn in kohl and sealed with something Sam had saved from her pack, was itching, but he managed not to scratch. Teal’c seemed unbothered, and Jack told himself it was just because the mark was on scar tissue, not on normal skin.
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