STARGATE SG-1-23-22-Moebius Squared-s11

by Melissa Scott

  “You will remain here until the alarm is past,” a Jaffa said, and Jack swore under his breath. Fine. Plan C. There were more explosions from the armory, and shouted orders, and then the sound of a voice on a loudspeaker. That also wasn’t in the plan, and Jack knew he didn’t dare delay any further. He took a step, and kicked open the inner door, bringing his staff weapon up in the same moment.

  “Get down!” he shouted, and the queen threw herself flat, sheltering both little boys beneath her body. Jack fired, dropping the Jaffa, swung around to find there were no other guards.

  “He was alone,” the queen said. “All the others went to join the fighting.” Both boys were crying, and she sat up swiftly, pulling them against her. “Hush, hush now, we’re all right. Your father’s general has come for us, and all will be well.”

  The older boy checked his sobs, nodding, but the younger one buried his face in his mother’s shoulder. She rose, lifting him with her, but the hiccupping sobs continued. “I’m sorry, O’Neill —”

  “It’s OK,” Jack said. “Don’t worry about it. We just need to move fast now.”

  The queen nodded.

  “Prince,” Jack said, the plan forming as he spoke. “I’m going to carry you. We’re going to pretend to be a family, servants running away from the fight.”

  The queen nodded again, and slid her heavy wig from her head. She hadn’t shaved her scalp in several days, and the new stubble was shorter than a Marine’s. “Yes. We are running to the temple for shelter — who would think I would go there?”

  “Exactly.” Jack hoisted the older boy to his hip, a warm disconcerting weight. “Hold on tight, now,” he said, and set the staff weapon reluctantly against the wall. He hated to leave it behind, but no servant would be allowed to carry one. Instead, he tucked his zat out of sight in his waistband, and held out his spare to the queen. “You know how to use this?”

  She nodded. “I do,” she said, and slipped the folded weapon between her breast and the still sobbing child.

  “Let’s go,” Jack said, and herded them out the back door.

  Danyel flattened himself in the narrow space between the scribes’ workroom and their barracks next door. Carter pressed in tight beside him, stolen staff weapon ready.

  “This doesn’t look good,” she said.

  “No.” No, it didn’t, not with the Jaffa pouring out of the pyramid and spreading out across the courtyard, effectively blocking them from reaching the tunnel. The palace was in an uproar, light blazing up as servants lit torches and human attendants joined the Jaffa. Right now, there was confusion, but it wouldn’t be long before someone got things under control.

  “What about this gate?” Carter asked.

  Danyel risked a glance out of their hiding place. The side gate, intended for servants coming and going from the river, would be barred for the night, and should be guarded, but — He squinted, wishing there were a way he could get new glasses. It looked as though most of the guards had been pulled away from the gate. “It’s clear,” he said, “but there’s no cover.”

  “Time for another diversion,” Carter said, and her teeth gleamed white as she grinned.

  “Let’s not blow up anything vital,” Danyel said, but she was already sliding through the gap between the buildings, an improvised bomb ready in her hand.

  “So pick something non-essential,” she said over her shoulder, and Danyel paused.

  “OK. OK, there, that little building, the chief scribe’s house.” The chief scribe and his family had joined Hor-Aha; there was a decent chance the building was empty. Certainly there were no lamps inside, no sound of movement.

  “Right.” Carter was busy with the C4, shaping it to stick against the wooden door. “OK, there’s no timer, so when I break this —”

  Danyel nodded. “Run.”

  “Yeah.” She looked around. “Back where we came from ought to be far enough —”

  “Just — hurry,” Danyel said. He heard her take a breath, and then her shoulders moved.

  “Go!”

  They raced for the shelter of the scribes’ barracks, had barely pressed themselves into the narrow space when the bomb went off, a blast of heat on Danyel’s back. He didn’t look, kept pushing forward, hearing the new shouts, screams of fear and confusion. He hoped no one had been in the house, and put that thought aside. Ahead, the gate was unguarded, the Jaffa on duty drawn by the explosion, and he nodded.

  “We’re clear.”

  “Go,” Carter said again, and moved to cover him.

  Danyel sprinted across the open courtyard, flattened himself against the gate. The Jaffa were gone, but the heavy bar was still firmly in place. It would take both of them to lift it. He unfolded his zat, and waved Carter across. “Help me get the bar down.”

  Carter set her staff weapon against the wall, and grabbed one end of the bar. Together they levered it free, and Danyel hauled on the massive door. It groaned, but moved, and he put his full weight against it, dragging it further open. Carter snatched up the staff weapon again, covering them both.

  “Trouble,” she said.

  Danyel glanced over his shoulder, saw a troop of Jaffa running toward them, their officer shouting orders. “One last bomb?”

  “Yeah.” Carter had it in hand, snapped the fuse and threw it toward the oncoming Jaffa. “Go!”

  Danyel slipped through the open gate. There was no cover there, nothing but open ground between the road and the gate, that and the track the led to the reeds bordering the river. He turned toward the road, but he could see Jaffa there, coming in from the checkpoint further up the road.

  “That way,” Carter said, and pointed to the river.

  “Um, that’s not a good idea,” Danyel said, but he couldn’t see another choice.

  “Why not?”

  “Crocodiles.”

  Carter looked over her shoulder, gave a little shrug. “Better than Jaffa,” she said, and plunged toward the reeds.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The prince clung like a limpet, burying his head against Jack’s shoulder. In the queen’s arms the baby was wailing, but that was all right, made them look just like all the other civilians fleeing for the temple. Jack kept his head down, putting his body between the queen and the onrushing Jaffa, steering them both to the shadows as much as possible without it looking suspicious. If they could just make it to the temple — and then they were there, scrambling up the steps, the baby’s shrieks seeming even louder in the lamp-lit antechamber.

  “Silence, there!” someone shouted, and the queen ducked her head, curling her body around the baby as she tried to quiet him. There were a lot of people in the outer precinct, Jack realized, servants and priests awakened by the fighting, most of them half-dressed and confused as well as afraid.

  “Back,” he said quietly, and the queen edged toward the wall, still cooing to the baby. His cries had eased, and now he snuffled unhappily against his mother’s breast. The queen rocked him, bouncing back and forth, and looked at Jack.

  “Where now?”

  Jack looked quickly around, trying not to be too obvious. They were on the right side, at least, but they needed to get into the inner corridor, where the tunnel opened, and right now the priests were blocking those doorways, keeping the servants herded together in the outer rooms.

  “O’Neill.”

  Jack turned slowly, stitching a look of confusion onto his face. “Sorry?” He stopped abruptly, recognizing the chief priest of Horus, who gave him a conspiratorial smile.

  “We were told to watch for you. This way.”

  Jack touched the queen’s shoulder, and they slipped into the shadows, following the young priest. He was a nephew of the queen mother’s, Jack remembered, or at least some sort of cousin, and he had her delight in politics.

  “Has Danyel been here?” he asked.

  The priest shook his head. “No, O’Neill, though we will watch for him.”

  Crap. Danyel and Carter should have been at the temple ah
ead of them. Jack killed that thought, made himself concentrate on the business at hand. “Can you close the tunnel behind us?”

  “That was my intention, O’Neill. But we must hurry. Right now, everything is in disarray —”

  But not for much longer, Jack thought. It wouldn’t take long for the Jaffa to figure out Carter’s bombs were ineffectual, and then they’d go looking for the queen. And then the place would be locked down tight, and once the Jaffa knew what they were looking for, it would be impossible to hide.

  “Here,” the priest said. They had reached the end of the side corridor, where the lamplight barely reached and the wall painting looked chipped and tattered. Chipped because it was the hidden entrance, Jack realized, and set the prince down to help work the panel loose. More paint fell, and he winced. The priest met his eyes.

  “It will hold a little longer, I think. If there is no search.”

  “So we’d better hurry,” Jack said.

  The queen ducked under the low lintel without hesitation, but the prince hesitated.

  “I — there might be scorpions.”

  The queen’s breath caught in something between a laugh and a sob. “There are none, my son. Take my hand.”

  “I’ll light the lamp as soon as we get the door closed,” Jack said. “Hang on just a little longer.”

  He ducked into the tunnel after the boy, stooped to help the priest work the panel back into place. He found the lamp where it should be, and flint and tinder with it, and coaxed the flame to life. In its wavering light, the queen’s face looked drawn and thin.

  “Can we rest, O’Neill? Just for a little while?”

  “We need to keep moving,” he said. “But soon. When we get to the end of the tunnel.”

  She nodded, and shifted the baby to her other shoulder.

  “I can take him for a bit,” Jack said. “If you’ll carry the lamp.”

  “No,” the queen said, with a sideways smile. “Though I thank you. But you must have your hands free.”

  In case of trouble. Jack nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Carter’s penlight swept quickly over the reeds, picking out a narrow path, and then she’d hooded it again. Something coughed away to their right, and Danyel grimaced.

  “Was that —?” Carter began, and he nodded.

  “Yeah.”

  Carter flicked the light in that direction, and two gold disks shone briefly out of the dark. Danyel caught a glimpse of a narrow, lumpy head and one thrashing foreleg, and then the crocodile turned away, vanishing among the reeds. A few moments later, there was a splash as it entered the water.

  “Well,” Carter said, and sounded distinctly shaken. This was probably not the time to tell her that was one of the small ones, Danyel thought. He looked back the way they’d come, wondering if maybe it wouldn’t be better to try for the road after all, but he could see lights and movement, the Jaffa fanning out to search.

  “There should be a boat,” he said, and hoped he was right.

  “And if there isn’t?” Carter gave him a look.

  “Well, I don’t think swimming is a good plan,” Danyel said. “There will be a boat. The fishermen always leave them here.”

  “I hope so.” Carter shone the light ahead of them, picking out the trail. “How many shots does it take to bring one of those things down?”

  “From a zat?” Danyel paused. “I’ve never really tried.”

  “I’ll file that as ‘a lot,’” Carter said.

  They were getting close to the river’s bank, the ground soft and muddy underfoot. In the distance, they could hear shouted orders, but Danyel couldn’t make out the words, hoped they were going in another direction. The fishermen who served the palace usually left their boats drawn up along here, convenient to the kitchen gate; surely there would be one.

  “There,” Carter said, and Danyel gave a sigh of relief. There were three of them, drawn up together in a narrow cleared space. They were all small, but they’d definitely hold two people. Carter’s light flicked over the nearest one, picking out paddles and rope and a roll of linen. There was a box of hooks, and baskets for the fish as well.

  “OK,” Danyel said. “You go first.”

  They got the boat down to the river’s edge, and Carter scrambled into the bow, keeping her body low. Danyel pushed it the rest of the way in and clambered after her, groping fro the paddle. The boat rocked alarmingly, and then steadied.

  “OK,” Carter said. She had found her paddle, held it with reassuring competence. But of course she’d been through all the Air Force survival training, not to mention eight or nine or ten years with SG-1, so of course she’d know. Not like Sam, though Sam had learned. “Now what?”

  “We’re heading downstream, which is a mercy,” Danyel began, and a beam of light stabbed out from the bank.

  “Crap,” Carter said. “Get down.”

  Danyel stretched out on the boat’s damp bottom, reaching for the roll of linen to pull it over them. His head was pressed into Carter’s thigh, the toe of her boot digging uncomfortably into his belly. He could see the light sweeping overhead, bright through the coarse cloth, but so far it hadn’t focused, hadn’t found them. He lay still, counting his heartbeats, a hundred, two hundred, five hundred. He could feel Carter tensed against him, ready to explode into action if they were spotted, but the light swept over them at irregular intervals, and never settled. The boat drifted, bobbing gently on the current. Danyel thought they might be traveling sideways, but there was no way to be sure. All they could do was wait.

  The stable area was quiet for now, but Jack knew it wouldn’t last. He busied himself hiding the trapdoor again, brushing the dirt over it until all the cracks were hidden, while the queen nursed the baby, and the older boy sprawled beside her, sound asleep. He moved to the window again, seeing lights moving along the palace walls, looked back at the hidden trapdoor. Danyel and Carter weren’t coming: if they were, they’d have been here by now. And he didn’t dare wait much longer, or he and the queen and the children would be caught by the sunrise before they could get into the safety of the countryside.

  “We need to go,” he said, and the queen made a face.

  “So soon?”

  “The night’s half over,” Jack said. Half over, and I don’t know where half my people are. He looked around, found a stick, and carved words in the dirt floor: gone fishin’. Only the team would know what that meant, that he’d been there, and was safe, at least for now. “We need to go,” he said, gently, and the queen rose with a groan.

  “Come on, son,” he said, and picked up the older boy, who stirred, complaining, but didn’t wake.

  The queen shifted the baby to an easier position and squared her shoulders. “I’m ready,” she said, and followed him into the night.

  They took the long road, the track that wound away from the palace into the desert, and then back again to join the main road. Once they had to hide from a Jaffa patrol, crouching among scrub and stones until the men were past, but otherwise the night was quiet. At dawn they found themselves near a small village, and traded Jack’s necklace for food and a full waterskin, gossiping while they ate. The Jaffa had been through during the night, searched all the houses, and found nothing. Still, it was better not to linger, just in case they were to return. Jack took the hint, and moved them on.

  And then it was just walking, a man and a woman and their children, ordinary people on the road from one village to another, unremarkable. The older boy demanded to walk for a while, and Jack carried the baby so that the queen could watch him; when the prince grew tired and cranky, Jack carried him again.

  Finally, the house loomed on the horizon, a thread of smoke rising above the compound’s walls, and the queen drew a shaken breath.

  “O’Neill. I did not entirely believe —”

  “Nor did I,” Jack said, quietly. “But here we are.”

  Their approach had been seen, and soldiers came to meet them, Hor-Aha at their head. He embraced his wife, who pr
omptly burst into tears. The baby set up a wail as well, and she laughed through the tears, bouncing him to silence. Hor-Aha rested his head on her shoulder, tears bright in his own eyes, then stooped to embrace his son.

  “I’m in your debt, O’Neill,” he said. “Again.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jack said. “Did Danyel and Carter make it back yet?”

  Hor-Aha paused, and shook his head. “We have not seen them.”

  Damn. Jack turned to look over his shoulder, squinting into the sun as though he could will them into existence, conjure them up out of the dust of the road. “They’ll be here,” he said. Whatever he had to do to make it happen.

  The boat ground to a stop, its flat keel digging gently into the mud. Danyel tensed beneath the concealing linen, waiting for a searching light to find them, for someone to shout from the shore. There was no way of telling how far they’d come, how long they’d been drifting with the current. A while, certainly, long enough for the damp to settle into his skin, so that he was very grateful for the warmth of Carter’s leg against his chest. Maybe it was long enough, maybe they’d come far enough — and in any case, it wasn’t safe to stay grounded like this. There were the crocodiles to worry about, and a beached boat was bound to draw intelligent interest as well. He propped himself up carefully on one elbow. The boat wobbled under him, but didn’t break free.

  “Careful,” Carter said.

  “Yeah.” Danyel folded the linen down from his face, peered cautiously over the edge of the boat. It was still dark, the moon down and the first hint of the dawn lightening the eastern sky. There was a mist on the river, obscuring the far bank; they lay across the current, the boat’s bow resting gently on a finger of mud that extended from the near shore. Nothing was moving, not even a night bird, and he sat up slowly, shivering as the night air hit him. Carter did the same, and shoved the crumpled linen toward him.