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

by Melissa Scott

  “You’re good.”

  “Ra!” The jumper damped his voice, but he could feel the echo, knew he was reaching everyone in the palace compound. “You’ve made a mistake coming back here, but we’re willing to be generous. Go now, and we’ll let you leave in peace. Otherwise —” He stopped, hoping silence would be more suggestive than an outright threat.

  “That didn’t sound very Ancient,” Sam said.

  “Everyone’s a critic.” Jack frowned at the tac display, seeing power building inside the ha’tak. “Crap. Heads up, people, looks like they’re arming the guns.”

  Yes, a port was opening, there on the ha’tak’s side. Cloak, he thought again, and felt a shudder as the jumper obeyed. He swung the jumper through a series of quick turns, banked around and to the left, and realized nothing was pursuing him. Instead, light flared from the tip of the ha’tak, a glowing cloud that shimmered and formed itself into a giant head: Ra’s head, surveying his palace and his invisible attackers.

  Sam gave a nervous laugh. “Pay no attention to the little man behind the curtain…”

  “I have been patient,” Ra said, “a kindly god, willing to forgive, to restore my people to favor. But no more. You will feel only my anger.”

  The image winked out, and in the same instant the glider bays opened.

  “Ah, crap,” Jack said, and dragged the jumper out of the way of the first stream. “OK, kids, it’s time for Plan B.”

  v

  Chapter Thirty

  “Down,” Cam said, and kept his voice calm and conversational. Mercifully, Carolyn didn’t ask questions, just angled the jumper toward the deck, swooping low under the skirts of the mothership where it perched on the pyramid. The first flight of death gliders screamed overhead, missing their previous position by less than a meter. The view in the windscreen rocked, but the inertial dampeners kept everything steady.

  “Drone,” she said, and the jumper released one, sent it shooting up into the ha’tak’s underbelly. Shields flared, but there was a shower of broken stone from the pyramid itself. That’s an option, Cam thought. Destroy the pyramid and chase Ra off that way. Except it would leave a hell of a lot of collateral damage.

  His eyes were still on the tactical display, following the gliders as they fanned out into a search pattern. Whoever was in charge was good, wasn’t fazed by the problem of invisible attackers; he was willing to spend gliders to draw them out, spot any pattern that formed —

  A drone struck, taking out a glider above them, and Carolyn heeled the jumper over the top to avoid the debris. The gliders were dropping lower now, weaving a defensive pattern around the ha’tak, and he glanced at Carolyn, checking to see if she needed advice. Her face was calm, almost relaxed, her hands easy on the controls, but she was going to be trapped if she didn’t —

  “Break left,” he said, and she tipped the jumper sideways, sliding out between two gliders.

  “Thanks.”

  Another drone hit, and another, taking out gliders at the top of the pattern, and Carolyn frowned in concentration. “Drone,” she said again, and Cam said, “Wait —”

  It was too late, the drone had already launched, and sure enough a glider made a beeline for their position.

  “Oops,” Carolyn said, and dragged the jumper almost straight up. One of the glider’s shots hit home, but the rest passed harmlessly behind them. Lights flared on her controls, vanished again. “Sorry —”

  “They’re going to shoot where the drones originate,” Cam said. “Fire and turn, that’s the plan.”

  “Right.” Carolyn launched a salvo of drones, five of them in a tight bunch that instantly spread to seek new targets. Another glider pounced, but she was already diving, the jumper rolling onto its side. The ground spun in the windscreen as more gliders turned toward the source of the drones, firing blind, and Cam grabbed the edge of the control panel. Carolyn spun the jumper the other way, scraping between two gliders, pulled up and out of the fight.

  “OK, that was too close,” she said.

  “It’s only too close if you hit them,” Cam answered, and was rewarded by a shaky smile.

  Below them, Ai’s jumper popped into sight, and the gliders turned to pursue.

  “We’ve lost the cloak!” Carter called, her voice crackling as though they were losing communications, too, and Carolyn flung the jumper into a tight turn, swooping down behind the attacking gliders. She fired drones, taking out two of them; three more exploded — O’Neill’s work — and Ai clawed for maneuvering room. She dived between two gliders, who pitched over to avoid her, and one clipped wings with his fellow, went tumbling out of control. The heads-up display placed the crash on the far side of the river, and a thick column of smoke rose from the reeds.

  “Come on, Carter,” Cam muttered. The jumper was a sitting duck, visible like that, and there was only so much they could do to help.

  Carolyn fired again, the drones homing hungrily on the chosen gliders, but the rest of the flight ignored the attack, concentrating on the one enemy they could see. Ai spun through a tight turn, trying to put the mothership between her ship and the attackers, but the gliders stayed glued to her tail. She fired back, but the drones seemed weaker, as though there was other damage, and the jumper rocked as a beam clipped the edge of a pod.

  “Carter —” Cam leaned forward as though that would help, urging them on.

  A second jumper popped into view, O’Neill hauling the stubby ship into a scorching, impossible turn. He fired a salvo of drones, and another pair of gliders fell. Part of the flight turned to follow him, and he vanished, to reappear a moment later on the far side of the fight. This time, though, a glider was waiting, and the beams stitched a pattern along the jumper’s side.

  “Cover him, Carolyn,” Cam said, and she launched a drone, taking out the glider, then spun her ship toward Ai’s jumper, firing as she went.

  Ai’s jumper disappeared at last — the heads-up showed it pulling out and away, presumably to check the damage — and O’Neill blasted another glider from the sky. And then, abruptly, the gliders pulled away, running for the shelter of the mothership. The bay doors opened, and Cam pointed.

  “See if you can —”

  “Got it,” Carolyn said, and launched a drone. It flew true, but the armored door slid closed again, and it impacted on the surface, leaving only a smear of scorched metal. “Damn, it didn’t go in.”

  “Missed that one,” O’Neill said. “Any luck on your side?”

  “Nope,” Cam answered. “They got the doors closed too fast.”

  “Yeah.” O’Neill paused. “Carter. What’s your status?”

  “The cloak’s back on line,” Carter answered, after a moment, “but we’re on reduced power. It’s affecting the drones —”

  “Crap,” Cam said. Lights flared across the boards and in the heads-up: the ha’tak was powering up at last.

  “Maybe they’re leaving,” Carolyn said, but she didn’t sound like she believed it either.

  “Get ready,” O’Neill said, and for the first time, he sounded grim. “If he goes for the Stargate — this could get ugly fast.”

  There was no resistance at the city gate. And only a handful of men at the armory. Basa summoned them to surrender, Daniel translating in a whisper, and they did so with relief, promising that their loyalty had been to the Pharaoh all along. Basa neither believed nor disbelieved, Teal’c saw with approval, but locked them into the small back room and left a couple of men on guard before he began handing out weapons.

  “Basa says that Ra pulled most of the Jaffa back to the pyramid,” Daniel reported. “They don’t know about Aset or Danyel.”

  Egeria, at least, was probably on the mothership, Teal’c thought. Or she should be, if everything had proceeded according to plan. He looked up sharply as the first explosions sounded from the pyramid, and motioned Basa and his men toward the door. “We must secure the gates,” he said. “And make certain Ra’s Jaffa cannot leave the compound.”

&nbs
p; Basa nodded, already dividing his men — slightly less than half to guard the gates, the rest forming up, ready to approach the palace. O’Neill’s amplified voice boomed outside, warning the Goa’uld to abandon the planet. Teal’c waved his men forward, ducked out through the armory’s narrow door.

  Ra’s head loomed above them, a hundred times life-size, frowning down on the compound, his voice as loud as thunder, loud enough to shake the ground. “— You will feel only my anger.”

  Basa’s men checked, slowed by the sight and sound, a god-like illusion, and even Basa looked pale.

  “It’s a trick,” Daniel said, and repeated himself in Egyptian. “Teal’c, tell them it’s a trick.”

  “It is an illusion,” Teal’c said strongly, heard Daniel translate. “It is unreal, a phantom — it cannot harm or even see you. I am Jaffa, I have seen this before. It is a picture —” He couldn’t find an analogy that would make sense — Chulak’s technology had been more advanced than this — and from the look on Daniel’s face, neither could he. “It is not real,” Teal’c said again, but he could see that they were wavering. “Look!”

  He lifted his staff weapon, took aim at the looming face. One of the Egyptians cried out, covering his eyes, and Teal’c fired, the blast rising into the bright sky. It passed through the image as though it wasn’t there — as though it was what it was, a trick of projected light — and was gone. The image didn’t waver, but didn’t respond, either, and he saw Basa’s eyes narrow.

  “See?” Daniel said. “It doesn’t even know we’re here.”

  Basa shouted something, waved his men forward, and, when they were slow to respond, grabbed the nearest one by the arm and shoved him forward.

  “To the palace,” Teal’c said, and Daniel translated.

  The main doors stood wide, and the great hall was empty, a stool overturned and the leopard skin askew on the great throne. Teal’c turned in a careful circle, staff weapon ready, but nothing moved among the painted pillars.

  “Well, this is interesting,” Vala said. “Do you think he’s actually leaving?”

  “Not without a fight,” Teal’c said.

  Something did move then in the mouth of the corridor that led behind the throne. Teal’c turned, his weapon snapping up to cover the opening, but Daniel caught his arm.

  “Wait!”

  “Do not fire, I am a friend!” The English words were accented, but understandable, and Teal’c relaxed just a little. An older woman emerged from the shadows, her wig disordered, her hands held well clear of her body.

  Basa visibly relaxed, saying something, and Daniel said, “Basa says this is the priestess Mutnod, who has served Pharaoh and his father.”

  “The Jaffa have gone,” she said. “They have left the building. There are none here but servants, and they will obey you. But — they have taken Danyel.”

  “What?” Vala’s yelp was sheer surprise, but Mutnod took it for disbelief.

  “I regret, Lady, but it is so. They have taken him to the pyramid, before the fighting began.”

  “Crap,” Daniel said. He looked at Teal’c, the question obvious, and Teal’c nodded.

  “Take Vala, Daniel Jackson, and see if you can find him. We will keep the Jaffa pinned down.”

  Daniel nodded. “As long as he’s in the pyramid —” He broke off, shaking his head.

  Teal’c tilted his head gravely. If Danyel had been taken aboard the mothership — there was very little they could do to save him. “Indeed,” he said, and hoped the priestess was right.

  Danyel worked his wrists cautiously, testing the bonds that secured his hands behind his back. They were just as solid as they’d been five minutes ago, and five minutes before that, and he looked back at the pel’tac’s viewscreen, where death gliders swirled, searching for an invisible enemy. So far, so good, Jack, he thought. You’ve got them literally chasing their tails…

  If he looked sideways, he could see Egeria watching from beside Ra’s throne, Teal’c impassive one step behind and to her right. His back hurt from being thrown against the wall, and his forehead stung as if he’d been burned, though he didn’t feel quite as bad as he usually did after being questioned with a hand device. Of course Egeria hadn’t questioned him, exactly, but so far neither had Ra, and he was hoping maybe Ra would be too busy to think of it.

  “Nean’tac.” Ra pushed himself to his feet. The Jaffa at the main controls turned, bowing, but not before Danyel saw the gold mark of a First Prime on his forehead.

  “My lord?”

  “The commander of the gliders is to be punished. Their showing is deplorable.” In the viewscreen, another glider exploded, and Ra’s frown deepened. “See to it now.”

  “Now, my lord?” The First Prime held his ground, even as he kept his eyes carefully downcast.

  “Yes, now. See if his second can do any better.” Ra moved to the controls, his fingers tapping impatiently on the gilded surface. “Go!”

  “Yes, my lord.” Nean’tac bowed again, even more deeply, and disappeared from the control room.

  “And you.” Ra turned again, and Danyel braced himself, unable to keep from flinching at the sight of the raised hand device. “You’re no Ancient.”

  “No,” Danyel said. “No, I’m not, but —”

  Ra ignored him. “You must learn to be more careful, Egeria. He cannot be effectively questioned for some days yet. Their minds require a knife’s blade, not a hammer.”

  “My apologies, my lord,” Egeria answered. “I am new to this, and perhaps I was carried away.”

  “Your zeal is forgivable, but inconvenient,” Ra said. “As for you, Daniel Jackson… I knew all along you had the Ancients on your side. You could not have defeated me otherwise.”

  “Yes, well,” Danyel said. “We certainly have their help now, and you probably ought to be thinking about doing what Jack said, because frankly you’re getting slaughtered out there —”

  Ra lifted his hand, and the nearest Jaffa swung his staff weapon, catching him in the back of his knees. Danyel fell forward, unable to catch himself with his hands bound behind him. He worked his way back to his knees to find Ra smiling down at him.

  “So you admit that the Ancients are aiding you.”

  “You see their fleet in action,” Danyel said. “They’ve taken us under their protection —”

  Ra backhanded him, hard enough to send him sprawling. Danyel winced, tasting blood where the hand device had cut his mouth, and the impassive Jaffa hauled him upright again.

  “The Ancients are a dying race,” Ra said. “Their protection is worthless.”

  “It’s working out all right so far,” Danyel said, in spite of knowing better. This time, he was able to ride the blow, and the Jaffa caught him before he fell.

  “You are a fool to defy me,” Ra said. “As you shall soon learn. In the meantime —” He turned back to the controls, waving the Jaffa pilot out of the way. “We shall do what we should have done when first we abandoned this wretched planet. We will take the gate of the gods, and leave you bereft.”

  Danyel swallowed his instinctive protest. Jack had a plan, he and Sam knew how to stop this, they would make sure it didn’t happen — and if that meant he couldn’t get back, well, it was worth the sacrifice… He jerked at his bonds again, the thin shackles biting his wrists. There had to be a way off, somehow, if Egeria or Teal’c could only help him —

  Ra rested his hands on the controls, fingers spread, and the ha’tak shuddered gently. The view in the screens changed as it rose serenely from the tip of the pyramid and hovered above the Stargate.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Jack swore under his breath as the ha’tak rose ponderously from its perch on the tip of the pyramid. At least the gliders were out of the way, but there were lights flashing on his controls that he didn’t like. He glared at them, trying to think a question, and the indicators resolved themselves.

  “Crap,” he said. “Sam, we’ve lost drones.”

  “Oh, boy.” She
leaned forward, scanning the indicators. “No, OK, we’ve lost launch controls, if I can just get them back on line —” She was unhooking her safety webbing as she spoke, scrambled back into the rear of the jumper.

  “Sam —” Jack couldn’t spare her another glance as he brought the jumper around again, but he could hear a sudden hiss and pop, and a yelp.

  “You all right?”

  “Fine, I’m fine.”

  “I’m losing something else — looks like the cloak.”

  “Hang on.”

  There was another snap and the smell of ozone, and one set of indicators flashed from red to green.

  “The cloak’s back,” he called, and swooped under the ha’tak as it moved toward the Stargate. If only he had drones, this would be the time, but those indicators glowed even brighter red, flashing angrily. On the tac screen, he could see Ai following, saw her jumper flash into view for the instant that she launched a drone, and then disappeared again. The explosion was impressive, but didn’t seem to do any real damage.

  “Drones, Sam?”

  “Working on it.”

  He swung the jumper up and around, watching the ha’tak’s guns track wildly. In a minute, they’d start firing blind, and that was only going to make things more fun. Drop the cloak, he thought, and made a quick visible pass at the pel’tac, skimming the surface before pulling away. Cloak, damn it — The console beeped at him in complaint, but the systems obeyed.

  “How are we doing?”

  “Almost — Got it!” Sam yelled, and the weapons indicators flashed brilliant green.

  “Nice work,” Jack said, and fired a salvo toward the pel’tac. The explosions blossomed, but the mothership’s shields held. A warning flashed from the tac screen, and the ha’tak’s upper guns fired, beams slicing the air far too close for comfort. They’d just been waiting for him to take the shot, to get an approximate aiming point… He rolled the jumper down and away, but the edge of one beam clipped a pod, sent him momentarily out of control. There was another yelp from the back, and the acrid smell of smoke, but he ignored it and the warning lights flickering across the console, and brought the jumper down toward the Stargate.