Dragging his pack closer, he helped Daniel settle against it and left Teal’c’s canteen in his hands. “Drink,” he said. “That’s an order.”
Daniel offered a wan smile. “You can’t give me orders, Jack.”
“Says who?” He squeezed his friend’s shoulder and then stood up, looking out at the blasted landscape that stretched in all directions beneath low, heavy skies. “Teal’c,” he said, “I figure we’ll make camp here for now. I’m not sensing any immediate threats. You?”
“I am not,” Teal’c agreed, but he didn’t look happy either. “In fact, the lack of any apparent life is the most unsettling aspect of this world.”
He hadn’t noticed it before, too focused on stopping Daniel from bleeding out into the ashy ground, but now he paid attention he felt it too. There was nothing here: no birds, no insects, no vegetation underfoot. Nothing. He licked his lips; they were starting to chap in the cold air. “The sooner we get outa here the better,” he said.
“I concur.”
“Okay.” He glanced back toward Carter, who was kneeling in the dirt near the Stargate and still futzing around with her scanner. “Carter! Unless you’re about to dial us home, get the hell over here and help make camp. We’re all freezing our asses off, let’s not go hypothermic.”
“Yes sir.”
They didn’t often use it, but Jack always packed a tent. It could fit four at a pinch, but it was more comfortable with three inside and one out on watch. Teal’c accused him of being soft, but it was at times like this when he felt its value — not even Teal’c could have rigged a shelter from a bunch of rocks.
Pulling the tent from his pack he dropped it onto the ground, raising a little puff of snow and dust. His hands were cold — he only had his fingerless gloves with him — and he flexed them a couple times to keep the blood flowing. He hadn’t been joking about the hypothermia, they were all soaked through and the temperature here had to be close to freezing. It would be worse at night, no doubt. Shelter, food and dry clothes were urgent, especially for Daniel.
So, when he glanced up and saw Carter still crouched near the gate, messing with her scanner, he felt a flash of genuine impatience. “Major,” he snapped, “I told you to leave that.”
She shook her head, not looking up. “Sorry, sir, but —”
“No buts,” he said, shaking out the tent. Teal’c grabbed the other end and they started stamping the stakes into the ground. “Get over here.”
“No sir.”
“Excuse me?”
“Colonel, you have to stop,” she said, abruptly standing up. “Stop disturbing the soil.”
Jack glanced at Teal’c who only lifted an eyebrow in query.
“This better be good, Carter…”
She was walking toward them slowly, staring at the scanner which she held low down, close to the ground, and then high up over her head. “Sir,” she said, at last stopping in front of him, “we can’t stay here.”
“On the planet?”
“In this location, sir.”
“Because… ?”
She grimaced, like she was afraid to give the bad news. “I’m reading dangerous levels of radiation in the soil, sir.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the latest piece of crappy luck to come their way. “You have got to be kidding me, Carter…”
“I’m sorry, sir, I know it’s not what you want to hear. But we can’t stay here, it’s not safe. And the more we disturb the soil, the greater the risk we run.” She glanced down at her clothes, dusty with dirt where she’d tumbled out of the Stargate. “I think we’re standing in a fallout zone, sir. Not a recent one, but at some point in this planet’s past it looks like the Stargate was nuked.”
“That would explain the absence of the DHD,” Teal’c said.
“And the birds.” Jack scratched a hand through his hair, shutting down his frustration and fears and focusing on the problem in hand; when circumstances changed, you changed your plans. He peered through the fine snow toward the hills. They were maybe two klicks away. “We’ll head for higher ground,” he decided. “There’ll probably be less fallout accumulation up there.”
“Yes sir,” Carter said. “And if the gate was close to ground zero, which is likely, then the further we get from it the better.”
It made sense, except… He looked over at Daniel and Carter’s gaze followed his.
“We’ve got no choice, sir,” she said quietly. “We have to move him.”
“I know.” But that didn’t make it any easier. God only knew how Daniel would manage the hike; he should be in surgery already.
Jack rubbed a weary hand over his face. Just how much more crap was the universe going to throw at them today? In the pit of his stomach, the anxiety that had been churning since the first Jaffa attack tightened into a fist of fear. They should be home by now. Daniel should be safe in the infirmary, and he should be figuring out how to bring down Maybourne’s nasty little off-world operation before Earth’s allies abandoned them entirely. But instead they were stuck in the ass end of nowhere, with no way home — again — sucking in radioactive dust with every goddamn breath. “Damn it, Carter,” he growled. “Hell of a time to screw up.”
She stared. “I didn’t —” But then she stopped, taking it like the officer she was. “Yes sir. I’ll help Daniel get ready to move out.”
And then she was gone, stalking past the Stargate to where Daniel lay wrapped in the foil blanket and propped up on Jack’s pack.
“We do not know that Major Carter misdialed the gate address,” Teal’c pointed out, disapproval chilling his voice as he crouched to pull up the tent stakes and refold the tent. “Indeed, it is more probable that an error occurred while we were in transit.”
Jack didn’t respond; he knew Teal’c was right.
“It is unlike you,” Teal’c persisted, “to lay blame where it is not due.”
Uncomfortable beneath Teal’c’s scrutiny, he kept his gaze on the tent as he started repacking it. “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Another silence as Teal’c stood up. “I do not believe that is true, O’Neill. But whatever the cause of your ill humor, Major Carter does not deserve your anger.”
“Yeah? Well maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself.” He made his voice hard, angry, and didn’t look up as Teal’c walked away in silence.
It hurt, deceiving his team like this. It twisted a knot of guilt in his gut. But, from the moment the Asgard and Tollan had laid down their highhanded ultimatum, his choice in the matter had been swept aside. Until Maybourne’s SGC mole was uncovered, Jack was a puppet dancing to their allies’ tune — and that pissed him off monumentally.
From beneath the bill of his cap, he watched Carter kneeling next to Daniel, encouraging him to drink some more water, touching her fingers to his throat and checking his pulse. He hated undermining her, it felt deep down wrong, but this wasn’t the first time the job had demanded he walk a fine moral line.
The problem with Carter was her loyalty. She was the last person to believe him capable of deliberately contravening Air Force regulations and stealing technology from the Tollan. Yet somehow, in just a few days, he had to make her buy it without question. He couldn’t afford to have her raising doubts because, if Maybourne’s mole got a sniff of a set-up, the whole mission would fail. And then the whole planet would be up the proverbial creek without a paddle.
Daniel was less of a problem, of course. They’d locked horns over the Stargate Program’s purpose enough times that Daniel already believed him capable of almost anything. Daniel might not like it, but this wouldn’t be the first time they’d been on opposite sides of the moral line. And it wouldn’t be the first time Jack had disappointed him.
As for Teal’c, while he might not agree with Jack’s actions, he’d understand that the end sometimes justified the means. And he understood frustration. Hell, why else had he turned his back on his own people for the chance to fight ba
ck?
But Carter? They were both Air Force and she knew exactly how much that meant to him, because it meant just as much to her. So if he was going to make the story stick then he needed to damage Carter’s faith in him. And the way to do it was by ruthlessly undermining her trust.
Didn’t mean he had to like it, though.
But he’d make it up to her. Once they were home, and the whole Maybourne screw-up had been squared away, he’d get things back on track with his team. Maybe he’d even invite them up to Minnesota, do a little fishing. No harm in that.
He shivered suddenly, a chill breeze picking up the snow and swirling it in harsh eddies. He didn’t like this place. It was time to get moving.
Janet Fraiser finished writing on the clipboard in her hand and smiled at the young airman who was rebuttoning his pants in the infirmary while trying to avoid her eye. The newbies were always like this after receiving their standard inoculation shots and routine checkup. As if baring their ass to a female doctor was the most embarrassing thing they’d ever done.
I was a cadet once too, son, she often wanted to say. I know what happens on leave.
But mostly she just smiled in what she hoped was a motherly way or made a joke to alleviate their awkwardness.
Right now, though, her heart wasn’t quite in it. She cast yet another glance at the clock, the clipboard and airman forgotten for the time being. Thirty-five minutes past due and still not a single word. Despite General Hammond’s reassurances, it was hard to convince herself that there was nothing wrong. Probably because she’d known there was something wrong before the team had even set their boots on the metal of the ramp.
This mission, their first since Colonel O’Neill’s return, was always going to be a tough one, but something just hadn’t sat right with her, as if the entire team were going through the motions. And now she wondered, if something had gone wrong, whether SG-1 were in any shape to deal with it.
“Will that be all, ma’am?”
“I’m sorry?”
She turned toward Airman Wallace, who watched her expectantly. “Am I done? Y’know, with the shots?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, I’m sorry. Dismissed.”
The young man sped from the infirmary, but stopped short by the door to snap a textbook salute to the man who entered.
“General Hammond,” said Janet. She cast a glance at the coffee cup in his hand, but made no comment. By his expression, she suspected he needed it. “No word?”
He shook his head, worry and something deeper etched into every line on his face. His earlier confidence that everything was okay had clearly dissipated. “We sent a MALP, but the area around the gate is deserted. There’s worse too. From the telemetry, there’s evidence of a firefight close to the gate. Doctor, I’m going to order —”
The klaxon sounded. “Unauthorized off-world activation,” declared Harriman’s voice, and even over the loudspeaker Janet could hear his anticipation. Both she and the general took off, speeding down the corridors until they reached the control room.
But Harriman looked crestfallen when they arrived. “I’m sorry, sirs. It’s SG-3’s IDC.”
“Open the Iris,” ordered Hammond.
Janet followed him down to the gate room, where Colonel Makepeace and his team were starting to hand off their weapons to the waiting SFs.
“What’s going on, sir?” asked Makepeace.
“SG-1 are missing, Colonel,” Hammond said. “I want SG-3 mission ready again within thirty minutes. You’re going to P5X-104 and you’re going to find our people.”
Crouching close to the Stargate, Sam studied the small cairn of stones she’d built. It was off to one side, out of the path of the erupting event horizon, but close enough that a MALP would spot it immediately.
“Carter!” the colonel barked. “What’re you doing?”
She gritted her teeth against a flash of irritation. “Leaving a marker, sir,” she said, without looking up.
“Well hurry it up. We’re about to move out.”
“Yes sir.”
The question was how to make it clear to anyone who came looking that they’d been here? After a moment’s thought she reached around and pulled her SG-1 patch from the sleeve of her jacket.
She stared at it, caught by the insignia, at what it represented, and glanced up at her team. Teal’c stood poised and ready to move, while the colonel was helping Daniel to stand. Despite his injury, Daniel was smiling as the colonel tucked his shoulder under his arm to help support him. She felt a pang of melancholy as she watched them, as if she was witnessing the end of things, as if something indefinable was shifting between them all.
Shaking off the dismal feelings — this planet, she thought, bred them in its cold, dank mist — she lifted a few stones and secured her patch inside the cairn. The top quarter poked out and anyone from the SGC would recognize it immediately. As long they kept within radio and visual range of the Stargate, they’d be able to open a channel to Earth as soon as they saw the MALP come through. And it would come through, she knew it. No matter how they’d ended up here, rescue would come.
Unlike Colonel O’Neill, she refused to forget that Stargate Command didn’t leave its people behind.
CHAPTER FOUR
As soon as SG-3 emerged from the wormhole, Makepeace could see that O’Neill and his team had run into trouble. Craters, obviously from heavy Goa’uld artillery, pocked the ground and the rocks around the gate were charred by staff blasts. There had been a battle here, but whether SG-1 had come out on top remained to be seen.
“Stay alert, people,” he barked as they descended the steps, weapons readied, boots squelching into mud. The only sound was the drumming of rain on the plastic of his camouflage poncho.
“You think they’re still on this planet, sir?” asked Lieutenant Johnson, scanning the area through the sight of his P90.
“I guess that’s what we’re here to find out. By the looks of this place, they were under some pretty heavy fire. Let’s sweep the perimeter. Wade, check out the DHD, see if they dialed out. Bosco, stay with him.”
Makepeace and Johnson headed for the tree line, splitting up to cover more ground, while Major Wade opened up the front of the DHD and plugged himself in.
It was Johnson who made the find. “Sir, we got bodies!” Makepeace’s stomach dropped, but when he reached the lieutenant it was the steely gray armor of a Jaffa that glinted dully in the undergrowth.
“There’s another one over there,” said Johnson, nodding further into the wooded area.
That, at least, gave him some satisfaction. Whatever had happened to the team, they’d at least managed to take a few of the bastards down beforehand. “Well, let’s see who SG-1 had a tangle with, huh?” Makepeace wedged his toe under the body and flipped it over. The dead Jaffa’s sightless eyes stared at the sky, rain washing the mud from his pale face. Hunkering down, Makepeace brushed away the remaining dirt from the corpse’s forehead.
“You recognize it, sir?”
Makepeace pursed his lips and shook his head. The tattoo was unfamiliar, a horned circle with a strange looking cross underneath. He pulled the tiny camera from the side pocket of his BDUs and snapped a shot. Let the experts back at the base take a look at it and figure out who they were dealing with. If SG-1 were being held captive, they’d need all the intel they could gather, and if this was a new snake on the block, they’d need far more than that.
As they made their way back to the gate, Makepeace scanned the area. The place was a washout, the rain having spoiled any real chance they might have had of picking up a trail, but there were spent bullet casings everywhere. Whatever had happened, the team had obviously been balls to the wall and Makepeace saw three possible outcomes.
First, SG-1 had been cut off from the gate and then taken prisoner by whatever snakehead had attacked them. If that was the case, then he didn’t like the odds of finding where they’d been taken.
Second option: they’d dialed an address and made it through
, but wherever they’d ended up it wasn’t Earth. And given their current MIA status, they’d possibly landed in a situation that was just as hot as the one they’d escaped. Makepeace didn’t much like that option either.
The last option was one he could work with: they’d dialed up, but had to take cover before they could reach the wormhole itself, which meant they were still in hiding somewhere nearby. But why not come out when the coast was clear and dial home?
He knew O’Neill and he knew what sort of a strategist he was. In fact, O’Neill and he were similar in many ways. Jack always sought the practical answer, not necessarily the one that conformed to the rules, but he was a man who got the job done, regardless. A fine leader and one for whom he’d always had a lot of respect. Who else could take a scientist, a civilian geek and a goddamned alien and turn them into a formidable unit?
Makepeace also knew that he wasn’t the only one who was watching O’Neill as a potential asset — which just made it all the more important to get them back in one piece.
“Anything?” he asked Wade, who stood squinting at the handheld unit he’d plugged into the front of the DHD.
“It’s the darnedest thing, sir. As far as I can tell, the last address dialed was Earth.”
“How is that possible? There was no incoming wormhole at the SGC.”
Wade shrugged. “Maybe it skipped to another gate? Wouldn’t be the first time. But if that’s the case…”
Wade didn’t need to finish his sentence. If SG-1 went through a wormhole that had skipped to some other random gate, they could be anywhere in the galaxy. How the hell would they have any hope of finding them? And if a Goa’uld had them, then the clock was most definitely ticking.
“Okay, people,” Makepeace said, “there’s nothing more to find here. Let’s move out.”
But as he turned to head up the steps to the gate his eye was caught by something lying in the mud. A USAF standard issue field dressing — and it was soaked in blood. Wherever SG-1 was, one of them was injured and bleeding badly.
SG1-25 Hostile Ground Page 3
