Janet had no choice but to agree. “Yes, of course that’s true, but that doesn’t devalue our worth as a species. It doesn’t mean we can’t be trusted.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” said Tyr. “But it does mean that often personal loyalties can cloud your judgment. How can you be sure that those you believe you can trust haven’t succumbed to those selfish needs? For the Asgard, genetic survival is all. It is everything, not just of our own species, but of every species. Science guarantees survival, and so the science must be held above all else. We are facing great threats in our galaxy, Dr. Fraiser. We cannot risk our technology being compromised.”
It was hopeless. Between the cold arrogance of the Tollan and the simple mathematical logic of the Asgard, there was no way she and Hammond had a chance of convincing this counsel to let them continue the investigation without Colonel O’Neill. But there was another solution, and Hammond had clearly thought of that too.
“Then help us find SG-1. They’re out there somewhere, but our attempts to trace them have been fruitless so far. With your help —”
“That’s out of the question, General,” said the High Chancellor. “Given current relations between Tollana and Earth, any sharing of technology would contravene every statute in our Charter of Government. We are already occupying a very gray area of our law by meeting with you today.”
The general spread his hands, clearly just as exasperated as Janet, and turned to the Asgard. “Thor?”
“I am sorry, General Hammond, but as Tyr has said, we face other threats in our galaxy. We simply do not have the resources to help with a search for SG-1.”
“So you won’t help us find SG-1, but no one other than O’Neill is acceptable to you. Will you at least allow us the time to conduct a thorough search ourselves?”
Before either the Tollan or Asgard could answer, there was a knock at the door and the young guide who had brought them here entered and approached High Chancellor Travell. General Hammond turned to Janet, using the momentary distraction as a chance to regroup. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him so somber.
“I’m afraid we’re fighting a losing battle here, doctor,” he said, glancing over to where the Tollan were deep in conversation.
“I don’t understand why they’re so being so unrelenting. Don’t they understand that we’re trying to help them?”
“The Tollan have never been the easiest of bedfellows. It’s taken years of negotiation to establish any solid kind of relationship with them, and now I’m afraid all that hard work is being unraveled by the actions of a few.” Despite his obvious frustration at the current impasse, General Hammond still seemed inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt, although Janet wasn’t sure she could be so magnanimous. “Neither the Tollan nor the Asgard need to answer for their actions,” he reminded her. “They haven’t committed any crime.”
“And neither have we, General!” Janet struggled to keep her voice down. “Travell said herself that this isn’t a Triad. So why do I feel like we’re being judged and made to defend ourselves?”
“Because whoever is responsible for this is one of us, and we are responsible for them. Until we get SG-1 back, and O’Neill can find out who is doing this, then all of Earth will be held accountable, no matter how much we might dispute that fact.”
“And the Asgard? I would have expected Thor at least to have our back.”
At that, Hammond frowned and looked over her shoulder at where Thor and his people sat. “Yes,” he murmured, “I’m concerned about that myself. This threat he and Tyr have mentioned, I wonder…”
Before he could say anymore, High Chancellor Travell called the summit to order, having apparently finished whatever business was important enough to warrant the impromptu interruption.
“High Chancellor,” said Hammond, his mask of diplomacy in place once more, “Dr. Fraiser and I have discussed your comments on the matter at hand, and we fully understand both your and the Asgard’s position. We would like to offer you our full assurances that we will commit every resource to the search and rescue of SG-1. I’m confident that Colonel O’Neill will be back and ready to continue his investigation very soon.”
Travell’s expression, if sober before was now downright severe. “I’m afraid the situation is no longer as simple as that, General Hammond. SG-1 went missing two days ago, you say?”
Hammond nodded, but his face echoed the feeling of dread that had dropped like a stone into Janet’s gut.
“Well,” continued Travell, “we have a report of yet another technology theft from a Tollan outpost on one of our nearby planets. Less than two days ago. Perhaps SG-1 is not so guiltless as you would have us believe?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dawn broke on a morning not dissimilar from the preceding day. A few flakes of snow drifted down from a disconsolate sky and the air felt sharp and chill as Teal’c left the warmth of the tent. He drew in a deep breath and stretched his arms and back, shaking his muscles loose.
Major Carter looked up from where she crouched near a small fire, feeding a few sticks into the flames. “Hey Teal’c,” she said with a wan smile. “Get some rest?”
“I did.”
She nodded toward the fire. “The colonel wanted coffee and I figured we should save the Sterno for emergencies.” She held out her hands toward the growing flames. “The heat’s welcome too.”
“It is prudent to conserve our supplies,” Teal’c agreed. “Have you conducted an inventory, Major Carter?”
She rose to her feet, keeping one eye on the burgeoning fire. “We’ve got about three days of food, a week on short rations. But water might be a problem if the snow’s contaminated. Our radios should last at least a week, though, if we limit their use to emergencies. I figure we’ll just hole up here until we see the gate open. We’re still within radio range if the SGC try to contact us via the MALP.”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise at her confidence. “You expect us to be recovered quickly then, Major Carter?”
“Yeah,” she said, starting to rummage in her pack and pulling out a tripod which she erected over the fire. “Someone has to stay positive.”
Unsure how to interpret the slight edge to Major Carter’s voice, Teal’c decided not to comment. Although he had every faith in the Tau’ri, it was by no means certain that rescue would come soon. Or even at all. It was, after all, a very large galaxy. “I will make a circuit of the area,” he said, reaching for his staff weapon that lay on the ground tucked between the flysheet and inner tent.
“Good idea,” she said, pulling her scanner from her pocket and walking over to the tarpaulin in which she had collected snow. “Oh,” she added, in afterthought, “Daniel thinks he saw someone last night, watching us. It might just have been the fever, but… keep your eyes peeled?”
He simply inclined his head in agreement and made no comment on the macabre eye-peeling idiom.
Staff weapon in his hand, he left the camp and headed down and to the left, following the path they had travelled the previous day. He could see their tracks clearly: his own long stride, Major Carter’s close behind, followed by Daniel Jackson’s limping gait and O’Neill’s footsteps next to him. He crouched for a moment, to make sure that no other tracks were imposed over theirs, but he was confident that no one else had passed that way.
After walking down and across the hillside for five minutes he stopped. The trees were behind him now, and his view over the valley below was uninterrupted. The Stargate sat at its far end, close to a wide-mouthed bay cluttered with rocks and debris that might once have been buildings or other manmade structures. He could hear the distant rush of water, taste a slight salt tang in the air. Strange, without the accompanying cry of seabirds.
On the other side of the valley rose more hills, a green blush halfway up mirroring the tree line on his side of the valley. But all between was desolation, a bleak and colorless landscape. Whatever battle had been fought here, it had happened long ago and this pl
anet had done its best to scour away all evidence of the ordeal. But life had yet to return. He stood for a few moments, scanning the valley and hills for movement. There was none.
Turning right, he moved off parallel to the slant of the slope. His feet crunched over stone and he used his staff to help him balance on the rugged ground. Eyes and ears open, he heard nothing but his own footsteps.
After ten minutes he turned again, heading up the slope and back into the trees. He smelled coffee in the air as he passed level with their camp but did not stop, pressing on higher into the trees to complete his circuit. Even here there were no birds, although there was evidence of life. He crouched again, turning over small animal droppings with his fingertips — perhaps something like an unat? They would have food, at least, if their stay was longer than Major Carter anticipated. He also spotted rocks protruding from the dirt that were too square and regular to be naturally shaped. Bricks then, which meant that, at some point in the past, this area had been inhabited by humans — or some other intelligent species.
It was as he crouched on the slope above their camp that he heard the sound — a subtle movement, the careful tread of careful feet. He held himself still, breathed shallow and silent. He could see little, so relied upon his ears alone.
Footsteps, more than one set. Light, balanced. A hunter, further into the trees, stalking prey. A soft hiss, barely a sound — wood against wood, perhaps? And then a low whistle and a solid thud. A scrabbling of movement to his left, away from their camp, the death throes of some small animal. Then silence.
Carefully, Teal’c rose to his feet. There was a tree to his right, broader than most, and he moved silently toward it. From above, he could hear the footsteps again. Less careful now, and with them came a whisper of voices. Two men.
Teal’c ducked behind the tree as the hunters cut across his path, heading downhill toward their kill. They did not see him, but he had plenty of time to observe them. Young men dressed raggedly, capes of patched furs hanging from lean, rangy bodies. These were hungry men. One had an animal dangling from his hand — as Teal’c had surmised, it was an unat. The Tau’ri would call it a ‘rabbit’. The animal looked as skinny as the man who had killed it. The other man held only a bow in his hand, a couple of slender arrows tucked into his belt.
Something fluttered in the trees above, the first bird Teal’c had seen in this place. But the effect on the two men was remarkable. They both dropped to the ground in fear, eyes scanning the sky. Neither moved until the bird broke cover, flapping off and higher up the hillside. Then one of the men laughed, nudged the other as if embarrassed, and said, “Ah, only a skua”, before they climbed back to their feet and continued down the slope. Teal’c wondered if there was some species of predatory bird on this planet.
He watched the hunters stop a little further on and retrieve the arrow and another unat from the undergrowth, before they disappeared into the trees, walking parallel with the hillside.
When he was certain they were gone, and that there were no others close by, Teal’c hurried to complete his circuit of their camp. It appeared that Daniel Jackson had been correct, there were people here. Whether that improved or worsened their situation remained to be seen.
By the time he returned to their camp site, Colonel O’Neill was also awake — if he had slept at all. He sipped from the steaming mug cradled in his hands. Major Carter was crawling backward out of the tent and climbing to her feet.
“His fever’s definitely lower,” she said as she walked back to the fire and picked up her own mug from a rock close by. “He’s trying the coffee.”
“He can hear you…” Daniel Jackson called from inside the tent.
Major Carter smiled. Then she saw Teal’c and said, “Hey, want some coffee?”
“O’Neill,” he said, by way of answer, “there are people on this planet. I have seen them.”
“What?” Coffee forgotten, O’Neill reached for his weapon. “Where?”
“Hunters,” Teal’c said. “Two men armed with bows and arrows. They headed that way.” He pointed past their tent, up into the trees.
“Bows and arrows?” He understood O’Neill’s disappointment; this was not a technologically advanced people and it was unlikely they would be able to assist them in opening the Stargate.
“Told you I saw someone.” Daniel Jackson’s disembodied voice sounded rather pleased.
O’Neill just frowned, thinking. “Did they see you?”
“They did not.”
He nodded. “How much gear were they carrying?”
“Nothing but their weapons. I do not believe they were hunting far from home.”
“You can track them?”
“Yes.”
“There must be a village or something around here,” O’Neill guessed, glancing about as if he might be able to see it from where he stood. “Maybe they know what happened to the DHD?”
“That is possible,” Teal’c conceded. “But it is most likely that the DHD was destroyed, or buried, in the nuclear attack on the Stargate.”
“It’s also possible they have it in their town square and dance around it singing songs at Christmas.” O’Neill finished his coffee in one long swallow. “Let’s not make any assumptions here.”
A shuffling movement from the tent revealed Daniel Jackson, milk-faced as he edged his way out. “Ah, actually,” he said, “I think we can rule out the Christmas scenario.”
“Bad example,” O’Neill said. “The point is, these people — whoever they are — know one-hundred percent more about this planet than we do. So, pack-up your stuff. We’re gonna go say hello.”
“Sir?” Major Carter looked uneasy. “Is that a good idea?”
“You got a better one?”
She shrugged, shook her head. “Sir, SERE protocol recommends holing up until —”
“Major, are you trying to lecture me on survival and evasion protocols?”
“No sir, it’s just —”
“Good,” he said. “Now get ready to move out.”
Teal’c could see the concern playing across her face. Major Carter had a great deal to learn about maintaining a soldier’s impassive façade.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said, proving that she also had much to learn about the wisdom of remaining silent. “We don’t know how far away these people live, or whether or not they’ll be hostile. And if we move out of radio range we won’t know if the SGC have come looking for us.”
O’Neill’s face, on the other hand, remained inscrutable. Only the sharp edge to his voice betrayed impatience. “Carter…”
“Sir, the SGC could dial the gate at any moment. We have to give them time.”
“We don’t have time!” It was unusual, although not unprecedented, for O’Neill to momentarily lose control. But it was never a good sign. He scowled, jamming his cap onto his head and tugging it low over his eyes as if hiding in its shadow. Angry silence filled the space between him and Major Carter, and Teal’c felt his concern about O’Neill’s behavior ratchet up another notch. It felt amiss in a way he could not adequately define.
“What about Daniel, sir?” Major Carter said at last, coldly professional. “One of us could stay here with him, to keep an eye on the Stargate, and —”
O’Neill shook his head. “We don’t split up. Besides, I need Daniel to talk to these people.”
From the mouth of the tent, Daniel said, “Actually, I’m feeling better, Sam. The rest did me good, I think.”
“See? It’ll be fine.”
Major Carter was shaking her head, but it was clear she knew the point had been lost. “For the record, sir, I think leaving the vicinity of the Stargate is a mistake.”
O’Neill glowered, but said only, “Duly noted, Major.” Then he gestured at the equipment — most of it Major Carter’s — outside the tent. “Get your crap together, Carter. And that’s an order.”
“Yes sir.” She clamped her mouth shut and Teal’c could
see her jaw muscles twitch from the effort of saying no more.
Snatching up his empty coffee mug again, O’Neill shook out the dregs as he stalked back to the tent.
“We should at least leave a marker, sir,” Major Carter said as he walked past her. “Like I did at the gate.”
“Knock yourself out,” O’Neill said. “Just be ready to go in ten.”
She watched him disappear into the tent and then shook her head as her eyes met Teal’c’s. “This is a bad idea.”
Teal’c wasn’t sure that their current predicament allowed for any good ones.
It wasn’t that Daniel had been exaggerating when he said he felt better, it was just that ‘better’ was a relative term and he’d been starting from a very low point.
Walking was possible, so long as he didn’t jostle the wound in his side. The pain was always there, and he could bear its base level, but if he twisted sideways or bent over or — His foot jarred on a stone and, God, just like that, agony flared. He gritted his teeth, sucked in a breath.
“Daniel?” Sam touched his arm.
He gestured that he was fine, rode the wave of pain until it started to recede, and then forced himself to start walking again. An hour into their trek through the woods and he knew he was slowing the pace. Not that anyone was complaining. Not that anyone was saying much of anything.
Teal’c had taken point, following the trail left by the two hunters. Well, trail was a loose term, but to Teal’c’s skilled eye it was, apparently, very clear. Jack was stalking along at Teal’c’s shoulder, silent and bristling with whatever was bugging him. He and Teal’c were so alike it was comic. For all Jack’s offbeat humor, he was as guarded as any Jaffa when it came to something important.
“Hey,” Sam said. “Doing okay?”
“I could ask you the same thing…” Daniel said, diverting the subject from himself. He was bored of his own problems and Sam had been fuming wordlessly since her confrontation with Jack — an event which, in itself, was strange. He’d never seen them openly disagree like that, and never in the field.
SG1-25 Hostile Ground Page 7
