“You mean the beams of light?” Daniel said, wiggling his fingers to illustrate a transporter beam.
Hunter nodded. “We call ’em Snatcher beams.”
“I can see why. That’s how they got us too.” He glanced over at Sam who sat guarding the entrance, as if her weapon and the scrap of canvas could keep out the Amam. He supposed it made her feel like she was doing something while they waited. “Hunter?” he said, in a voice loud enough for Sam to hear. “Have you ever heard of an Amam healing someone who was dying?”
Sam glanced over at him, gave a slight warning shake of her head.
“No,” Hunter said. “Why would they? We ain’t nothin’ but livestock to them.” He scratched a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “There are the Feeders, though,” he added, “people who slave for the Snatchers. Heard it said they get fed.” He made a clawing gesture with his hand. “Instead of taking life, they’re given more.”
“Really?” He resisted the urge to touch the place on his chest where the Amam had healed him. “I wonder what kind of affect that has on them?”
“They say their bodies live forever, but they ain’t got no soul left inside.” Hunter grimaced. “Makes me sick just thinking about it.”
“Yeah, it’s certainly… a disturbing thought,” Daniel said, meeting Sam’s alarmed look with one of reassurance. He wasn’t going to admit to anything. “So, um, you’ve never met anyone it’s happened to?”
“If I ever met one of the Feeders I’d kill him, not talk to him.”
“Right,” Daniel said, ignoring the ‘shut-the-hell-up’ looks Sam was throwing in his direction.
“Probably just camp-tales anyway,” Hunter added. “Can’t believe most of what people say around here.”
“But Dix is real?” Sam said from the doorway, changing the subject. “And the resistance?”
“Yup,” Hunter said. “They’re real, for dead sure.”
“I wonder,” Daniel mused, unwilling to be distracted, “why they’d do that — the Amam, I mean. Why would they heal people?”
Hunter shrugged. “Who knows? They’re monsters. Why do they do anything?”
But Daniel didn’t believe in monsters and whatever these Amam were, they were intelligent and rational creatures. That meant they could be explained. He rubbed a hand absently over his chest, where the Amam had touched him. Unlike Sam, he felt no lingering pain. A life for a life, the Amam had said, which meant they had the capacity for moral thought. For altruism, perhaps. They might look like monsters, they might act like monsters most of the time, but that was too easy a way to dismiss them — and, perhaps, to underestimate them.
“It’s getting light,” Sam said, opening the canvas a crack with the tip of her gun.
In the distance someone started screaming again — it sounded like a child.
She grimaced, moving into a low crouch as she opened the gap wider. He saw her recoil a little, and in a grim voice she said, “There are bodies out there.”
Hunter nodded. “There always are.”
“Do they only hunt at night?” Daniel said.
“Yes, mostly. They see better in the shadows. You saw how dim their ship was — I think they see differently to us.”
“Photosensitivity,” Sam said, still watching the creeping dawn. “It explains the shape of their pupils.”
“I wonder —” But Daniel’s question was cut short by the distant but familiar rat-tat-tat of an MP5.
Sam was on her feet in an instant and out the door, Daniel only a couple of steps behind her. Weapon raised, she was scanning the area, but the sporadic gunfire was at least half a mile away.
“It’s coming from over there,” Daniel said, gesturing off to their right.
“Yeah.” She lowered her weapon, jaw clenched tight. “I hope they’re okay.”
It went on for at least five minutes — swift bursts of gunfire and beneath it the sizzling sound of a staff weapon discharging. Then, after a longer and more intensive firefight, it stopped.
They waited, but nothing else happened.
“It’s over,” Sam said tightly.
But who had won? Daniel reached for his radio but Sam shook her head.
“Radio silence,” she reminded him with a grim expression. “The colonel will contact us when it’s safe.”
Behind them, Hunter emerged into the thin light that was starting to lift the shadows from the camp. He looked around with caution and then his eyes fell on something Daniel hadn’t noticed in his concern for his friends: two desiccated bodies, crumpled together amid the trampled shacks opposite. Daniel’s gaze automatically flinched from the sight, but Hunter walked toward them and dropped to his knees at their side. Head bowed, he sat in silence and Daniel wondered if he’d known these people. He supposed that he must have.
At the doorway to the shelter, Hunter’s wife appeared with their son on her hip, his sleepy head resting on her shoulder. She too looked over at the bodies, and all around, Daniel realized, people were emerging from within the ragged camp.
Lifting his head, Hunter reached out his hands and rested one on each of the bodies. “Oh Hecate,” he said, loud enough for his voice to carry, “you are the beginning and the end, Mistress of the Crossroads and keeper of the Gateway. You guide us on our path to the world hereafter. Hail, Goddess, and attend to this our sacrifice.”
Sam glanced at Daniel, but her usually bright curiosity was tempered by anxiety and her attention quickly returned to scanning the camp for signs of Teal’c and Jack.
Hunter rose to his feet. “That’s done,” he said. “Hecate will avenge them in the time to come.”
“You mean the afterlife?”
“I mean,” he said, “when we drive out the Snatchers.”
You and whose army? Daniel thought, but kept his skepticism to himself. After all, at first glance, no one would have thought the Abydonians could have overthrown Ra.
“Daniel?” Sam said suddenly, “I’m going to go check —”
Static burst out of their radios, making them both jump, and then Jack’s scratchy voice said, “Carter, Daniel, report.”
With a grin of relief, Sam toggled her radio. “Good to hear from you, sir. All okay here. What’s your status?”
“Heading your way, Carter. Have Hunter ready to move out.”
“Yes sir.” She hesitated a moment. “Colonel — we heard gunfire.”
There was a pause, another burst of static, then, “The bastards are hard to kill, Carter. See you in five. O’Neill out.”
Sam smiled at Daniel, then Hunter. “You heard the colonel,” she said. “It’s time to go see Dix.”
Rocks, dislodged by the ha’tak, blocked the road up to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex so they had to abandon the SUV and walk the last half mile.
They were in the shadow of the ship now, where it perched on the mountain like some great, ugly bird of prey. Death Gliders swarmed around it, returning to base.
“Ground assault,” Makepeace said, thinking aloud. “That’s why they’re calling the gliders home.”
Maybourne glanced at him. “Then we’d better get inside.”
There were two Marines on the gates; Makepeace recognized them both from the SGC. Nonetheless, he approached with caution, hands raised. He didn’t want to risk anyone’s jittery trigger finger. “Major Jefferson,” he said with a nod. “Lieutenant Booker. Draw the short straws?”
Jefferson gave a small, tight smile. “Something like that, sir.” His eyes darted to Maybourne, disheveled and out of uniform, then back to Makepeace. “General Hammond said to look out for you, sir.”
“How considerate,” Maybourne said.
Makepeace ignored him. “You still got comms, Booker?”
“Yes sir, I’ll tell the general you’re on your way down.”
He disappeared into the guard post and Jefferson came forward. Twenty-something and hard as nails, he’d been assigned to SG-5 for the past three months. He jerked his head toward the city. From this entrance yo
u could see smoke rising over the trees, but the city itself was hidden from view. “What’s it like down there, sir?”
“Bad,” Makepeace said.
Jefferson shook his head. “Glad my folks are still in Austin.”
Makepeace didn’t answer that, he doubted anywhere would be immune from this by the end.
“Sir?” Booker called, stepping out from the guard post. “General Hammond said to get down to the gate room as fast as you can. They’re —”
The unmistakable sound of a ring-transporter activating cut off his words. Behind Booker, between the gates and the tunnel leading into the complex, Goa’uld rings dropped down and lifted again to reveal six Jaffa.
Makepeace opened fire immediately, took two down before the others had time to lift their staff weapons. “Get into the tunnel!” he yelled as another set of rings activated, depositing a further six Jaffa between them and safety.
Jefferson and Booker both dived to the side, firing from the shelter of the guard post, while Maybourne scurried behind them like the rat he was.
“Frag out!” Jefferson bawled, pitching a grenade with precision.
Makepeace turned his face away, ducked as the detonation threw up sharp pieces of stone, taking out half the Jaffa. “Nice!” he yelled at the major. “Got any more of those?”
“Yes sir!”
But the remaining Jaffa weren’t giving up. “Kalach shal’tek!” bellowed one as he advanced, leaping over the bodies of his fallen comrades. Staff weapon raised, he fired. Makepeace pressed himself against the wall of the guardhouse, felt the heat of the plasma scorch past him, as Jefferson yelled a warning and threw his second grenade. The detonation flung the Jaffa forward, face first into the dirt. Makepeace heard his neck break, saw the dead-eyes staring up at him. Jaffa or human, dead was dead.
“Colonel!” Booker shouted, gesturing with his weapon; there was a clear path to the tunnel.
“Go!” he barked. “Get the blast doors closed. Maybourne —” He turned just in time to see more rings activating behind them. “Damn it.”
Six, Jaffa appeared. Twelve. “Rak’lo najaquna shel’re hara kek,” hissed one of them, raising his staff weapon.
“Whatever,” Makepeace said and lifted his own weapon. “Maybourne! Get behind me.”
He did, scrambling to his feet as Makepeace took a step backward.
“You can’t hold them all!”
“You better hope I can.” He tightened his finger on the trigger. “Now run!”
He opened fire, sweeping backward and forward across the Jaffa as he slowly retreated, Maybourne sprinting for the tunnel behind him. Then he heard Booker and Jefferson open up. He hoped they’d taken cover in the tunnel entrance, but couldn’t look around to see.
The Jaffa scattered under the onslaught, diving for cover, and Makepeace could feel the cold of the tunnel at his back. He’d made it. But, at the last moment, a staff blast came blazing from somewhere on his left and clipped his arm. He yelled, the force of the blast spinning him around, and he fell hard onto the ground. Something popped in his left knee, pain shooting up all the way into his gut.
“Colonel!” Jefferson called.
He tried to stand.
“Stay down!”
Pressed into the dirt, he watched as another grenade flew overhead, impacting almost before it hit the ground.
And then Booker grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet with one hand and firing with the other as he half dragged him into the tunnel. At the far end, light spilled from the complex but the huge blast doors were already closing.
“Come on, sir,” Booker said, as Jefferson grabbed his other arm. “We can make it.”
For a moment, Makepeace almost felt worthy of these brave men’s loyalty. But then he saw Maybourne darting past the closing doors, running ahead of them into the safety of the SGC, and he remembered the truth.
He’d betrayed these people. He didn’t deserve anything from them.
It felt like they’d been walking for hours. No, scratch that. They had been walking for hours, weaving their way through the endless labyrinthine shantytown. If they were following a path, Jack couldn’t make out where it went. But Hunter didn’t pause, didn’t waver, he just kept on going, leading them deeper and deeper into the camp.
Not wanting to stop and eat, Jack had pulled open a breakfast MRE on the road, so to speak, and eaten everything that didn’t need rehydrating. He was still working his way through the chocolate chip pastry when Daniel said, “So, Hunter, how big is this place?”
Hunter glanced over his shoulder, gave a shrug. “Maybe ten miles across?”
“Ten miles?” Daniel echoed in surprise.
“Big,” Jack agreed, but he’d seen that from the mountainside on the way down. The camp was vast.
“Most folk live on the boundary, near the feeding stations. But we’re heading deep, to the Way Back.”
He’d heard the name before — it’s where the kids had come from — and he felt a clutch of guilt at the memory of sending them back there alone. But what else could he do? He couldn’t offer them any safety. “The Way Back is the interior?” he said. “The center of the camp?”
Hunter nodded. “Way back from the ship,” he explained.
“Safer?”
“Ain’t nowhere that’s safer,” Hunter said, and walked on.
Reaching for his canteen to wash down the cloying taste of the pastry, he took a long swallow and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Daniel was frowning as he walked along next to him, his features contracted into an expression that usually meant he was puzzling over a particularly intractable problem. Jack nudged him. “What?”
“Huh?” Daniel said, looking up. “What?”
“You’re thinking.”
“Uh, yeah?”
When he didn’t seem about to expand on the point, Jack said, “Care to share?”
“Oh. Uh, I was just —” He gestured toward Hunter and dropped his voice. “He said this place was ten miles across.”
“Yeah? It’s big.”
“No. I mean, yes it’s big, but miles?”
Jack shook his head, genuinely confused. “I don’t follow.”
From behind him, Carter said, “I think Daniel’s talking about the unit of measurement, sir, rather than the actual distance.”
“Exactly,” Daniel said, still talking quietly. “Since when have the Goa’uld used ‘miles’?”
Jack lifted an eyebrow. “You think the Goa’uld went metric?”
“No, the point is —”
“I get the point.” He threw a glance at Hunter. “He is a fake Jaffa, remember?”
“I guess,” Daniel said. “It’s just unusual —”
Just then Hunter stopped suddenly, turning to face them with excitement in his eyes, and for a moment Jack was struck by just how young he was. Early twenties, maybe? “We’re here,” Hunter said, arms spread wide.
Jack glanced at the tumbledown shacks all around them, at the people crouching in the doorways, watching them as they cooked over meager fires. No different to anywhere else in this place. “I was expecting something… bigger,” he said.
With a cryptic smile, Hunter only said, “Follow, but don’t say nothing. I’ll speak for you.” Then he turned and slipped behind a wooden panel that was propped up against a stub of crumbling wall not much more than six feet tall.
“I do not believe we will find any assistance here,” Teal’c said in disdain. “This is not the abode of any First Prime.”
Jack had to agree and even Carter looked a little crestfallen. Only Daniel’s optimism remained intact.
“Come on, Teal’c,” he said, pushing past him to follow Hunter. “You know what they say about good things and small packages.”
“I do not.”
“Oh. Well, Jack can explain,” Daniel said, and ducked under the planking after Hunter.
Jack threw up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know anything about small packages.”
; That earned him a snort from Carter and a dubious eyebrow lift from Teal’c, and he had to bite back a smile as he waved them both toward the entrance. “Come on, let’s keep Danny outa trouble.”
If he’d been expecting something grander inside, he’d have been disappointed. The shack looked pretty similar to Hunter’s own — small, cramped and with a smoky fire — except that it also came with three other fake Jaffa hanging out inside. With the four of SG-1 crammed in as well, it was downright cozy. If this was Dix and the resistance they’d had one hell of a wasted trip.
“You can’t bring strangers here,” one of the men said, getting to his feet. He was big, with a bullish face. Trouble, Jack thought, and let his hands come to rest on his weapon.
“Dix’ll wanna want to see these folk,” Hunter insisted. “This one?” He gestured to Teal’c. “He wears the mark of Apophis.”
The other man’s eyes lifted to Teal’c’s face, where the firelight made the gold of his brand glimmer. He frowned and then turned back to Hunter. “Where d’you find them?”
“In the larder.”
He grunted. “Heard you’d been snatched.”
“And freed.” He brushed his hand over the top of his right arm and said, “You see what they wear.”
The big guy looked and so did all the others. His eyes widened for a moment before his expression crashed down into a frown. “Take ’em in.”
“Uh,” Jack said, pushing past Daniel and Carter to reach Hunter. “What just happened?”
Hunter met his gaze. “You’re gonna meet Dix.”
“I don’t think so,” Jack said, tapping the SG-1 patch on his arm. “What does this have to do with it?” As if he didn’t know. Every damn System Lord out there wanted to get their hands on SG-1.
He brought his weapon up fast, backing up a step and cursing the cramped space. Behind him, Carter flipped off the safety on her weapon and Teal’c primed his staff as they both took up defensive positions. The fake Jaffa jumped to their feet in response, Amam stunners appearing in their hands, and just like that they had themselves a regular Mexican stand-off.
SG1-25 Hostile Ground Page 26
