Daniel was on his feet and out the door in a flash. A dull boom still ricocheted around the mountains as smoke billowed from one side of the Amam ship.
“Sam,” he breathed. He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or terrified by the development, but at least something was happening.
“You think your people done that?” Hunter said, following him outside.
“I just hope they meant to.”
There was a beat of silence while they both watched the ship, waiting for the next explosion. But nothing else happened. “You know,” Hunter mused, “one day I’m gonna watch that whole darn thing burn.”
Daniel couldn’t help smiling at the certainty in his voice. It was a young man’s certainty, the kind that hadn’t had its optimistic corners knocked off yet. He remembered when he’d felt like that himself. “Listen,” he said, glancing at Hunter. “I need to help my friends now. If they escaped the ship, they’ll be heading down to the camp and I need to show them the way.”
Hunter turned his gaze from the smoking ship and back to Daniel. “I’ll take you out to the boundary,” he said, “but we gotta hurry. It’s dangerous outside after dark.”
Daniel glanced around at the other people who stood staring at the smoke drifting in the misty evening air. “Because people might attack us for food?”
Hunter shook his head. “Because at night the Snatchers come to hunt.”
Daniel took that in, nodded, and then glanced past Hunter toward Faith who stood in the doorway to their home, watching her husband with a tense expression. He looked again at the Amam ship pouring smoke into the sky, at the steep mountainside down which they’d walked this morning and then back at Hunter. “You stay here with Faith and your son,” he said. “I’ll go alone.”
“You won’t find the way,” Hunter objected.
Daniel allowed himself a slight smile. “You think I won’t be able to see that Amam ship from anywhere in the camp?”
“And to find our home again?”
“Trust me. I have a good sense of direction.”
“But you —”
“Hunter,” Faith said from where she still stood in the doorway. “Please.”
Daniel reached out and put his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “You’ve done enough for us,” he said. “And I can do this myself.”
Hunter looked torn for a moment, but then nodded. “If you’re not back by dawn, I’ll come lookin’.”
“Okay,” Daniel agreed. “Now go be with your family.”
The journey back out to the perimeter was much faster than the journey in, partly because Daniel was running and partly because no one was getting in his way. Everyone was hunkering down inside, a sense of anxious expectation pervading the whole camp. Daniel doubted the explosion on the ship had done much to steady anyone’s nerves and there was certainly no sense of celebration in the camp. It made him wonder about the relationship these people had with the Amam — both the givers of life and the bringers of death.
As the feeding station grew closer, he slowed to a walk to catch his breath. Stealth, he thought, might be helpful too, although so far he’d seen no sign of the Amam and he’d heard no tell-tale rattle of gunfire. Both of which could either be good or bad news, but he didn’t dare break radio silence to find out.
The feeding station was on his right now, the shacks thinning out the closer he got to it and to the edge of the camp. He tried to imagine what it must be like on the days when the Amam delivered rations — did the people fight for them, or had they organized a fair way of distribution? Perhaps this Dix character was involved in the running of the camp? Faith’s story of going to see him, and of being given some kind of food after her husband was taken, seemed to indicate that a social structure existed, although —
His train of thought was abruptly derailed by a flash of blue energy up on the mountainside, halfway down the slope. A moment later came the distant report of an MP5. His gut tightened: they were off the ship, they were fighting.
At least, some of them were.
He made his way beyond the last of the shacks and took cover behind a stub of something that might once have been a wall. It was full dark now and Daniel didn’t dare risk his flashlight, but he ran his hand over the surface and it felt like old brickwork. Someone might have lived there once, he thought, before the war that had destroyed this city.
If there was a moon in orbit around the planet, the clouds hung too low to let it shine. The only light came from the strange bioluminescent glow of the Amam ship and the snatches of firelight escaping from the camp behind him. But his eyes were used to the dark and he could pick out the tree line that marked the edge of the mountainside’s sparse forest.
He checked his watch. Ten minutes since the brief firefight and no contact. Nothing. They could be dead. They could be somewhere in the trees. All he could do was wait.
Cold, a real mountain cold that was sharp and bitter, made his breath mist in front of his face. He thought with regret of his Parka back at the SGC, but his adrenaline was high, everything on full alert, and that was enough to keep him warm for now. Nevertheless, he was aware that he couldn’t sit there all night. If they didn’t come soon, he’d have to find shelter or succumb to hypothermia. He pulled his hands from his pockets, blew on them to warm them, and then froze.
There was movement in the trees, a flash of something. Slowly, Daniel reached down and pulled his Beretta free of its holster. His mouth was suddenly dry, too dry to swallow, as he rested his hands on the brickwork and trained the weapon on the trees. Blinking against the dark, he strained to see. Had he been mistaken? No, there it was again, movement in the trees along the ridge where he and Hunter had stood and first looked out across the camp.
SG-1 or Amam? Possibly both.
He could hear footfalls now, a skittering of rocks as if someone had slipped or stumbled coming down the slope. Daniel licked his dry lips, tightened his grip on the gun. And then there was a figure in the dark, emerging from the trees. Daniel flicked off the safety, the click sounding loud in the night.
Someone called out, “Hold your fire!”
Heart hammering, it took a moment before the voice penetrated the sound of blood rushing through his ears. But he didn’t lower his weapon, peering through the darkness as two other silhouettes materialized from the trees.
“Daniel?”
“Oh thank God.” Relief washed through him at the sound of Jack’s voice, his gun sagging against the rock and his finger slackening on the trigger. “Over here,” he said, and climbed to his feet, holstering his Berretta.
Jack appeared from the darkness first, looking weary but unharmed. Sam and Teal’c were a step behind. “Hey,” Jack said, laconic as ever, “thanks for not shooting.”
“You’re welcome.” Daniel glanced past them, up toward the ship. “You didn’t bring any friends?”
Jack shrugged. “A couple tried to tag along. We changed their minds.”
“It is possible,” Teal’c said, “that more will pursue us.”
“Likely, in fact,” Sam added with a wary glance over her shoulder. Her arm, Daniel noticed, was bandaged. “We need to hide,” she said. “And the colonel needs to rest.”
“We all need to rest,” Jack corrected.
Daniel smiled. “Well, I know just the place.”
Daniel seemed to have a good idea where he was going, which was lucky, because Jack was too tired to do anything but follow him as they picked their way through the ramshackle camp. “Hey,” he said, touching Daniel’s shoulder. “Check that out.”
He gestured off to their right, squinting through the crowding darkness to where he could just make out the distinctive shape of a Death Glider’s wing that had been co-opted into the lean-to wall of a house.
“Interesting,” Daniel said. “I guess Elspeth’s stories about the ‘old gods’ had some truth in them after all.”
“Yeah. And maybe not-so-old-gods, if Hunter’s right about this Dix character.”
Daniel nodded, mulling over the idea as they walked. “He seems to think that Hecate would help us — that the Amam are her enemy.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Could she be Tok’ra?”
Jack shook his head. “With her own Jaffa?”
“Okay,” he conceded. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t help us. It wouldn’t be the first time a Goa’uld has done a deal with their enemies when faced with a common threat.”
Jack grunted. “And that always ends so well…”
They lapsed into silence, Daniel still up ahead and Teal’c walking close to his shoulder with his staff weapon at the ready. They looked tense, but Jack didn’t feel any fear or hostility coming from the people around them — just curiosity.
Mostly there was a weary kind of resignation in the faces that watched them pass, and not a spark of hope anywhere. He wondered how long the people of his world had lived like this, in thrall to the Amam. A generation or two? More, perhaps.
A small child ran across their path and was snatched up by a young woman who might have been her mother or sister. Jack gave a tight smile, like he always did when there were kids around, but kept on walking. He couldn’t engage with these people, he had no way to help them. He couldn’t even help his own people.
He yawned — God, he really was tired — and scrubbed a hand over his eyes; it was getting harder to think straight.
“Sir?” Carter nudged his elbow and held out a power bar. “I’m guessing the Amam didn’t feed you?”
“Hey, I’m just glad they didn’t feed on me.” He glanced at the bar. “Have we got enough of these?”
“It’s yours, sir. We ate this morning.”
That was good enough for him, and after a couple of mouthfuls and a good sugar hit, he felt the weariness recede a few steps — not far, but enough. “There’s a lot of weird technology back in the ship,” he said between bites, throwing Carter a look. “Apparently it’s Ancient — capital A.”
“Really?” Daniel turned around again, fascinated as always by anything touching on the gate builders. “What kind of weird technology?”
Jack shrugged. “I don’t know — star charts, gizmos, all sorts. Crazy had me testing a ton of it.”
Daniel blinked. “Uh, ‘Crazy’?”
“My freaky friend.” He frowned, remembering something. “They don’t speak to each other,” he said. “You notice that?”
“Yeah,” Daniel said. “Actually I was wondering if they have some kind of telepathic ability, because their written language is literally unpronounceable.”
“Telepathy, huh?” Jack stuffed the rest of the power bar into his mouth. “Handy.” He chewed, swallowed, and said what was really on his mind. “So I’m thinking that where there’s Ancient stuff there has to be a way to open the gate… ?”
Daniel raised his eyebrows. “You want us to go back into the ship? Again?”
He opened his mouth to argue the point, but Carter got there first.
“Actually, sir,” she said, “it might not be as simple as finding a way to dial the gate anymore.”
He sighed. “I ask you, Carter — when is it ever simple?”
With a slight smile, she said, “Sir, I think we may have been transported a significant distance away from the Stargate.” She glanced at her watch. “The first night here, I reset my watch to 1800 hours at sunset — it’s arbitrary, I know, but I wanted to measure the planet’s day/night cycle. That night lasted sixteen and a half hours.”
“Wow,” Daniel said, his hand moving involuntarily to his side. “And I thought it just felt like forever.” Jack could still see the bloody splotch on Daniel’s jacket and felt a ghost of the fear that had dogged him since they’d arrived on this rock with Daniel practically bleeding out in front of him. The wound beneath the blood was healed and Daniel was fine now, but he’d been healed by an Amam and Jack had no idea what that might mean.
“The thing is, sir,” Carter continued, “last night the sun set at 1200 hours, by my watch, and when I measured the hours of darkness they only lasted twelve hours and twenty minutes.”
Jack frowned, he didn’t like where this was going at all. “So you’re saying we’re in a different time zone?”
“Yes sir.” She gave a small shrug. “I mean, there’s no telling exactly how far that would be on this planet — but on Earth it would equate to a couple thousand miles.”
“A little more than a stroll, then?”
“It would be a long walk,” she agreed. “And that’s assuming we could figure out which direction to go and that we’re even on the same continental mass, because the —”
He held up a hand to stop her. “Any good news, Major?”
She shook her head. “I just think this Dix guy might be our best shot, sir.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I knew you were going to say that.”
Not long after that, Daniel and Teal’c drew to a halt a short distance from a flimsy wood and cloth shack. “Looks like we’re here,” Jack said, instinct moving his hands to rest on his gun. Hunter served a Goa’uld, after all.
With a quick glance at Jack’s weapon, Daniel said, “He has a family — a wife and a son.”
“Then let’s hope he knows how to keep them safe,” was all he said.
Daniel just nodded and approached the rickety shack. “Hunter?” he called in a low voice. “Hunter, it’s Daniel Jackson.”
After a moment, the cloth drew back and Hunter appeared in the doorway. A grin flashed across his face when he saw Jack. “Looks like you’re right hard to kill.”
“So I’m told,” Jack said. “Mind if we come in?”
Hunter’s home was little more than a dirt floor, a smoky fire-pit, and some bed rolls. A couple of cooking pots hung on the wall and some shabby clothing was draped over a nail nearby. With everyone crowding in, the place felt cramped and claustrophobic.
“Um,” Daniel suggested, “shall we sit down?”
It was better with them all sitting, although no one was small and it felt like there were long legs and booted feet everywhere. The weapons didn’t help much either, but Jack wasn’t about to leave them outside. At last, after a substantial amount of shuffling around, they all found a seat by the fire. Toward the back of the hut, Hunter’s wife and child sat together on one of the bed rolls, the child’s head in his mother’s lap as he sucked his thumb and drifted drowsily toward sleep.
Jack didn’t allow his gaze to linger there, instead turning his attention firmly back to Hunter who crouched close to the fire, feeding a few sticks to the flames. “So,” he said, “you can take us to see Dix?”
“Yup.” Hunter sat back on his heels. “At first light.”
“Why not now?”
Hunter shook his head. “’Cause Dix won’t be back till mornin’.”
“Back from where?”
Hunter turned his eyes skyward, “From speaking with the goddess.”
Jack followed his gaze to the ceiling before exchanging a glance with Teal’c. “She has a ship in orbit?”
“You’ll see,” Hunter said. “I’ve already said more than I should.”
Jack was about to object when Teal’c said, “O’Neill, it would be prudent to rest while we are able.”
He rubbed a hand across his jaw and considered the point. He was exhausted — he’d missed at least one night’s sleep, maybe two — and Teal’c was right, he needed to rest and eat. They all did. But with Daniel no longer at death’s door, Teal’c didn’t realize how urgent it was that they get home. Beyond urgent at this point, it was critical, the whole damn alliance system could already be falling apart.
“Sir, there’s nothing we can do tonight,” Carter added, weighing into the discussion. “And if the Amam are looking for us we should probably keep our heads down.”
Another good point; there’d been no real sign of pursuit so far but he couldn’t dismiss Crazy’s threat about hunting him down. And as far as places to hide went, this was a good option. He didn’t like it, but there was no real choice. Reluctantly he said, “Yeah, okay, we’ll stay here tonight.” He cast a glance at Hunter. “We’ll need a place to crash.”
“Um, he means a place to sleep,” Daniel clarified.
Jack threw him an irritated look.
“What? You think the whole galaxy speaks idiomatic North American?”
Ignoring him, Jack glanced around the small space. “A couple of us could stay in here, maybe?”
Hunter nodded. “You’d be welcome. I owe you folks my life and that ain’t a debt lightly paid.”
“Nah,” Jack said, waving away his thanks. “It was nothing. A walk in the park.”
Except that it was anything but nothing. He glanced over at Carter, noticing the way her expression tensed. They’d almost lost her, they’d almost lost Daniel. And he’d almost lost himself — in more ways than one. No, whatever this place was, it was no walk in the park.
He pushed the grim thoughts aside. There was no point in dwelling on near misses and might-haves, right now was all that mattered. “Teal’c,” he said. “You okay to take first watch?”
Teal’c nodded. “I am.”
“Okay. Two hour watches — Teal’c, me, Carter, Daniel.”
“Um, how about Teal’c, me, Sam and then you?” Daniel said. “We all got some sleep last night, Jack, while you were up playing with Crazy and his toys.”
“Daniel’s right, sir,” Carter chimed in. “You should take the last watch.”
He considered arguing, but the huge yawn that stopped him from speaking did a good job of undercutting his case. So in the end he just grumbled “Fine” and accepted the fact that being too tired to argue probably proved Daniel’s point.
In the end there hadn’t been enough room for even three of them to sleep inside Hunter’s tiny shack so Jack had just unpacked his bedroll outside, buried himself in his sleeping bag, and was snoring before anyone could object.
And with Teal’c also outside on watch, it left Sam and Daniel just enough room to bed down close together on the opposite side of the fire from Hunter and his family.
Like Jack, Sam was soon fast asleep, but Daniel had yet to master the skill of instantly switching off and his mind was racing as he lay in the dark, gazing up at the heavy fabric that constituted one slanted wall of the house. The fire still burned, its light casting dancing shadows over the material and its smoke drifting up and out through cracks between the wooden slats.
In some ways, it took him back to Abydos — the canvas, the firelight. But his home on Abydos, although primitive by Earth’s standards, had been nothing like this. It had been warm and dry, full of laughter once Ra had been driven out and the Abydonians had been free to live as people again. He wondered if these people would ever be free, whether there was a way to save them from the Amam in the way they’d once saved Sha’re’s people from the Goa’uld.
“Hunter?” he asked quietly, thinking back to the question he’d asked earlier. “Why do so many people live here, dependent on the Amam? I mean, we’ve met others, people who hide from them and live free.”
“There’s some as choose to live in the wilds,” Hunter admitted, his voice drifting with the sparks up into the cold air. “But there’s thousands in the camp and how many d’you think could live off a few jackers in the mountains? Truth is, most camp folk don’t have the knowhow or the plucks to run, so they stay here where there’s food and family and pray that when the Snatchers come they don’t get took.”
“You could run,” Daniel said. “With your family. You have the skills.”
“But I won’t. I won’t run and I won’t hide,” Hunter said, adamant. “I’m here to fight and, by the grace of Hecate, drive those Snatchers out.”
Daniel bit back his instinctive reply — that the Goa’uld would give no one their freedom — because, caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, what choice did Hunter’s people really have? If a Goa’uld offered their only chance of escaping the nightmare that had overtaken their planet then they’d be fools not to take that chance.
But the question it left behind, dancing like firelight through his mind, was whether he could give these people a better option. Because if Earth stood for anything, and Daniel thought it stood for a lot, then it stood for freedom.
Jack might disagree, and it wouldn’t be the first time they’d argued over the real purpose of the Stargate Program, but Daniel was certain that it was their responsibility — their moral duty, in fact — to come back to this world and offer these people something better than an alliance with the Goa’uld.