The first message played in the quiet coolness of the puddle jumper, picture projected in two dimensions on the inside of the windscreen. A woman with long black hair pinned up at the back of her neck spoke to them earnestly, her recorded voice swift over unfamiliar syllables. She wore a wrap top the color of polished wood, lusterless, like raw silk. Her eyes were dark over broad cheekbones, epicanthal folds accented by the dark eyeliner she wore, beautiful and very, very human. And yet this woman was an Ancient, an Ancient or one of their children or grandchildren. She or those before her had walked through the Stargate from Atlantis, left their city to sleep and sought refuge and peace on Earth.
A refuge now destroyed by the Goa’uld.
Cam shook his head. If he were her, he’d be pissed. He’d also want to know where another puddle jumper had come from. The wall behind her didn’t betray where she was, but he’d bet good money on Hokkaido. He’d bet he knew her distant descendant, Dr. Miko Kusanagi of the Atlantis Expedition. Even driven underground they must have some of their communications equipment still, some way of monitoring air traffic and radio signals, otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to fight off the system lord’s slave raid. They’d probably picked up the jumper and wanted to know who it was. After all, if only someone with the ATA gene could fly it, it had to be one of them. Maybe they hoped it was more of their people. Maybe they hoped it was desperately needed reinforcements.
Only it wasn’t.
The second message began to play, the same woman again but her shirt was different. A different day. They were calling again. Daniel would be able to understand spoken Ancient, but none of them could.
Carolyn’s hand moved toward a key.
Sam shook her head. “Don’t do it.” Carolyn looked back at her. “Don’t reply,” Sam said. “We can’t. Remember? We’re trying not to change history. We can’t interact with the Ancients or their descendants in 2492 BC. If the Ancients know about the future or have access to the Stargate, that will change everything! Right now they’re cut off from the gate. If they don’t have any jumpers left or won’t have them in the next few years, then even if they knew the Goa’uld no longer controlled the gate, they couldn’t get to it. But if they still have a jumper and we make Ra leave the gate, there’s nothing to prevent the Ancients from using it. And that will change the entire history of the Milky Way! The Ancients on Earth have to stay underground or everything’s different.”
Reluctantly, Carolyn moved her hand away. “Maybe they could help us.”
“Maybe they could,” Cam said. “But they’d want access to the Stargate in return, I bet. And we can’t do that.”
“So we just let them call and call with no answer?”
Cam nodded. “Sooner or later they’ll decide it’s just a glitch and there is no jumper here. We just leave it be.”
Carolyn took a deep breath and a long look at the woman in the picture, speaking earnestly into the camera. “OK.” She turned it off. “Then I guess we should recloak the jumper and get busy.” She gave Cam a wobbly smile. “The only Ancient armada is us.”
“Yeah,” Cam said. He put his hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. You’ll do them proud.”
The back of the armory was in deep shadow, but there was no way to miss the Jaffa who stood leaning on his staff weapon beside the narrow doorway. It gave access to a narrow workroom, Danyel remembered, used mostly for repairing leather goods. The bronze work was done in the smith, far enough from the other buildings to reduce the risk of fire. It was a small room, and Danyel guessed — hoped — most of the Jaffa would be inside the armory itself. But first they had to get past this guy.
“That one looks pretty alert,” Carter said in his ear. “And I can’t make the shot from here. What now?”
“Good question.” Danyel glanced around the courtyard again. At least the back door wasn’t meant to be observed — it was defended from within, the inner door fitted with a bar, so that a single soldier could watch over both the stockpiled weapons and the workroom door.
“I guess we need a diversion,” he said, and Carter gave him a look. “Give me the basket.”
She handed it over, and Danyel tucked it under one arm. “When you get your shot, take it,” he said, and stepped out of the shadows.
He made no attempt at concealment, but even so he was within twenty feet of the door before the guard stiffened to attention.
“Who’s there?”
“It is I,” Danyel answered. He kept his voice calm and easy, an ordinary person on an ordinary, insignificant errand.
“Stop where you are.” The Jaffa lifted his staff weapon, fire coiling in its opened tip.
Come on, Carter. “I’m sent with bread,” he called, and lifted the basket slightly.
“Our meal came hours ago,” the guard said. “What folly is this —?”
A single bolt of zat fire split the night, and the Jaffa sprawled forward into the dirt. Danyel grabbed the staff weapon, blinking to clear his sight, but there was no reaction from inside the armory, or anywhere around the walls. Carter darted to join him, and he handed her the staff weapon so that he could drag the Jaffa into the deeper shadow at the base of the wall. The door loomed open, a single lamp casting a faint light within. If there had been another guard, he would already have given the alarm, and Carter nodded as though she’d read his thought.
“Go.”’
Danyel ducked inside, zat unfolded and ready, swiveled to cover every corner, but as he’d expected, the room was empty. “Clear.”
“It’s a start,” Carter said, as she joined him. She set the basket on the table and began unloading the improvised bombs. “Let’s hope the door isn’t barred on the other side.”
Danyel checked it, eased it open on its leather hinges. It was weird, she was his original Carter, the one he’d worked with for eight years before he’d gotten himself lost in the past, but she felt like a stranger now. “No, we’re good.”
“Right.” Carter stuffed several of the bombs into her pockets, handed him the two with the timers. “You know how to set those, right?”
“My timeline only diverged a few years ago,” Danyel answered. “I know how to use the timers.”
“Right,” Carter said again. The apologetic grimace was disconcertingly like Sam’s. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“No problem.” Danyel eased the door open a little further, and together they peered out into the dimly-lit armory. The space was more crowded than he had remembered. There were racks of spears and shields toward the main door, as well as spears and unstrung bows, but the near end of the workshop was filled with the detritus of the peace, bronze ingot, stacks of hides, bundles of wood and huge unidentifiable baskets. The Jaffa had set up a powered light near the observer’s narrow window, but they had shielded it and kept it turned low to keep from betraying their position. There were maybe half a dozen of them, more than he’d hoped, but the darkness and the clutter ought to provide enough cover.
“Up the right side,” Carter said softly. “Behind that pile of metal?”
Danyel nodded — they didn’t really want to burn the armory down — and said, “And if I can get to it, closer to the main door?”
“Yeah.” Carter squinted into the dark. “Four minutes, and four minutes forty-five?”
“Right.” That should give him enough time to plant them and get back to Carter. He twisted the dials, hiding the flashing lights, and slipped forward between the piles of baskets. He could hear the Jaffa talking, though he couldn’t make out the words. They sounded bored, though, and maybe a little fed up with the whole plan, and Danyel hoped they’d stay distracted.
He made it to the spot Carter had indicated without being seen, and crouched in the shadow of the piled bronze to wedge the first explosive into the space between two ingots. He slid the second device into a pile of arrow shafts, sweeping the floor around it in the probably vain hope of keeping any fire from spreading. No matter how careful they tried to be, they were probably going to set the place on fire — but it would be worth it, if they could rescue the queen.
He rejoined Carter, saw her check her watch, and nodded. She cracked the first of the fuses, and lobbed the bomb gently over the nearest pile of baskets. It landed with a definite thud, but before the Jaffa could react, the explosion came. Danyel ducked in spite of himself, saw Carter toss the next bomb, and then another. The Jaffa captain shouted, trying to get his men into order, and Carter aimed the next bomb directly at the observer. There were more shouts, mixed with screams from a wounded man, and someone fired blindly into the dark, the staff bolt crackling overhead. The captain shouted again, ordering his men after the attackers. Carter hefted the fake device, judging the distance, threw it so that it bounced and rolled almost to the captain’s feet, and in the same moment the first of the timed devices went off, toppling the pile of ingots and knocking over a long rack of spears and shields. The Jaffa hesitated, but their captain shouted again, urging them forward. A second voice called for backup.
“Time to go,” Danyel said, and Carter nodded.
They backed toward the workroom door, weapons ready. The Jaffa fired again, and then the second device exploded, drawing their fire. Danyel kicked open the workroom door, zat ready, and Carter ducked past him, darting into the shelter of the wall. He saw her beckon, and hurried across to join her in the shadows.
“Well, that certainly got their attention,” he said, and Carter grinned.
“Let’s just hope it gave Jack enough time —” She broke off, her face changing, and Danyel spun to look himself. More Jaffa were pouring out of the palace, armor snapping into place. Light flashed from the pyramid and the mothership perched at its tip, and an amplified voice shouted in Goa’uld, warning of intruders in the compound.
“That’s not good,” Danyel said. They weren’t going to be able to meet up with Jack, he could tell that immediately. The best thing, the only thing they could do was to try and get out themselves, if they could manage it without getting killed or captured themselves — “Damn, we should have saved some of those bombs.”
“I did,” Carter said. “Only two, though.”
“Nice.”
“They come in handy,” she said, and looked over her shoulder again. “OK, you said there was a side gate?”
“It’ll be guarded,” Danyel warned, but pointed along the wall. “This way.”
Jack flattened himself against the mud-brick wall of the granary, staff weapon pressed against his side, waiting for the first explosion. There was a patrol, but it didn’t come by here more than twice a night — more proof, if he’d needed it, that this was a trap — but if Danyel and Carter didn’t get a move on, he was going to risk running into them. Something moved by the granary door, a slithering shadow, and he started to charge the staff weapon before he realized what it was. The cat hesitated, dead mouse dangling from her jaws, then darted away across the courtyard.
Jack let out his breath with a sigh. Danyel would have quoted a prayer, or some appropriate invocation; he was having a hard time not swearing aloud. Come on, he thought. It was times like these he really missed radio. Come on.
And then it happened, a flat crack that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but what it was. A second explosion, louder, sounded almost on its heels, and he scurried across the gap, flattening himself against the back wall of the overseer’s house. He waited for a moment, hoping the queen would hear and be ready to leave, but there was no sound of movement from inside. OK, he thought, plan B. Again. He lifted the bar carefully from its brackets, trying to make as little noise as possible, and eased the door open.
It was even darker inside, in what had to serve as the queen’s bedroom, and he made himself wait until he could make out the pale lump of the pallet, the shapes of baskets and a tall jar, before he risked moving. The room was empty, and a dim light flickered in the main room; the queen said something, soft and soothing, and one of the boys made a smothered, unhappy sound.
“You will remain here until the alarm is past,” a Jaffa said, and Jack swore under his breath. Fine. Plan C. There were more explosions from the armory, and shouted orders, and then the sound of a voice on a loudspeaker. That also wasn’t in the plan, and Jack knew he didn’t dare delay any further. He took a step, and kicked open the inner door, bringing his staff weapon up in the same moment.
“Get down!” he shouted, and the queen threw herself flat, sheltering both little boys beneath her body. Jack fired, dropping the Jaffa, swung around to find there were no other guards.
“He was alone,” the queen said. “All the others went to join the fighting.” Both boys were crying, and she sat up swiftly, pulling them against her. “Hush, hush now, we’re all right. Your father’s general has come for us, and all will be well.”
The older boy checked his sobs, nodding, but the younger one buried his face in his mother’s shoulder. She rose, lifting him with her, but the hiccupping sobs continued. “I’m sorry, O’Neill —”
“It’s OK,” Jack said. “Don’t worry about it. We just need to move fast now.”
The queen nodded.
“Prince,” Jack said, the plan forming as he spoke. “I’m going to carry you. We’re going to pretend to be a family, servants running away from the fight.”
The queen nodded again, and slid her heavy wig from her head. She hadn’t shaved her scalp in several days, and the new stubble was shorter than a Marine’s. “Yes. We are running to the temple for shelter — who would think I would go there?”
“Exactly.” Jack hoisted the older boy to his hip, a warm disconcerting weight. “Hold on tight, now,” he said, and set the staff weapon reluctantly against the wall. He hated to leave it behind, but no servant would be allowed to carry one. Instead, he tucked his zat out of sight in his waistband, and held out his spare to the queen. “You know how to use this?”
She nodded. “I do,” she said, and slipped the folded weapon between her breast and the still sobbing child.
“Let’s go,” Jack said, and herded them out the back door.
Danyel flattened himself in the narrow space between the scribes’ workroom and their barracks next door. Carter pressed in tight beside him, stolen staff weapon ready.
“This doesn’t look good,” she said.
“No.” No, it didn’t, not with the Jaffa pouring out of the pyramid and spreading out across the courtyard, effectively blocking them from reaching the tunnel. The palace was in an uproar, light blazing up as servants lit torches and human attendants joined the Jaffa. Right now, there was confusion, but it wouldn’t be long before someone got things under control.
“What about this gate?” Carter asked.
Danyel risked a glance out of their hiding place. The side gate, intended for servants coming and going from the river, would be barred for the night, and should be guarded, but — He squinted, wishing there were a way he could get new glasses. It looked as though most of the guards had been pulled away from the gate. “It’s clear,” he said, “but there’s no cover.”
“Time for another diversion,” Carter said, and her teeth gleamed white as she grinned.
“Let’s not blow up anything vital,” Danyel said, but she was already sliding through the gap between the buildings, an improvised bomb ready in her hand.
“So pick something non-essential,” she said over her shoulder, and Danyel paused.
“OK. OK, there, that little building, the chief scribe’s house.” The chief scribe and his family had joined Hor-Aha; there was a decent chance the building was empty. Certainly there were no lamps inside, no sound of movement.
“Right.” Carter was busy with the C4, shaping it to stick against the wooden door. “OK, there’s no timer, so when I break this —”
Danyel nodded. “Run.”
“Yeah.” She looked around. “Back where we came from ought to be far enough —”
“Just — hurry,” Danyel said. He heard her take a breath, and then her shoulders moved.
“Go!”
They raced for the shelter of the scribes’ barracks, had barely pressed themselves into the narrow space when the bomb went off, a blast of heat on Danyel’s back. He didn’t look, kept pushing forward, hearing the new shouts, screams of fear and confusion. He hoped no one had been in the house, and put that thought aside. Ahead, the gate was unguarded, the Jaffa on duty drawn by the explosion, and he nodded.
“We’re clear.”
“Go,” Carter said again, and moved to cover him.
Danyel sprinted across the open courtyard, flattened himself against the gate. The Jaffa were gone, but the heavy bar was still firmly in place. It would take both of them to lift it. He unfolded his zat, and waved Carter across. “Help me get the bar down.”
Carter set her staff weapon against the wall, and grabbed one end of the bar. Together they levered it free, and Danyel hauled on the massive door. It groaned, but moved, and he put his full weight against it, dragging it further open. Carter snatched up the staff weapon again, covering them both.
“Trouble,” she said.
Danyel glanced over his shoulder, saw a troop of Jaffa running toward them, their officer shouting orders. “One last bomb?”
“Yeah.” Carter had it in hand, snapped the fuse and threw it toward the oncoming Jaffa. “Go!”
Danyel slipped through the open gate. There was no cover there, nothing but open ground between the road and the gate, that and the track the led to the reeds bordering the river. He turned toward the road, but he could see Jaffa there, coming in from the checkpoint further up the road.
“That way,” Carter said, and pointed to the river.
“Um, that’s not a good idea,” Danyel said, but he couldn’t see another choice.
“Why not?”
“Crocodiles.”
Carter looked over her shoulder, gave a little shrug. “Better than Jaffa,” she said, and plunged toward the reeds.