Over their heads, the commander’s gaze met O’Neill’s. Slowly the colonel knelt, along with Carter. Jackson nearly collapsed beside him. But Skaara continued to stand, staring defiantly at the golden one who had stolen his sister.
“Skaara,” O’Neill snapped.
Reluctantly, finally, Skaara knelt too.
The gods with the glowing eyes paced along the lines of kneeling prisoners, assessing them. Apophis and Sha’re presided like royalty.
One of the aliens stopped in front of O’Neill, touching his face, turning his head from side to side as if considering. O’Neill stared back, teeth gritted, praying that Skaara, beside him, would have the sense to keep his mouth shut.
A Serpent Guard stood by, staff ready in case any of them was foolish enough to try anything.
The alien rejected him. O’Neill couldn’t stop a cold shiver of relief. But it wasn’t over; more were coming, and one alien’s rejection did not prevent another’s choosing.
A female eyed Carter thoughtfully, then turned away.
A pair stopped in front of Daniel, who knelt with his head bowed. The male grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up, tilting his face to the light.
O’Neill sucked in a breath at the sight of the tears streaming down his friend’s face. The aliens, too, seemed impressed; the male wiped a tear away from his victim’s cheek, looking over at his mate.
“This one is passionate.”
Daniel blinked, staring at them, and then to O’Neill’s horror, he spoke: “How much would I remember if you chose me—”
“Daniel, what are you doing?” O’Neill whispered frantically. But he knew what Daniel was doing; he could remember his own words as if it were only moments ago: “I’ll never forgive myself. But sometimes I can forget.” Was Daniel seeking forgetfulness, or a way to be closer to Sha’re?
“Tell me—!”
The nearest Serpent Guard struck Daniel hard in the face with the end of his staff, and another aimed deliberately at O’Neill. Beyond them, on her golden throne, Sha’re watched indifferently.
Daniel spoke now to her. “Something of the host must survive…?”
The commander of the Serpent Guards looked away.
The male alien gave Daniel a long look, then shook his head slowly from side to side, almost smiling. “Nothing.”
His eyes glowed again as he tossed Daniel aside like a rag doll and turned instead to Skaara.
“We choose him,” the alien said.
Two Serpent Guards moved forward to take the boy by the arms. Skaara’s scream of protest blended with O’Neill’s yell, but the colonel’s attempt to stop what was happening ended as a Guard struck him down. Skaara continued to scream for O’Neill as he was dragged away.
Apophis stood, Sha’re beside him, and as quickly as that the selection process was over, the aliens and their human slaves gathering around him. Apophis looked over the crowd of people and turned to his Commander.
“Kill the rest,” he said.
The words didn’t make sense to O’Neill for an instant. Then he saw the doors close behind Apophis, Sha’re, and the other aliens, and the line of Serpent Guards, staffs charged with energy, moved out into the crowd.
Jumbled images of historical slaughters flashed through O’Neill’s mind: Amritsar, Katyn, any concentration camp he cared to name. The death of innocents, the death of the unarmed. He would not, could not allow it. Across the heads of the panicked crowd, he met the eyes of the Serpent Guard commander, the only one of the aliens who had shown any empathy for the plight of the humans.
The rest of the Guards lined up, sliding their weapons into the armed position. The hum of energized staffs rose over the screams and cries.
O’Neill looked the black man in the eye, trying desperately to make some kind of contact as he struggled against the wave of humanity threatening to push him off his feet. The man looked back steadily.
“I can… save these people… if you help me,” O’Neill yelled in a last, frantic appeal.
“Many have said that…” the commander answered. The Serpent Guard next to O’Neill grunted with triumph.
Then the energized staff fired.
For a split second O’Neill lay wondering why being dead wasn’t any different than dying. Then the body of the Serpent Guard toppled off him.
“…but you are the first I believed could do it,” the commander added, tossing the weapon to O’Neill.
O’Neill wasted no more time wondering. He energized the weapon and sought a target. As he did so, the commander seized the dead Guard’s staff and began to fire as well, over the heads of the screaming mob, blowing holes in the walls behind them, letting the daylight in. As Carter ran to help the crowd through, the commander and O’Neill laid down covering fire, taking out the rest of the startled Serpent Guards.
As the last of the prisoners fled, O’Neill looked at his watch. Time to lockout was growing short. “Hey, c’mon,” he snapped.
The commander was dazed, looking over the devastation, at his slaughtered comrades.
“I have nowhere to go,” he murmured.
The man had signed his own death warrant, of course, by switching sides.
But by switching sides he’d made himself one of O’Neill’s own. “For this,” the colonel said, “you can stay at my place. Let’s go.”
The man looked at him, unsure if the human really meant it, and then tore off his helmet and breastplate, threw them on the dead bodies of the Guards, and followed O’Neill through the wall.
Daniel was standing there, waiting. O’Neill wasn’t sure who or what the archaeologist was waiting for, but it didn’t matter right now. “You gonna be okay?” he asked sharply.
Daniel nodded, as if numb.
O’Neill turned to the former Serpent commander. “What’s your name?”
“Teal’c.” The last sound was harsh, hard.
“Teal’c, where will they take Skaara? The boy?”
“To the Chapa’ai. After they’ve selected hosts for their children, they will return home.”
“Not if we get there first,” O’Neill said grimly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In the Gate room, Hammond and Samuels stood at the bottom of the ramp, looking up at the silent Stargate. Beside them gleamed a metal cylinder with a digital timer.
“Sir, they have just under an hour until the deadline. We should have heard from them by now.” Samuels’ tone was almost triumphant, as if he had predicted failure all along.
Hammond’s gaze never left the Gate, as if he could will it into activation. “A lot can happen in an hour, Major.”
58:29.
58:18.
O’Neill glanced at his watch one more time and then back along the line of about forty people he and Carter were leading into the mountains, away from Chulak. “We’ve got less than an hour,” he called to her. “How’re we doing?”
“We lost a few when we reached the forest.”
Teal’c, following O’Neill, looked warily into the shadows of the surrounding trees. “They will be hunted down and killed. Anyone who does not exist to serve the Gods is their enemy.”
“And that makes you—?” O’Neill inquired blandly.
“I am a Jaffa. Bred to serve, that they may live.” Teal’c’s tone was hard to read. He sounded as if he was reciting a lesson learned long ago—a lesson he hated.
“I don’t understand,” Daniel said.
Of course not, O’Neill thought. But at least the scientist was asking questions again. O’Neill had never thought he’d live to see the day he was glad when a scientist asked questions.
Teal’c stopped and unstrapped a portion of his armor, then opened his tunic.
A small, translucent white worm stuck its head out of the crossed slits in Teal’c’s belly, twisting and whining like a fretful baby.
“What the hell is that?” O’Neill’s staff was pointed unwaveringly at the thing.
Teal’c stared at him. “It is an infant Goa’u
ld. The larval form of the Gods. I have carried one since I was a child—as all Jaffa carry one.”
The worm retracted, and Teal’c closed his tunic.
“Well, get it outta there!” O’Neill snapped, shaken.
Teal’c started walking again. “In exchange for carrying the infant Goa’uld until maturity,” he said calmly, “a Jaffa receives perfect health and long life. If I was to remove it, I would eventually die.”
“If I were you, I’d take my chances!”
Teal’c shook his head, unperturbed, and kept going. “The boy you seek is no longer, you realize.”
“I don’t wanna hear that,” O’Neill informed him. When Teal’c ignored him, he changed the subject. “Why’d you help us?”
The other man chose his words carefully. “You are the first to come along with powers that approach those of the Goa’uld.”
“Powers?”
Teal’c nodded. “You are strong. Perhaps strong enough to destroy them.”
Screams from the line of people behind them alerted them to look up into the sky. A large glider soared overhead in the direction of the Stargate.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” O’Neill was finished with the subject, at least for now. “Skaara’s in that thing!”
Teal’c shook his head. “The boy is no longer who he was.”
“I don’t wanna hear that,” O’Neill repeated between gritted teeth, picking up his pace.
But Daniel had another thought. “Is it reversible? Can a host become human again?”
Teal’c looked at him with confusion and then surprise. The thought had clearly never occurred to him before. “I am not sure,” he admitted.
O’Neill moved up to point, and the line of refugees toiled upward, their breath steaming as the air grew colder. Carter moved up beside Teal’c.
“I should thank you,” she said.
At his blank look in response, she added, “For rescuing us. All of us. If it wasn’t for you—”
He understood. “The Goa’uld are conquerors, nothing more. Not worthy of worship or sacrifice. Not true Gods. Many Jaffa believe they did not even create the Stargates….”
A deafening whine rose in the city. At the same time the earth under their feet began to tremble. Looking up, they saw the alien ship, transformed somehow into a fighter, setting up for a strafing run.
“Take cover!” O’Neill yelled. “Stay in the trees!”
The humans screamed as a series of explosions ripped through the foliage, sending chunks of dirt and limbs and leaves into the air. Daniel ran for cover, urging a woman and a very large man dressed in half-cured skins to come with him. The man stood his ground, snarling at the thing in the sky. O’Neill and Teal’c tried to return fire with the staff weapons, but the energy bolts were useless. The ship turned for another run.
At the Stargate, Apophis stood looking down the mountain at the rising smoke, listening to the thin screams of dying human targets, and smiled. Beside him stood a handful of Serpent Guards and the three humans “chosen” at the selection, Skaara among them. The humans listened too, expressionless.
Above him a winged aircraft hovered an instant longer, then vanished toward the line of refugees.
The Stargate opened.
Kawalsky and SG-2 finally obtained their position on the mountainside. Warren shouldered a Stinger, lifting it to bear on the alien craft.
“Hold on… hold on,” Kawalsky said, scanning the mountain through binoculars.
Below them, Carter yelled to O’Neill. “Colonel, we’re sitting ducks here!”
Much as he hated to admit it, the Captain Doctor was right again. “Any ideas?” he asked Teal’c.
Teal’c shook his head.
“Now! Fire!” Kawalsky bawled.
The Stinger arced through the air, striking the enemy craft as it streaked low across the mountain. O’Neill grabbed Teal’c’s arm and pulled him down into the gravel as the flyer hit the side of the mountain with an ear-shattering explosion. Smoke blossomed from the impact site.
The Earth military yelled in triumph.
Apophis’ jaw dropped, and his eyes glowed with insane rage. “Jaafa, kree Chaaka Ra!”
In the forest below, Carter stepped out into the open. “Kawalsky?”
“Kawalsky!” O’Neill echoed, rejoicing.
Before the Stargate, two Goa’uld “parents” bowed to Apophis, and with their new “child,” the transformed human host, they stepped through the shimmering Gate.
Sha’re and Apophis took one more look at the smoke that marked the ruins of their aircraft, and they too stepped through the Gate.
The other “parents” and “children” waited their turn, still watching the mountain burn.
O’Neill and Kawalsky met on a rock outcrop. “Good shot. How many are there?” O’Neill demanded.
“A dozen… more. They’re going back through the gate. We caught them dialing in the first few symbols from a distance before that ship started shooting and we had to take it out—”
“Skaara?” O’Neill broke in.
Kawalsky swallowed. “He’s with them.”
Without another word O’Neill started up the last part of the path to the Stargate.
“Sir!” Kawalsky protested, but it did no good.
“We don’t have much time before they lock us out!”
O’Neill scrambled, slid, and ran the last part of the way, until he stood before the last group waiting to go through: two Serpent Guards, two Goa’ulds, and the boy he had taken into his heart. The aliens watched him approach, unconcerned.
O’Neill paused. No one was holding Skaara captive; no one was restraining him. He seemed to be with them of his own free will. For the first time he began to wonder if possibly what Teal’c had said was true after all.
The boy smiled, and for a moment O’Neill smiled back, rejoicing, thinking he had made contact after all.
“Skaara?” O’Neill asked tentatively, hopefully.
Skaara’s eyes began to flare.
“No,” O’Neill murmured, and aimed his staff at the Serpent Guards, sure he could still reach the boy if only the others weren’t there. But Skaara raised his hand—his hand covered with the Serpent device—and a bolt of energy blasted O’Neill twenty feet into hard gravel.
Shaking his head, dazed, O’Neill watched as Skaara turned away, as he and his companions, the last of the alien group, walked through the shimmering Gate.
And the shimmering stopped, and the Gate closed, and Skaara was gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kawalsky, Jackson, and Carter were the first to make it to O’Neill. Teal’c stood guard, scanning the horizon as if sure trouble wasn’t over. Kawalsky eyed him warily, not trusting the alien but taking his cue from the behavior of O’Neill and Carter.
“Did you see the symbols?” Daniel asked desperately.
O’Neill, sick inside, shook his head.
Abruptly, Warren and another man raised the alarm. “Sirs! We got hostiles coming out of the trees!”
They looked down at the treeline and saw alien warriors, armed with energy staffs, emerging from the forest. SG-2 began exchanging fire with them.
“Okay, people, we’re going on a little field trip!” Kawalsky said, clapping his hands together. “Better get working on the Stargate, Daniel, we’ve got company.”
Crouching, Jackson ran to the control device, flinching at the sounds of gunfire and energy bolts.
Kawalsky turned to Carter. “Captain, arm your claymores. Warren, Casey, and me’ll be the last men out.”
O’Neill straightened. “Negative. That’s my job. Captain, help Daniel. Once you send the signal, I want you to go through and tell them we’re bringing company with us.”
The captain nodded, grim-faced, and ran to the altar to join Jackson.
A blast from an energy staff came from another direction. From his outlying position Warren called, “We can’t hold ’em, sir!”
“Fall back, fall back!” O’Neill returne
d hoarsely. The party took up defensive positions around the Gate.
Jackson touched a symbol on the altar, and it began to glow.
“Send the signal as soon as it opens, Captain,” he said, glancing anxiously over his shoulder at his friends. The earth began to tremble once more. The Gate shimmered.
Back in Earth’s control room, Hammond paced, watching the clock tick toward zero, unwilling to cheat his men out of a single second of time. A technician called out to him, “General, our Gate is spinning up—still no signal—”
“Sir,” Samuels said urgently.
Hammond took a deep breath, glancing at Samuels, who was shaking his head. “All right. Seal it off.”
“Wait! There it is! A wormhole has just been set up on the other side…. We have the code! Verified!”
“Belay that last order!” Hammond roared. “Squad, stand by!”
Frantically, Jackson punched in the last digits of the transmitter code. “Is it working?” he asked. A bolt of energy sizzled over his head.
“Let’s hope so,” the captain answered, pressing the transmitter button firmly. All around them the battle continued, pressing ever closer. Dirt fountained within arm’s reach as another energy bolt just missed its target. Carter wormed her way forward, got to her feet, and turned to give Jackson a last message. “Give me a few seconds, then start sending them through!”
Realizing their escape route was open at last, O’Neill yelled, “Hit the claymores!”
Kawalsky turned the detonator. A series of explosions caught a new skirmish line of Chulak warriors, sending pieces of them flying.
Daniel stood by the Gate, waving the refugees through as fast as possible.
“Daniel, if we can’t hold ’em, you’re gonna have to go through and tell ’em to close the door!” O’Neill shouted.
Jackson sniffled—or perhaps snorted in derision—and kept pushing the refugees through.
They were surrounded now. Kawalsky, Warren, and O’Neill were fighting behind the stone structure of the Gate itself. Aiming didn’t matter anymore; no matter where they pointed a gun there was a target waiting.
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