“I need your knife.” It wasn’t a request. “And you need to get across the bridge and wait on the other side. We’re going to need your help pulling us up.”
It took a few seconds for Martouf to catch up to her plan. His eyes widened.
“You cannot be serious? You will die!”
“Yeah, well, been there, done that. At least, that’s what you keep telling me. Now give me the knife.”
Martouf put his hand protectively over the weapon and shook his head.
“I cannot allow you to do this, Samantha. It is insanity. Please. Just come with me. Let us leave this place.”
“I’m not leaving here without Colonel O’Neill,” she insisted. “This has a chance of working — a slim one, granted, but one I’m willing to take. So give me the damned knife or, I swear, I’ll gnaw through the rope with my teeth.”
With great reluctance, he handed her the weapon.
“Now take this, and go wait over there.” She pointed to the opposite cliff, handing him her knapsack. For a moment she thought he was going to argue with her again, but he said nothing and instead crossed the bridge and positioned himself on the rock ledge on the other side. He suddenly seemed quite far away and she realized again just how huge a swing she was going to have to make.
“Yeah. That’s gonna leave a mark,” she muttered aloud.
Looking down she saw that the colonel had managed to stay in close proximity to the bridge in spite of the surging tide of suffering around him. Sam tried not to look at anyone else. The piteous cries of the others, echoing off all sides of the canyon, were overwhelming and she did her best to tune them out. If this worked, it was entirely possible some of them could escape by the same means. Maybe she would be rescuing more than just the colonel.
To have enough length to reach the bottom of the pit, she would have to sever the bridge halfway between its midpoint and where it was anchored on the near side. If she did it right, she could leave the last rope hanging by a few weakened threads in order to give herself enough time to scramble back toward the middle, thereby reducing the arc of her swing and the impact with which she would hit the opposite wall. She regretted giving up the coat now. It would have cushioned her a little at least.
First, though, she needed to make sure the colonel knew what she was planning. The closer he could get to the far side of the pit, the easier it would be to help him up. Sam knew that there’d be a swarm of victims trying to clamber up the bridge-turned-ladder as soon as it fell. She’d have no way to keep them off once they started, and she was concerned that their combined weight would cause it to break, trapping them all in the pit. As much as she wanted to rescue as many people as possible, her first priority was Colonel O’Neill.
“Sir!” This was going to be the hard part. Once he realized what she had planned, he’d order her to leave him there. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time she disobeyed a direct order.
When she finally had his attention, Sam pointed toward where she hoped the bridge-ladder would ultimately come to rest. “Colonel, I need you to go there,” she shouted, pointing with both arms for emphasis. “I’m going to get you out, sir!”
But instead of a vehement head-shake, he only nodded his understanding. Part of her was relieved that he hadn’t, for once, argued.
Although another part wondered why.
Not that it mattered. She was going through with it, regardless of what he said. Maybe he knew that.
The knife was sharp and it easily cut through the first two non-weight-bearing ropes. She lashed the loosened end of one of them around her wrist to give herself something to hold onto when the bridge began to tilt. Sam figured her next cut would make that happen.
She was right. The bridge pitched suddenly, anchored now at only three points. Sam held tight to her rope to keep herself from sliding off and with her free hand reached carefully up to cut the other handhold rope. The bridge tilted back the other way and leveled out again, leaving her clinging to the wooden slats and rocking precariously back and forth. Two anchors down. Two to go.
There were shouts from below. Sam peered over and saw another geyser shoot up, high into the air. And another. And another. The mass of people in the pit began to heave and dip like a giant wave as they fled from scalding steam and scorching water. The upward draft of hot air sprayed across Sam, stinging her skin like tiny needles.
The bridge swayed slightly in the super-heated currents and Sam hung on, closing her eyes against a sudden onset of vertigo. Part of her dreaded what she was certain she would see when she opened them again. The renewed and amplified cries of those below were already assailing her ears.
Then she heard him. How the colonel’s voice stood out from all the others, she wasn’t sure. Maybe its familiarity made it rise above the plaintive din. But he was calling for her. Calling for help. Calling her name.
“Sam! Help me! Sam — please —”
It was… wrong. All wrong.
The colonel would never plead like that. And he’d never call her ‘Sam’. Not now. Not even in the depths of pain and agony. And he’d never let her risk her life like this to save his. He’d be cursing at her for even trying, yelling at her to save her own damn ass.
She should have realized it before. But of course, it was all Martouf’s doing. He’d completely set her up. And she’d walked into it, eyes wide shut. She’d been so concerned for the colonel, it hadn’t even occurred to her that Martouf would try to use him against her like this.
Whoever or whatever was down there was as much an imposter as Martouf. They all were. For all she knew, that pit of horror wasn’t even real. Maybe, if she tapped her heels together three times, it would all vanish in the blink of an eye.
“Sam… Please, help…”
She could still hear him calling. Even though she knew it wasn’t really the colonel, it didn’t make it any less painful to hear. She had to get out of there.
With the handhold ropes now dangling uselessly, it would be a treacherous walk. Taking a deep breath, Sam cautiously rose to her feet. The bridge wobbled beneath her shifting weight but overall remained steady. She let her anchor rope drop from her wrist and felt a sudden sense of panic as her only security vanished from view. For just a moment she froze, unable to will a single muscle to move. Finally, with what felt like Herculean effort, she raised her left foot and took a tentative step.
The bridge quivered, but only slightly. She took another step. And a third. She could feel the sway increase with each footfall, but she pushed forward. Halfway across. Three-quarters.
Sam leapt the last few feet onto solid ground and tumbled into Martouf, who steadied her before she could fall.
“Samantha —” He got no farther. His jaw cracked like glass beneath her knuckles and he fell, landing spread-eagle on his back. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The only thing that was more gratifying was the stunned look on his face.
Behind her, Sam could still hear the wails of the people in the pit and the cries of the imposter colonel above all the rest. Even though he wasn’t real, it was almost more than she could bear.
Scooping up her knapsack Sam stepped over Martouf and all but ran down the path, putting as much distance between herself and the bridge as she could. Angry tears escaped down her face and she wiped them vehemently away. Damn it all, anyway.
She knew she ought to be relieved, grateful that that thing back there really wasn’t the colonel. Instead, she felt only a desperate sense of loss and despair. She was right back where she’d started, alone and with no clue as to where she was, or what was going on, or how to get herself out of this mess. The only thing she’d gained at all was the conviction that whoever was behind this had some serious resources at their disposal. Nothing but the highest level of technology could explain what she’d just experienced.
It wasn’t much, but at least it was something.
Sam raised her arm to wipe her eyes and face on her sleeve and realized that she’d gained one other thing
as well.
She still held Martouf’s knife in her hand.
Chapter Fourteen
JACK heard the waterfall long before he and Carter actually saw it. The unmistakable roar of churning water drowned out the far more gentle patter of the light but persistent rain which hadn’t let up once the whole time they’d been walking. The dampness was settling in his bones, thanks to the damn thin clothes he was wearing. He felt like an escapee from the infirmary.
Carter, of course, didn’t seem to be bothered by the clothes at all. In fact, she hadn’t even mentioned their get-ups, until he’d brought it up during their trek. She seemed to think they were ‘burial garments,’ which was the last thing in the world that would have occurred to him. Jack couldn’t help but think it was the last thing in the world that should have occurred to her either.
Carter was tugging at his sleeve and pointing at the cliffs alongside the waterfall. “There, sir.” He could barely hear her above the raging water. “I think that’s our trail.”
If he hadn’t known to look for it, he never would have found the switchback. How Carter had spotted it, he hadn’t a clue. Now Jack could see the trailhead at the base of the rock. That was where they needed to go. Unfortunately, the only way to get there was mostly flooded by the rain-swollen river.
Swell. Now they could really get wet.
Carter had already begun to pick her way among the swirling eddies. Jack followed. It wasn’t long before they had to jump over increasingly large pools of water like some weird game of hopscotch. In sandals. And carrying a P90. He had a feeling this would not end well.
He missed the next jump and his foot went into the water — the icy cold water — ankle deep.
Son of a —
As Jack pulled his foot out of the water, the sandal stayed behind, stuck fast in the mud beneath. Perfect. Mucked up feet along with everything else. He didn’t even want to think about what kind of alien parasites might be looking for an opportunistic cut right now.
Jack swished his foot around in the water to rinse it off before reaching down to retrieve his sandal. It took more effort than he expected to pull it out of the mud, and when it finally did give way, he nearly lost his balance. He didn’t care much about the clothes; they were mud-spattered already. But he sure as hell didn’t want to get any of this oozy crap on his gun.
Straightening up, he saw that Carter had pushed on ahead and therefore missed his narrow escape. She took a zigzag leap to the right and then to the left into what she must have thought to be another shallow puddle, but she lost her balance as she landed in water well past her knees. Before he could even shout, she went under.
All the way under.
“Carter!”
He wasn’t even halfway to her when her head bobbed up from its mud-bath and she spat out brown, sludgy water. Streaks of puce muck slid down her face and dripped from the ends of her hair as she raised an equally filthy hand to wipe it out of her eyes.
Had she been fully and completely Carter, he’d have probably made some crack. She might even have laughed, in spite of her embarrassment. But this wasn’t Carter, at least not all of her. And she wasn’t embarrassed at her predicament, she was afraid. Panic-stricken, in fact.
“Colonel —” She sputtered as she began to flail around in her pit of mud. “I — I’m sinking. Help me!”
Jack started toward her but then stopped. He could keep acting like nothing was wrong, but what was the point? Maybe it was time for the truth. She wasn’t in any real danger, after all. But she was stuck. And she needed him. It might be the only leverage he had for a while.
“Colonel, please!” Her voice went up in pitch as she shouted above the din of the waterfall. But even when she reached out a muddy hand toward him, Jack didn’t move.
“I don’t think so.” He cradled the P90 and waited.
If he hadn’t been so certain that there was a snake inside her head, the look Carter gave him would have killed him. It was a cross between betrayal and disbelief. For a half second he waivered. What if he was wrong?
But he wasn’t. He’d bet everything on it.
Maybe he already had.
“Now see —” He edged just a little closer so as not to have to shout quite so loud. “The Carter I know wouldn’t need my help. The Carter I know would know exactly what to do in a situation like this.”
It was true. They’d been in crap like this before. Or at least something close to it. Carter had known precisely how to get them out of it. It was all about physics or some kind of scientific gobbledy-gook. He hadn’t really cared at the time. All he knew was that they’d managed to work themselves out of it with her guidance, even if they had ended up looking like they’d been thoroughly dipped in caramel by the time they’d finally crawled to safety.
“I — It just took me by surprise, Colonel. I only need a little help.”
He could see her sinking in deeper the more she struggled. She wouldn’t get swallowed up all the way; he was pretty sure that only happened in movies. But she was making it harder to get out with each passing moment.
“Nope. Not gonna do it. If you’re the real Samantha Carter, you’ll know how to get out of there on your own.”
She looked truly terrified now. It took everything he had to stay rooted to the spot. Even if the snake was in control, Carter was still in there somewhere. He hated having to put her through this.
“Jack — please. You have to believe me. I am the real Samantha Carter —”
And there was all the proof he needed. It was Jolinar, all over again. He didn’t even try to keep the rage out of his voice.
“The hell you are! I know a damned Goa’uld when I see one. Now you either tell me who you are, and what the hell you want, or I’ll leave you there to rot!”
Jack had to give her credit. For just a moment he thought he saw genuine bewilderment on her face. Not that he was buying it. Not when the confused look suddenly hardened into one of disdain.
And her eyes glowed.
The P90 was on her in an instant. Even though he’d known what she was, it still felt like he’d taken a blow to the chest. He couldn’t find his breath.
Damn. He hated it when he was right.
“I am Tayet,” announced a voice that was most definitely not Carter’s. It made Jack wince. “And you would do well to rescue us, human. Unless you wish to abandon your companion as well.”
The slim hope that what was inside of Carter might be a Tok’ra faded.
“Uh-uh.” Jack shook his head. “Not until you tell me what the hell is going on here.” The waterfall still made it necessary to shout, but he wasn’t going to risk coming any closer.
“It is only a matter of time before I access Major Carter’s knowledge and am able to free myself from here.” Tayet glared at him. “However, by then, we may all regret your belligerence.” Carter’s face turned up toward the sky and her eyes closed. It was only then Jack realized that it wasn’t just the spray from the waterfall that was soaking them. The drizzle had turned into a steady rain and as he watched, the mud in Carter’s hair rinsed away clean. For just a moment she looked like herself again, and he could almost imagine she was simply enjoying the sensation of the rain on her face.
But it was only for a moment because he finally realized just what the Goa’uld was talking about.
The river was rising. And it was rising fast.
Where Carter had been submerged up to her shoulders before, now she was halfway to her chin. Even on the higher ground where he stood, the water had crept up over his ankles without him noticing.
If he waited too long, she’d drown. The Goa’uld he didn’t care a rat’s ass about, but no way would he let anything happen to Carter.
“Float,” he yelled to the Goa’uld as he splashed over to her. “Stop thrashing around and just try to float on your stomach. The extra water should help you.”
She stopped flailing and Jack saw her try to relax. Between the rising river and the downpour of rain i
t had to be difficult.
“Now, lean toward me.” He angled his arm in case she hadn’t understood. She tried, but the current was becoming stronger as the river flooded higher. Each time she’d almost get herself tilted, a rush of water would push her back again. The panicked look was back on her face.
She wasn’t going to make it. There wasn’t enough time.
If he went in after her, he’d end up stuck too. His P90 wasn’t long enough for her to reach. He needed a stick.
“Hold on!” Jack splashed back toward the forest. There were plenty of branches scattered about. It was just a matter of finding one long enough and strong enough.
The third one he picked up seemed like it would do the trick. Retracing his quickly vanishing footprints, Jack sloshed back through the mud. The Goa’uld was having a difficult time keeping her head above water now. Damn it. He’d nearly taken too long.
“Carter!” He didn’t care what the snake’s name was, as long as he got someone’s attention. “Grab on!”
Swinging the P90 behind his back, Jack thrust the branch out over the swale where she could reach it. Carter grasped it with first one hand and then the other. The sudden force on the branch nearly wrenched it out of his grip, but he tightened up in time to keep from losing his hold.
“I’ll pull, you rock, side to side. And use your elbows if you can.” The ground beneath his own feet was anything but firm. Mud oozed over his bare feet and squished between his toes. He’d worry about the microscopic alien parasites later. He had a much bigger one to deal with first.
Jack grunted as he hauled back on the branch, trying to pull her out, hand over hand. To her credit she was doing what he’d told her, rolling slightly from side to side and hopefully loosening herself from the suction of the mud. Nothing happened at first, but finally there was some give in the tension as she made progress.
STARGATE SG-1 29 Hall of the Two Truths Page 12