Reaching around, Sam double-checked that Martouf’s knife was still secured to her waist with the torn strap from the knapsack. She might need it after all.
She gave her attention back to the crystals. What she wouldn’t give for an encouraging hand on her shoulder and a vote of confidence about now. But those were hard to come by lately, even when her team was around.
She’d just have to make do without them. She could do this. The only thing stopping her was… her.
With a sudden clarity, Sam knew which crystals she needed to swap. It was so obvious, she didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. Now all she had to do was wait for the signal.
Martouf could have read her mind, his timing was so good. Sam heard a shout in the dark and hunkered down into the deeper shadows at the base of the wall. She saw the guards become instantly alert, the Gatekeeper stepping forward, the Guardian stepping back.
Even though they were relatively near, she couldn’t hear everything Martouf said. The Gatekeeper approached and engaged him, probably asking the required questions. Martouf seemed attentive, even thoughtful, as if he were giving careful thought to the Gatekeeper’s words.
When the Gatekeeper had finished speaking, Martouf bowed.
That was it. The signal.
Sam switched the crystals and slid the tray back in place. For a split second, nothing happened. Then everything happened all at once.
Martouf, head already down, plowed into the Gatekeeper’s midsection. The Goa’uld stumbled back and tripped, falling to the ground. With a roar, the Guardian rushed forward just as the gates behind him began to rumble. The sound and vibration caught his attention, but his forward momentum had already propelled him straight toward Martouf who landed, sprawling, on top of the Gatekeeper. Before Martouf could collect himself, the Guardian was on him, pulling him off and swinging him around like a rag doll. Sam heard a sickening crunch as the Goa’uld’s fist broke Martouf’s nose.
She was so absorbed watching the scene unfold before her that it took her a moment to remember to run. It was a short sprint to the gate. It would only take her a few seconds.
The Guardian saw her. He pivoted away from Martouf and ran toward her, his stride long and swift. Sam could already see that he would intercept her before she reached her destination. She wasn’t going to make it.
He was nearly to her when he stumbled. At first she thought it was an accident, but then she saw a bloody-faced Martouf clinging wildly to the Guardian’s back.
“Go, Samantha!” he shouted as the Guardian twisted and he lost his grip, falling to the ground with a cry of pain. She tried not to watch. If she lost her focus, all of this would be for nothing.
She was almost to the gate when Sam heard him cry out again. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she glanced over her shoulder, searching for Martouf. In the macabre writhing torchlight Sam saw his face contorted in agony as the device in the Guardian’s hand slowly and torturously turned his brain to sludge.
“No!” she cried out, sliding to a stop. Her hand went to the knife at her waist. She couldn’t let him do this. He’d died once protecting others, she couldn’t let him sacrifice himself again.
But before she could pivot to charge his attacker, Martouf’s body slumped to the ground. For one horrible moment she froze, staring at him. She’d reacted too late yet again. He was dead.
Sam was transfixed by the scene until motion in her periphery snapped her back to her precarious situation. The Guardian had turned back toward her. A menacing grin spit his ugly face as he took two long strides in her direction. Behind him, Martouf was motionless. There was nothing she could do for him now. Nothing but make his sacrifice count.
Both doorways were before her, mere steps away. Sam could see the air in them ripple as though they were giving off heat. Something in the back of her mind whispered that these were not just ordinary doorways, but beyond that she didn’t have time to think.
The Guardian was nearly upon her. It was time to choose.
Sam took a deep breath and ran. A feeling that was both familiar and strange tore at her as she dived across the threshold, and the last thought that shot through her mind before oblivion took her was, I’m sorry, sir.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“SO, LET me guess. The Hall of the Two Truths.”
After a good hour of picking their way across a stony, bramble-lined path, they had finally reached the fortification which had appeared on the horizon at least two klicks back. It stretched in both directions, like the Great Wall — only taller. China barely had a bump, compared to this. And it was solid too. No windows. No openings of any kind, only a single, towering doorway, which was closed.
“Actually, Colonel, no. The Hall lies beyond. First you have to get through the gate.” The snake was using Carter’s voice again.
“Right.” Jack studied the enormous wooden doors. They were featureless, except for the heavy grain that ran through them. “No key, I suppose?”
“Sorry.”
“Doorbell?”
Carter shook her head. “There is, however, a Gatekeeper. And a Guardian. You could start there.” As she spoke, the doors began to move, parting in the middle just wide enough to allow two figures to walk through.
One was a woman. She was tall. About Carter’s height, actually. Except she had straight, raven-black hair that fell below her shoulder. Around her forehead she wore a headband of some kind with a single feather sticking up from the back of it. Her dark eyes were heavily lined, which made them rather striking, in an exotic sort of way. Over an unavoidable form-fitting dress she wore a cape made of feathers that was attached at her wrists, and in her right hand she carried a staff which was taller, even, than the feather on top of her head. Jack had seen her type before — beautiful, graceful, elegant, and one hundred percent Goa’uld.
Although that wasn’t what was bothering him most at the moment, it was the second figure which walked by her side. It was neither graceful nor elegant and definitely not beautiful. But it was powerful. He’d have guessed that from the sheer size of it, even if he didn’t already have bruises and scratches all over his body as proof.
It was like a lab experiment gone wrong. Saber-sharp claws curled from the dinner plate front feet of some kind of big cat, but its lithe, feline body only went so far. The creature’s thickly muscled hindquarters were hairless and leathery, and, instead of cat paws, the back feet more closely resembled tree trunks.
The worst thing, however, was its head. Carter — Tayet — had said it was a crocodile, but it was even uglier than that. The snout had to be a good meter in length. It was gnarled and knobby and encrusted with bits of dried debris, the origin of which Jack didn’t want to think about. Atop the bumpy head two slitted eyes stared at him coldly.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, under his breath.
Carter nodded. “It is the Ammit.”
Wonderful.
“I am Maat,” announced the woman with the feather. “You have come to the Western Gate seeking entrance.”
Jack’s attention went back to the woman. He’d been right. Definitely a Goa’uld.
“Colonel Jack O’Neill.” He took a short step closer to her as a distraction, hoping she wouldn’t notice as he thumbed the safety off his P90 — just in case. “And yes. If you wouldn’t mind opening the gate, we’ll be on our way.”
Something about her responding smile made Jack cringe. Yeah. No way was it going to be that easy.
“I will be happy to open the gate for you if you answer but one simple question.”
“Sure, ask me anything.” He tried to project an unconcerned attitude. “Although I should warn you, I’m a whiz at Jeopardy.”
Maat stroked the head of the beast next to her and walked over to him. The thing followed her like a well-trained dog. It even wore a collar and some kind of ornamental gold breastplate, like it was a damned pet.
“I should warn you, Colonel…” Her voice was like ice, all trace of
the deep Goa’uld voice now gone. “…that if you do not answer correctly, the Guardian will forbid your entry.” She glanced for the first time at Carter. “Neither of you will pass the sebkhet. Your journey will end here.”
No surprise there. He’d known from the moment he saw the croc-thingy that they’d have to fight their way out of here. He just wished he hadn’t used up so much ammo on it already. If he could get off the shots, he could probably punch through the wooden gate. He just wasn’t sure he had enough to do both.
Jack tried not to let his trigger finger twitch. “Look, I get it. Now, can we just get on with it?” There was no point in polite pretense now.
For some reason his tone brought the return of her smile, which was not entirely unlike that of the creature next to her. They both looked hungry.
“Very well,” said Maat, turning around. She made a slight gesture with her hand and the beast ambled back toward the gate where it sat squarely on its haunches.
“Tell me, Colonel Jack O’Neill. For passage through the sebkhet.” Her voice was smooth as glass as she turned, once more, to face him. “What is the sound of no heart beating?”
What the hell? “Excuse me?”
“What is the sound of no heart beating?”
Great. Where was Daniel when he needed him. He was the one who got this crap. Even the whacko monk on Kheb made sense to him. And that kid too, Shifu. Daniel would’ve had the gate open in no time flat, and probably learned something ‘fascinating’ in the process.
But Daniel wasn’t there, or Teal’c either, for that matter. And Sam had yet another snake stuck in her head —
The hell with this. The hell with all of it. He was done. “Hey, you know, if a tree falls in a forest and I’m not there to hear it, then I really don’t give a rat’s ass if it makes a sound or not.” Jack gripped the P90 tighter. “And I have no idea what the sound of no heart beating is. Enough of this crap. Just let us through the damn gate.”
Maat merely gazed at him placidly. “The heart may still beat when the chest is hollow, yet the heart may be silent while the chest remains full.”
Jack had no clue what that meant, and he didn’t care. “Why don’t you shove your — “
“Colonel…” The half-whispered admonition was so Carter-like that it made him bite back the retort he’d been about to throw at Maat.
Damn. He wished she’d quit doing that.
But — and he hated this — maybe Carter/Tayet was right. From a strategic point of view, their odds were better if they could talk their way through the gate. Blasting their way through needed to be the option of last resort. It was worth one more shot at persuasion. Jack cleared his throat.
“Yeah. Well, I’d love to stay and chat some more about hearts and hollows and such, but we really do need to get through that gate. So maybe you could ask me another question.”
“You had one chance and you failed to answer, Colonel. The gate remains closed.”
“Best two out of three?”
Maat merely blinked at him with her heavily lined eyes and said nothing. Behind her the Ammit had risen to its feet and was eyeing him eagerly. A long string of drool swung from its gaping mouth.
So much for the diplomatic approach. “You know, I had a feeling you were going to be that way about it.” Without warning, Jack swung his P90 up and aimed at the gate, his finger squeezing off successive rounds. Wood splintered and flew like sparks from the gradually widening hole. When he could see light coming through from the other side, he gave it a few more shots for good measure.
The hole wasn’t big — it’d be a squeeze even for Carter, let alone himself — but it was the best he could do. He hoped he’d left himself a few spare rounds. In a second he had a feeling he was going to need them.
Sure enough, the Guardian leapt toward them. The thing was awkward, but what it lacked in grace it made up for in mass. It came at him like a freight train.
Jack raised his gun, switched to single-shot, and fired.
The bullet tinged off the golden breastplate and ricocheted away. Damn it.
He took aim a second time, but the animal veered suddenly and the shot merely grazed its leathery rump. Only then did he realize where the creature was headed.
Toward Carter.
She was defenseless. No weapon. Not even a stick to beat the thing off with. He saw immediately that she knew the danger she was in, her eyes widening with fear.
Hoping he had at least one shot left, Jack saw there was only one truly vulnerable part left on the beast. Instinctively, he fixed his sight on the creature’s eye and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. The clip was empty.
A P90 didn’t make a very good club, but it was all he had. Slipping the gun strap over his head, Jack charged at the creature, shouting to distract it from closing in on Carter.
It worked. The Guardian turned its huge, ugly head toward him, giving Carter the time she needed to scramble away.
“Go on!” he shouted. The Ammit was focused on him for now, but she was still the closer prey. “Get through — that’s an order!” Issuing a command had the desired effect. Carter ran for the gate.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw her pause once she reached it. “Colonel?”
It was so like Carter’s voice again that he found it hard not to be distracted. “I told you to go!” he yelled at her. “Get out of here!” He risked one more glance and saw her hesitate again before finally climbing through the hole. Maat, he realized, had vanished. It was just him and the Ammit now.
Jack raised the P90 again and brought it down on the Guardian’s head. It was like hitting a rock. The force reverberated through his hands and up to his shoulders. Even more frustrating was that it had done nothing to stop the beast. Jack swung again, catching the thing in the leg. It howled and snapped at him, its fetid breath fouling the space between them. If he hadn’t been so busy fighting for his life, he might have retched. As it was, the force of the swing had overcommitted him and he fell to the ground, hitting his shoulder. The P90 flew from his hands.
That’s when he knew it was over.
The Ammit was on him in seconds. He didn’t even have time to try and roll out of its way. A hundred hypodermic needles pierced his chest. It was fire. It was ice. It was pain like he’d never believed possible.
At least Sam had gotten away. She had a chance, now.
That was worth dying for.
Through the red agony that was fogging his brain, Jack could hear his heart pounding as if it knew its beats were numbered.
What is the sound of no heart beating?
Jack gratefully surrendered into nothingness before he ever knew.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE FRESH air felt good, as did the brisk walk through the portico to the Great Hall. NebtHet breathed deeply as she let her long strides carry her forward. She had learned so very much these past few days, more than she’d ever thought possible. In many ways, she had never felt so alive.
There was still much to be discovered, true, but all in good time. Final preparations still needed to be made. She would take care of those shortly. Now, however, she had a small window of time and other matters needed her attention.
Most importantly, she needed to contact Jenmar. She had been in the Observation Room so long she had lost track of how many days had passed since she had sent him away, but it was certainly too many now. His silence had her concerned. This was most unlike him.
The communication device was in her pocket. Pausing outside the entrance to the Great Hall, NebtHet removed the small box and retrieved the orb. It activated at her touch.
Nothing happened at first. Golden mist swirled, indicating the device was functioning, but Jenmar’s image did not appear. Finally the drifting smoke resolved into a blurry shape, and gradually a familiar face came into focus.
There was still something wrong with the device. Jenmar’s face looked pinched, his eyes overly wide. The audio made him sound as though he wer
e stammering.
“NebtHet a’Eshe —” It was almost as if he were whispering. Perhaps she had caught him at an inopportune moment. He appeared nervous. “I — I did not expect to hear from you.”
“But I did expect to hear from you, Jenmar. Tell me, what have you learned? Do you know who it was who attacked you on Teranu?”
The image was unstable, making it difficult to read his face, or even to hear him.
“No…” The audio cut in and out with the image. “None of… sources know… behind… There… eems… be… deal… infight… since… death… Apoph…”
NebtHet pieced together his transmission the best she could. It did not surprise her that chaos had ensued in the wake of Apophis’ death, with System Lords squabbling over the remains like vultures over a carcass. Perhaps, then, the attack had merely been a fluke, a coincidence that had put SG-1 in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Very well.” She tried to speak clearly and slowly, hoping her message would be comprehensible through the interference. “SG-1 is nearing the end of their purpose here. I will require your assistance in helping to escort them back to Teranu so they may return to Earth. After that, it will be time for you to come home.”
The image suddenly stabilized in the sphere. Whatever had been causing the interference had stopped. Jenmar looked confused.
“Home?” he repeated.
Perhaps the transmission had still not been clear. She nodded. “Yes. Home. You must return to Duat.”
“To stay?”
“Of course. You have served me well, Jenmar. The Djedu are finally near the end of our journey. You must join us for this, our final step.”
The device was experiencing problems again because it looked as though all color had drained from Jenmar’s face.
“I — I am honored, NebtHet a’Eshe.”
“No. It is I who honor you, Jenmar a’Keyleb. We look forward to welcoming you home soon.” She swept her hand over the sphere and deactivated it. Jenmar’s image faded at once.
STARGATE SG-1 29 Hall of the Two Truths Page 20