STARGATE SG-1: Kali's Wrath (SG1-28)
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As he fell to the deck, she saw a Jaffa holding a smoking staff weapon.
Whom she then shot with her P90 on automatic.
She didn’t even wait for the Jaffa to fall before kneeling down at the Thakka’s side. He was lying on his back, clutching his belly. “Let me see.”
Removing his hands, Patel saw that the staff weapon had struck him right in the pouch that housed the Goa’uld symbiote. His entire belly basically looked like it had been through a meat grinder and then set on fire. She didn’t think there was anything left of the larval Goa’uld.
He muttered, “Shel kek nem ron.”
Then he went limp on the deck.
For about three seconds, Patel just stared at the Thakka’s body.
Then she pulled the timer for the C-4 out of the pocket of her desert camo. At least I get to give him a Viking funeral. She looked over at the dead Jaffa who shot him. Even have a dog to lay at his feet.
Of course, Viking funerals would’ve been more appropriate for Norse gods rather than a Hindu one like Kali, but the hell with it.
She set the timer for one minute, then moved both bodies out of the circumference of the rings. After entering the code, she activated the timer just as the rings rose from the deck and whisked her down to the Stargate.
CHAPTER TWENTY
P3X 418 — Lieutenant Colonel Ferretti and the rest of SG-17
FERRETTI waited for the Stargate to open and then he walked up the ramp toward the event horizon. He said, “Go!” and he, Major Peruzzi, Lieutenant Satterfield, and Corporal Spencer all threw flashbangs into the wormhole.
Looking over at Satterfield, he saw that she was mouthing numbers, so she was counting down how much time it would take the flashbangs to go through the wormhole, materialize on the other side, and go off — hopefully blinding those two Jaffa in the process.
Then Ferretti glanced over at Peruzzi, and shook his head with amusement. If only me five years ago could see me now. While his parents raised him, it was his mother’s brother who’d had the biggest influence on his life. Uncle Freddie had flown bombers for the Air Force in Vietnam. Ferretti looked upon Colonel Manfred Louis Monferato as a true hero, and as a boy he hung on Uncle Freddie’s every word.
And a dozen of those words, spoken often, were, “Don’t know what they were thinkin’, lettin’ women into the Air Force.”
Because Uncle Freddie said it, it had to be true. Never mind that Ferretti’s own mother, the colonel’s sister, kept saying he was full of it, that women had always been part of the Air Force since it was formed after World War II. “It’s not like it went downhill after they let women in ’cause they always let women in.”
Mom and Uncle Freddie argued about that a lot.
Ferretti, though, always listened to Uncle Freddie because he was the colonel and he flew bombers, and Mom was just Mom, and he didn’t listen to her when she said vegetables were good for him, so why listen to her about that?
His attitudes were rarely challenged when he went to the Academy or after he graduated. Nor were they during his entire time in the service, up to and including a classified mission that took him to an alien world called Abydos.
It wasn’t until a year after that, when he met Samantha Carter, that he realized he was being an ass. Kawalsky and Ferretti hadn’t wanted Carter along on the mission, as they figured she’d be a liability — though she did share Ferretti’s love of Major Matt Mason astronaut action figures.
The SG-2 team that Ferretti had inherited from Kawalsky was all-male, and during the year he’d been in charge of it, he kept it all male, stubbornly insisting upon following Uncle Freddie’s credo.
But once he transferred to Nevada, and he started reading all the reports as they came in, he realized just how often Carter in particular not only pulled SG-1’s fat out of the fire, but saved the whole damn planet. After another year, he started to realize that maybe Mom was right and Uncle Freddie was full of it.
As a result, when Hammond gave him the go-ahead to put the new SG-17 together, the only thing Ferretti looked at were the service records, not the names. Peruzzi had served with distinction in the Gulf as a pilot, and lately had been serving at the Pentagon under Major Davis, but was also being promoted to major and had requested a transfer to a field position. Satterfield was a recent Academy graduate, one of four from this year’s class who had been tapped for the SGC. She’d been waiting for an opening — tragically, one of those openings was created by her classmate, Lieutenant Kevin Elliot, who had been part of the previous version of SG-17 and was killed with the rest of them on Revanna.
As far as Ferretti was concerned, the fourth person had to be a jar-head. Given the types of threats SG teams faced, he wanted at least one person on the team whose primary purpose was muscle, and one of Uncle Freddie’s bits of advice that Ferretti still thought was useful was: “Best man to watch your six is a Marine.” The best Marine available, based on the service records Hammond had given him, was Corporal Avery Spencer, who was part of one of the gate room security details. Like the others, he was a recent promotion.
Satterfield stopped counting and said, “Now, sir!”
“Let’s go!” Ferretti cried, and the four of them ran toward the wormhole.
“Godspeed, SG-17,” Hammond said over the mic just as Ferretti reached the event horizon.
He hesitated for just a second before crouching down to step through, wanting to come in low in case the flashbangs didn’t work.
Sure enough, as soon as the four of them came through the gate, staff weapon fire went over their heads and into the wormhole.
“Take cover!” Ferretti cried, leaping off the stone ramp to the left, watching as Peruzzi and Satterfield did likewise to the right, while Spencer took cover underneath the DHD.
Ferretti looked over the island, peering through the snow.
There was no sign of actual Jaffa. The staff weapon fire had come from two different places on this small island, but it had happened fast enough, and over his head, that he hadn’t been able to pinpoint it.
Luckily, Satterfield came to his rescue. From the other side of the ramp, she thumbed her radio, Ferretti hearing her voice more clearly over the radio clipped to his clavicle than he would if she tried to shout over the ramp. “We’ve got one hiding behind the rafts, and the other behind the ring controller.”
Peruzzi’s voice came over the radio next. “I told you the flashbangs wouldn’t work.” After a second, she added, “Sir.”
Ferretti smiled. “Fine, Major, next time, you come up with the brilliant strategy.”
“I’d rather complain about yours, sir,” Peruzzi deadpanned.
The two Jaffa popped out from their cover like jacks-in-the-box and fired their staff weapons. Ferretti ducked behind the ramp. The blast hit the ramp itself.
But before the blasts even hit, Spencer also broke cover long enough to fire several rounds, then ducked back behind the DHD.
The exchange of fire continued for a few more minutes. Ferretti, Peruzzi, and Spencer fired their P90s, while Satterfield did likewise with her zat. The Jaffa fired their staff weapons. Nobody hit anyone, but the ramp, DHD, and ring controls all took plenty of fire.
However, the rafts — which were already pretty beat up — were taking plenty of damage from the P90s.
Thumbing his radio, Ferretti said, “Peruzzi, Spencer, concentrate all your fire at the rafts.”
“Sir!” Spencer broke cover and fired. Peruzzi did so half a second later.
Within about ten seconds, the rafts were being cut to ribbons, and the Jaffa back there was forced to break cover and run toward the ring controller.
As soon as he did so, Satterfield fired her zat at him. He cried out with a loud, “Urk!” and fell to the snow-covered ground.
The other Jaffa didn’t miss a beat, breaking cover again, leaning on the ring controller and firing. Ferretti ducked quickly behind the ramp.
“Hey, Jaffa!” he shouted. “You may wanna reconsider your position!”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t.
So Ferretti went on: “There’s four of us. There’s one of you. Now I’m not the world’s greatest mathematician, but I’m pretty sure that puts the odds in our favor.”
The Jaffa responded by shouting something in the Goa’uld language.
As usual, to Ferretti, it sounded like a cat horking up a hairball. Satterfield was the team’s linguist, so when the Jaffa was done shouting, Ferretti thumbed his radio. “Satterfield, what’d he say?”
“I’d tell you, sir, but I promised my grandmother I wouldn’t use those words anymore.”
“Noted.”
“I have an idea, sir,” Satterfield added. “He keeps resting his arms on the ring controller when he fires.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Hang on, sir.”
Spencer took another shot at the ring controller. As soon as he did, the Jaffa resurfaced and fired again. Satterfield risked breaking cover and fired her zat at the ring controller. The electrical blast hit its mark, sending a charge all through the controller — as well as anything touching it. Like the Jaffa. Who convulsed and then fell to the ground.
Ferretti ran over to the ring controller, P90 at the ready. “Spencer, with me!”
The Jaffa was facedown in the snow and not moving.
“Nice work, Lieutenant!” Ferretti called back to the ramp. Then he looked at Spencer. “Corporal, do me a favor and get ready to trash the living hell out of that ring controller.”
Spencer smiled. “Yes, sir.”
While he got to work, Ferretti went over to check the other Jaffa, who was also unmoving.
“Major Peruzzi, please secure these two fine gentlemen while Lieutenant Satterfield takes their weapons away.”
Peruzzi smiled wryly. “You always give me the fun jobs, Colonel.”
Before Ferretti could come up with a smartass reply of his own, the rings activated.
Spencer, who had been kneeling down at the ring controller planting C-4, immediately leapt to his feet, P90 at the ready.
The rings popped out of the snow, glowed, and then went back underground. Captain Kirti Patel was now standing in the center of them.
Patel immediately saluted upon seeing Ferretti. “Colonel.”
Returning the salute, he said, “At ease, Captain — and nice timing. Stand down, Spencer, and get back to work.”
“Yes, sir.” Spencer did as he was told.
Having finished securing the Jaffas’ wrists with zip-ties, Peruzzi turned to face the captain. “Weren’t you part of a two-person team?”
Patel nodded. “The Thakka didn’t make it. He saved my life.” She glanced at her watch, then looked up.
Ferretti tracked her gaze and saw a bright light in the sky, followed a second or two later by a loud detonation.
“Good work,” he said. “Of course, when I blew up a Goa’uld mothership, I had a nuke. Made a much bigger boom.”
“It didn’t fit in the backpack, sir,” Patel said with a tiny smile.
Grinning, Ferretti said to Peruzzi, “I’m gonna dial the gate, report to Hammond. Let’s hope everyone else did their jobs as well as the captain here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
P3X-418 — Major Carter and Master Bra’tac
BRA’TAC felt the fiery sizzle of the ma’tok as it struck his left arm even as he fired his zat’ni’katel with his right.
The Jaffa fell to the floor, and only then did Bra’tac clutch his left bicep where it was wounded. Pain sliced through his arm, but he knew his prim’ta would heal his wound in time.
Major Carter slowly moved to the laboratory door and checked inside, leading with her weapon. “Clear,” she said a moment later. Then she turned to Bra’tac and asked, “Are you all right?”
“I will be fine. A Jaffa is not defeated until after he is buried.” He smiled grimly. “And occasionally not even then.”
Smiling, Major Carter entered the laboratory, Bra’tac right behind her. She immediately moved toward a table and removed two different devices from it. It was unclear to Bra’tac if both were separate components of the item they came for, or if the two served different purposes. Ultimately, he also cared little — he trusted the Tau’ri woman to know her business, trust that, as far as Bra’tac was concerned, she’d more than earned over her time in the fight against the Goa’uld.
“Got it,” she said. “Let’s go.”
They retraced their steps — including going down the staircase and stepping over the Jaffa they’d surprised — unmolested, but then as they approached the doorway to the passage, Bra’tac heard running footfalls that grew ever-louder. They ran in formation — which bespoke excellent training — but were also definitely heading directly for Bra’tac and Major Carter’s location.
Which meant the time for stealth was past. They’d been moving slowly and carefully to avoid being detected, but it was obvious now that Kali’s Jaffa had either detected them despite their efforts, or were otherwise alerted to their presence.
“Quickly!” he said, now running toward the door.
Major Carter was right behind him, though her speed was reduced somewhat by her desire to keep her weapon ready, a precaution Bra’tac appreciated.
They reached the entrance to the tunnel before the Jaffa were in sight. Bra’tac noted that on this side, it was less obviously a door, with the molding of the wall blending in and the seams difficult to see unless you were specifically looking for them. He admired the design.
Once they both went through, Major Carter closed the door and then reached into one of her pockets and removed one of the rectangular blocks the Tau’ri favored for demolition. Bra’tac had always found the humans’ explosive to be primitive and unnecessarily destructive, but he had to admit that it had its uses.
Major Carter crouched down and placed the explosive just under the door latch, where it attached itself easily. Then she removed one of the devices she’d taken from the laboratory and attached it to the explosive.
She got up and quickly started jogging down the corridor. “Let’s move. The C-4’ll blow as soon as someone opens that door.”
Nodding, Bra’tac followed her at a run.
A few seconds later, Bra’tac heard the click of a door opening, followed immediately by the deafening report of the explosive detonating, which was in turn followed by Bra’tac being thrown violently to the ground as if he’d been pushed in the back.
He naturally landed on his left side, exacerbating his injury a hundredfold.
Bra’tac lay on the cold, hard rock for a few seconds, trying to move past the pain of his ma’tok wound, not to mention from the fall. I am, perhaps, growing too old for this.
Major Carter clambered to her feet and offered Bra’tac her hand.
Gratefully, Bra’tac reached up and clasped her forearm with his right hand and used her as an anchor to pull himself upward. She stumbled a bit — Major Carter was tall for a woman, but still had less strength than a male warrior, and Bra’tac was wearing armor — but managed to retain her footing as Bra’tac got to his feet.
She looked up. “There was no way the explosion would budge this mountain, so all the force of the explosion got sent down this tunnel. Sorry about that.”
“I will live — probably,” Bra’tac said with a smile. “And if I do not, I will die in a noble cause.”
Major Carter smiled. “Personally, I prefer option one.”
“As do I. Come, let us rescue Dr. Jackson and be away from this place.”
Nodding, Major Carter led the way toward the exit.
Just as they reached the curve in the corridor, Bra’tac heard the sound of footfalls. “We are still being pursued.”
Major Carter turned to look at him in surprise, but after half a second, she nodded. She hadn’t heard the pursuit, but she trusted that Bra’tac could. “Can you run?”
Rather than answer verbally, Bra’tac simply started running. With a
small smile, Carter followed right behind him.
The hidden rock-door was still set in from the mountain when they arrived, leading back outside into the chill air of Imphal.
“Close the door quickly!” Bra’tac spoke urgently as he ran out into the snow, Major Carter right behind.
“Hang on,” she said as she stopped and pulled out one of her grenades.
Bra’tac nodded with approval. He had not thought highly of the Tau’ri’s small, ball-shaped explosives at first, but he had to admit to himself that it was mostly because of how O’Neill had used them to show up Bra’tac when they were trying to sabotage Apophis’s ha’tak when it was in Earth’s orbit. Bra’tac had an elaborate plan for how they would rappel down into the shield generator to destroy it, rendering the mothership helpless. As Bra’tac was in the midst of spelling that plan out, O’Neill had removed two grenades from his pocket, pulled their firing pins, and dropped them. Four seconds later, the shield generators were destroyed.
In truth, O’Neill was a doughty warrior and he and his subordinates in SG-1 were among the finest people Bra’tac had ever known. It had taken him a while to come to accept that.
Now, Major Carter pulled the rock that would bring the door back forward to hide the entrance. But she placed the grenade against the side of the opening, which prevented the rock face from moving all the way into the shut position.
“As soon as they reopen the door,” she said, “the firing pin will come out. We, ah, we should run.”
“No.” Bra’tac took a deep breath and looked around. There was a large oak tree nearby, at which he pointed with his weapon. “There.”
Without waiting for her to acknowledge him, he jogged over to the tree. Major Carter followed him, and they took up position behind the oak.
He heard the muffled voices of the Jaffa as well as their approaching footfalls through the tunel entrance. Then the rock door started to once again slide inward and Major Carter’s grenade fell down into the snow.
Three Jaffa appeared at the entrance, their leader running ahead, yelling, “Kree!”
But behind him, one of his men cried out in alarm. “Jaffa!” Too late, he had noticed the grenade on the ground.