Stargate SG-1: Trial by Fire: SG1-1

by Sabine C. Bauer

  "It wasn't your fault, Teal'c. How were you to know?"

  He didn't respond.

  At last she said, "You'd better call Daniel. We need to meet up with him."

  "As you wish."

  "You can't help them!"

  They were the four ugliest words a commander could ever hope to hear, and Tertius was finding out the hard way. He'd lost two thirds of his little army in a matter of seconds. Jack ducked under a flailing arm, grabbed hold of the man's shoulders, and shook him roughly. It'd either get him decked, or Tertius would come to his senses.

  "What do you want to do? Run up there and start exhuming the bodies?"

  "They're my men!"

  "They're dead!"

  "I'm responsible for them!"

  "Were! Were responsible! You are responsible for the living, and you damn well better start acting on it. The Tyreans ain't gonna wait till you've finished throwing your tantrum!"

  And they wouldn't. In the distance Jack could see the first small figures crawling over the pass. Too soon and too well organized. In combination it told him that the rockslide hadn't been an accident. There were weapons of mass destruction that required surprisingly little in the way of research and preparation and delivery.

  Some of what he'd been saying seemed to penetrate at last. Tertius stopped struggling, freed himself gently, and turned to gaze down into the valley again. It was quiet now. Quiet enough to hear the screams of the wounded. All of them were at the lower end of the pass, where the men had had a little more advance warning. Stumbling among the casualties and trying to help were those who had escaped unhurt. Maybe thirty. Few enough.

  The death toll was bound to rise still. Half of the wounded would be dead in a matter of days, from shock or fever or gangrene, and they'd die wishing they'd have been crushed under a boulder. And all the casualties were Phrygian. The surgical precision of the thing was awful and allowed for one inevitable assumption. Precision was Major Samantha Carter's middle name.

  God help her if she'd done this. God help him if she'd done it for his sake.

  "I knew them all. Each one of them... And now I can't even tell who's still alive," whispered Tertius. Then he released a long breath and squared his shoulders. "My apologies, Deodatus. You are right, of -"

  "Don't ever apologize to me for caring about your people. I've been there." Jack struggled to unclench a fist of sick, hot fury pumping in this gut and managed to rustle up a smile from somewhere between rage and self-disgust. "You keep this up, I might start trusting you after all."

  "You're becoming reckless, my friend." A faint grin nudged some life into the pallor of Tertius' face.

  The old warrior, Caius, noticed and a corresponding grin made his scar bulge. The startling facial contortions culminated in a sympathetic wink. If asked he'd probably have recited a similar speech, but he seemed just as happy that he'd been relieved of the duty to deliver a pep talk to his commanding officer. The other men stood watching, shell-shocked and silent. Beefcake looked close to tears.

  "First sign of senility." Jack shrugged with a levity he didn't feel. "So... What's Plan B?"

  "Plan B?"

  "The stuff you come up with when Plan A goes pear-shaped."

  The endless pause that followed was plenty of answer, and it had nothing to do with idiom. Tertius had understood well enough. There was no Plan B. Easy mistake and one that Jack had made more times than he could count. He'd probably have made it this time, too. That little ambush had been way too sexy to go wrong, hadn't it?

  "We have to keep them away from where the women and children are hidden," Tertius said at last. "And we have to get the wounded to safety."

  Safety was in short supply, and Tertius' musings weren't so much a plan as an objective. But it was more than the man had had ten seconds ago, and they weren't exactly spoiled for choice. All they could do was try and hold the newly created stone barrier at the bottom of the pass until the survivors had recovered the last of the wounded. If they were still alive after that, they'd have to run like hell.

  "Okay," said Jack. "Let's go."

  Dr. Kelly was beginning to think she should have stayed put and stirred the goat stew, with or without borage. The valley was too quiet. A while ago they'd heard a thunderous noise that had rumbled on and on, but other than that not a peep. The conspicuous absence of reaction made her nervous. The least one should expect was a little hue and cry, wasn't it?

  Her stola caught on a bush and she yanked it free impatiently. The ripping noise was satisfactory in a small way.

  Luli whipped around and shushed her before ploughing into the next thicket.

  Maybe she should write a monograph on the Phoenician Boy Scout movement when she got home. It'd be guaranteed to make Cricklebottom and Haig foam at the mouth. This thought cheered her up considerably, and she giggled.

  Luli shushed her again.

  "Don't get your knickers in a twist, lad! Do you honestly think anybody else is crazy enough to stagger through here?"

  Through here was a steep mountain flank riddled hip-deep with macchia that had to be a haven for vipers and God only knew what else. The crickets alone were driving her mad with their chirping. She could see the village again, deserted and baking in the midday heat, and they were indeed moving away from it. That much at least seemed to be going according to plan.

  "Are you sure this is the right way?"

  "Yes, Lady Siobhan."

  Five minutes later he disappeared over a crest. Leaving behind more excess fabric, Kelly mustered something akin to a trot to keep up and found him crouching by a slab of rock just beyond the ridge. Below him stretched a cluster of scraggy olive trees, sheltering the road. The boy barely acknowledged her arrival.

  "I told you I would lead you to the road, did I not?" he murmured offhandedly, mesmerised by the scene on the far side of the olive grove.

  "What in God's name..."

  An avalanche had razed the pass, which explained the racket earlier. It had formed a jumbled barricade just above the trees, and on that barricade perched a group of perhaps twenty suicidal maniacs, furiously defending the olives against an onslaught of Tyrean soldiers pouring from the slope. Behind the barrier, other men were tending to casualties. Kelly felt a breathless, tremulous tugofawe she hadn't experienced in alongtime. She was witnessing history, events that hadn't occurred for nearly two thousand years: the Romans were fighting a last stand. It was gratifying that their situation should be so desperate. If the Third Punic War had happened a hundred and fifty years later, if the general had been Varus instead of Scipio Africanus, then -

  "The wrath of Meleq is descending upon them," Luli whispered, engrossed. "I told you this, too, Lady Siobhan."

  "Shush, lad! Let me watch!"

  The fighting was ugly and brutal, no holds barred, without heroic deaths in slow motion or a rousing symphonic score piped in from the off. The noises filtering up to their perch sounded like pigs brawling over their dinner, and the killings were gory, repugnant even. Beside her, Luli clapped his hands and laughed.

  "Look at those fools!"

  This child was entirely too bloodthirsty. But perhaps they all were.

  Those fools were two men breaking out from the barricade, running full tilt towards two other Romans or Phrygians or whatever they chose to call themselves who were trying to drag a wounded comrade to safety. A group of no less than eight Tyreans had other ideas. Clearly the two runners meant to intercept them. Suddenly Kelly got angry.

  "Don't let me hear you call them fools again, boy! That's the bravest thing I've seen since..."

  Since the pigheaded Irish fool had refused to leave her behind that night at the temple. The thought tempered her grudging admiration for Roman bravery.

  The two men had engaged the Tyreans now. The shorter one acquitted himself quite well, but the lanky chap by his side had a lot to learn about swordsmanship. His instincts were sound, and he moved fast enough, but he looked as though he were making it up as he went along.
Not a bad tactic, come to think of it. It certainly confused his adversaries. As a matter of fact, the sheer madness of it reminded her of -

  "No!" Luli had recognised him at the exact same moment and shot to his feet, shouting. "He must not do this! The Lord Meleq will punish him!"

  Dr. Kelly's sentiments precisely. If not the Lord Meleq, then his flock of faithful. The child was already barrelling down the hill and towards the trees, and she followed as fast as she could.

  At a distance behind him he could hear Major Carter and Daniel Jackson struggling to match his pace, but Teal'c did not intend to slow down. Speed was of the essence now. The fierce sortie had been successful, and both O'Neill and the Phrygian warrior had regained the tenuous protection of the barricade. However, the position could not endure much longer.

  As he ran, Teal'c berated himself for having wasted time on sparring matches instead of instructing his friend in the far more useful art of swordplay. This he would amend if he and O'Neill were given the chance. Racing from the mouth of a gully, he very nearly collided with a stout, panting personage who also traveled at high velocity.

  He barely gave himself enough time to ascertain that she was unharmed and to marvel at her disheveled appearance.

  "Professor Kelly. I am relieved to see you. Please join Major Carter and Daniel Jackson."

  The customary show of grievance failed to materialize. She merely nodded and urged him on. "Chop-chop, laddie!"

  As far as he could determine, chop-chop was an incitement not to violent action but to haste. Teal'c did not require the reminder. He ran past a sparse stand of olive trees and towards the familiar clamor of battle. At the edge of the grove an old Phrygian warrior, his face blemished by a horrible scar, interrupted his care of a huge, gap-toothed soldier and attempted to stop the interloper. Not wishing to harm the old one and admiring his courage, the Jaffa felled him with a single shot from his zat'nikatel. Things must be dire indeed if the Phrygians had to rely on the feeble powers of old men and children. A young boy, too, was hastening to the wall, unobserved and unhindered amid the noise and confusion. Teal'c followed the child.

  Only seven fit men were left on the blockade, among them O'Neill and the warrior who had been with him earlier, and whom Teal'c now recognized. The Phrygian rebel from Tyros. And he appeared to be the one they had been looking for in vain all day: the leader of these men, the one who had to be persuaded to surrender.

  "O'Neill!" bellowed Teal'c, leaping from boulder to boulder and up the barricade.

  Men looked up at his shout and went rigid with shock and anger as they noted the presence of a Jaffa among them. Fortunately they were too stunned or too dejected to impede him. Atop the barrier O'Neill spun around, as did the boy who had almost reached him. Luli, heir of Hamilgart. When he saw Teal'c, his eyes dilated with panic. Scrambling on hands and knees, he closed the last few meters and flung himself at O'Neill.

  "You must recant!" the child cried, all but hysterical. "You must recant, Jack! If the spirit saw what you did, he will tell the Lord Meleq! You will be punished, you hear?"

  With the boy clutching him, O'Neill was unable to defend himself, a fact the Tyreans had to be aware of. With three fast steps, Teal'c climbed to the top and fired a staff blast over the heads of the soldiers climbing the wall, causing some of them to fall prone with fear.

  "Cease fighting!" he roared. "All of you! These people will surrender!"

  "Never!" exclaimed the Phrygian leader. "We shall never -"

  "Tertius!" Luli still clinging to his leg like a deadweight, O'Neill was the first to drop his weapon. Then he hobbled over to this Tertius and pointed at the rows of wounded among the olive trees. "Look around you! What do you want? Get them all killed? It's time to call it quits."

  "Do you know what will happen, Deodatus? To you, me, all of these men?"

  "It's not over yet," O'Neill replied, casting a brief glance at Teal'c. "You can't fight them any longer, but it's not over yet. Trust me, Tertius."

  A slow and oddly amused smile stole over the man's grimy features. "So be it. You expect me to trust the Jaffa as well?"

  "His name's Teal'c. And the answer's yes."

  Tertius barked an order. On and behind the barricade soldiers discarded their weapons, reluctantly and with the sluggish, sunken movements of defeat. Shouts went up among the ranks of the Tyreans and some who had forgotten their earlier fear began pushing towards the barricade to set upon their defenseless adversaries.

  Teal'c raised his staff again. "Do not move!"

  In answer several spears went up among a unit of Temple Guards - among them the men who had fooled Teal'c and caused the rockslide. Before the Jaffa could take aim, a shot rang out and one of the soldiers toppled, struck in the right shoulder.

  "You'd better listen to the Lord Spirit!" Major Carter had arrived on the barrier, Daniel Jackson beside her. Their weapons were trained on the Tyreans in an unambiguous warning. "He said Do not move!"

  "That is not what Me1eq's other spirits told us!" shouted a Guard. "They bade us to root out the heretics!"

  "I don't see any other spirits! Do you? So I suggest you do what this one says!"

  O'Neill had been observing the performance and succeeded in gently disengaging Luli from his lower extremities. Hostilities had ceased for the time being, so he turned to his team, grim-faced and pallid. For a second Teal'c feared that his friend might be hurt after all, but then he realized the error.

  His voice cold to the point of tonelessness, O'Neill whispered, "Carter! Tell me it wasn't you who started that goddamn avalanche!"

  The answer came from Daniel Jackson, replete with an anger to match O'Neill's. "Nice to see you too, Jack! Despite the fact that you're an ass!"

  The suns had slipped behind the rim of the crater by the time the priests had arrived, carried across the pass in two sedan chairs. Blue shadows quickly swallowed the day's heat, and at her suggestion some of the men had lit fires among the trees. Maybe the warmth would ease the effects of shock. She and Daniel had raided their medikits and done their best to give the wounded at least some basic medical care. Mostly they'd been administering morphine.

  A detachment of Tyrean soldiers had been sent to occupy the garrison in the valley, and posted around the makeshift camp in the olive grove stood perimeter guards. Now that the priests' presence warranted civilized behavior, the Lord Spirit had stopped doing his rounds and joined the preliminary hearing in progress around the largest of the fires. Participants were Lords Fuano and Tendao, still enthroned in their chairs; the captain of those Temple Guards; Daniel and herself; Hamilgart, without having atoned for his errant wife by getting slain in the field of honor; Luli, huddled by his father's side, edgy but unharmed - apparently the worst thing the Phrygians had done to him was feed and wash and clothe him; Dr. Kelly who'd spent considerable time calling the Colonel every name under the sun before, much to everyone's alarm, wrapping him in a ferocious hug; the Phrygian leader, Tertius, under guard on what passed for the accused's bench; and Colonel O'Neill, ditto.

  He looked filthy and exhausted, like something the cat had dragged in through a flap four sizes too small. Otherwise his flirtation with antique warfare had left him more or less unscathed, which was a load off his team's collective mind. Major Carter had felt like joining in with Kelly's rant, especially after the welcome they'd received. What had stopped her was the fact that the good doctor's vocabulary proved matchless.

  Pigheaded Irish fool?

  So far he hadn't divulged anything much in the way of information, let alone any clues as to the origin of that godawful weal around his throat. Par for the course. The probability of Jack O'Neill getting talkative was somewhere in the order of the Vatican advocating group sex. And now he seemed even more guarded than usual, watching and listening carefully as Daniel was dancing on raw eggs around the priests.

  The dance wasn't going terribly well. Fuano hadn't undergone a personality transplant since they'd last spoken to him, and Tendao was bored.
He kept poking one of the chair carriers with a mace. Another poke, the carrier twitched, and Tendao giggled.

  Suddenly he shot a noxious glare at Daniel and squawked, "I say we kill them all. I do not know how you survived, anyway. We were told you had been buried in the rockslide together with the rest of the rabble."

  Oh yeah? That would explain his and Fuano's startled reaction on seeing them. Sam had put it down to the priests' being overjoyed at the reunion. Of its own volition her gaze wandered back to the Colonel. His mouth had compressed to a tight, white line as though to hold in that flare of barely constrained rage she recognized behind his eyes. Then the eyes met hers in a mute, awkward apology.

  Newsflash, sir That's how it feels when someone's messing with your team. Works both ways. But if you can keep the lid on it, so can we.

  Reaching out slowly, his fingers clamped around Tertius' arm, preventing any rash response from that end. Just as well. The Phrygian commander looked even more pissed than Colonel O'Neill, and with motive. More than seventy motives, in fact.

  Daniel had sniffed an opening, pounced. "I suppose our survival should tell you something about the strength of the Lord Meleq's desire to keep us and our friend alive, Tendao."

  The old ogre snorted, but Fuano appeared to get the point. Some of it at least. "This may be true for the Lord Spirit, the Lady Samantha and yourself, but surely not for your friend. He was caught with the Phrygians. He wears their clothes."

  "He was taken prisoner and brought here against his will," Dr. Jackson retorted. "His clothes were probably ruined. What did you expect him to do? Run around in his shorts?"

  The abductee's head dipped abruptly, concealing his face. Tertius glanced at him sideways, a tiny smirk tugging at the comers of his mouth. Well, that answered that question. Colonel Jack O'Neill, USAF, had been running around in his shorts. His 21C found herself regretting that she'd missed the event, although the snazzy Roman gear almost made up for it. Nice legs.

  "Uh..." stammered Dr. Jackson, inspecting his friend with the kind of quasi-religious enthrallment he generally reserved for objects or persons not under five thousand years of age.