This one challenged me more than most. I came up with the idea in the middle of a very cold and blowy Wyoming winter, and I wanted to capture the beauty and barrenness of that winter and make the reader experience it with me...and in the process, I dragged our favorite team right into the storm.
Disclaimer: Purely for fan purposes; no copyright infringement intended.
There were reasons SG teams rarely ventured through the Gate into winter. Almost without exception, warm and sunny planets won out over the colder destinations...not because the SG teams were wimps, but because the risks inherent in every trip through the Gate multiplied, along with the expense of outfitting a team for cold weather survival, as the temperatures dropped.
Occasionally, necessity or the hoped-for benefits of a mission would override these concerns, and a team would find themselves stepping out not into the balmy air of temperate forestlands or the dry heat of hot desert but the chilly, blowing winds of winter. Every precaution was taken to ensure the team wouldn't be placed into unnecessary danger-there was more than enough of that already naturally present when stepping practically blind onto an unexplored and unknown planet quite possibly inhabited by an evil race with all the advantages of a several- thousand-year headstart.
Unfortunately, the atmospheric and meteorological studies of p2G-129 didn't have sufficient data to predict the suddenness or the severity of the planet's winter storms. Clear though chilly readings were still being received even as SG-1 stepped through the Gate. But, that had changed drastically before the Gate had shut down behind them. By the time the techs back home read the last bits of data the MALP had transmitted up until shut-down and General Hammond was informed there was a possibly dangerous situation developing on the planet, the team was already in serious trouble.
The telemetry reported a sudden and dramatic drop in temperature coupled with plunging barometric readings and escalating wind. A full-blown blizzard had descended on p2G-129 in those few short minutes. The personnel at the SGC could only wait and hope the team would immediately scrap the mission, redial, and return to home base. Wide-eyed and tightlipped like spectators of a fatal accident, they waited long past the time it should have taken the team to reach the DHD and dial home. Afraid of opening the Gate from his side and blocking SG-1's only avenue of retreat, the general bit back his need to know what was happening for as long as he could. Finally, though, he ordered the address redialed.
The Gate connected without difficulty, but the MALP's sensitive equipment was no match against the elements, and its readings were erratic at best. The pictures it sent back were blank screens of white; its audio transmissions nothing but the howl of screaming wind. Repeated calls over the radio did not raise the team, and the general was forced to shut the Gate down without making contact. An emergency, weatherproofed pack with an artic tent and heater along with extra rations, water, clothing, outerwear, and thermal sleeping bags and blankets was prepared and sent through the Gate. It arrived on the other side of the wormhole and stayed there, becoming covered with a thick layer of snow and doing absolutely no good for anyone. That was the best Earth could do for her offworld children. Reinforcements could not safely be sent. They were on their own.
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Gray skies and the crisp smell of approaching snow had greeted their arrival. Colonel O'Neill had frowned up at the thick cloud cover overhead. When he'd studied the reports only moments before giving his final ok to the mission, none of the MALP readings had indicated a strong likelihood of snowfall. He hadn't been enthusiastic about proceeding with the mission, but that had had little to do with the weather conditions. In fact, the chilly temps and crusty snowdrifts the MALP reported didn't sound bad at all next to the record-breaking cold and snowfall Colorado Springs was currently experiencing. True, he would have preferred not to have to traipse through them, but such was military life.
No, his reluctance with this mission flowed from his distrust of anything Tok'ra, particularly missions outside of his control and dictated by intel provided by the less-than-forthcoming snakeheads. He'd have rather sat the whole thing out, but the MALP had failed to give him a reasonable justification. He'd been left with no choice but to see the team was properly outfitted, accept the General's final go-ahead, and lead the way through the Gate. From the looks of things, he had to wonder if the MALP had been withholding vital information in cahoots with the Tok'ra.
As he walked down the stone steps from the Gate, he was thankful the mission was to only take a few hours on the outside. Even if things didn't pan out (and with the Tok'ra involved, they more than likely wouldn't) they should still be home safe and snug before nightfall. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a blizzard in unfamiliar territory with backup he couldn't rely on-backup that wouldn't factor the welfare of his team into their plans. He'd have felt marginally better if Jacob had been one of the Tok'ra involved. It might not be his top priority, but, regardless of the snake in his head, he'd at least look out for Carter. Instead, they were to join up with Tok'ra they had only just met and with whom they had no experience.
As it was, their Tok'ra contacts never arrived. Two of the three were later found frozen still quite a distance from the Gate; the other was never found at all. Trusting in their abilities, they had arrived on the planet with only minimal protection against a cold they expected to be in and out of quickly. They paid the price for their arrogance.
O'Neill's team had not made the same mistake. In their packs, they carried not only the regular SGC supplies designed to help them survive the usual known-as well as some only so-far-guessed at-dangers to Gatetravelers but also the mandatory cold weather survival kits. But, even so, they were ill prepared for the suddenness and ferocity of the unexpected storm they faced. Fire starter and matches, protective eye gear, and foil survival blankets were no help against the storm's initial, violent fury.
They'd only had time for a cursorily look around before a freezing wind whipped up driving the days-old snow on the ground into wild eddies of biting cold. Visibility dropped to nothing. To compound matters, fresh snow also began to fall although it never made it to the ground. The wind viciously sucked it in and hurled it at the intruders from Earth.
The team had no time to pull out the heavier, winter gear they carried in their packs. They had no time to secure themselves to each other or to the Gate to keep from being separated and becoming lost in the disorienting, swirling, roaring tempest of snow and wind. No time to even set their feet and stand against its howling advance. By the time the first gust had roared its way past them, each team member was cut off from the others and on their own.