Chapter Ten: Saint Gilligan and the Dragon
The ravine ended before the sunlight did, and when they emerged, Sam realized they had turned more east than south. She wasn't sure she liked that, but then again, she wasn't sure she didn't. There was a possibility that the turn put them further north and much closer to the Gate than she wanted to be; then again, if they were far enough south, east was the direction they wanted to be heading, anyway.
But it wasn't like she had anyone to confer with on the matter, and she had learned the hard way that weakness on her part caused nothing but panic. They were where they were, she supposed, and she said nothing.
Until an odd pull in her blood made her shiver, and she stopped the group. "Get down," she said softly, "and wait here."
They were around. They were close, she could feel it. And finally, she saw it – one armored foot sticking out from behind a fallen branch. She went to investigate and found a single fallen Jaffa. He had been taken down by a staff weapon blast, and she didn't know if that made her feel better or worse.
"He's dead," a voice said from behind her, and she spun to see Riley.
"Didn't I say to stay put?" she asked, but the others were already gathering around.
"They're not so scary up close," the ambassador murmured.
"Really? I was just thinking they were much worse that way," Mary Ann contradicted.
Joe Turbin leaned down, but Sam touched his shoulder to stop him. "Stay away," she ordered.
"He's dead," Riley repeated, a little louder. "And it looks like friendly fire."
She shook her head. "First, he's not dead. And second, that 'friendly fire' thing opens up a bunch of cans of worms I didn't really want to think about."
"What do you mean, he's not dead?" the president asked.
"The symbiote inside him is still alive, and likely keeping him that way. Though with a staff wound like that... he probably won't recover."
"Amazing." Turbin leaned down again, and this time Sam shoved him away, but keeled over at the searing pain it caused her.
"I said stay back," she hissed. When she had quelled the pain and nausea enough to stand back up straight, she checked to make sure the Jaffa's eyes were closed and pointed south. "We need to go that way. We need to move until it's dark." Which, unfortunately, wouldn't be long.
"Who do you think killed him?" Ambassador Tremaine asked.
"If we're very, very lucky… Teal'c. Or a stray blast." Holding her side tightly against the pain, she stumbled doggedly south, and they followed.
"And if we're not so lucky?" Sean called softly from behind her.
"Then he was a rebel Jaffa trying to help us, and shot as a traitor," she volunteered, biting her lip, not even wanting to consider the other option, "or we just stepped into the middle of a turf war."