Halls of Osiris

Halls of Osiris

Part 8:

P9J-332:

//Attention. This is Major General George Hammond of the SGC. Please identify yourselves.//

Starbuck approached the drone carefully, sidearm drawn. He hadn't seen anything that could be easily classified as a weapon, but that meant very little. Weapons could be disguised.

Still, the little drone looked more like a probe than a weapon. Square and slung low for stability, the device resembled nothing more than a toy version of one of the Galactica's landams, the latter's cannon replaced by what was identifiable as an audio/visual transmission array.

The warrior crouched slowly in front of the drone, jumping slightly when the thing repeated its previous message. The only change was in the volume of delivery.

For Sagan's sake, do they think I'm deaf? He turned his head slightly without taking his eyes from the device. "Jolley! Get me a languatron, will ya?"

"Will do, Lieutenant!" The heavy- set flight sergeant stood and jogged away, the drone's camera panning to follow his progress before returning to Starbuck.

"Lieutenant Starbuck---"

"Not now, doctor," Starbuck interrupted. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he glanced back irritably, trying to divide his attention betwee the now silent drone and the approaching physicist. "Doctor Pallas! Get back under cover!"

"Lieutenant, I'm certain that if it were dangerous it would never have passed up such a golden opportunity to shoot you," she snapped, stopping where she was but not retreating.

******

Cheyenne Mountain:

O'Neill stood behind Carter and scowled at the view screen.

"Y'know, General, we really need to get with the Tok'ra and define some basic terms. Like 'uninhabited,' for instance."

Hammond barely spared him a glance before leaning forward to repeat his standard greeting to the young man who had settled into a crouch in front of the MALP, weapon drawn.

"Well, we should," he muttered to Carter a little defensively.

"Yes, sir," she said neutrally. "General, I think we need to get one of the linguists down here. Tom Bryant from SG-9 is on base. He's no Daniel, sir, but---"

"I agree, Major. Sergeant, page Captain Bryant to the control room. And let Major Kolvachek know we may need to borrow his linguist for a while if he has no objections." Hammond frowned. "Major, the Tok'ra did say that the rendezvous point was uninhabited."

"Yes, sir, they did." Carter paused to follow the progress of one of the men away from the area around the Gate on P------. "All I can think of is that these people aren't native. Their equipment looks fairly technologically advanced from what I can see. I'll be the first to admit that the Tok'ra can be a little shortsighted, but they would have noticed something like this."

"So, what," O'Neill asked. "You think they just popped in for a picnic and a look at the Stargate?"

"It's possible." Carter swiveled in her seat to address both officers. "Sirs, their set-up doesn't look long- term, but the equipment looks like a monitoring station. Selmak and Dad were there not too long ago secreting the Teltac. If these people picked up some kind of energy readings from the Gate as they were passing by---"

Hammond nodded, finishing the thought for her, "They might very well have stopped to investigate."

The camera- angle changed again, following the movement of the man who appeared to be the leader of the group on P9J-332 as he intercepted a small dark-haired woman marching determinedly toward the MALP.

O'Neill grinned, watching the activity on the monitor. He couldn't understand the heated exchange between the two, but he certainly recognized the tones and body language. "Y'know, Carter, I think you're right. That has got to be a scientist."

******

P9J-332:

"Here ya go, Starbuck."

Starbuck and Pallas turned as Sergeant Jolley puffed up next to them cradling a device in his large hands.

"Thanks, Jolley. Now would you please escort Dr. Pallas back to cover and see that she remains there?" he asked with a belligerent glare at the scientist.

Stifling a grin behind his bushy mustache, Jolley extended a hand to Pallas. The friction between the lieutenant and the physicist had been a source of amusement for the warriors since their arrival. "After you, doc."

Pallas huffed and allowed herself to be guided back to her monitoring equipment. She settled down next to Torrin. "If that --- warrior--- thinks I am going to sit quietly out of the way for the rest of this mission, he has got another think coming."

Torrin and Jolley exchanged a bland look.

Starbuck aimed the microphone of the languatron at the MALP and waited for the next attempt at communication. Hopefully whatever language the man on the other end of the transmission was speaking was either already on file within the tiny computer, something that was becoming less common the further the Fleet traveled from the colonies, or the new "intuitive software" Dr. Wilker's boys had put together would be able to record and make some sense of what was being said. The small device had its draw- backs and communication would likely be spotty at first, but it was all they had at the moment.

"C'mon, say something, will ya?" he muttered and the languatron beeped in protest. He rolled his eyes and punched in the reset code.

******

Cheyenne Mountain:

O'Neill straightened and turned to address his superior. "General, we don't have time to wait any longer. Jacob Carter is due to come walking out of that Gate in less than an hour. I think it would be best if some of our people were there to meet him. Requesting permission to take SG-1 and Captain Bryant, here," he waved toward the man entering the room as he spoke, "and try to come to an understanding with the folks on P9J-332."

Hammond nodded. "What about SG units 2 and 5, Colonel?"

"Have them stand by, sir. The fewer the better for right now."

Bryant stepped forward. "For what it's worth, sir, I agree. Those guys seem jumpy enough without adding that lot to the mix." He gestured towards the marines in the Gateroom below. "If we come running out of the Gate in a large, heavily armed group they're liable to think they're under attack."

"Very well. Captain, be ready to leave ASAP. Colonel, you have a go."

Carter turned her attention to the MALP technician next to her. "OK, let's move this thing away from the Gate." She spoke slowly and clearly into the microphone, "This is Major Samantha Carter of the SGC. Please do not be alarmed. We are sending a team through to your location. Again, please do not be alarmed."

******

P9J-332:

Starbuck rose when the drone began to move slowly forward. As it began a slow pivot to the right, a woman's voice emerged from the speaker. The languatron beeped and chirped happily, trying to record and process as much of the short announcement as possible. The result was a garbled mess, as he had expected. It would take more than such a short sample for the computer to even begin to be able to translate for them. The drone rolled away from the stone circle and he followed it until it came to a stop next to the smaller stone structure in the clearing.

"Lieutenant, you might want to step away from there," Pallas called. "We're getting more fluctuations in the wormhole itself. I think they're sending something else through."

He backed away toward the monitoring station, calling out to the warriors surrounding the Gate, "Alright, fellas, get ready. We're about to have another visitor."

"Visitors, actually. I'm getting indications of four distinct objects." Pallas commented. "As I was trying to tell you earlier, Lieutenant, the readings we got when that probe came through are almost identical to those found in Lt. Bojay's sensor logs. The only difference is the absence of life- form readings."

"Frak."

The surface of the wormhole fluctuated again and one by one four figures emerged.

*****

Garawon:

Dren'ac strode into the throne room and bowed deeply, waiting patiently for recognition from the god.

Osiris allowed him to wait. He inspected the reflection of Sarah Gardener's delicate features---his features now---in the polished bronze surface of one of the many plaques decorating the walls of his chamber. They were the features of a queen. Isis would be pleased when she could call them her own.

His attention focussed on the figures engraved on the plaque, hand-forged by the slaves who had once inhabited this world. His own figure loomed large, towering over the figures of Jaffa and slaves. Under his sandal-clad foot, the body of a vanquished enemy squirmed. Hieroglyphs filled in the background, recounting the subjugation of an enemy of Osiris---it hardly mattered which one. Any individuality they might have claimed was immaterial. They were the Enemy, and then they were no more.

Osiris turned gracefully.

"What have you to report, Dren'ac?"

"My lord, the transmitter placed on the Tok'ra agent continues to record his movements. He had traveled through the Chappa'ai three times since leaving this place, the last to a world known to be infested with others of his kind. Shall I prepare your Jaffa?"

"No. I have no interest in the Tok'ra's world at this time. He will travel again. When he does, there we will strike."

Dren'ac bowed. "Yes, my lord."

Osiris turned away and ran a slender manicured hand over the surface of one of the plaques.

"Has my lord need of anything else?"

Osiris smiled softly. "Yes. A bronze- smith."

TBC