Chapter 11
A/N: A longer chapter this time.^-^ Back with Sam and Jack again!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Hebrak? Joatl meiqa?"
As the stone door rumbled open, the tanned man behind emitted a cry of surprise and alarm as he saw the blonde woman sitting on the floor. Both he and his skin-clad companion levelled their bronze-edged spears at her, and one began to stride forward, drawing a primitive knife from his belt, his face twisted in a scowl.
Jack struck. In an explosive movement he flung himself round, using the penknife as a club and hammering a sharp blow to the man's temple. As he folded silently over, Jack whirled round, delivering an adrenalin-fueled kick to the other man's stomach, but not before his opponent had knocked his hand back with a vicious thrust of his spear.
Jack stifled his yell and hooked a foot behind the man's knees, grabbing the spear shaft and pulling it forward, the combination causing the man to double over. He stamped heavily on the man's neck, forcing him to the floor, and retrieving the heavy spear as it began to fall. Knocking the guy out with the spear shaft, he spun around once more to check for more enemies. In the ensuing silence, the only sound was his harsh breathing, and he staggered suddenly to lean against the wall.
Sam had swiftly picked up the first spear as it clattered to the floor, and she struggled to her feet, using it as a prop.
"Sir?" she limped forward as he began to slide gently down against the wall. At her voice his eyes snapped open, and he straightened up.
"Yo," he replied with a skewed grin, standing forward with the stave hanging loosely in his left hand. Ignoring the screaming pain, he smiled again and peered out of the doorway. Stepping carefully over the prone man in the doorway, he looked up the torchlit corridor.
"Crap!" he hissed, jumping back suddenly as three arrows clattered and skidded across the floor. Stumbling over the man behind him, he ended up falling heavily to the floor.
Sam narrowed her eyes and limped forward. But by then there were more irate voices, running feet, and hard-eyed soldiers came pounding up. She took up a stance with her own anger becoming cold, and as Jack struggled to his feet behind her with choice oaths sputtering a soldier grabbed for her weapon. Flicking it inexpertly around to smack against his arm, her burnt right hand slipped off with treacherous grasp. Another of the reinforcements twisted the spear away with a round movement of his own, and the original man, a bruise darkening his arm in an angry line, hissed something at her and seized her flailing wrist.
At the rough grasp she stumbled forward, her face white and an involuntary gasp of pain escaping her. She was held then by two others, and the annoyed one clamped a hand across her mouth. Another three hauled a wincing Jack to his feet, his hands twisted cruelly behind him.
"Hey, leave off of her, can't you see she's hurt?" he demanded, angrily struggling between his captors. Another man came stalking up the sandy passageway. He snapped something at them. Jack gave him a blank look.
"Try again, non comprendy," he said with a bitter stare.
"Stay where you are, or you will die." repeated the man in guttural English, leaning forward with a venomous glance. Out of the corner of his eye Jack could see the Major's pleading look. He shrugged.
"You're the man with the weapon, I guess you make the rules," he replied off-handedly, but inwardly seething. Then he was roughly pushed forward into a march, a round-eyed soldier collecting their pile of inventory and then scurrying to catch up with the column as they proceeded outwards.
~~~
As their footsteps echoed into the distance, the small room became silent again, the door grinding down to leave the place in its semi-darkness, the small skylight filtering dusty light into the heavy solitude. Almost apologetically, the machine coughed into light, and a tiny square of purple, twisting ribbons of light sprang up. An alien metal box clattered across the room as it was spat out, and the machine subsided into quiet once more.
~~~
One forced march later, or in Sam's case, half-drag, the two members of SG- 1 were brought blinking out of the ruins of an ancient pyramid into the humid jungle trails beyond. The sun filtered damply through the steaming trees, and the forest was alive with sounds. They set of down the muddy well-trodden path, passing a small hut by the boundaries of the ruinous pyramid.
Sam had tried to communicate a little with their guards, who looked a little like Amazon Indians; however, any attempt to speak was silenced with a contemptuous slap, and so Jack marched on in fuming silence. It was not far before they reached another pyramid, but this one was of grey stone, carved into high steps all the way up, and considerably less ruined. Some sort of open square with primitive buldings was huddled in its shadow, and people were moving normally about; at their approach, every head snapped in their direction, examining critically the strangely-garbed prisoners.
Eventually a man with a green semi-cloak of iridescent feathers, far grander than the scant furs and skins worn by the others, came forward, and held a brief conversation in the foreign tongue with the hard-eyed leader. The green-robed man gestured towards the large stone construction at the base of the step pyramid, running a cold glance over the bruised Jack and lingering on pale Sam. He then turned on his heel and the patrol followed him to the building. The two prisoners were dumped unceremoniously in the warm interior.
"How are you feeling?" Jack asked under his breath, looking sideways at Carter whose head was hanging limply forward as she slumped on the floor. She lifted her eyes enough to give him a sarcastic stare.
"Fine, under the circumstances," she gritted between her teeth.
"Looks like we've met the traditional Head Doodah here," continued Jack conversationally as he watched their guard leader make deep obeisance to the arrogant character on the raised dais. "We just gotta hope he's not Goa'uld, like that pyramid."
"I'm hoping not, sir."
Just then they were both hauled to their feet by uncaring hands, and dragged forward. Sam stood defiantly straight on her swollen knee, the Colonel's jacket starting to slip down during the march. Jack stepped forward slightly.
"Okay, you've captured us. Congratulations, hang out the flags. Don't actually appreciate it, myself, so how'd you say to letting us out of here? Friends, and all that?" he said, gesturing appeal with raised eyebrows.
The green-robed man snapped something that could have been English at him, and the Colonel favoured him with another blank stare.
"Either that was a command to shut up, or you're offering us free coffee," said Jack innocently. Sam smiled inwardly but kept her face impassive as Green Robe rolled his eyes and strode forward.
"Silence, prisoners!" he said, this time in the guttural-sounding English, looking red-faced.
"Ah, I was right the first time."
"Silence!" yelled Green Robe, his face turning even more crimson.
The man on the throne of polished and adorned wood leaned forward, and pointed imperiously at Sam.
"Dak minar otl." Straining their ears, neither of the prisoners could pick up the characteristic Goa'uld accents. Jack grinned slightly with relief.
A guard paced forward and impersonally grabbed Sam's shoulder to make her turn on the spot. She stumbled, and would have fallen, but was pulled upright again. She fixed angry blue eyes on the Head Man. The latter leant back again with a cat-like smile, and waved an idle hand.
"Zamt ikot Chehak gemo. At – keto tras imqalto."
Green Robe bowed deeply again and walked over to the glaring Sam. He turned his head to the side to look at her knee, then pulled her resisting right hand forward, turning it over in a business-like manner. Sam blanched, but said nothing, and Jack turned back towards them.
"Hey, be careful there," he said again roughly.
Ignoring him Green Robe also smiled satisfactorily.
"Chehak."
"Chehak? What does that mean?" asked Jack, more irately.
Two guards stepped either side of Sam and took her shoulders, starting to march her away. Jack started to follow.
"What the hell is Chehak?" he demanded, shaking off the restraining hand. Green Robe glanced at him, and his smile became feral.
"The rite of Chehak," he replied, slurring the English and pointing to the central mural on the wall beside him.
"What the – oh no. No, no, not to one of my team, buster. Carter! Hey, Carter!" Jack almost shouted, his eyes filling with rage. As his aching shoulder was grabbed he turned round and with brute instinct punched the man in the face. As he reeled off, Jack was immediately set upon by several more.
"Colonel, stop, don't worry about me," Sam called out painfully as she saw him fall in a flurry of kicks and blows, still fighting blindly. Then the guards dragged her around the corner, and out of sight.
~~
Between them two battered soldiers hauled upright the unconscious and bleeding form of O'Neill. They turned a questioning gaze on the Head Man, who laughed lightly and rattled off an order. As the Colonel too was taken away, the court settled down to it's normal low hum of order.
Beside them, torchlight flickered across the muraled wall. Shadows danced across the engraved form of a female figure, bent backwards over an altar filled with fire.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: A longer chapter this time.^-^ Back with Sam and Jack again!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Hebrak? Joatl meiqa?"
As the stone door rumbled open, the tanned man behind emitted a cry of surprise and alarm as he saw the blonde woman sitting on the floor. Both he and his skin-clad companion levelled their bronze-edged spears at her, and one began to stride forward, drawing a primitive knife from his belt, his face twisted in a scowl.
Jack struck. In an explosive movement he flung himself round, using the penknife as a club and hammering a sharp blow to the man's temple. As he folded silently over, Jack whirled round, delivering an adrenalin-fueled kick to the other man's stomach, but not before his opponent had knocked his hand back with a vicious thrust of his spear.
Jack stifled his yell and hooked a foot behind the man's knees, grabbing the spear shaft and pulling it forward, the combination causing the man to double over. He stamped heavily on the man's neck, forcing him to the floor, and retrieving the heavy spear as it began to fall. Knocking the guy out with the spear shaft, he spun around once more to check for more enemies. In the ensuing silence, the only sound was his harsh breathing, and he staggered suddenly to lean against the wall.
Sam had swiftly picked up the first spear as it clattered to the floor, and she struggled to her feet, using it as a prop.
"Sir?" she limped forward as he began to slide gently down against the wall. At her voice his eyes snapped open, and he straightened up.
"Yo," he replied with a skewed grin, standing forward with the stave hanging loosely in his left hand. Ignoring the screaming pain, he smiled again and peered out of the doorway. Stepping carefully over the prone man in the doorway, he looked up the torchlit corridor.
"Crap!" he hissed, jumping back suddenly as three arrows clattered and skidded across the floor. Stumbling over the man behind him, he ended up falling heavily to the floor.
Sam narrowed her eyes and limped forward. But by then there were more irate voices, running feet, and hard-eyed soldiers came pounding up. She took up a stance with her own anger becoming cold, and as Jack struggled to his feet behind her with choice oaths sputtering a soldier grabbed for her weapon. Flicking it inexpertly around to smack against his arm, her burnt right hand slipped off with treacherous grasp. Another of the reinforcements twisted the spear away with a round movement of his own, and the original man, a bruise darkening his arm in an angry line, hissed something at her and seized her flailing wrist.
At the rough grasp she stumbled forward, her face white and an involuntary gasp of pain escaping her. She was held then by two others, and the annoyed one clamped a hand across her mouth. Another three hauled a wincing Jack to his feet, his hands twisted cruelly behind him.
"Hey, leave off of her, can't you see she's hurt?" he demanded, angrily struggling between his captors. Another man came stalking up the sandy passageway. He snapped something at them. Jack gave him a blank look.
"Try again, non comprendy," he said with a bitter stare.
"Stay where you are, or you will die." repeated the man in guttural English, leaning forward with a venomous glance. Out of the corner of his eye Jack could see the Major's pleading look. He shrugged.
"You're the man with the weapon, I guess you make the rules," he replied off-handedly, but inwardly seething. Then he was roughly pushed forward into a march, a round-eyed soldier collecting their pile of inventory and then scurrying to catch up with the column as they proceeded outwards.
~~~
As their footsteps echoed into the distance, the small room became silent again, the door grinding down to leave the place in its semi-darkness, the small skylight filtering dusty light into the heavy solitude. Almost apologetically, the machine coughed into light, and a tiny square of purple, twisting ribbons of light sprang up. An alien metal box clattered across the room as it was spat out, and the machine subsided into quiet once more.
~~~
One forced march later, or in Sam's case, half-drag, the two members of SG- 1 were brought blinking out of the ruins of an ancient pyramid into the humid jungle trails beyond. The sun filtered damply through the steaming trees, and the forest was alive with sounds. They set of down the muddy well-trodden path, passing a small hut by the boundaries of the ruinous pyramid.
Sam had tried to communicate a little with their guards, who looked a little like Amazon Indians; however, any attempt to speak was silenced with a contemptuous slap, and so Jack marched on in fuming silence. It was not far before they reached another pyramid, but this one was of grey stone, carved into high steps all the way up, and considerably less ruined. Some sort of open square with primitive buldings was huddled in its shadow, and people were moving normally about; at their approach, every head snapped in their direction, examining critically the strangely-garbed prisoners.
Eventually a man with a green semi-cloak of iridescent feathers, far grander than the scant furs and skins worn by the others, came forward, and held a brief conversation in the foreign tongue with the hard-eyed leader. The green-robed man gestured towards the large stone construction at the base of the step pyramid, running a cold glance over the bruised Jack and lingering on pale Sam. He then turned on his heel and the patrol followed him to the building. The two prisoners were dumped unceremoniously in the warm interior.
"How are you feeling?" Jack asked under his breath, looking sideways at Carter whose head was hanging limply forward as she slumped on the floor. She lifted her eyes enough to give him a sarcastic stare.
"Fine, under the circumstances," she gritted between her teeth.
"Looks like we've met the traditional Head Doodah here," continued Jack conversationally as he watched their guard leader make deep obeisance to the arrogant character on the raised dais. "We just gotta hope he's not Goa'uld, like that pyramid."
"I'm hoping not, sir."
Just then they were both hauled to their feet by uncaring hands, and dragged forward. Sam stood defiantly straight on her swollen knee, the Colonel's jacket starting to slip down during the march. Jack stepped forward slightly.
"Okay, you've captured us. Congratulations, hang out the flags. Don't actually appreciate it, myself, so how'd you say to letting us out of here? Friends, and all that?" he said, gesturing appeal with raised eyebrows.
The green-robed man snapped something that could have been English at him, and the Colonel favoured him with another blank stare.
"Either that was a command to shut up, or you're offering us free coffee," said Jack innocently. Sam smiled inwardly but kept her face impassive as Green Robe rolled his eyes and strode forward.
"Silence, prisoners!" he said, this time in the guttural-sounding English, looking red-faced.
"Ah, I was right the first time."
"Silence!" yelled Green Robe, his face turning even more crimson.
The man on the throne of polished and adorned wood leaned forward, and pointed imperiously at Sam.
"Dak minar otl." Straining their ears, neither of the prisoners could pick up the characteristic Goa'uld accents. Jack grinned slightly with relief.
A guard paced forward and impersonally grabbed Sam's shoulder to make her turn on the spot. She stumbled, and would have fallen, but was pulled upright again. She fixed angry blue eyes on the Head Man. The latter leant back again with a cat-like smile, and waved an idle hand.
"Zamt ikot Chehak gemo. At – keto tras imqalto."
Green Robe bowed deeply again and walked over to the glaring Sam. He turned his head to the side to look at her knee, then pulled her resisting right hand forward, turning it over in a business-like manner. Sam blanched, but said nothing, and Jack turned back towards them.
"Hey, be careful there," he said again roughly.
Ignoring him Green Robe also smiled satisfactorily.
"Chehak."
"Chehak? What does that mean?" asked Jack, more irately.
Two guards stepped either side of Sam and took her shoulders, starting to march her away. Jack started to follow.
"What the hell is Chehak?" he demanded, shaking off the restraining hand. Green Robe glanced at him, and his smile became feral.
"The rite of Chehak," he replied, slurring the English and pointing to the central mural on the wall beside him.
"What the – oh no. No, no, not to one of my team, buster. Carter! Hey, Carter!" Jack almost shouted, his eyes filling with rage. As his aching shoulder was grabbed he turned round and with brute instinct punched the man in the face. As he reeled off, Jack was immediately set upon by several more.
"Colonel, stop, don't worry about me," Sam called out painfully as she saw him fall in a flurry of kicks and blows, still fighting blindly. Then the guards dragged her around the corner, and out of sight.
~~
Between them two battered soldiers hauled upright the unconscious and bleeding form of O'Neill. They turned a questioning gaze on the Head Man, who laughed lightly and rattled off an order. As the Colonel too was taken away, the court settled down to it's normal low hum of order.
Beside them, torchlight flickered across the muraled wall. Shadows danced across the engraved form of a female figure, bent backwards over an altar filled with fire.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~