He took a step back towards her... and her fingers tightened around the sharp-edged rock.
"Carter...I'm sorry," and his anguish was palpable.
And then he bolted.
Right past her and into the woods.
In seconds he was gone.
CH 4: DISCOVERIES
- - -
The clearing was quiet again.
She was alone.
She stared at the section of trees where he'd disappeared.
Nothing. No movement.
Just dappled shadows, swaying branches and quiet.
She was alone.
- - -
- - -
Several minutes passed while she waited expectantly.
For what she didn't know.
Maybe, just for... 'the other shoe to drop' (and if it wasn't too small, she'd put that shoe on!)
Maybe for explanations.
Now... there was an idea!
But she wasn't holding her breath for that!
She had a queasy feeling that the explanations were not going to be delivered.
She was going to have to go and get them.
Finally deciding that she couldn't sit there forever, she decided to see if she could find any useful food or medical supplies in the stacks around her. And some socks and shoes!
Using the crate for support, she levered herself back up and onto her abused feet. Turning her attention to the stacks around her she picked out a few that looked promising and set about exploring their contents.
Ten minutes later she was cleaning and bandaging her feet. She'd found a very complete set of medical supplies in one of the boxes. Enough supplies to last either a long time or for a small skirmish. What were they for? What was their owner's purpose?
With her feet properly cleaned up, topical antibiotics applied and generous bandaging wrapped around it all, she turned back to a more methodical and careful search through the crates and boxes.
She found food. Lots of it. MRE's. Trail bars. Protein packets. Dried fruit.
Freeze-dried and canned. One package of juice boxes!
She was famished. She hadn't eaten since... sigh... since lunch at the Alpha Site. Countless hours ago. Countless? She checked her watch. Not countless. Thirty hours ago. Thirty hours since that lunch. With no immediate other obvious choices, she opted for a trail bar and a juice box for now.
Afterwards, keeping an eye out for the return of her CO, or for any other inhabitants or occupants of this world, she continued her explorations.
A half-hour passed, during which she found two-man-tents, P90s, handguns, K-bars (knives), radios, utility vests and packs, as well as spare batteries, grenades, C-4 and various types of ammunition for the guns. All of the things that they normally kitted out with on typical SGC offworld missions. She pulled out a complement of equipment for herself.
And then she spied her socks and boots. Over behind one of the loose duffles on the ground. Her socks and boots. The ones that she'd been wearing at the Alpha Site.
She carefully pulled her socks and boots over her bandaged feet. With the security of boots on her feet, she was much more mobile around the piles of supplies.
She scanned the clearing again.
Still no movement.
No unusual noises.
He hadn't returned.
She wondered how much daylight was left. She thought that it was now the local equivalent of afternoon, but she couldn't be sure. Not without knowing more about this planet's daily cycle.
Scanning the area one more time, she turned back to what she'd uncovered.
Making a decision, she set to gearing up. Ten minutes later she was fully kitted out with her P90 ready and 'his' stashed in her quickly assembled pack. She didn't know if the situation would warrant giving it to him... or having to use it to keep him away.
The rest of her pack was filled with medical supplies, another radio and batteries, some food and a little emergency equipment. Her utility vest was fully kitted-out with her radio, a few grenades, some C4, etc. A fully loaded pistol hung from her belt and a zat rested in a thigh holster.
Finally set, she eyed the trees where he'd disappeared a few hours before. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped quietly after him.
- - -
- - -
Following him turned out to be fairly easy. He'd left the clearing along a path apparently created when the loaded jitneys and crates had been carted into their clearing. Her tracking skills were nowhere near those of Teal'c or O'Neill, but she could see several sets of footprints, some headed to the clearing and some headed away.
All of the prints were similar in shape and style to those left by her own combat boots. And... all of the prints appeared to be the same size... so she couldn't tell how many different individuals had walked here before her. It might have been only one. Perhaps, it was only him.
Forty-five minutes later of slow, cautious walking and creeping... and she saw it.
The Stargate.
And she saw him.
Sitting on the steps with his head in his hands.
He wasn't moving and he showed no awareness of her presence.
A wide board of some sort lay across the middle section of the steps leading up to the gate. Most likely to create a ramp for the supply-laden jitneys. Of which she saw two more at the base of the steps and slightly off to the side. Two more jitneys – piled high with boxes, crates and duffles.
She stood at the edge of the copse of trees surrounding the 'Gate.
Taking in the configuration before her.
Noting the places where someone might be hidden.
Or from where someone might launch an ambush.
She waited and watched quietly.
No one approached the silent figure sitting on the stone steps.
Just as back in the clearing, there was no evidence of other intelligent life.
No sign of alien hostiles.
No sign of Goa'uld or their Jaffa.
Just one man. Sitting motionless on the steps before the Gate.
Her eyes came back to the DHD.
Every time she scanned the area, her eyes came back to that DHD.
Because it looked... destroyed.
At least from where she was standing.
She'd need a closer look for confirmation.
But she was pretty sure what the closer look would reveal.
She slowly knelt down and waited.
And watched.
Fifteen minutes passed.
No one entered or left the area around the 'Gate.
The lone figure on the steps occasionally shifted position slightly, but that was the extent of any movement in the area.
Deciding it was time to move, she slowly stood up and cautiously walked forward. Her P90 pointed down, but still ready in her hands.
When she was within 50 yards of him, she stopped and waited again.
He offered no sign that he knew that she was there.
Gripping her gun, she called out in what she hoped was a non-threatening tone, "General O'Neill?"
His head came up and he looked at her.
With no expression.
Or... was it more like an absence of hope?
Despair?
"General?" she tried again.
Still no response.
Cautiously she made her way over to the DHD, keeping her eyes on him the entire time.
He watched her listlessly.
And there it was.
Definitely non-functional.
Destroyed.
Splintered, smashed and broken.
Crouching down, she inspected one of many small holes...suspiciously like ... they looked like... bullet holes... Very few worlds other than Earth used basic bullets.
She closed her eyes at a feeling of desolation.
They were stranded.
Unless someone knew where they were, and had the capabilities of arriving in a ship... then they were stranded.
She looked back over at him.
He hadn't moved, but he was watching her.
"I'm sorry," he dejectedly repeated what he'd said before bolting from the clearing.
She didn't know what to say.
Or exactly what to do next.
Looking back down at the bullet-splattered mess of technology that was once their way home, she looked around for any sign of the weapon that could have caused this damage. But she could see no P90 or other automatic weapon other than her own.
And she definitely would have heard such a weapon if it had been fired in the last couple of hours. It had taken her 45 careful minutes to get here, but the clearing where they'd woken up was actually only a 10-15-minute walk at a normal pace. With the lack of intervening mountains or hills, the reports and echoes of the gun that caused this damage should have been clearly heard back at the clearing.
But the damage looked fresh. Freshly splintered. Freshly broken. Not worn by time. Not oxidized. The fragments were not dulled or buried under dirt of leaves.
With no further information immediately forthcoming, she looked back at the man on the steps. He still hadn't moved, but he was watching her a little more attentively now.
She slowly walked over to stand at the base of the steps – on the opposite end to where he was sitting. Cautiously climbing up a few steps, she slowly sat down on the same step that he was on. Just on the other end. So that there was still 15 or so feet between them.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again.
- - -
- - -
TBC