CHAPTER SIX
Planet
PJ3-176,
Milky Way
Galaxy.
"So why did that Ori monk have a Goa'uld personal protective shield?" Lt Colonel Mitchell asked at last. They were a very long way from the position where they had fought and killed the enemy figure who had appeared as if from nowhere, and were resting up beside a little fresh-water creek. Cam was pouring ice-cold water fresh from the creek over Daniel Jackson's face from his canteen - the archaeologist was slowly coming around from being knocked unconscious during the firefight. Daniel was lying spread out on his back beside the creek, while Cam and the two Jaffa, Teal'c and Artan, moved around the place, each one on constant lookout for any sign of potential danger.
"Indeed, I was contemplating that very question Colonel Mitchell," Teal'c replied with a puzzled frown. He leaned back on the heels of his feet and stared up into the sky above in reflective silence. Finally, he spoke, "The only possible explanation is that the Ori have turned some of the senior-most leadership of the Goa'uld on this world, and they are helping the Prior and his followers in their rebellion against Tel'mar."
Cam looked over at Daniel, who was slowly beginning to roll over onto his side and push himself up into a sitting position. He shook his head from side to side, then rubbed his eyes and glanced cautiously around at his new surroundings. "Arrggh, my head really hurts... God, what happened? What did I miss?"
"A heck of a fight, huh Jackson?" Lt Colonel Mitchell asked with off-handed humor, though he was greatly relieved on the inside that Daniel was alright and getting back to himself again. "We had to take turns carrying your sorry butt across miles of this blasted planet. But, you're welcome... glad to have you back."
After giving Dr Jackson a hearty pat on the back, Cameron Mitchell turned sharply to look back at Artan, the one member of their new makeshift team that knew more about this current conflict with the followers of Origin here on this world than any of them did. "Artan, are there any Goa'uld helping this Prior that we have to deal with? Why weren't we told about this going in?"
"Denamor didn't believe that it was vital to tell you of this," Artan replied after a long moment, "and he swore me to utter secrecy. We don't exactly know how many of the Goa'uld of Tel'mar's aristocracy have turned from their god and embraced the Ori - it is hard to say who defected and who were killed in the bitter fighting. But we do know that, yes, some of the high caste of this world betrayed their Lord and have taken up the struggle of our enemies."
Cam cringed and Daniel, who had only caught some of the conversation after emerging from his unconscious stupor, had understood enough to be pretty concerned as well. This might very well turn their already bad situation into something much worse. Teal'c, ever the stoic warrior of fame and begrudging respect across the galaxy, gave away little sign of outward emotion.
"Okay, well let's put that behind us," Daniel said slowly, still trying to shake the last of the cobwebs from out of his head. He rubbed the back of his skull ruefully, feeling the swelling lump of an egg-shaped bruise coming up already. Damn this. "What else is there that Denamor, in his wisdom, decided to leave out about the Ori forces?"
"Nothing, Colonel Mitchell... at least, nothing I know about," the Jaffa replied meekly. Then he sighed, and looked around at the nearby trees and shrubbery. "They will be expecting me to report in any moment now. What do I tell Denamor and the others back at the fortress?"
The three members of SG-1 looked across at each other. They each knew in their hearts that they had little choice.
"Tell Denamor we'll proceed ahead as planned," Cameron replied softly. "He'll have his damn victory, once we're through."
# SG1 #
Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter had been captured before by the Goa'uld, and had the unfortunate experience of torture and imprisonment at the hands of those insidious alien symbiotes. But this Lord, Tel'mar, seemed far less vicious and uncompromising - he almost seemed warm, friendly, and amicable to her requests.
She wasn't quite sure how long it was since the other members of SG-1 had left and she had been alone in her cell, but at last people had come to collect Sam and take her from the dungeon. There were two of them, and they were armed with zat-guns which they wore on their belts - but they were a couple of attractive young women, and they wore their dark hair long; one of them, the lady to the left, wore her dark brown hair down around her shoulders, the other wore her black hair down longer still to near the middle of her back.
When the first woman spoke at last, she had the low, deep timbre of a Goa'uld, and Sam knew instantly that the other girl by her side was of the same kin also. "You have been invited to dine with Lord Tel'mar this evening, as his honored guest. We will take you now to the quarters he has had prepared for you for the duration of your stay. My name is Kiana, and my companion is Lyan. We will be your guardians around the fortress. You are welcome to move around any part of the compound and the fortifications that you wish except for Tel'mar's private wing, but we will be required to accompany you at all times."
Kiana was the brunette; her Goa'uld cohort, the raven-haired beauty, was Lyan. Sam Carter smiled and nodded her thanks. It was good enough to be out of her cell. She was up and about, and was able to travel about the place, though with the limitations imposed on her and the two Goa'uld 'shadows'. Not too bad... and, if the opportunity presented itself, Sam was quite prepared to act against these two female warders.
The room they led her to was up near the top of the southwestern tower battlements, and was decorated in such opulent splendour that it took the fighting astrophysicist's breath away. Satin-silk bedspreads, exquisite tapestries, paintings of incredible splendour, as well as gold and jewel-encrusted ornamentation - the private bed-chamber Sam Carter was ushered into was truly an elaborate display of wealth and power.
The Colonel was revolted that this was all nothing more than the trinkets of a Goa'uld Lord happily oppressing an entire planet's population, for nothing more than his own personal desire for domination and conquest... and yet, she could not help but find a part of herself swept up in the sheer majesty of the room.
"We will be outside if you need us, Samantha Carter. Please, make yourself at home," Kiana said, bowing her head slightly and turning on her feet to stride purposefully out of the room. Lyan bowed as well, but not as low as her companion, and there was a sense of flashing hostility that passed for a moment across her eyes that Carter noted with concern. Then she too left the room, closing the door to the chamber shut behind her.
This left Lt. Colonel Samantha Carter alone in the large, wide-open room; left to ponder her next course of action. And it also gave her some time to reflect with concern upon the fate of the rest of her team, SG-1. They were out there somewhere, no doubt right in the thick of the danger, risking their lives in order to secure her freedom and their escape from this world.
Sam knew that there was little she could do to help them, but she did know there was an opportunity here to do some good... if only she could seize the moment, when it came.
# SG1 #
The
outskirts of Sector 279, onboard the USS Odyssey,
the Milky
Way Galaxy.
Colonel Paul Emerson sat back in his large, comfortable leather chair, in the centre of the bridge's control deck onboard the second Daedalus-class battle-cruiser, the USS Odyssey. The commander of an interstellar space-craft... it was something so far-fetched to the 43-year-old seasoned military man that he found himself wondering if this was some sort of elaborate, incredible dream. Everything just seemed too unbelievable to be real.
But this was reality, and Emerson was responsible for over a hundred men and women who looked to him for leadership, guidance and expertise. He had to show them that this was his ship, that he was ready for the responsibily of command, and that this was not nearly as overwhelming as it truly was deep down inside.
"Sir, I'm picking up a priority message from Stargate Command," Major Marks, the Odyssey's communications officer and former crew-member of the ill-fated predecessor to the Daedalus-type vessels, the Prometheus, said with smooth, clipped precision.
"Patch it through, Major," Paul replied, standing up and stepping down from his podium near the centre of the bridge, to stride straight over to the impressive, heavily reinforced viewscreen that looked out into the vast espanse of space ahead of their ship. He stood there looking out into the wide spread of glittering stars and black oblivion, waiting for the Major to patch the communications from Earth through their own speaker system on the bridge.
Thanks to a deep-space communications bouy floating somewhere out in space, far back in their wake almost a hundred thousand miles behind them, the Odyssey was able to establish a near-instantaneous audio linkup with Earth.
"Colonel Emerson, this is General Landry here at the SGC," a loud, commanding voice said over the slightly crackling comms-link. Even without the introduction, Paul Emerson would have recognized the distinct voice of the new head of Stargate Command. Hank Landry was one superior officer Paul would not soon forget – a tough enough bastard to deal with, but one you wanted watching your back in a tight situation. "I think we have a situation here that will require your assistance."
"How can we help, General?" the Colonel replied without hesitation. This wasn't just a run-of-the-mill check-in – it was unscheduled, and difficult enough to establish as things were.
Although they had already just completed a scouting mission on the Lucian Alliance, Paul's people were still capable of performing their duties to the exacting standards their service expected from them. If General Landry needed them to help resolve a crisis somewhere out in the depths of space, then the crew of the Odyssey would rise up to meet this new challenge.
It took Hank Landry only a couple of minutes to fill Emerson in on all the information the SGC had on the situation on the planet PJ3-176, but just as the General did, Paul came to the conclusion that something was not right with SG-1 on this world. Cam was obviously in no position to tell them the real truth of the situation, so Emerson and the rest of his people would have to proceed onwards with extreme caution.
"Look Paul, be careful out there, alright? No unnecessary risks." Landry's tough, gravelly voice softened somewhat, as he continued, "Just get our people out of there safely, and bring everyone back home alive."
"Yes sir!" the US Air Force commander said with rigid determination. "By our estimates-" Emerson was handed a clipboard of stats information from one of his officers, on which all the relevant information was displayed "-we should come out of hyperspace above the planet inside of eight hours. We should hopefully have SG-1 located and extracted inside of twenty-four hours. If we encounter anything unexpected, or have not located the team by this deadline, we will try to contact you again. When we do find them and bring them aboard, we'll make sure to pass this along as well, as soon as we can."
"Thank-you, Colonel," Landry said at last. "And good luck!"
