Sam changed into the guard outfit before going into the back door of the cafeteria, grabbing bread, a protein spread, and two bottles of water. She took the tablet and radio with her, hoping she would be able to tap into the radio signals around the death camp, maybe even signals from the Hammond. She couldn't risk not being at the camp when her crew arrived so she left, even though it was dark, and the terrain was unknown to her. It was a huge gamble, but she knew this was her best chance of escaping before she was noticed and deemed too old to reproduce.
Sam walked all night, hoping she was staying in a mostly straight line. Since she wasn't injured, she made better time than when she left the death camp. The smell was how she knew she was close. That stench hadn't left her nightmares. Sam stayed in the tree line waiting for dawn. Everything in the camp was quiet, deathly quiet. The irony didn't escape Sam.
Sam used the darkness to search for radio signals. She was getting nothing on the channels she had used at the work camp and looking for new signals was difficult with the tiny dial on the radio. She was finding promising static and making small adjustments but none of them provided her with a strong signal. Sam's neck stiffened as she worked to tap into any source of information. Finally, after almost two hours of searching Sam got a weak government signal but she could only make out part of what was being said and none of it seemed to apply to her.
As the sun rose Sam looked out over the rows of mass graves, line after line representing the tens of thousands killed annually. Millions of people were killed by a regime that held so little value for human life. When Sam saw people moving in the camp she went back into the trees, using them as cover as she got as close to the camp as possible. It was just as bleak as she remembered. The guards were more alert, because every once a while one of these women tried to escape. Believing you are a burden on society and should die is different when it turns out it's your death that is imminent. The camp conditions were also deplorable, since there's no reason to provide much care to those who are scheduled to die as soon as they dig their own grave, so women occasionally decide death by guard is better than starving and digging every day.
As the sun reached the mid-morning point Sam decided she couldn't keep waiting to be rescued. A few bursts of radio signals had confirmed there was a transmitter in the death camp and Sam decided she had to access it. As she approached the camp entrance, she noticed her guard uniform was a slightly different shade of grey than the others. Her gut clenched but she hoped she would still be able to blend well enough to not gain any unwanted attention. She held her breath as she walked past the two guards manning the front gate. Neither of them paid her any mind. Sam headed for the smallest building, one she was never in while a resident of the camp, because it sported a shiny antenna on top.
The weapons the guards here carried were all designed to be deadly. There was no point in carrying a non-lethal weapon at a death camp. Although Sam hated taking a life, she'd done it before and knew she was capable of doing it again to save her own life. She also knew if she killed one of the precious Assirian males her life was forfeit, putting her firmly between a rock and a hard place. As she walked down the hall, trying her best to look like she belonged, she kept reminding herself that if she was going to go home, she had to avoid killing anyone. She glanced in rooms as she passed them until she found the one housing a transmitter. She walked past it, counting two men inside. Stepping into an empty closet, she settled her nerves then headed back down the hall. This time, she walked in with her head held high, taking out the man closest to the door with an elbow to the nose. His grunt and the sound of his body hitting the floor alerted the other man, but he still wasn't fast enough to avoid Sam. She wrapped her arm around his throat, exerting only enough force to cause him to pass out but not kill him. Sam closed and locked the door, thanking her lucky stars nobody had heard the commotion. She tied both men up with an electrical cord from a lamp and used their socks to gag them, hoping they would both sleep for a while.
Sam sat at the console, looking over the dials while deciding where to start. She listened to a couple channels she hadn't been able to pick up out in the woods. She knew she'd never be able to tap into the Hammond's internal communications, those signals would be scrambled and Assirian equipment had no ability to detect them. Sam had hoped she would hear the Hammond contacting the Assirians but she hadn't picked anything up all morning and she was done waiting. Sam selected the government channel, assuming it was less scrambled than the military channels, and therefore being listened to by the Hammond.
Sam adjusted the knobs, released a long slow breath, and leaned towards the microphone. "This is Colonel Carter calling the Hammond. I am alive. I repeat, I am alive." Sam's hands were shaking. "This is Colonel Carter, and I am alive."
She waited on a response. She heard Assirian voices asking in confusion who was that and who was on this channel, but she didn't hear any voices she recognized. She gave it another minute before switching to a military channel.
"This is Colonel Carter calling the Hammond. I am alive. I repeat, I am alive. If you are on the Hammond and can hear me, please respond." The line was again filled with unfamiliar voices, but Sam waited. Footsteps outside the door interrupted her train of thought.
"In here."
Sam turned to the door as the handle rattled. Her message had been traced back to this camp faster than she'd expected. Sam stood so quickly her chair clattered to the floor. She grabbed the edge of the desk to her right and dragged it, putting it between her and the door. She knelt behind it, propping the gun she had liberated from the men in the room on the edge, pointing it towards the entrance. The door shook again. Sam tightened her grip on the weapon. She knew she was outnumbered. She had a choice; she could fight or surrender. She had little faith these mass murderers would safely turn her over to her crew. They had only promised the Hammond her body.
Sam aimed low, hoping to hit their legs as the door flew open. They aimed for her head. She ducked behind the desk as small pieces of wood were being blown off around her. Sam's deeply ingrained military training let her keep her head as bullets rained around her. When there was a small gap in their fire, Sam's head popped up and she got off a couple rounds, still aiming low. There were two men in the doorway reloading. Sam hit one before seeing blue electricity envelop them both. She kept her weapon aimed at the door as both men fell.
"Sam?" The familiar voice threw her for a loop. "Sam, we're coming in. Don't shoot, ok?" Jack kept his zat pointed at the floor as he quickly looked around before pulling his head back.
"Sam? We good?" Jack looked back into the room. Sam was still kneeling behind the desk in a firing position, but her finger was hovering above the trigger. He stepped into the room, signaling the men behind him to stay put.
"Hey there." Jack eyed her warily. Sam didn't budge but her eyes lifted towards his face. "Sam?" He didn't see any spark of recognition, dangerous while she was still holding a weapon. "Carter." That got her attention. Her eyes sharpened into focus.
"Sir." Her voice was firm but quiet.
"We're here to take you home." Jack holstered his zat, knowing the men behind him had his back and Sam was no longer a danger. He stretched his hand out towards her. "Ready to get the hell out of here?"
Sam slowly stood, holding her weapon down at her side. As she stepped towards Jack her legs wobbled. Jack grabbed her upper arm to give her some added support, but she pulled away. "Don't," she growled at him. She felt guilty about her response, but she wasn't ready for his compassion yet. She couldn't let herself falter until she was off this horrid planet.
Jack quickly let go. Unsure of what trauma she had survived and concerned he could trigger her, he held his hands up in front of him. "Ok."
Sam lifted her head and straightened her shoulders as she approached the hallway. Jack watched as she calmed herself by releasing a slow measured breath before stepping to where the other men could see her. He understood her need to project strength in front of her crew. He was a professional at squashing his own issues so the mission could carry on and she'd been watching him do it for over a decade.
