AN: Some casual racism in this one, as before, I'm trying to present the views of these people at the time, which I think is important for the organic characterisation I'm going with. In fact, a large part of this chapter is that sort of characterisation, so let me know how it goes. This is also part of the slow lengthening of the chapters, which I agree improves their quality, even if it does make them slower to write. For example, this scene is somewhat incomplete, but I thought it was a decent place to stop it till I found time to write some more.
They found the main camp about fifty kilometres away from where they'd left it. It had been quite a surprise to see it so advanced, but Ivanovich had been informed that the march would continue while they were away, so perhaps this surprise was unjustified. At any rate, their little convoy trundled in at dusk, low on fuel and ammunition, but apart from a few bumps and bruises, unharmed. After leaving Vulcan's army in the dust it had been a simple matter to drive through the night, stopping once at dawn to properly secure the prisoners, and to rearrange the equipment, and then continuing through the day, their journey prolonged by the poor quality of the roads, which were almost non-existent this far away from the roman capital.
The prisoners had figured out what the rifles did, or at least that they spat death, and had been remarkably compliant, lashed to the benches in the back of one of the trucks. They were less fearsome in the day, and were specimens of varying quality: one being rather small and almost human looking if they'd dressed it, the others being horrible, but in the manner of terrestrial, rather than fantastical beings. They had ridged heads, no noses, claws and a number of sharp teeth, and growled at the soldiers as they had been led to their captivity. The smaller beast had tried to escape, but they'd cornered him and beat him down with their rifle butts.
Ivanovich had been quite pleased with his first independent command. The retreat was more chaotic than he would have preferred, and apparently they'd been flanked by a few of the creatures in their initial attack. He wasn't sure how they'd missed that, perhaps the beasts had a better sense of smell and had sensed the diesel or gunpowder scents they'd brought with them. The speed of the larger animals, Dr. Diakonoff had identified them as something unpronounceable, had also caught him off guard, with one of the truck's superstructure being warped and its bed cracked when it was struck by the animal.
The rest of the SG personnel and the Regiment came out to greet them as they rolled into the motor pool.
"Ivanovich!" cried a voice, and the Captain turned to see Basin coming up, "How did it go?" the commissar called.
Ivanovich grinned, and waved a hand behind him, "Well, see for yourself!"
The men were dragging the prisoners out, and Ivanovich saw Basin's hand stray to rest on his holster.
"Go make your report, the Durov is with the romans, you know the way?" Basin ordered.
Ivanovich nodded, and left with a glance at the prisoners as he went. Basin occupied an unspecified position in the command's hierarchy, and though currently he was technically a civilian he was also one of the group of soldiers who'd fought from Kiev to Stalingrad and then back to the Baltic. Most of the SG team members, all the leaders at least, men like Major Suslov, had known each other for years, and Ivanovich had occasionally felt out of place, a feeling he knew some of the other more junior officers shared. He had seen action in Romania and Hungary toward the end of the war, but he'd had the misfortune to come of age when the enemy was already broken and on the retreat.
Basin's authority was symptomatic of the character of the program in general. Their cobbled together equipment and even the black berets they all wore being also matters of fashion, or personal choice rather than policy or regulation. Presumably that would improve in future, as they got a better idea of what they were fighting, Ivanovich mused. He was confident though. They were all good Communists, and anyone could see the quality of their leaders. He'd heard stories about how the Colonel had dropped a building on a column of Hitlerites, and killed a battalion of them, and just by looking at General Abramovich you could see the sacrifices he'd made for the cause, even if he was a Jew.
The guards at the command tent saluted him as he approached. He returned the salute and stepped in. The Colonel had been impressing the romans with his casual use of technology, so the tent was perfectly light inside, with a small lamp hanging from the roof. Dr. Diakonoff was of the opinion that familiarity bred contempt and they should refrain from such displays but the Colonel disagreed.
"Ah Ivanovich!" the Colonel exclaimed upon seeing him.
"Sir!" he replied, "Mission successful, Comrade Basin had taken custody of several prisoners we brought back."
"Good! Well done!" continued the Colonel, "Any casualties?"
"No sir, nothing serious. A few broken bones and scrapes. Also Sergeant Sergov killed the Minotaur."
That surprised them, especially the romans who understood him.
"Well then!" said Durov, "Go attend to your men, We'll be along shortly to see your prisoners." And he turned back to his papers.
Ivanovich left and heading back down the small hill toward the Soviet camp, seeing a large crowd assembled. "Make way!" he called as he approached, and the crowd parted, showing Basin and Diakonoff standing together, close to the prisoners who they'd lashed to a couple of tanks. Three of the beasts were snapping and roaring, trying to escape, but the smaller one cowered away and making unusual sounds which Ivanovich assumed were whimpers. He was struck by the last beast's look, which he could only recognise as stern. He frowned at that, not liking the conclusions he was reaching, but turned away and came up to Basin and Diakonoff. "Well comrades?" he asked.
"You've noticed that big one's look have you?" Basin asked, nodding to the creature.
Ivanovich nodded.
"I think they're smarter than we thought."
Ivanovich turned, regarding the bound prisoners. In the attack they had grabbed a few on the outskirts of the camp, quickly tying them up and throwing hoods over them. After that Ivanovich had taken to the armoured car and relayed their progress back to the camp using its radio, but the rest of SG-2 had gotten into a truck with their prisoners, so until now he hadn't been able to get a good look at the creatures. What he had at first taken for scaly skin was actually crude garments, mostly hides, which were evidently these creatures clothing. The beasts, with the exception of the runt, also had various ornaments, such as necklaces of bones, which again Ivanovich hadn't noticed before in the dark, in this case not surprising given the unusual ridges on their heads which would otherwise be mistaken for crowns or hats.
"Well that one over there is definitely following our conversation, even if he doesn't understand us." Said Diakonoff. "Then again maybe he does."
"What's that? What do you mean?
"Well first there's the translation phenomenon, though it still hasn't taken as fully as me as it has in Vladimir, and neither of you have been through the Gate as much as him, but language has certain constants, even whatever brutish way these… creatures… communicate. 'Danger', 'Heat', 'Chief', that sort of thing. That's how the first men would have communicated."
"You are assuming they didn't get these things, including their weapons, from Vulcan." Suggested Basin.
"Oh come now," replied Diakonoff, "they are wearing clothes, whether they got them from somewhere else, or whether they made them themselves, they obviously have a concept of modesty. How else could you compel a population of tens of thousands to wear clothes and ornaments?"
"With a Sayer of the Law." Smirked Basin, and at the blank looks of the other two shook his head, "Never mind, do you draw any other conclusions?" he asked.
"About what? From my knowledge of early civilisations, I could tell a lot, and infer more, but most of it would be irrelevant to the current situation. We're still going to kill most of them aren't we?"
Basin opened his mouth but paused, and Sergeant Sergov came up and leant in, "Colonel's coming."