A blast of thunder jolted Makepeace awake. He sat up. The bedroom was pitch black. "Godfrey, turn on the lights." The room lightened, but the windows stayed dark and opaque.
Another boom, so loud it rattled the furniture. It sounded like it was right on top of them. Had to be, to get through the building's soundproofing like that. But why the hell would Varayimshaeta start such a violent storm so near? Makepeace got up and groped for his clothes. "Godfrey, let me see out the windows." The windows stayed black.
Makepeace wondered what Varayimshaeta didn't want him to see.
More thunder, even louder this time, if that was possible. Makepeace scowled as he tied his boot laces. It didn't sound quite right, at least not for a natural storm. There was something about its cadence, a familiar quality—almost like an explosion. He was tempted to assume they were under attack.
Someone banged on his door. "Colonel, you awake? Something's up." Johnson's voice.
Makepeace opened the door. "Yeah, I noticed." He joined his men in the common room as another thunderclap made everything rattle. Looking around, he saw the windows here were blacked out as well. He wondered if Varayimshaeta had pulled the blinds throughout the entire complex. Probably.
Henderson was hopping on one leg, pulling on a boot. "I don't think that's thunder."
"Sounds almost like we're being shelled," Andrews commented, looking worried.
"Godfrey wouldn't tell me anything," Makepeace said. "Anyone here got any intel at all?"
"Not much. Godfrey won't talk to us, either." Johnson glared at the blackened windows. "I had the last watch this morning. Right before the windows blacked out, I saw a bright flash and heard the thunder." He looked at Makepeace. "Sir, the sky was clear. It was gray out, pre-dawn, but there weren't any clouds. This can't be a storm. Not a natural one, anyway."
The front door suddenly opened, and six of the golden spheres floated into the room. Godfrey appeared during another crack of thunder. "You will go with the servitors," the hologram told them without any preamble.
"Why?" Andrews asked. "What's going on?"
"You will go with the servitors," Godfrey repeated.
Makepeace asked, "Are we under attack?"
"You will go with the servitors."
"Goddamn computer," Andrews grumbled.
More gold orbs crowded into the room. They surrounded the Marines, and started herding them like sheep. "Looks like the discussion is over," Makepeace said, eyeing the globes nearest him with a scowl.
"No shit, sir. All right, I'm going already," Johnson snapped as two servitors nudged him none too gently from behind.
The spheres hurried SG-3 through the bewildering maze of corridors and elevators, always heading in a downward direction. Makepeace was grimly amused to see that his earlier supposition was correct; all the windows along the route had been darkened to opacity. The building shook at irregular intervals, and here and there jagged cracks showed in the gem-like materials.
At last the men entered a small elevator. After an interminably long ride down, the doors opened, and the spheres forced SG-3 all the way down a long, windowless tunnel that terminated at a thick, vault-like door. Light panels glowed near the ceiling, making the blue-gray walls glitter. Makepeace thought this area might be made from the same material used for the Stargate enclosure. From Varayimshaeta's memories, he knew that stuff had been created to outlast just about anything thrown at it.
As SG-3 approached, the door slowly slid open, making a heavy, grinding noise, and they saw that it was a good ten feet thick. Unlike the tripartite doors throughout the rest of the complex, this one was just one piece, obviously designed for durability rather than esthetics. Just like the door at the Stargate building, Makepeace thought. The men were unceremoniously shoved through the entrance, and the vault door closed behind them with a heavy and final-sounding thunk.
"This cannot be good," Makepeace said, eyeing his new surroundings.
They now stood in a luxuriously appointed suite of rooms not unlike their former quarters; however, the blue and green tinted walls here were ominously devoid of windows. The air was clean and fresh-smelling, blown in from vents near the ceiling, and not even the tiniest trace of thunder could be heard or felt. The place radiated impregnability.
"Nope," Andrews agreed. "This is real pretty and all, but I know a bunker when I see one."
"Guess that pretty much clinches the attack theory, then," Henderson said. "But who is it?"
"The SGC?" Johnson ventured. "Maybe they're here to bust us out?"
"They would've started with a routine search party, and they'd land in the same situation we're in, at best." Makepeace frowned. "Besides, I don't think we've been gone long enough for them to start worrying yet," he said slowly. "Unless we've calculated the planet's rotation wrong."
"We're not wrong." Johnson plopped down on the couch and chewed his lower lip. "Sir, we know the Goa'uld attacked this planet before. Do you think they might've come back?"
"That would be a hell of a coincidence," Henderson said. "Would fit our luck on this mission, though."
"It certainly would," Makepeace said with a sigh.