Part 14 (2/2)

Frowning, Hammond said, ”Infighting between the System Lords is nothing new. Especially between those two.”

”The fighting has just stopped.”

Hammond waited, trying to figure out what Selmak was saying, feeling his heart hammer and hearing the hiss of sand falling through the gla.s.s. Then he understood. ”They've stopped fighting because they have allied.”

Selmak gave a solemn nod. ”And they are not alone. Tok'ra agents report a number of ha'taks heading for what the Tau'ri call the Orion nebula. A fleet is a.s.sembling, General Hammond, and it is close. A fleet led by one far more dangerous than either Hecate or Yu or Nirrti.”

His throat was dry as he asked the question. ”Who?”

”The veracity of our intelligence is irrefutable. Apophis is preparing, General. All he needs is a target. Do not, under any circ.u.mstances, allow Earth to become vulnerable.”

”But don't you understand, Selmak? Without SG-1 we are vulnerable! This is why we need help to find them.” He was practically shouting now and could sense the concerned gaze of Harriman seated at his side, but this situation was desperate and sometimes a calm voice achieved nothing. He tried one other tack. ”What does General Carter have to say about this? Why am I speaking to you?”

His expression changed, a subtle s.h.i.+ft, and suddenly Jacob was looking at him through the flickering screen. He looked tired, strung-out and hopeless. ”I'm here, George,” he said. ”And G.o.d knows I wish there was something I could do.”

”We can't give up on them,” Hammond said. ”You know that.”

”It's too late, George. I'm sorry, but Selmak's right. The Tok'ra can't help you -”

”Or won't.”

Jacob spread his hands, conceding the point. ”Either way, the game has changed. You need to call off the search for SG-1 and bring your people home. You have to prepare, George, because Apophis won't wait. And when he strikes -”

The video feed stuttered and fizzed and then blinked out. Hammond turned to Harriman, who shook his head and shrugged. ”Bad transmission, sir.”

Yes, son, thought Hammond. Bad transmission. The very worst.

It was over. The last grain of sand, the last tick of the clock. The last turn of the wheel.

His heart felt like lead and his voice was just as heavy. ”Sergeant, send a message to all teams currently off-world. Bring them home.”

And, just like that, SG-1 was officially Missing, Presumed Dead.

Daniel was dead. Sam was sure of it. His skin was ashy, as if there wasn't a drop of blood left in his limp and unresponsive body. From the frantic look on the colonel's face as he pressed his fingers first to Daniel's wrist and then his neck, she could tell he hadn't found a pulse.

”Come on,” he growled. ”d.a.m.n it, Daniel, don't you dare.”

Sam let go of his shoulders, pulling back the neck of his s.h.i.+rt, and saw the telltale red spots of septicemia spreading, livid across his chest. Her gut twisted, tears blurring her vision. It was too late.

Somewhere Teal'c spoke, ordering the alien creature to stay back. It snarled, but Sam didn't turn round. All she could think of was Daniel. Dead. Oh, G.o.d, Daniel...

”That one is dying,” said a guttural voice behind her. ”I can help him.”

She looked back over her shoulder, swiping a hand across her eyes. The creature was watching them, its hand clutching Teal'c's staff weapon in a manner that was almost casual, despite the strain on Teal'c's face as he tried to wrest it back. The creature's yellow eyes, with their narrow black pupils, betrayed neither concern nor malice. Sam didn't know how it could help, but if there was any hope... ”Sir?”

”Not a chance.” The colonel had his MP5 trained on the creature, unflinching in his stance, though his eyes flicked back to where Daniel lay p.r.o.ne.

”He hasn't done anything to hurt us, sir. And Daniel...” She didn't need to finish her sentence. There was nothing they could do to save him now.

”Why should I let you anywhere near him?” Colonel O'Neill said to the creature, which merely tilted its head.

”It is of no importance to me whether you do or not. You have a.s.sisted me. I can now a.s.sist you in return.”

There was a moment that stretched. Sam, watchful, her hand on Daniel's too still chest; Teal'c, tense and waiting, ready to seize his staff weapon at the first opportunity, and the colonel, firearm steady, his gaze s.h.i.+fting from Daniel to the alien and back again. Noon was approaching, the planet's sun trying its best to burn a hole through the perpetual mist, it's strange, thin light casting a diffuse glow across the colorless landscape.

Daniel's chest moved.

”Sir!” She bent her head close to his mouth, and almost laughed in relief as she felt the tiny hairs at her temple stir with the faint exhalation that came from his mouth. ”Sir, he's breathing but we don't have much time.”

Another moment of hesitation, then...

”Alright, go!” Colonel O'Neill barked at the Devourer. ”Help him.” The creature moved forward, and the colonel let his MP5 drop to his side and pulled his Beretta from its thigh holster. As the Devourer bent on one knee next to Daniel, its movements unhurried, the colonel pressed the muzzle of the gun to the back of its neck. ”One wrong move. Just one.”

The Devourer gave no indication it had even heard the warning, never mind felt threatened by it. It merely pushed Sam's hand aside and pressed its own to Daniel's bare chest, extending its long talon-like fingers. It pushed down... and Daniel's eyes flashed open as he gasped in pain, arching his back up off the ground.

”Let him go!” shouted the colonel, but the Devourer swung its free arm back without even looking and sent him flying into a nearby boulder, stunning him. Sam grappled for her own weapon, heard the buzz of Teal'c's staff opening. As she pulled her handgun free, bringing it to bear, she saw the colonel, woozy, struggling to do the same. She aimed for the Devourer's head, finger tight on the trigger.

”Sam, no!”

She froze. Daniel's palm was an inch from the barrel of her gun.

”Daniel?” Colonel O'Neill's tone mirrored her own amazement. ”You ok?”

Daniel's skin, while still ashen, was decidedly less deathlike. Not to mention the fact that he was sitting up, his breathing normal, the look on his face concerned rather than pained. He was fine.

”I'm fine,” he said.

”It actually helped you?” said the colonel, pus.h.i.+ng himself up from the ground. He pressed a hand to the back of his head and winced.

”Yes,” said Daniel. ”He helped me.”

Sam felt the tension leak from her shoulders and she lowered her gun in relief. ”Thank G.o.d.”

Daniel's brow furrowed, as if something had just occurred to him, and he pulled up his s.h.i.+rt, tugged off the b.l.o.o.d.y bandage, and ran his hand over his side. It was now entirely healed, only a faintly uneven patch of skin visible where his wound had been. ”Wow, I guess he really helped me.”

Sam exchanged a glance with the colonel and in that glance was the shared thought: If it helped us with this, what else might it help us with?

”Uh, thanks,” the colonel said, ”for that.” He waved his hand at where Daniel was still scrutinizing his healed wound.

The Devourer watched them, its shoulders rising and falling heavily as if breathless; Sam guessed that the healing process had depleted its energy reserves. Otherwise, it looked unaffected. ”The debt is paid. A life for a life.” Its head snapped up, its reptilian eyes scanning the low sky.

”Yeah, about that,” the colonel said, ”we've been told you came through the Stargate and we need...”

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