Part 16 (1/2)

”We call 'em s.n.a.t.c.hers.”

”Right, okay. And we're their prisoners?”

Again, the dark laugh. ”We're their food.”

Across the pa.s.sageway, Jack started struggling against his bonds again and Daniel could see the frustration in his face when nothing gave. ”d.a.m.n it,” Jack growled.

”When you say food,” Daniel pressed, ”what exactly -?”

”Shh! They're coming.”

Daniel heard it too, the distant clank of heavy footsteps on a metal deck. More than one set of footsteps. A low moan rose up around them, as if the whole room had started whimpering, and he realized that not everyone trapped in here was unconscious. Terror had kept them silent and now even the young would-be Jaffa shrank back against the wall as if trying to hide.

Jack licked his lips, edgy. ”If anyone's got a genius escape plan, now's the time. Carter?”

”Sorry sir. I've been trying to reach my knife, but I can't move an inch.”

The footsteps grew closer and then stopped. Someone started crying softly, the pitiful sound doing more than anything else to coil fear tight in Daniel's stomach.

At the far end of the corridor, a door slid open.

”Ah, c.r.a.p,” said Jack.

SG-1 was officially missing. Missing, Presumed Dead.

Makepeace didn't know if he was the only one in the briefing room who understood the full impact of that fact, but there were no smiles among the SGC's senior officers. No banter. They waited for the general in subdued silence.

Hammond himself was still in his office. Makepeace could see him - they all could - standing behind his desk with the red telephone to his ear. Apparently the situation had escalated right to the top.

”You got any idea what this is about, sir?” Ferretti said, leaning his shoulder closer and speaking under his breath.

Makepeace shook his head - a lie among so many other lies. ”Only that it's got something to do with SG-1.”

”I can't believe they called off the search,” Ferretti said with a shake of his head, fist tapping lightly on the table in frustration.

”I guess they have their reasons, Major.”

Whatever Ferretti's response might have been, it was cut off when Hammond's office door opened and he stepped into the room. Everyone got to their feet and he nodded in acknowledgment. His face was grim, as grim as Makepeace had ever seen it. Something dark curled tight in the pit of his stomach, something like dread. Or guilt.

”As you were,” Hammond said, taking his customary seat at the head of the table.

He waited until everyone was seated, his hands resting on the table, fingertips pressed together. He was the picture of control, of calm under pressure. Makepeace's fear kicked up a notch; he could feel his pulse racing, heart thumping in his chest.

”What I'm about to tell you,” Hammond said gravely, ”will come as a shock to most of you. I know it did to me.” He swept his gaze over them all and Makepeace forced himself to meet those cool, incisive eyes without flinching. ”Several weeks ago,” Hammond said, ”I was contacted by the High Chancellor of the Tollan Curia. She informed me that Colonel Maybourne had established an off-world base, and that he was running rogue teams from that base to steal weapons and other technologies from our allies.”

The shock was palpable. Though he couldn't feel it himself, Makepeace could still see it reflected in the faces of his colleagues and hear it in their low outraged murmurs.

It's not like that, he wanted to say. We're doing it to help, to make us stronger.

Hammond held up a hand for silence. ”Unfortunately, that's not the worst of it,” he said. ”It seems that someone in this command, someone in an off-world team, has been working with Maybourne to smuggle plans and stolen technology back to Earth through our Stargate.”

This time, Makepeace didn't need to fake the shock that hit him like a left hook.

They knew. Hammond knew.

His hands clutched the table, knuckles turning white. He glanced at the door, but there was no way out, no way to escape this. Mouth dry, muscles like iron, all he could do was sit and wait for the ax to fall.

”Who is it?” Colonel Reynolds said, taut with anger.

”We don't know,” Hammond said. ”And that's the problem...”

Hammond was still talking, but Makepeace wasn't listening. The only sound in his ears was the white noise of relief, a blank s.p.a.ce where thought used to be. They don't know it's me. Thank G.o.d, they don't know...

He took a breath, deep and slow, relaxing his muscles, returning to the room.

”...unfortunately,” Hammond was saying, ”and for obvious reasons, Colonel O'Neill has been unable to conduct that investigation. And it is my duty to tell you that, as a result, both the Tollan and the Asgard have withdrawn from their alliances with us.” Hammond spread his hands on the table, pressing them flat as if to steady himself. ”As of 1800 hours today, Earth stands alone.”

”Sonofa -” Ferretti cleared his throat. ”Excuse me, sir.”

Hammond shot him a wry look. ”Under the circ.u.mstances, Major, I concur with your sentiment.”

”But the Asgard wouldn't abandon us,” Reynolds protested. ”Over one rotten apple? That's insane, sir.”

”It appears,” Hammond said, ”that the Asgard have their own problems. And whatever we may think of their decision, the fact remains that Earth is no longer covered by the Protected Planets Treaty.”

Makepeace cleared his throat, conscious that he'd been silent until now. ”It's not like we're entirely helpless, sir,” he said. ”And if we're lucky, the Goa'uld won't figure out what's happened until we've had time to fortify our defenses. It's not like the Asgard are going to send them a memo.”

That raised few, faint smiles around the room, but not for the general. If anything his expression grew bleaker. ”Unfortunately, Colonel, we have reason to believe that Apophis is already aware of the situation. In fact, our contacts among the Tok'ra believe he's a.s.sembling a fleet.”

”A fleet?” His heart jolted, skipping a few beats. ”Already?”

”As we speak, Colonel. I've just briefed the President and he has authorized DEFCON2. Our immediate priority is mounting what defenses we can muster.” He frowned, his glare turned inward. ”Our most critical problem is that we have no established Alpha Site available. It won't be easy, but we will need to look at options for a full-scale evacuation.”

Evacuation. DEFCON2. Apophis. This wasn't how it was supposed to go down. This wasn't why he'd risked his neck for Maybourne's operation. He'd wanted to make Earth safer, more self-reliant. Not weak, not vulnerable.

”Sir,” Reynolds said, leaning forward across the table, ”what if we dig out Maybourne's mole ourselves and hand him over? h.e.l.l, I'd be happy to beat the life out of the b.a.s.t.a.r.d myself. Sir.”

Makepeace's mouth tasted like sandpaper, too dry to speak, as if it were trying to keep him from saying the words that would condemn him. It's me. I confess.

He could have admitted to it, could have handed himself over right there. But he didn't, he said nothing. He was too afraid.

”Even if we could discover the perpetrator's ident.i.ty,” Hammond said, oblivious to Makepeace's silent act of cowardice, ”I'm not sure it would help. The Asgard have already made their decision. In truth, I think it was probably made some time ago.”

”That's ridiculous!”

”Yes, Colonel, but it's also the reality in which we must operate.”