Part 28 (1/2)
He did, scrambling to his feet as Makepeace took a step backward.
”You can't hold them all!”
”You better hope I can.” He tightened his finger on the trigger. ”Now run!”
He opened fire, sweeping backward and forward across the Jaffa as he slowly retreated, Maybourne sprinting for the tunnel behind him. Then he heard Booker and Jefferson open up. He hoped they'd taken cover in the tunnel entrance, but couldn't look around to see.
The Jaffa scattered under the onslaught, diving for cover, and Makepeace could feel the cold of the tunnel at his back. He'd made it. But, at the last moment, a staff blast came blazing from somewhere on his left and clipped his arm. He yelled, the force of the blast spinning him around, and he fell hard onto the ground. Something popped in his left knee, pain shooting up all the way into his gut.
”Colonel!” Jefferson called.
He tried to stand.
”Stay down!”
Pressed into the dirt, he watched as another grenade flew overhead, impacting almost before it hit the ground.
And then Booker grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet with one hand and firing with the other as he half dragged him into the tunnel. At the far end, light spilled from the complex but the huge blast doors were already closing.
”Come on, sir,” Booker said, as Jefferson grabbed his other arm. ”We can make it.”
For a moment, Makepeace almost felt worthy of these brave men's loyalty. But then he saw Maybourne darting past the closing doors, running ahead of them into the safety of the SGC, and he remembered the truth.
He'd betrayed these people. He didn't deserve anything from them.
It felt like they'd been walking for hours. No, scratch that. They had been walking for hours, weaving their way through the endless labyrinthine shantytown. If they were following a path, Jack couldn't make out where it went. But Hunter didn't pause, didn't waver, he just kept on going, leading them deeper and deeper into the camp.
Not wanting to stop and eat, Jack had pulled open a breakfast MRE on the road, so to speak, and eaten everything that didn't need rehydrating. He was still working his way through the chocolate chip pastry when Daniel said, ”So, Hunter, how big is this place?”
Hunter glanced over his shoulder, gave a shrug. ”Maybe ten miles across?”
”Ten miles?” Daniel echoed in surprise.
”Big,” Jack agreed, but he'd seen that from the mountainside on the way down. The camp was vast.
”Most folk live on the boundary, near the feeding stations. But we're heading deep, to the Way Back.”
He'd heard the name before - it's where the kids had come from - and he felt a clutch of guilt at the memory of sending them back there alone. But what else could he do? He couldn't offer them any safety. ”The Way Back is the interior?” he said. ”The center of the camp?”
Hunter nodded. ”Way back from the s.h.i.+p,” he explained.
”Safer?”
”Ain't nowhere that's safer,” Hunter said, and walked on.
Reaching for his canteen to wash down the cloying taste of the pastry, he took a long swallow and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Daniel was frowning as he walked along next to him, his features contracted into an expression that usually meant he was puzzling over a particularly intractable problem. Jack nudged him. ”What?”
”Huh?” Daniel said, looking up. ”What?”
”You're thinking.”
”Uh, yeah?”
When he didn't seem about to expand on the point, Jack said, ”Care to share?”
”Oh. Uh, I was just -” He gestured toward Hunter and dropped his voice. ”He said this place was ten miles across.”
”Yeah? It's big.”
”No. I mean, yes it's big, but miles?”
Jack shook his head, genuinely confused. ”I don't follow.”
From behind him, Carter said, ”I think Daniel's talking about the unit of measurement, sir, rather than the actual distance.”
”Exactly,” Daniel said, still talking quietly. ”Since when have the Goa'uld used 'miles'?”
Jack lifted an eyebrow. ”You think the Goa'uld went metric?”
”No, the point is -”
”I get the point.” He threw a glance at Hunter. ”He is a fake Jaffa, remember?”
”I guess,” Daniel said. ”It's just unusual -”
Just then Hunter stopped suddenly, turning to face them with excitement in his eyes, and for a moment Jack was struck by just how young he was. Early twenties, maybe? ”We're here,” Hunter said, arms spread wide.
Jack glanced at the tumbledown shacks all around them, at the people crouching in the doorways, watching them as they cooked over meager fires. No different to anywhere else in this place. ”I was expecting something... bigger,” he said.
With a cryptic smile, Hunter only said, ”Follow, but don't say nothing. I'll speak for you.” Then he turned and slipped behind a wooden panel that was propped up against a stub of crumbling wall not much more than six feet tall.
”I do not believe we will find any a.s.sistance here,” Teal'c said in disdain. ”This is not the abode of any First Prime.”
Jack had to agree and even Carter looked a little crestfallen. Only Daniel's optimism remained intact.
”Come on, Teal'c,” he said, pus.h.i.+ng past him to follow Hunter. ”You know what they say about good things and small packages.”
”I do not.”
”Oh. Well, Jack can explain,” Daniel said, and ducked under the planking after Hunter.
Jack threw up his hands. ”Don't look at me. I don't know anything about small packages.”
That earned him a snort from Carter and a dubious eyebrow lift from Teal'c, and he had to bite back a smile as he waved them both toward the entrance. ”Come on, let's keep Danny outa trouble.”
If he'd been expecting something grander inside, he'd have been disappointed. The shack looked pretty similar to Hunter's own - small, cramped and with a smoky fire - except that it also came with three other fake Jaffa hanging out inside. With the four of SG-1 crammed in as well, it was downright cozy. If this was Dix and the resistance they'd had one h.e.l.l of a wasted trip.