Stargate SG-1: Trial by Fire: SG1-1 (5 page)

Heaving a sigh of relief, Sam Carter tossed the garments in
question at a bewildered SF and joined her team mates. Kelly
meanwhile had spotted Dr. Jackson.

"I was led to believe we were going to New Mexico to pick up
my stele!"

"I never -"

"Listen, Jackson, if I spend a minute longer in this concrete
mausoleum, I'll -"

"General, how about we just get this show on the road?" Jack
eyed the Professor like an arachnophobe would regard a tarantula.
"Before she starts dismantling the place?"

"I beg your pardon?" Kelly spun around. "Who are

She was cut off by a sudden clank. Sergeant Davis up in the
control room must have interpreted the Colonel's enquiry as an
order. Or maybe he had decided that this was the easiest method
of curing a chronic earache. Either way, the ponderous noise of the
Stargate spinning to life finally directed Professor Kelly's attention
to the most prominent item in the room.

Slack-jawed with astonishment and blessedly quiet, she took a
few steps toward the ramp. On the `gate the first symbol engaged, the chevron snapping into place.

"What in God's name is that?"

"A figment of my imagination." Dr. Jackson sounded smug. For
good reason, George Hammond was sure.

She ignored the retort, mesmerized by the sight. "What is it
doing?"

"Wait and see."

The inner ring continued to turn. Chevrons locked and glowed
the color of old sherry. Then, with the abruptness of great power, the
event horizon leaped forward, arrested halfway into the room, and
contracted to a shimmering cobalt membrane across the Stargate.

Bag firmly tucked under one arm, Professor Kelly climbed the
metal steps and proceeded toward that membrane until her right
hand touched its surface. "How quaint. A vertical fishpond."

The next moment she'd stepped through and disappeared.

"Oh crap!"

The expletive just hung there for a stunned second while nobody
moved. Then Jack O'Neill unfroze and started sprinting up the
ramp, Major Carter on his heels. Dr. Jackson and Teal'c followed
at a more leisurely pace.

"This is a novel approach..." observed Dr. Jackson, a small but
worrying trace of admiration in his tone.

"I concur."

Left behind in the `gate room, George Hammond contemplated
the event horizon until it collapsed. "SG-1, you have a `Go'," he
said, mostly because he always said it.

Jack shot from the wormhole at twice the legal speed. The
problem was exacerbated by Kelly having parked herself smack in
his trajectory. They got up close and personal and tumbled down
the stone steps in front of the `gate, a tangle of limbs, tweed skirts,
Gladstone bag, and one P90. Once the planet had stopped revolving
around him, he risked opening his eyes. The sun was shining -
correction: both suns were shining - the birds were tweeting, a
gentle breeze fanned the tops of some enormous trees, and lined
up atop the stairs stood his team, staring at him in a kind of radiant
disbelief

"I caught her!"

"Uhm... We noticed. You okay, Jack?" Daniel was trying to
sound solicitous. It needed work.

Beneath him, Kelly started to buck.

Oh yeah, you're clearly on top of this situation, O'Neill.
Now, when you rise, eventually, make sure you don't mix up the
accessories. Yours was the gun, not the bag.

He pushed himself up, which was rewarded by a loud groan
from below. Getting from a static push-up to an upright position
proved slightly more of a challenge. The way his left knee felt, it
must have knocked a dent into one of those steps. Nothing a tenmile hike wouldn't cure. Guessing that he still held center stage, he
suppressed a grimace.

Carter had sauntered down the stairs and was handing him his
cap. It didn't distract from that stifled giggle and made him feel
vindictive. How come she hadn't taken flight, anyway? She'd been
right behind him.

"Carter, help the Professor. And while you're at it, lay down a
few ground rules. Starting with Get the hell away from the `gate!"

"Yessir!" Eyes narrow, the giggle throttled.

Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Colonel.

Minor accidents thus taken care of, he picked up his P90 and
gimped along a broad stone-paved path, putting some distance
between himself and Kelly, just in case. The path extended rulerstraight, from the Stargate at one end to a large building about three
hundred meters away. It was surrounded by a sparse forest of tall
cedars with very little undergrowth. Dry, fallen needles carpeted
sun-dappled ground, muffling footfalls and scenting the air. More
birds, with crickets doing something contrapuntal in chirp flat
minor. Otherwise not a sound, and there wasn't a soul in sight. To
the north the foothills rose to a mountain range, craggy and barren,
shivering in the heat. No sign of human - or alien - up there either.
No surprises. No Ancient Enemy.

So far P2X 159 seemed perfectly normal - excepting the surplus
sun - and it matched the MALP footage. Nothing to indicate why it
should have been omitted from the Abydos Cartouche. Nothing to
twang his antennae, and that was a rarity.

Staff weapon loosely clasped in one hand, Teal'c came circling
towards him through the trees. Going by the Jaffa's relaxed jog,
he also thought they'd found the perfect vacation spot. Maybe that
was it: exclusive summer camp for the discerning snake-lover, with
an unlisted address to keep the rabble away.

"Find anything, T?"

"I did not, O'Neill. The area appears to be deserted."

"So we go... What?"

Teal'c was gazing past him, looking worried all of sudden - the
way a cat looked worried. You had to know him to get it. Jack
wheeled around.

Tweed flapping around a pair of plump calves, Miss Marple the
Barbarian was sallying forth along the walkway, Carter and Daniel
in her wake. Sole trace of the recent collision was the flamboyant
list of her bun, which teetered on a round, gray head and represented
the only thing fluffy about her. Mentally preparing himself for a
shouting match that would have left a drill instructor weeping with
joy, Jack O'Neill stepped squarely in the path of the oncoming
valkyrie. She threw him a passing glance and maneuvered around
him.

"Nothing broken I see. Don't hang about, duckie! We want to
get to that site, don't we? Chop-chop!"

Duckie?

Daniel and Carter slowed to a reluctant halt, their faces
studiously blank.

"Duckie?"

"We tried, sir."

Daniel said nothing and shifted the Gladstone bag from left to
right.

"You gotta be kidding me..." He turned on his heel.
"Professor!"

The roar of a waterfall or surf on the beach. She tuned it out. With
difficulty. He was more persistent than a first-year undergraduate.

"Professor!"

Yes, yes, yes. All in good time!

Stepping through the giant hula hoop, she'd fully expected to come out the other side dripping wet and staring at a concrete wall.
She hadn't expected this. Of course Jackson had told her about it,
but Jackson told a lot of fantastical stories about a lot of fantastical
things. When she'd ended up on the stone dais with the second hula
hoop, she'd still believed that it was a colossal hoax. After all, there
were rumours about the Moon Landing having been a fake. Then
she'd seen the twin suns and changed her mind. A fake on this scale
was beyond the capacity even of the current British government.

Amazing. Truly amazing...

The architecture of the building ahead looked Punic. Or rather,
it looked like what generations of archaeologists had construed
to be Punic architecture. They'd been right about the flat roofs.
Massive walls rose to three stories of superbly crafted bevelled
stonework. Inset in the walls was an archway, some fifteen feet
high, its wooden gates -

"Professor! Stay put!"

Oh for goodness' sake!

- open. Through the archway one could see an inner courtyard,
lined by a colonnade. The layout was similar to the Kerkouane
precinct. They'd liked their curved lines, hadn't they? Quite
possibly it was a temple, but closer examination would verify this

An ear-splitting crack and dust and morsels of shattered stone
rained down from the lintel above her head.

"Bloody Nora!" Siobhan Kelly jerked around.

"Do I have your attention now?" That nasty black box of a gun
draped across his midriff, he came swaggering towards her like
something out of those Rambo films and had the nerve to grin.

"You shot at me!"

"I didn't shoot at you. If I'd shot at you, you wouldn't be
complaining."

This wasn't funny. "Of all the

"Ali!" A surprisingly elegant hand flew up and he took off his
sunglasses, hard and angry eyes belying the grin. "In case you
hadn't noticed, Professor, we're not in Kansas anymore. Carter
here explained a few facts to you just now, but maybe you didn't
get the message. So -"

"Oh please! I've been conducting excavations since before you
were an itch in your daddy's trousers. Do you have any idea of who
I am?"

"One huge honkin' pain in the mikta. I, on the other hand, am the
guy who's under orders to bring you back in one piece, and if you
interrupt me again I'll gag you. We didn't get a chance to introduce
ourselves, so, for the record, I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill. Colonel
means you'll do exactly as I tell you when I tell you, and if I'm not
around, you'll listen to Major Carter. Are we clear on this?"

"Of course we are. I fail to see the problem, Colonel."

His jaw dropped into speechlessness. Good. That settled it
then.

Kelly turned and passed through the cool shadows of the archway
and into the courtyard. A rather imaginative obscenity sailed past
her, then she heard him bark at Jackson.

"Daniel! Stay with the Professor. If she does anything that might
upset me, zat her."

What her?

Rapid steps scampered up from behind. Well, maybe Jackson
could be of some use. Unlike that girl or the big Afro-Caribbean
deaf-mute with the tattoo.

"Professor! Listen! Jack isn't doing this to annoy you. He's -"

"Shush... Just look at this! Isn't it marvellous?"

The courtyard was vast, much larger than any remains she'd
ever seen on Earth. On Earth... What a peculiar thought! ... Paved
with white slabs, it measured a good one hundred and fifty yards
at its longest. Its width was approximately two thirds of that. The
two apexes of the oval were marked by freestanding bronze and
smaragdus pillars, gleaming in the sunlight. Although they rose
above the height of the colonnade, they still were dwarfed by
the structure projecting from the southern side of the courtyard:
a round, fat-bellied tower, narrowing towards the top. Ninety
feet high at least and limestone-clad, the same virginal white as
the paving. It had no windows, but opening onto the yard was an
immense double-panelled gate, cast of solid bronze and adorned
with the relief of a bull's head.

"Interesting." Wandering closer, Kelly took off her jacket and slung it over one shoulder. If she'd known about the climate, she'd
have wom something thinner. Naturally noone had bothered to
suggest appropriate clothing... "Jackson, do you see this? Want to
tell me what you make of it?... Jackson?"

He was gone. Silent heat filled the court. In the shadows under
the archway stood the deaf-mute, staring back towards the hula
hoop, clutching his stick and guarding the entrance like a good
little soldier. Nobody else was in sight. She felt an odd, disturbing
jolt of abandonment.

"Jackson! Where are you?"

Nothing.

"Jackson!"

"In here, Professor!"

Kelly spotted him across the yard, his head poking from one
of those doorways that led off the colonnade at regular intervals.
"What are you doing?"

"Have a look!"

It wasn't what she'd had in mind, but the alternative was staying
adrift in this white arena. So she trotted over. Jackson stood inside
a small, dark room that held a single sleeping platform and, across
the floor from it, a stele. On it was a smaller copy of the bull's head
relief she'd seen on the bronze gate to the tower.

"Interesting," she said again.

"There are thirty of them. I counted," he offered. "They remind
me of monk's cells."

"Not the chamber, you pillock! I'm talking about this!" Kelly
pointed at the bull's head. It was heavily stylised, the tips of the
horns sweeping outward like the frame of an old lyre.

"I'm guessing it's Meleq."

"How would you know?"

Jackson crouched, one finger tracing a scatter of wedge-like
engravings beneath the bull's head. "Ugaritic cuneiform. Roughly
translated it says, Happy art thou, child, chosen to serve the Lord
Meleq."

"Master of storms and patron god of Tyre. Phoenician, not
Punic. Phoenicia was the mother country. Carthage was a colony...
Interesting," she repeated absently, still studying the stele. "I need to get into that tower out there."

"Looks locked to me."

"So? We'll break it open."

He rose and strolled out under the colonnade. "There'll probably
be objections, Professor."

"Oh really? From your one-man-junta?"

"I was thinking more of the people who worship here."

"Good Lord, Jackson! This is a historical site. Which generally
means the worshippers met their idol several hundred years ago."

"Perhaps you should tell him that." Jackson definitely sounded
amused now.

"Whom?"

"Him." Jackson pointed past her. "I don't think he knows he's
history."

Trailed by O'Neill and Carter, a short, black-haired middle-aged
man - if indeed man was the proper term under these circumstances
- came walking towards them, smiling. He wore a headband and a
brilliant red and purple cloak, standing out from the whiteness of
the courtyard like a bruise. Five yards away from her and Jackson,
he stopped and bowed ceremoniously, still smiling.