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 ship,” 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 assistance 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, pushing 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 hell of a wasted trip.
“You can’t bring strangers here,” one of the men said, getting to his feet. He was big, with a bullish face. Trouble, Jack thought, and let his hands come to rest on his weapon.
“Dix’ll wanna want to see these folk,” Hunter insisted. “This one?” He gestured to Teal’c. “He wears the mark of Apophis.”
The other man’s eyes lifted to Teal’c’s face, where the firelight made the gold of his brand glimmer. He frowned and then turned back to Hunter. “Where d’you find them?”
“In the larder.”
He grunted. “Heard you’d been snatched.”
“And freed.” He brushed his hand over the top of his right arm and said, “You see what they wear.”
The big guy looked and so did all the others. His eyes widened for a moment before his expression crashed down into a frown. “Take ’em in.”