SG1-25 Hostile Ground(42)

The colonel shifted. Now that her eyes were used to the dark, Sam could see him loop his hands behind his head and settle in for the long haul. “Let’s hear it then.”

“It’s quite simple really,” Daniel said. “The Book of the Dead describes a set of demonic entities that harrow the dead in the between-realm of the afterlife. They’re known as Devourers, or Amam, who feed on parts of the body and soul.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Well, they are demons…” He cleared his throat. “Teal’c, have you ever heard of the Amam, or any kind of ‘undead’ creature?”

“I have not,” Teal’c said. “But it does not follow that they do not exist. I have not encountered everything in this galaxy.”

“True,” the colonel said. “You haven’t even encountered my lake yet.”

“Is that an invitation to fish, O’Neill?”

“Maybe it is.”

And maybe, Sam thought, it was something about this darkness that was lightening the colonel’s mood because somehow he was more himself now than he had been in weeks. And she felt lighter for it too, because perhaps it meant he wasn’t so lost to them after all.

“You know,” she said, “these Amam could just be the Jaffa of a new System Lord who’s come in here and wiped out whoever used to be in charge.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Daniel turned toward her, his glasses glinting in the faint light seeping around the door. “They’re probably Jaffa mythologized into ‘undead’ creatures by whatever Goa’uld first ruled this world. Perhaps they’ve even taken on the persona of Amam?”

“And don’t forget the sarcophagus,” Sam added. “I mean, talk about rising from the dead…”

“Yes! I think we can say we’re not dealing with real live — or is that real undead? — zombies.”

“I hope you’re right,” the colonel said, “because Night of the Living Dead spooked the hell outa Teal’c.”

“It did not, O’Neill.”

“He’s just saying that. He was watching through his fingers.”

Sam grinned, she couldn’t help herself. “At least one thing’s clear, sir. Whoever these ‘Devourers’ are, they can use the Stargate network. And that means there’s a way home.”

“My thoughts exactly, Carter.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but it looks like tracking down the flesh-eating-snakehead-zombies is actually our best chance of getting off this rock.”

Sam smiled into the darkness and, after a moment, Daniel said, “You know, Jack, it’s at times like this when I… I just…”

“…wonder where it all went wrong?”

“Yep, pretty much.”





CHAPTER ELEVEN




Hope was starting to fade, that was the worst of it. After three days without contact, or the slightest sign of SG-1, hope was starting to fade. He could do without a lot of things — sleep, food, good news — but hope was critical. Without it, everything started to collapse. And George Hammond could see hope fading in the faces around him every time the Stargate opened and SG-1 didn’t walk through.

Take now, for example. Standing at a comfortable parade rest, his hands clasped behind his back, Hammond watched as SG-2 traipsed down the ramp and the wormhole fizzled closed behind them. Shoulders slumped, they looked defeated as Major Ferretti glanced up at the control room and shook his head: another hope dashed, another planet crossed off the list. There weren’t many left.

Leaning forward, Hammond pulled the microphone toward him. “Welcome back, SG-2. Debrief in one hour.”

Not that it looked like they had much to report, but he wanted every possible detail. You never knew what would become important.

Sergeant Harriman looked up from his station as Ferretti’s team handed over their weapons to the SFs and trudged out of the gate room. “Sir?” he said. “We have a scheduled contact with Tollana. Shall I send ‘Situation Unchanged’?”

“Yes, go ahead.” Hammond repressed a sigh, preferring to keep his feelings to himself around his people. The less they knew about what was going on with the Tollan the better, but the base was full of smart people and he couldn’t keep their frequent contacts secret.

He watched as the gate started to spin again, Harriman counting down the chevrons until the seventh locked and the wormhole erupted into the gate room. In a couple of moments the message had been sent and the wormhole collapsed. Another ten hours before the next update, and by that point they’d be half a day away from the trade negotiations that were meant to spark off the whole operation.