But suddenly a figure darted forward, low to the ground. Hunter. In his hand he held a metallic egg-shaped object, which, with a quick twist, he hurled down the corridor. There was a moment of silence, as the Amam watched the object sail towards them. Recognizing the weapon, Teal’c knew the outcome before it landed and cried out, “Cover!” He pulled Daniel Jackson to the ground, trusting that Major Carter would share his instinct.
The grenade went off, showering them with debris and what may possibly have been Amam body parts, but he did not look back to find out, for the door now stood open and the four of them fled into daylight. Hunter had fulfilled his promise.
“Keep going!” Hunter cried as they ran. “Into the trees!”
Teal’c looked back once, but there was no pursuit. Only the ship loomed behind them, alive and threatening, like a beast ready to swallow them back up.
The grenade had given them time, but they could not stop.
“Hunter?” he shouted as they ran. They were blind now, no sense of direction beneath the heavy sky, no destination even had they known the direction in which they were running. Everything relied on Hunter.
“This way,” he replied, breathless but showing no signs of slowing.
Onward they ran, heading downhill toward a scrappy line of trees. They were free, they had escaped. But Teal’c felt no triumph, no victory, only a heavy sense of loss. And though he did not look at his friends, he knew their thoughts were one with his.
O’Neill, left in the grasp of the enemy. Perhaps already dead.
Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, the Devourer marched Jack from the lab. Somewhere, further down the corridor, he could hear the echo of staff blasts and the rattle of gunfire. These life-sucking bastards obviously weren’t happy to let their lunch escape so easily and Jack could only hope that Hunter was honest enough, or at least self-interested enough, to show his team how to get the hell out of this place.
Jack’s own weapons were still back in the lab with the rest of his gear, and the thing holding him was huge, bigger than any of the other Devourers they’d seen so far, so he guessed that any attempt at escape would just land him a broken neck — or worse.
Despite his captor’s size, however, Jack got the impression that it was just a grunt and that he was being taken to face whatever counted for higher management among these sons of bitches.
Eventually, they arrived at a door which slid open as they approached. Jack was thrown into a large room with a towering ceiling. Around the walls of the room and through its center sat tables with an array of equipment on each. None of it looked like anything SG-1 had encountered on its travels but, unlike the hodgepodge of tech that had been strewn about the laboratory he’d just left, all of this equipment had a similar appearance. He didn’t have Daniel or Carter’s expert eye, but Jack would have bet that it all had the same origin. Another difference he noted from the laboratory was that the tech in this room was very well cared for. Valuable, then.
“You are Lantean.”
The voice was a hiss from the corner of the room and Jack spun towards it. From the shadows, walked a shape. A Devourer, slender like the others, clad in a buckled leather robe. Its skin was pallid, almost translucent in the ship’s eerie blue light, and its ratted hair was white. Only with this one, something wasn’t right. ‘Walk’ was the wrong word to describe the way it moved, this thing’s movements were jerky, as if it hadn’t mastered basic motor control. It crouched as it came forward, arms held out at its side. Jack tried in vain not to be seriously creeped out by the sight.
“You,” it said again, with no inflection. “You are Lantean.”
And there was that word again. Jack wasn’t sure what it meant, all he knew was that it had so far prevented him from being turned into a human juice box. “From Minnesota actually, but I guess my accent’s faded a little.”
The thing closed its eyes and lowered its head, murmuring something under its breath. Jack strained to make it out and wished he hadn’t when the words resolved themselves into a chant.
“Bloodbloodbloodbloodblood.”
The Amam’s eyes sprang open again and Jack recoiled, pinned by a frightening reptilian stare. It pointed a clawed finger at him. “You have Ancient blood.”
Jack narrowed his eyes, considering that for a moment. There was of course the question of how it seemed to know what had happened in the lab without the grunt having said a word — Jack himself was still trying to figure out exactly what had happened — but that wasn’t what struck him as being important right now.
Ancient.
Daniel had said their language was rooted in Ancient. And if they had some kind of connection to the gate builders then maybe they might also have the means to dial out without a DHD. It was worth pursuing.