DISCLAIMER: All characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
Marne waited until the guard left then extended a hand to Sam. Shaking her head, she rose slowly, struggling to regain control of her emotions. "You...you're sure they're d...dead?"
"I am sorry. That is what the message says. Perhaps they were mistaken?"
Teal'c shook his head doubtfully. "When we last heard from our ... friends, one had been badly injured. It is doubtful he would have been of assistance in a struggle with the beasts."
"Teal'c! You can't believe they're dead!"
"I am merely stating that it is possible, but not necessarily true. O'Neill is, among other things, a survivor."
Sam nodded, oddly comforted by the Jaffa's words. "Fine. We'll continue to work on the assumption that they're alive, with one, possibly both, badly injured. Now--"
"I am sorry." Marne repeated, guiltily. "We do not have much time, Major Carter, Vraxas expects--"
"Don't apologize. Not your fault. Teal'c knows how to cure Tiamon." Holding up her hand for silence as the startled man's eyes widened, she continued. "A cup of salt must be ingested within a hour from the time you start the treatment."
"Salt?" Marne asked confused.
Teal'c responded. "The Goa'uld refer to it as har'etsur."
Marne's eyes widened even further. "Ah. But that is so simple, so plentiful. Are you sure?"
"I am." The calm assurance of the Jaffa seemed to spur the young Euloean into action.
"If the guards come for you again, you will be killed on the spot. I will escort you to Vraxas." Marne spat the name, then continued. "Then I will return here as quickly as possible, and administer the ... salt. If luck is with us, Tiamon will be able to present his own evidence at your trial."
Daniel ran faster than he could ever remember running. Oh, he'd spent many hours proving to Jack he could at least keep up with his military trained companions. But never had he been asked to push his body past endurance. His mind, yes. Body, no. But he'd never had so many relying only on him. The lives of all his friends, as well as the unnamed SG team, rested solely on his shoulders. Always before he could count on Jack, or Sam, or Teal'c to come to his aid. This time, however, Sam and Teal'c were prisoners ... no help from that quarter. Help, hell! It was entirely up to him to convince the local population that they weren't Goa'uld. A hand landed suddenly on his shoulder, causing him to jump, as he was pulled to a halt behind a small expanse of rocks.
"My apologies, Daniel. Our home is there." Laro smiled and pointed.
Daniel stared at the walled town. His first impression was of a prison, designed more to keep its residents in than to keep the beasts of the night, out. Frowning, he studied the gates. "The gates don't look as old as the walls or am I wrong?"
Elden replied swiftly. "You are not wrong. The original gates were barred, not solid, and the bars were wide enough apart to admit a man, but not a Redcap, allowing anyone caught out after last light a safe refuge."
"When did these gates go up?"
"About a year ago. Vraxas..." Elden's words trailed off, and he looked significantly at Laro before continuing. "...Vraxas said that only those who were 'safe' should be admitted freely. That it was possible the Goa'uld would return and overwhelm us as we slept."
"And let me guess who decides who's 'safe' ... could it be, Vraxas?"
"It could, and is, Daniel. I fear my people have allowed ourselves to be deceived."
Laro looked around nervously. "This is very odd. I do not see any signs of the Redcaps. By now at least one or two should be exploring the clearing around the walls near the gate. Do you suppose the executions have begun?"
Daniel paled. "I..I thought the trial didn't start until last light."
"It doesn't, but under rare circumstances, the trial can be bypassed and the Council can pass sentence immediately. If that has happened, well..."
"I know I'm gonna hate the answer, but what exactly is the method of execution here?"
Elden looked grave. "Those sentenced to are die secured to posts outside the walls. The..the Redcaps do the rest." The man paused for a moment. "Thinking about it, Vraxas is responsible for this method of execution."
Daniel sighed. "Why am I not surprised?"
Jack tensed as more thuds announced even more 'guests'. Silently he counted. 'One, two, three, four. No, five. Terrific. Five to one. Wish I could get those odds in the next poker game.' A wry smile played on his lips. 'Right. Next poker game. Sure.' "What the hell?" He winced as he realized he'd spoken aloud, but to his relief, the creatures on the other side of the door didn't appear to notice. Instead, the keening sound that had prompted his remarks intensified, rising to an almost deafening pitch. 'That's odd, it almost sounds as if they're... mourning the dead ones. Okay, geese do it. Wolves do it. Maybe it's not so odd, but it sure sounds ... almost human.'
Suddenly realizing his uninjured limbs were growing stiff, he shifted position, barely stifling a groan as the pain, which had been a dull throb, rose to crescendo proportions. Morphine. That would be a good thing. And there was one hypo left in his bag. Enough to last until well after dawn. But if he took it, would he last until dawn? The last shot he'd managed had reduced him to mush for ... damn, he wasn't sure how long he'd been out. And with the creatures in the cellar, he didn't dare lose consciousness. Not too mention that he'd have to put the gun down to get the drug. A snarl close to the door made his decision for him. Morphine, and the relief it would bring, would have to wait. His first priority was survival. He had ... how many shots did he have left in his gun? Stupid, stupid, stupid. He moaned softly in frustration. Why couldn't he remember? Fine. He'd just have to look. Couldn't afford not to know when he was getting close to the end of a clip. Clip? Oh shit. He'd have to put the gun down to check it or for that matter reload it. God! It was gonna be a long night.