STARGATE SG-1: Oceans of Dust by Peter J. Evans Page A

very.”
    O’Neill grimaced in frustration, wishing there was a spare staff weapon, or that his MP5 had proved more resilient, but there was nothing for him to fire. All he had was his radio. He keyed it on, dipped his head to it, and then energy bolts burst out across the plateau.
    The shots lashed out from nowhere, from empty sky, so fast and so bright that they were almost a solid line of ravening power, ripping the air above the temple with a series of high-pitched, reverberating whines.
    The high sound of them was answered with bass, thumping impacts as they struck their targets.
    O’Neill saw a death glider whirl into view from over the temple roof, two scythed wings and a ball of white flame where the body of the fighter should have been. The second glider shot over his head in a cloud of fragments. The last ship must have dodged the initial barrage, but as it accelerated the invisible weapon spoke again, and sheared one of the fighter’s wings away. The rest of it spun upwards, flipped over and drove itself solidly into the plateau.
    The first glider, a winged comet of fire, was still flying, arcing towards the distant mountains. O’Neill watched it go for a while, before realizing that his mouth was open. He closed it.
    Above the plateau, an irregular patch of smoky air wavered, solidified, and became a rather battered Tel’tak cargo ship.
    O’Neill’s radio hissed into life. “
Colonel? What’s your status?
”
    “Status is cold, banged-up and really,
really
peed off. Major?”
    “
Sir?
”
    “I thought I ordered you to shut that ship down.”
    There was a slight pause. “
We had some technical issues. Thought we’d t ake a different tack.
”
    “Technical issues,” repeated O’Neill, dully. He switched the radio off. “They had technical issues.”
    Outside, amid the smoke and the flame, Sephotep’s grand experiment dropped hesitantly through the air, slowed, then fell the last couple of meters to crunch unceremoniously onto the cold flat stone of the plateau.
     
    The Jaffa took their fallen with them, even those who had been inside the burned house. O’Neill watched the procession of the living and the dead move quickly up the short ramp and through the Stargate, each man and woman and silent child striding without hesitation into the rippling mirror of the event horizon, its liquid surface closing behind them as if they had never been.
    The bodies were draped in robes and blankets. “We leave nothing for Apophis,” explained Bra’tac. “Rites will be said for them on the other side, when there is time.”
    “This planet they’re going to,” said Daniel. “Is it, you know…” He gestured at the monochrome landscape around them. “Better?”
    “It is called Tryea,” Bra’tac replied. “And yes, Doctor Jackson, it is better. There are more Jaffa there.”
    “From Chulak?”
    “Indeed.”
    Almost all the Jaffa were through. The last man through was the only one to pause. He stopped at the top of the ramp, and turned. When his eyes found Teal’c’s, he nodded curtly.
    Teal’c dipped his head, and kept it lowered until the man was gone.
    O’Neill watched the gate’s mirror break into a whorl of foam and spin to nothing. “Bra’tac, are you sure about this?”
    “I am.” The old man smiled. “Sephotep’s creation may be flawed, but it should not fall back into the hands of Apophis.”
    “Flawed?” O’Neill’s eyebrows went up. “Kind of an understatement. It doesn’t
work
.”
    “Sir, it’ll work fine as long as Bra’tac doesn’t try to use more than two upgrades at a time.” That was Carter, or at least what little of her that O’Neill could see. She had only been out of the Tel’tak for a few minutes, enough time for the Jaffa to get organized and dial the gate to Tryea, but she was already looking frozen. “Just don’t use the weapons and the main drive if you have the cloak up, or —”
    “Thank you, Major Carter,” Bra’tac cut in. “I believe I