The Mountain King Part 2

Makepeace took third watch that night. Nursing a cup of coffee, he stared up at the empty void of the sky. There was no moon; even worse, he couldn't make out any stars. Any that might be out there were too dim for human eyes to recognize. It was also eerily quiet, without even a single insect chirp to break the silence.

Before the last vestiges of gray twilight had deepened to Stygian black, Makepeace had never truly realized just how much he took the stars for granted. It was pitch black without them, like an overcast night in the middle of winter. If not for the single lantern on the ground next to him, he might have been completely blind.

The lantern was a necessary compromise. The planetary dusk had been brief, and when it ended the Marines found themselves plunged into profound darkness. They were almost certain they were alone, but there remained a trace of doubt. What if this planet's inhabitants were nocturnal? The light from the lantern would certainly give SG-3 away, but when night fell it became obvious that some illumination was necessary. Without moons, planets, or stars to lighten it, the darkness was impenetrable, and evoked a primal fear almost impossible to stifle.

The last planet SG-3 had visited had been the exact opposite. That world's night had been crowded with stars, so gloriously bright that they had cast a multitude of faint shadows. It had been spectacular.

Makepeace sipped his coffee. They had been warned. The SGC had tracked the MALP's passage through the wormhole and determined that this planet was located out on the galaxy's Outer Arm, near the void between the spiral arms. In addition to the low star density, this region of space was thick with ancient dust lanes and absorption nebulae. SG-3 had been briefed that any starlight that got through all that and the planet's atmosphere would be too faint to see with naked eyes. At the time, it hadn't mattered. No one had thought SG-3 would get out of the Stargate building, anyway.

Surprise, surprise. Now, Makepeace looked up and remembered that briefing with resignation. No amount of advance knowledge could have prepared them for the shocking reality of the barren sky.

He heard a scuffing noise behind him, and turned his head sharply at the sound. His fingers tightened on his rifle and thumbed off the safety. A small disk of light flickered over the ground, coming closer. It joined the lantern's lonely glow, a familiar figure came into view, and Makepeace exhaled as he put the safety back on. Instead of some weird alien monster, only Sergeant Andrews had come visiting.

"Damn, it's dark," the sergeant said as he plunked down next to Makepeace. He turned off his flashlight. "Quiet, too."

"What are you doing out here?" Makepeace snapped, irritated by the start Andrews had given him. "It's not your watch for another hour yet."

"A little jumpy there, Colonel?"

"Just startled," Makepeace corrected.

"Don't blame you, sir. I can't see a damn thing out here. Crap." Andrews reached over to the camp stove and poured himself some coffee. "I am not looking forward to sitting out here by my lonesome."

"So you decided to come out and inflict it on yourself early? Sure, that makes loads of sense."

"Actually, yeah. Henderson came in all spooked after you relieved him, you know. Thought I'd acclimate myself a bit before I had to go it alone. Thought maybe you could use some company, too."

"Yeah, I could." Makepeace blew steam off his mug. "Johnson also got twitchy on his watch. Now I can see why."

"It was bad enough when all four of us were out here. This is downright creepy."

"Gee, thanks."

"Sorry, sir," Andrews said. "Didn't mean it that way."

"Yeah, I know. It's just been getting to me. I'm feeling a bit persnickety."

Andrews made an amused noise, but kept whatever rejoinder he'd thought of to himself. Just as well. Makepeace knew it had to be uncomplimentary.

The two men sat in companionable silence. After a while, Andrews murmured the oblique remark, "I just can't imagine it."

Makepeace figured the gunnery sergeant was simply muttering to himself, but asked anyway, "Can't imagine what?"

Andrews looked at him. "What the civilization that evolved here was like."

"We can't know, unless we find something more interesting than domes and spheres. Maybe what we bring back'll be interesting enough for the SGC to send some archeologists--"

"That's not what I mean, sir." Andrews gestured out at the infinite emptiness. "Look at that. Any species that evolved here, evolved under that."

"So? They'd be used to it. Wouldn't they?" Makepeace frowned, wondering what Andrews was getting at.

"Yeah, but they'd be so damn different. I mean, humans wonder if they're alone in the Universe--"

"Some do, at any rate. Not all," Makepeace interjected.

Andrews nodded. "But even before the Stargate, we could look up at the stars and wonder, you know? We couldn't really know for sure, except for maybe some religious extremists or something. These people here, they don't have stars. None of them would ever wonder, right?"

"I don't know." Makepeace stared into his cup.

"I mean, why bother pointing a telescope out there? And even if they did, what would they see, except their own sun?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm not sure." Andrews slurped his coffee. The noise seemed unbearably loud in the unnatural silence surrounding their camp. "Just thinking out loud. I was wondering what kind of civilization would develop on a world where people wouldn't even know that the rest of the Universe existed. Talk about Flat Earth Societies."

"Huh." Makepeace thought about that. "Well, they were pretty advanced to build that road system. They would have known that their planet orbits their sun."

"Their technological interests would be focused more locally, I think. I bet they never developed much in the way of space travel," Andrews said speculatively. "Beyond local satellites, I mean. They don't seem to have any near neighbors, so where would they go? No small stepping stones to work from. Why would they care?"

"They've got a Stargate," Makepeace pointed out. "They even built a way station around it. They knew they weren't all alone. They didn't need to develop their own space exploration program."

"I guess."

"You don't sound convinced."

"I dunno. I just have a bad feeling about this place."

"You and me both," Makepeace muttered.

"I just think these people would have evolved a radically different psychology. They might not even have been sane, at least by our standards. Who knows what kind of tech they would have developed?"

"Just because of the sky?"

"Why not?" said Andrews. "It affects us."

Makepeace thought about that. Theoretical psychology held little interest for him--he was far more oriented toward more pragmatic pursuits--but he knew that environment played a big role in human behavior patterns. Why not aliens, too? "I suppose they might have been naturally xenophobic, but beyond that..." He shrugged. "Not that it matters now," he said slowly. "Looks like they've been gone a long time."

Andrews grunted agreement at that statement.

"God, I hate third watch," Makepeace said. "And I hate that sky. Look at us, contemplating our navels and scaring ourselves just because this place is weird." He poured himself some more coffee. "Look, Mike, we'll be careful, just like always. We'll explore a bit, pick up some neat-looking stuff, and let the scientists back home have at it. The SGC can always send another team back. Assuming, of course, we find anything here they'll think is worth the trouble."

"You don't think they'll be interested in the things we've found?"

"Not if they turn out to be alien sex toys, like someone here suggested."

"Shows what you know about scientists," Andrews retorted. "They only act like prudes in public."

Makepeace laughed softly. They continued to speculate, rather pointlessly, about how an empty night sky might affect a developing culture. With no concrete facts to draw upon, much of the conversation was downright silly. Eventually, they realized they were repeating themselves and their ideas petered out. Partway into the last watch, Makepeace bid Andrews good night and went to bed, feeling a little guilty about leaving the gunnery sergeant to the oppressive night, but too tired to spend the rest of the watch with him. At least Andrews would have the consolation of seeing the sun rise.

* * * * * * *

When Makepeace crawled out of his tent the next morning, he was surprised to see the sky blanketed with dark, heavy clouds. He stood and stared up. No sunglasses would be needed today, that was for sure. "When did this happen?"

"The clouds? They rolled in before sunrise," Andrews replied. He was crouched beside the camp stove, already preparing breakfast. Tantalizing aromas of coffee, orange juice, scrambled eggs, and bacon filled Makepeace's appreciative nostrils and made his mouth water. The smells blended surprising well with the ever-present scent of cinnamon in 3Y5-116's air. Makepeace knew full well that the coffee was instant, the juice pre-packaged, the eggs reconstituted, and the bacon freeze-dried, but there was something about camping that made such things seem a gourmet feast.

Andrews continued, "I've never seen it cloud over so fast. Gotta love these alien planets."

Makepeace grunted, more interested in the food than the aberrations of the local weather. It was obvious that Andrews had gotten a jump on breakfast to avoid having to endure another of Henderson's cooking fiascoes. Not that Makepeace would have inflicted that horrible punishment on his poor team again. Last night's dinner had proven every bit as inedible as Johnson had predicted. There was a good chance, Makepeace reflected, that Thomas Henderson was the single worst cook in the galaxy. The man could manage drinkable instant coffee, but that was about all.

Mike Andrews's culinary skills were a different story altogether. The sergeant was easily the best cook on the team, and could work magic with even the most disgusting of MREs. Fortunately, SG-3 wasn't limited to that unappetizing fare on this outing, since they had the FRED to carry a few more interesting supplies for them. Makepeace got his mess kit out and dished himself up some breakfast.

"This is great, Mike," he complimented the sergeant, as he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

Andrews smiled. "Thanks, sir. Beats MREs."

"No shit."

"The camp food's a pretty terrific idea. How'd you con the general into letting us have it?"

"I told him it'd be good for morale, what with us being stuck out here in the desert all alone for over a week. It's not like we're trying to be covert or anything, and General Hammond's a pragmatist."

"Who's a pragmatist?" Johnson asked as he emerged from the tent he shared with Makepeace. "Oh, and what is that wonderful smell?"

"Hammond," said Makepeace. "And breakfast, in that order." He watched with amusement as Henderson also appeared and followed his nose straight to the camp stove. That Marine might not be able to cook, but he could eat like no one else.

Breakfast passed pleasantly. Henderson grumbled a little about being stuck with the cleanup, minimal though it was, but Makepeace wasn't going to let him off the hook. He wanted Henderson to be properly cautious for the rest of the mission, if not for his own safety, then at least to avoid more tedious punishments.

Half an hour later they collected some gear and their weapons, and headed back to the ruins. The crushed dome seemed oddly forlorn in the gloomy weather. It looked lopsided, with a fair amount of the debris removed and piled off to one side, and a gaping hole at its base. Under the oppressive cloud cover, the emerald material appeared lifeless, darkened to a deep, forest green. The FRED sat nearby, waiting patiently for its owners to put it back into service.

The Marines had just started heaving a particularly large chunk of glassy masonry away when they heard the familiar sound of rushing air. It turned to thunder even as they listened.

"Ah, hell, here comes another of those train-things," said Johnson, peering down the road at the distant dust cloud that had been kicked up. "Shit. Better break out the tarps again."

"Already on it," Henderson called, jogging toward the FRED.

This time, though, the protection of the tarps wasn't necessary. Well before reaching the domes, the night-black train began to slow down, and the roar of violently displaced air diminished. The Marines moved back away from the road anyway, and waited for the transport's arrival.

Makepeace commented, "Looks like it's gonna stop here."

"Guess now we know what the domes are for," Johnson said. "With one on either side of the two roads, I'll bet it's like a bus stop or a train station."

"There's no other access from here to anywhere else, though. No roads or anything."

Henderson said, "Probably destroyed and eroded away. Maybe this stuff survived because it was made of tougher materials. That might make sense, if it was a major thoroughfare."

The train slowed even more as it continued forward. At such a slow speed, it was almost noiseless, its approach characterized only by a quiet hum. It pulled up next to the wrecked dome and stopped, levitating above the road, just like the train had before the Stargate building. Following an identical sequence of events, the door in its side opened up and a ramp rolled out.

"Automation at its finest," Makepeace said. He was sure Johnson was right about its function; the thing did act like some kind of public transportation system. He wondered what route it followed, and for an instant was tempted to get on just to see where it went. He'd done that before, a long time ago on London's famous Tube. One morning he'd ridden the Circle Line all the way around, just for the hell of it, like a kid on a joyride. A pity it wasn't a good idea to try that here.

The Marines waited for the train to leave. Unlike its earlier counterpart, however, this one seemed in no hurry to move on. It floated serenely, apparently content to stay forever.

"Well, that's weird," said Johnson, suspiciously. "Why is this one just sitting here?"

"I don't know, but I don't like it." Makepeace readied his rifle. "Let's check it out."

They approached the train cautiously. With Johnson and Henderson covering the open door, Andrews and Makepeace moved to opposite sides of the ramp and peered through the entryway, trying to see as far into the train as they could. Nothing jumped out at them; no automatic weaponry activated. The train remained quiescent.

"Maybe it's just broken," suggested Andrews. "Maybe it just took one trip too many, and died here." His expression indicated that he didn't really believe his own words, though.

Johnson shook his head. "That's awfully convenient, don't you think?"

"It was just an idea."

Without warning, a flash of lightning split the sky, striking somewhere on the horizon. Out of habit, Makepeace started counting. Ten seconds later thunder rumbled across the land. A gust of wind accompanied it, sending loose dirt and grit swirling into the air. An instant later more lightning flared, more thunder rumbled. It sounded closer.

Makepeace swore at the turn of events. Out in the open on a stretch of flatland, they would be begging to become lightning rods once the storm got into full swing. "Just what we need. Everyone, back to camp. Maybe we can wait out the storm." He didn't even consider using the alien transport for shelter.

"What about the train?" Johnson asked.

"It'll have to keep. Let's move!"

Suddenly, the heavens opened up. A flood of hailstones rained down from the sky upon the hapless Marines. Most of the ice balls were small and harmless, about the size of corn kernels, but a few were large enough to be dangerous. The wind grew stronger, almost to gale force. Wind and hail lashed the men, tearing at their clothes, clawing at them with merciless talons. In the distance, Makepeace saw their tents uprooted and tumbled end over end.

"The FRED!" Andrews screamed over the howling air. "We can hunker down by the FRED!"

More lightning struck, less than a mile away, and the crack of its thunder was ear-splitting. Makepeace smelled ozone. Then, as abruptly as it had started, the storm stopped. Everything became very, very still.

"What the hell?" gasped Johnson. "Is it over? Already?"

"That was fuckin' quick for a thunderstorm," Henderson said, looking paranoid. "It can't be over. That ain't natural."

Makepeace brushed hailstones from his clothing and hair. The sky had turned a sickly, greenish-black color. That rang a warning bell, but he couldn't place it at the moment. He opened his mouth to ask about it, but stopped short and just stared.

Three golden spheres, identical to the undamaged one they had dug out of the ruins, floated over their demolished campsite.

Johnson frowned at him, then he turned his head and followed his CO's eyes. His jaw dropped open. "Oh, crap."

As the four men watched, the orbs flew toward them, moving through the air in an eerily smooth and synchronized manner. They spread out as though to surround SG-3 on three sides and trap them against the yellow road. Or, Makepeace realized with a shock, as though to herd them into the waiting train.

The others must have come to the same conclusion. Almost as one, the Marines reached for their weapons. Before anyone could fire, the spheres stopped coming forward and hung motionless in midair. A strange, electronic chorus broke the silence, rising and falling with overlapping harmonics like some weird, synthesized form of music. The sounds weren't localized, seeming instead to emanate from all directions at once.

"I think they're trying to communicate," Johnson said in a hushed voice.

Makepeace threw him a incredulous look. "No kidding." He stepped forward and made a point of lowering his weapon. "Hello," he said to the center sphere, remembering the lectures Doctor Jackson had given all the SG teams on first contact procedures. Those methods were primarily intended for contact with human-based cultures, but they were all he had. "We don't mean any harm. We're peaceful explorers, from a planet called Earth. We came through your Stargate, back that way." He gestured down the road.

More harmonics rose and fell, this time sharper, more strident.

Makepeace had a bad feeling about where this might lead. "Look, I don't know if you understand me, but we didn't mean to trespass. We thought this planet was deserted. We'll just leave now, all right? We'll go home and leave you alone."

The electronic chorus became discordant, the overlapping waves of sound pounding his eardrums brutally. Over his shoulder, Makepeace told his men, "We'll take this slow and easy, guys. Just leave everything and start walking." He fingered the GDO strapped to his wrist, knowing that each of his men also followed procedure to the letter and had one on. It would be a long trek back to the Stargate with no supplies, but that was preferable to being prisoners, or dead.

Carefully, SG-3 started edging away and moving along the road back the way they had come. The globes followed them, maintaining an even distance. "I don't think they want us to go," Andrews muttered.

"Shut up and keep walking," Makepeace told him.

A deafening burst of electronic cacophony slammed into them, with bass undertones that reverberated painfully in Makepeace's chest. One of the golden spheres zipped ahead of them, cutting off SG-3's avenue of escape. The Marines stopped walking. A couple miles off toward the Stargate, the clouds started moving in a rotating pattern, converging in on one area of the sky. From the distance, there came a sound like the roaring of a jet. A dry wind began to blow.

"Oh, my God," Andrews groaned. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Fuck, yeah." Makepeace finally recognized what was happening with the weather. Colorado Springs endured its share of tornado warnings, and that was exactly what was forming before him: a tornado. Whether it was a natural phenomenon or something the force controlling the spheres had shaped didn't matter. All that mattered now was survival.

A dark little nub budded from the center of the rotating clouds. Dust and debris swirled on the ground beneath it, while it grew in size and length. The newly formed funnel cloud touched down. The roaring got louder, and the wind became stronger. The tornado didn't appear to move left or right, but seemed to get larger with each passing second. With horror, Makepeace realized that it must be heading straight in their direction.

"Out of its path," he shouted. "That way!"

The four men ran at a right angle from the road, but the spheres moved again to cut them off. Disharmonious noise screamed in their ears like the howling of demons, even louder than the tornado's horrifying thunder.

"Do those things want to kill us?" yelled Andrews as he tried and failed to dodge around one of the flying globes. The spheres zoomed around the Marines, again trying to herd them toward the train.

Enough was more than enough. Makepeace raised his rifle and let loose a burst of gunfire at the nearest sphere. The bullets bounced off harmlessly, not even denting the glistening surface. He tried again on a different sphere, and got the same results.

"Christ!" Johnson shouted. "What now?" The wind whipped his words away.

Makepeace remembered that the biggest danger of being caught out in the open during a tornado was being hit by flying debris. "Down!" he bellowed. "Lie flat, face down on the ground!" The idea was to get as low as possible to avoid being in the line of fire. It was a poor solution, but the best they could do now. With a little luck, the funnel cloud wouldn't run right over the top of them.

The team hit the dirt and shielded their heads and necks with their arms. Makepeace heard Andrews mutter something about kissing their asses goodbye, and snorted grimly.

There came a renewed burst of electronic shrieks. Makepeace looked up and saw the spheres circling overhead like vultures. Then a force like a Mack truck slammed into him and everything went dark.

Continue to Part 3

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