The Mountain King Part 8

They weren't particularly pleased.

However, neither reasoned arguments nor outright cajolery could dissuade Varayimshaeta from its plan to repopulate its planet with an intelligent species. The interview ended shortly thereafter, and SG-3 was escorted back to the elevator room then left to their own devices. Of course, none of the doors could be opened but the elevator, so the Marines settled for returning to their suite.

Makepeace wasn't surprised to see that the kitchen had been cleaned up and the dishes put away. His bed was self-making, so why shouldn't the rest of the place be self-cleaning? From the lack of commentary, he gathered that his men had already witnessed the phenomenon. Not too surprising, since they'd been living in these quarters longer than he had--and unlike him they'd managed to stay conscious.

In his childhood he'd read fairy tales that included mysterious, magical abodes with invisible servants. Had Varayimshaeta modeled their quarters on those stories, or was this the way its people had lived while they still ruled this world?

The question wasn't trivial. If only he could figure out how the computer thought, what patterns its reasoning processes followed... But so far it eluded human rationality and common sense.

Frustrated, he paced from one end of the common room to another, grinding his teeth and unable to think of a way out of this fix. Varayimshaeta had everything covered; they were completely at its mercy. He hated feeling helpless with such a burning intensity that his hatred of Varayimshaeta's plan came in a distant second. As he stalked back and forth he discarded one wild scheme after another, not noticing how quiet his teammates became as his temper grew more and more frayed.

On Makepeace's fifth trip across the room, Andrews started humming the tune to Paul Anka's "Having My Baby."

"Secure that, Gunnery Sergeant!" Makepeace snarled, almost simultaneously with Johnson's strident "Shut up!" and Henderson's weary and embarrassed "Give it a rest, Mike."

Looking oddly satisfied, Andrews dropped onto a couch and lounged comfortably. He didn't say a word.

Makepeace glared at him, but the man didn't even have the grace to squirm. Andrews always knew how far he could push things, and had an uncanny knack for breaking tension and demolishing stonewalls--a most useful trait when times got tough and tempers ran high. Like now. Makepeace bowed to his sergeant's wisdom and turned to Johnson. "No offense, Lieutenant, but I don't particularly want to have your baby."

Johnson looked pained, but after a moment a smile ghosted across his lips. "The feeling's mutual, sir." He slanted an evil glance at Henderson, who fidgeted at the scrutiny.

"Can I assume that no one is interested in founding a colony here?" Makepeace asked. "Especially the way Vara has in mind?"

His teammates all grumped out affirmative replies.

"All right then," he continued, "does anyone have any ideas?" He didn't really expect an answer; there didn't seem to be any options. Or maybe he was just too tired to see them.

"We need more information," Henderson said. He stared down at his tightly clasped hands. "We need to find out more about Vara and this place. I've been thinking--"

"I'm sure you were," Andrews sniped.

Henderson ignored him. He unclasped his hands, rubbed them on his trousers, and addressed his next remarks directly to Makepeace. "I want to talk with Vara, Colonel, let it do that whole information exchange it was talking about and--"

"Are you fucking crazy?" Johnson snapped, bolting out of his chair and coming to loom over Henderson.

Shocked, Makepeace stared at his subordinate and wondered the same thing.

"Oh, come on. You know someone has to try," Henderson said. His voice sounded tight. "There's too big a gulf between us and Vara. It doesn't have even the slightest comprehension why we object to what it wants to do. An exchange might be the only way to get through to it. Someone's got to do it."

"After what that thing did to the colonel?" Johnson said. "No fucking way."

On those words, both men shut up and glanced nervously at Makepeace. Andrews stared at his feet. Makepeace just gazed back at them, knowing he wasn't the most unbiased judge in this decision. He'd wanted ideas. He just hadn't considered that any of his men would come up with such a stupid scheme.

Swallowing, Henderson ventured, "Sir, what happened to you-- Vara said it didn't have its equipment calibrated correctly for our brains. Now that it's got a physical scan..." He picked at his thumbnail. "Anyway, sir, it should be safe--safer--now. And maybe with the brain scan adjusted, I'll be able to retain more information than you did."

Makepeace said slowly, "What makes you think Vara will even consent to another of these 'exchanges'?"

Henderson looked up, startled, like he hadn't even considered that possibility. He shrugged a concession. "Maybe it won't, but it seems to like us--"

Johnson snorted. "Yeah, a little too much."

"--and there's no harm in asking it," he continued, glaring at the lieutenant. "At worst, it'll say no."

"No, that's the best case," Andrews put in. "At worst, it'll say yes. I can't believe you want to try it."

"You wanna learn more about medicine, Junior, go back to med school," Johnson growled. "Not volunteer to get your brains scrambled."

"You know this isn't the same thing, Lieutenant," Henderson snapped. "I'd like a look at that thing's knowledge base, yes. You should, too. That's what we're out here for, right?" Johnson didn't answer. Henderson appealed to Makepeace. "I've got the best general science background here, so there's a good chance I'll be able to hang on to some of that data." He took a breath, then added quietly, "Besides, sir, I just want us to get out of here and go home, and this looks like it might be our best shot."

Makepeace closed his eyes. Dispassionately, he thought that Henderson was probably right. This might be the only way to get through to the damned AI, and if Henderson could retain even a fraction of Vara's scientific and technological knowledge... Wasn't that worth the risk? Varayimshaeta had claimed that what had happened to Makepeace had been a mistake, that it had been corrected, but what if it hadn't? What if the process simply wasn't compatible with human physiology, no matter how much Varayimshaeta tinkered with it? And yet, if it was...

In spite of the comfortable room temperature, he felt cold. I can't believe I'm even considering this idiocy, he thought, appalled at himself. He realized that Godfrey hadn't put in an appearance to offer any opinions or information, despite the fact that the suite was certainly monitored. Was Varayimshaeta letting them make this decision for themselves, or had it already dismissed the idea out of hand? Did he really want to find out?

He rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tension there. His men all froze, staring at him.

It took him a moment to figure out what their problem was. Terrific. They probably figured he was about to have another seizure or something. Not too surprising, considering the topic of conversation. He noticed that Henderson looked even more worried than the others, to the point of appearing ill. Makepeace had to repress a nasty smile at that. Still think Vara's little brain exchange is a good idea, Tommy boy? he thought cynically.

It really wasn't very nice to be amused by his teammate's discomfort. And to judge by the expressions Johnson and Andrews were wearing, he was going to endure another round of heavy-handed coddling.

He let out a loud sigh. "Relax, will you? I'm just rubbing my neck. My head's not going to explode."

Johnson looked suspicious, but Andrews flashed him a relieved grin. "Can't blame us for being a little concerned, sir. I'd hate to be stuck cleaning up the mess in here if anything like that happened."

Makepeace stared at him for a moment, then let out a short laugh. "I'll try not to add to your workload." But he was careful not to rub his neck again.

"Well, sir, what do you think?" Henderson asked. He still looked a bit green around the gills.

"About what?" Makepeace said, deliberately obtuse. He couldn't deny the man had balls. It was pretty obvious Henderson didn't really want to do it, yet he had still volunteered. Unfortunately, he was like a dog with an old bone when he got an idea, no matter how bad.

"About my plan?"

"I think it sucks. The answer is no." He held up a hand to forestall the inevitable protest. "Not just yet, anyway. I can't believe we're out of other options." He gave each of his men a hard look. "I know you've already done some exploring, but it wasn't enough. We're going to tear this tower apart, looking for a way out or anything--anything at all--that might be useful? Understood?"

His teammates nodded. They all looked relieved--even Henderson, Makepeace noticed with grim amusement. It couldn't have been an easy thing offering to be the guinea pig like that, especially knowing what he did about what could happen.

Henderson still pressed, though. "And if we come up empty, sir?"

"I might reconsider the idea. But don't get your hopes up."

* * * * * * *

SG-3's further sweeps of the tower were as much of a bust as their first. In spite of that, Makepeace strictly forbade Henderson from trying Varayimshaeta's brain probe, as his own experiences were still far too fresh in his mind. He was firmly backed in this decision by Johnson and Andrews. This time Henderson didn't even put up a token protest. The matter was dropped.

The days were slightly longer on 3Y5-116, a full day-night cycle lasting a little more than twenty-nine Earth hours. SG-3 passed two more nights in their ever-expanding gilded cage. A variety of entertainments appeared. Newly remodeled rooms held pool and billiard tables, foosball, dart boards, decks of cards, video games, and even a roulette wheel. Makepeace shook his head at that one. That particular game had never appealed to him.

Their dressers were always stocked with fresh, clean clothes, pressed and neatly folded. But like their food, the garments were all merely copies of their BDU's. The sizes were correct, but there was no variety, and there was no way to differentiate Varayimshaeta's duplicates from the originals.

The men spent most their time exploring the increasing number of human habitats, searching for any possibility of escape, any little opening that Varayimshaeta might have overlooked. Their recons always came up empty. During breaks, they watched the servitors tend the newly planted fields, and scared themselves silly with all-too-realistic speculations about their probable future.

"You know," Henderson commented at dinner on their fourth day as pampered pets, "it's possible that Vara's already started its little biology project."

"You had to bring that up, didn't you?" Makepeace said. "I was trying not to think about it." He pushed his food around his plate with his fork. The china pattern was maddeningly familiar, but for the life of him he couldn't place it. He wondered which forgotten corner of his mind Varayimshaeta had dredged it up from. It wasn't his ex's, or his mother's. He didn't own any china anymore--all the good stuff had gone with Joanna after the divorce--and his own, everyday dishes were pretty utilitarian.

"What are you two talking about?" Johnson asked sharply. "I'm sorry, sir, I know it's probably got samples from you, but I ain't volunteered any tissue lately."

"It's had plenty of opportunity to collect genetic material, Lieutenant," Henderson informed him. "Humans shed cells all the time. Dead skin cells here, some hair follicles there... We leave cellular residue on the utensils when we eat and drink."

Johnson carefully set down his crystal goblet and stared at it. "Fuck."

"Not to mention personal hygiene activities--"

"Will you shut up already?"

Andrews pointed out with false cheer, "And you scraped your hand the other day, banging on that door. You probably left lots of nice, fresh cells for Vara's servitors to collect. Let's face it, our keeper could have hundreds of new buns in the oven already and we'd never know a thing about it. Think about that the next time you use the crapper or blow your nose."

Johnson growled.

"That's enough," Makepeace said. "I'm trying to eat, here." Everyone shut up, and dinner was concluded in uncomfortable silence.

3Y5-116's longer days and heavier gravity conspired to drain the men's energy reserves. With the added pressures of being prisoners and worrying about Varayimshaeta's plans, they were starting to get on one another's nerves. In the evenings they burned off some of the stress in the newly added game rooms. They even tried out the swimming pool. The only novelty room they didn't experiment with was the theater, Makepeace reiterating his order that it remain off limits.

In spite of all the available distractions, frequent bouts of bickering erupted into full-blown arguments even more often than was usual for them. However, no one offered to move out into any of the other apartments available. The last thing any of them wanted was to be separated if they could avoid it.

Sometimes Makepeace thought it a pity that no bar ever materialized. Then again, perhaps that was just as well. Alcohol would probably have only exacerbated the situation.

On the plus side, the enforced time off permitted Makepeace to get a little more comfortable in his own skin again. The others stopped treating him like glass. They also all came to the conclusion that his attitudes and behavior were normal. "Well, as normal as possible for a bird colonel," Andrews had commented with studied irreverence.

The dreams didn't return, the alien memories appeared only on demand. He didn't have any more seizures. Makepeace stopped worrying so much that Varayimshaeta had reprogrammed his mind or otherwise screwed up his head. He knew the shrinks and neurologists back home were going to have a field day with him--assuming he ever managed to get back home--but the fear that he wasn't trustworthy, that he was a danger to his men, became just another irritant in the background noise.

* * * * * * *

A blast of thunder jolted Makepeace awake. He sat up. The bedroom was pitch black. "Godfrey, turn on the lights." The room lightened, but the windows stayed dark and opaque.

Another boom, so loud it rattled the furniture. It sounded like it was right on top of them. Had to be, to get through the building's soundproofing like that. But why the hell would Varayimshaeta start such a violent storm so near? Makepeace got up and groped for his clothes. "Godfrey, let me see out the windows." The windows stayed black.

Makepeace wondered what Varayimshaeta didn't want him to see.

More thunder, even louder this time, if that was possible. Makepeace scowled as he tied his boot laces. It didn't sound quite right, at least not for a natural storm. There was something about its cadence, a familiar quality--almost like an explosion. He was tempted to assume they were under attack.

Someone banged on his door. "Colonel, you awake? Something's up." Johnson's voice.

Makepeace opened the door. "Yeah, I noticed." He joined his men in the common room as another thunderclap made everything rattle. Looking around, he saw the windows here were blacked out as well. He wondered if Varayimshaeta had pulled the blinds throughout the entire complex. Probably.

Henderson was hopping on one leg, pulling on a boot. "I don't think that's thunder."

"Sounds almost like we're being shelled," Andrews commented, looking worried.

"Godfrey wouldn't tell me anything," Makepeace said. "Anyone here got any intel at all?"

"Not much. Godfrey won't talk to us, either." Johnson glared at the blackened windows. "I had the last watch this morning. Right before the windows blacked out, I saw a bright flash and heard the thunder." He looked at Makepeace. "Sir, the sky was clear. It was gray out, pre-dawn, but there weren't any clouds. This can't be a storm. Not a natural one, anyway."

The front door suddenly opened, and six of the golden spheres floated into the room. Godfrey appeared during another crack of thunder. "You will go with the servitors," the hologram told them without any preamble.

"Why?" Andrews asked. "What's going on?"

"You will go with the servitors," Godfrey repeated.

Makepeace asked, "Are we under attack?"

"You will go with the servitors."

"Goddamn computer," Andrews grumbled.

More gold orbs crowded into the room. They surrounded the Marines, and started herding them like sheep. "Looks like the discussion is over," Makepeace said, eyeing the globes nearest him with a scowl.

"No shit, sir. All right, I'm going already," Johnson snapped as two servitors nudged him none too gently from behind.

The spheres hurried SG-3 through the bewildering maze of corridors and elevators, always heading in a downward direction. Makepeace was grimly amused to see that his earlier supposition was correct; all the windows along the route had been darkened to opacity. The building shook at irregular intervals, and here and there jagged cracks showed in the gem-like materials.

At last the men entered a small elevator. After an interminably long ride down, the doors opened, and the spheres forced SG-3 all the way down a long, windowless tunnel that terminated at a thick, vault-like door. Light panels glowed near the ceiling, making the blue-gray walls glitter. Makepeace thought this area might be made from the same material used for the Stargate enclosure. From Varayimshaeta's memories, he knew that stuff had been created to outlast just about anything thrown at it.

As SG-3 approached, the door slowly slid open, making a heavy, grinding noise, and they saw that it was a good ten feet thick. Unlike the tripartite doors throughout the rest of the complex, this one was just one piece, obviously designed for durability rather than esthetics. Just like the door at the Stargate building, Makepeace thought. The men were unceremoniously shoved through the entrance, and the vault door closed behind them with a heavy and final-sounding thunk.

"This cannot be good," Makepeace said, eyeing his new surroundings.

They now stood in a luxuriously appointed suite of rooms not unlike their former quarters; however, the blue and green tinted walls here were ominously devoid of windows. The air was clean and fresh-smelling, blown in from vents near the ceiling, and not even the tiniest trace of thunder could be heard or felt. The place radiated impregnability.

"Nope," Andrews agreed. "This is real pretty and all, but I know a bunker when I see one."

"Guess that pretty much clinches the attack theory, then," Henderson said. "But who is it?"

"The SGC?" Johnson ventured. "Maybe they're here to bust us out?"

"They would've started with a routine search party, and they'd land in the same situation we're in, at best." Makepeace frowned. "Besides, I don't think we've been gone long enough for them to start worrying yet," he said slowly. "Unless we've calculated the planet's rotation wrong."

"We're not wrong." Johnson plopped down on the couch and chewed his lower lip. "Sir, we know the Goa'uld attacked this planet before. Do you think they might've come back?"

"That would be a hell of a coincidence," Henderson said. "Would fit our luck on this mission, though."

"It certainly would," Makepeace said with a sigh.

Continue to Part 9

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