CITY OF THE GODS

"Jack! What are you doing, why aren't you..." Daniel stopped in his tracks and stared at him. His low voice was filled with apprehension. "Why is it so hot up here?"

Dabruzzi ran past them without pausing. Jack coughed, then coughed again, clinging to the pain searing his throat, an anchor against a different pain, one he could never articulate.

Something wriggled inside his cape. He glanced down at the miniature dog, Spiffy. They hadn't been able to find the tunnel to the surface until it had jumped out of the cape and scampered up behind a rock fall. The animal had saved them, but it might have only delayed the inevitable. Jack reached in, unconsciously reassuring it with a gentle pat, feeling its warm life against his hand. "Our friendly neighborhood volcano decided to erupt all over the Stargate." He swallowed the grit in his mouth and stood.

Daniel's eyes opened wide in disbelief. "What about Sam and the other kids?"

"They're dead." Jack's voice was as cracked and brittle as the cinders that covered the ground. "They're all dead."

CITY OF THE GODS

SONNYWHITELAW

To the men and women of the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society, who helped when others said it couldn't be done.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Sabine C Bauer for inviting me to play, and then holding my hand, Sally and Tom for keeping me on the straight and narrow, and my children for unconditional support while I was living on a planet far, far away.

Of such great powers or beings there may be conceivably a survival... a survival of a hugely remote period when... consciousness was manifested, perhaps, in shapes and forms long since withdrawn before the tide of advancing humanity... forms of which poetry and legend alone have caught a flying memory and called them Gods...

- HP Lovecraft: At the Mountains of Madness

PROLOGUE

heer stockings and a crisp blue uniform wrapped her in formality. Neither afforded protection against the cold, but after the bitter nights in the lava tunnel on M4D-376, Major Samantha Carter was inured to it.

Her short-heeled regulation shoes tapped across the tiled floor of the Washington DC building. The sound merged with the crowds of briefcase-carrying five hundred dollar suits, assorted federal types and military uniforms. Heating ducts, murmured conversation, shuffling papers and other sounds - felt more than heard - made up the white noise of civilization.

While Sam waited for the guard to process the man ahead, she glanced outside. In the distance, a snow-speckled rainbow serpent of umbrellas undulated along the sidewalk. She began to remove her overcoat then decided against it. Ineffectual against the DC winter, it offered subliminal protection against the surrealism of the ordinary.

The image on the television screen above the guard's head switched from the charred and smoking remains of a school bus to two bloody-faced children, the only survivors of the latest suicide bombing. Israeli soldiers darted around the site with tiny colored flags, the types used to mark body parts, in an all too familiar ritual. Close captioning informed her that tanks were already rolling into the Gaza Strip. Retribution would be swift. Her lips thinned in anger. In the heavens beyond, the `gods' waged war across time and space and dimensions incomprehensible to mortal man, while below, on an inconspicuous and until recently forgotten planet, the inhabitants squabbled like children.

The guard took in her singed eyebrows and burned cheek. His normally dour expression fractured into a smile. "Long time no see, Major Carter. Racking up the frequent flyer points?" A polite way of asking if she'd been in the Gulf

"I logged over one hundred hours in enemy airspace during the Gulf War. Is that tough enough for you? Or are we going to have to arm wrestle? "

His bemused look met Kawalski's, but he said nothing, the first of many nothings in the years ahead. Naively assuming that all she needed was to earn his respect, she had no idea that he had been intimidated by her mind.

"Something like that," she replied, her lips curling into a tired, socially polite smile.

The scanner declared her harmless. No, no weapons, just a trace of naquadah, a little-known protein marker and a unique collection of antibodies in her blood. Oh, and attitude reborn.

Returning her orders, the guard waved her through. She knew the way but felt displaced, lost amid the familiarity. It would take time to readjust. No big deal, she'd had to readjust her worldview on a weekly basis for the past five and a half years. Kind of hard not to when you were on a different world every week. Sam winced; despite his claimed aversion, cliches had been Colonel O'Neill's forte.

The elevator doors opened and a cluster of tissue-wielding secretaries dabbing their drippy, pink noses piled in. Yet another flu was making the rounds through the poorly ventilated building. Sam stood back; she'd catch the next car.

"...and the Setesh guard's nose... dripped!"

Despite herself, she smiled. Not at the joke, although she now understood its humor, but at the memory of Teal'c's rare, full-bodied laughter. Complex, and driven by a need only generations of slavery could inspire, Teal'c had viewed the world without the clutter of ambiguity.

Her life was one long ambiguity. Perverse, really, for as a young woman she had taken refuge in things that defined order: mathematics and the military. Then she'd proceeded to burst through the envelope of everything mankind held sacred, from physics to religion.

Tightening her grip on her briefcase, Sam stepped smartly into the next elevator. She pressed the button with a still-bandaged hand; a few minor bums, nothing to get excited about. All things considered.

An Air Force colonel deftly slipped between the closing doors. He glanced at the floor indicator then pulled off his heavy overcoat, scattering flecks of powdery snow around. "Well," he said, returning her salute, "at least we had a white Christmas."

But no peace, and an inept and tragically failed goodwill. Sam noticed his gold wings and designator. Great, a fighterjock, Special Ops trained and all.

The colonel did a double take. "Carter? Sam Carter?" He pushed back his cap to reveal friendly green eyes. More white flakes slid from the cap's plastic cover and joined their companions puddling on the floor.

Her polite smile turned into a grimace when she shook his outstretched hand; the damned burns hurt. "`Cobra' Burnett?" She'd RIO' d for the 'Cobra'- then Captain Burnett - during the Gulf War. He'd never done her the disservice of treating her like a woman. Or a scientist.

"I like women, Captain; it's just scientists I have a problem with. "

"You know, you really will like me when you get to know me. "

"Oh, I adore you already. "

She banished the memory, consigning it to the place where all exiled emotions resided, and focused on Colonel James Burnett. Ruggedly good looking and square jawed, his military rigor camouflaged an underlying core of genuine compassion. Burnett was the sort of man who never hesitated to kill an enemy soldier but would rescue a spider stranded in a bathtub.

O'Neill had been like that. They all had. Part of it was their innate humanity; something Daniel Jackson had never let them forget.

"Still test flying, sir?" she said.

"Best job in the world. What about you?"

Her smile slid to the floor, melting with the fallen snow. She had touched the faces of gods and found them wanting, journeyed to Hell and back, seen worlds destroyed and the heavens in flames, and stood impotently by while men and women - indeed, entire races - died. "This and that," she replied softly.

Burnett's eyes dropped to her ribbons, poorly concealed by her overcoat. Puzzlement clouded his features. "You saw action in... deep space telemetry?"

Maybe it was time they changed her cover story. It was pretty hard to earn an Air Medal by sitting under a mountain peering at a computer screen. Sam rocked her head equivocally. "You know about that?"

"I heard you were stationed at the Pentagon for a while, and then transferred out to Cheyenne Mountain `bout five, six years back. Never joined NASA, huh?"

She offered up another smile, crystallized, frozen, brittle. Never fulfilled your dreams, huh? On the contrary, although some had turned into nightmares. She'd even bummed the odd ride on a shuttle. "Something came up, sir."

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Burnett gestured for her to precede him. "Doesn't it always?"

Sam shot him a knowing look. Boy, you got that right.

"Looks like we're headed in the same direction," he added, his curiosity intensifying.

"Looks like it," she replied noncommittally. Maybe it was time to lose the coat; things were about to warm up.

The ponderous ticking of a bronze wall clock was unreasonably loud in the oak-paneled office. Major General George S Hammond, the CO of Stargate Command, stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed outside on the falling snow. Some things were a constant, like winter snow in DC. Sam wondered if General Hammond took comfort in that.

Expensive leather armchairs and a wood and glass coffee table inhabited a comer of Lieutenant General Vidrine's office. Vidrine sat cleaning his newly acquired glasses with a white handkerchief. In the chair opposite, Colonel Burnett was staring at him in disbelief.

"We appreciate this is a great deal to take in, Commander," said Vidrine, awkwardly stuffing the handkerchief back into his pants pocket. "Hence the unusually informal nature of this briefing." He carefully replaced his glasses. "Damn, I hate these things. Be thankful you still have 20:20 vision, Colonel."

The incredulity radiating from Burnett was as palpable as the heat from the ersatz log fire. For long seconds the only sound in the room was the incessant tock, tock of the clock. "With all due respect, sir," he said. "Are you serious?"

General Hammond turned from the window and came to join them. "I've never entirely understood wormhole physics." The leather chair gave a soft creak as he sat. "However, I can assure you, Colonel, that General Vidrine is not spinning you some fanciful yam. The Stargate is real, and Major Carter is the world's leading authority on the subject."

Sam met Hammond's look. Depending, of course, on which world he was talking about.

"Major Carter also developed the first naquadah reactors, and was involved in much of the concept designs for the Prometheus Project." Vidrine's eyes hardened almost imperceptibly; he would brook no argument. "That's why she's here."

Sam sat a little straighter; she read the General's subtext clearly. The death of Colonel Jack O'Neill, Dr Daniel Jackson and Teal'c had been the excuse the Pentagon needed to clip her wings. She was too valuable an asset to waste on reconnaissance missions. Even working at the SGC posed unacceptable security risks, as evidenced by her encounter with Adrian Conrad. And let's not forget her near death at the hands of the computer entity.

She had seen him through the eyes of the cameras, for the Entity had already uploaded her consciousness to the computers. His stance, his expression, everything about him said he would sooner put the weapon to himself. But duty, something he had always placed above his own needs, dictated his actions.

Duty. Sacrifice. She'd seen a lot of sacrifice lately.

"That was in bad taste. "

Daniel's nose wrinkled. "That was in bad taste, Jack, "

"That's what I said! "

`No, I meantyour `bad taste 'pun was in bad taste. "

The Laurel and Hardy comedie noire continued until the next decapitated body slid down the blood-slickened steps. Dark burgundy flowed thickly across the Avenue of the Dead, trampled by the feet of participants and spectators alike, lapped at by a million buzzing flies and a dozen rat-sized dogs. It clung to the moistureladen air copper-sweet in her nostrils and throat. But it failed to dislodge the stench of roasting flesh as the orgy of sacrifice went on and on and...

Vidrine sighed and crossed one leg over the other. "This may sound trite, but I know what you're going through, Major. I've been there, we both have." His expression remainedunchanged, although his eyes glinted with the memories of every man and woman who had ever died under his command.

But no one, not even General Hammond, could possibly know the horrors she'd witnessed.

"No one's questioning SG-1's actions or your report," Vidrine continued. "However a first hand account will assist Colonel Burnett in understanding the enemy, and in so doing, the goal of the Prometheus Project."

Sam's nostrils flared, the only visible sign that she was gagging her emotions. The military taught you to be detached, dispassionate. Well, there would be no problem with that from now on.

"Major," General Hammond said in a gentle, almost paternal voice. "What exactly happened on M4D-376?"

You mean, what happened to the Colonel, Daniel and Teal'c? I don't know, except that I should have been able to save them. They depended on me to save them. And I failed.

CHAPTER ONE

n his office in the depth of the Cheyenne Mountain complex, Dr Daniel Jackson juggled the receiver from one ear to the other. "Hello?" he repeated, moving a precariously balanced pile of books from the chair. Teal'c had arrived in his office just as the telephone started bleating. "Who is this, please?"

"I wish to speak to Nicholas Ballard. Now!" demanded the overloud voice from the phone.

"Nicholas Ballard," Daniel replied in a slow, measured tone. Although his grandfather enjoyed the occasional visitor, the old archeologist was happiest when left undisturbed. The Mayan pyramid and crystal skull transport system on the planet designated as P7X-377 would take a lifetime of study.

"Still as imbecilic as ever. Do I need to repeat everything?"

Daniel pulled the receiver from his ear and frowned at it. Nope, that didn't provide any clues. "If I knew to whom I was talking, I might be able to help." He gestured for Teal'c to sit down.

"I was informed that Ballard was released into your custody. What would one call that, the madman leading the lunatic?"

Okay, that narrowed it somewhat, but he couldn't quite nail it. "I'm sorry, but I'm a little too busy to exchange insults, so if you will excuse me - "

"Wodeski, Professor Stanislaw Wodeski. I must speak with Ballard. Immediately!"

Oh. That brought back fond memories. Daniel slumped into his chair and moved the telephone receiver a safe distance from his ear. Wodeski never employed a normal voice when a shout sufficed. "Uhm...Nick's currently unavailable, Professor."

"Don't mess with me, young man. Where is he?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you." Daniel couldn't prevent a note of satisfaction creeping into his voice. "I could pass Nick a message when I see him, in... ah... around six months?"

Loud spluttering from the phone prompted Teal'c's eyebrow to arch a millimeter. Daniel added, "Perhaps there's something I could help you with, Professor?"

"The paper, you young fool! The Mayan temple he claims to have found in Belize, the one that mysteriously vanished. I need to see it!"

Daniel rolled his eyes. The passage of time had not enhanced Wodeski's diplomatic skills. Nick had spent years vainly trying to persuade archeological and anthropological journals to publish his paper on the temple and its crystal skull, now locked up at the Smithsonian. Vitriolic attacks on his reputation by people like Wodeski had driven the old man into a psychiatric hospital.

Feigning obtuseness, Daniel said, "The paper or the temple?" He placed the receiver on his desk, stood and looked up. Archive boxes perched like unwanted tax files on the shelf above. He pulled one onto his desk. A swarm of dust motes followed in its wake.

"The paper, of course!" Wodeski bellowed.

The unmarked box was gray and tattered with age and neglect, or perhaps regret. Daniel lifted the lid, sending more dust spiraling into the air. "Why?" he replied, his voice tinged with a suspicious edge.

When the telephone squawked, Teal'c declared, "I believe your caller is in pain, Daniel Jackson."

The collection of documents inside the box included a thick ringbound book. One of many volumes that Daniel's grandfather had bequeathed him, it was a journal filled with notes and observations fromNick's expeditions to Belize. Daniel took it out and opened the page bookmarked with a red tab. There were a few lines of Nick's familiar handwriting, followed by a series of meticulously copied glyphs. On the page opposite was a sketch of a crystal skull.

"It's funny you should ask, Professor," said Daniel without picking up the phone. "I have a copy of Nick's paper and all of his research notes right here." Handing the open journal to Teal'c, he rummaged around the box, unconsciously spurred on by the smell of old paper.

Wodeski sighed loudly in defeat. Daniel looked up, but he was more interested in the way Teal'c's eyes moved across the glyphs, reading in the zigzag Aztec fashion. Except these glyphs weren't Aztec, or Toltec, or even Mayan.

"I...may have found similar glyphs," shouted Wodeski. "In a tomb I've recently discovered beneath the Pyramid of the Sun at Teotihuacan. Send Ballard's paper and notes to me. I'm staying at the Hacienda San Miguel."

The man's arrogance was surpassed only by his conceit. "Sorry" Daniel replied without a hint of regret. "Can't do that, Professor."

"Why not?" It was not a question; it was a demand.

"Because I don't believe it would be in Nick's best interest. If, however, I could see an example of the glyphs that your team discovered, I could confirm if they're the same."

The telephone went deathly quiet. Teal'c turned the page, and his eyebrow notched higher. Daniel put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, and said, "Teal'c?"

"Are not these glyphs similar to those that you and Merrin's people discovered inside the pyramid on Orban?"

Daniel mentally cursed himself for not having gone through all of Nick's papers sooner; there just never seemed to be enough time.

"Oh, all right," snapped Wodeski. "Are you in front of a computer? What's your email address?"

Within minutes the glyphs appeared on the computer screen. Daniel's stomach clenched in excitement; they were identical to the ones in Nick's journal.

From an archeological point of view, the discovery of a written language at Teotihuacan was the find of the century. More importantly, it could confirm his theory that the Orbanians had originated from the ancient Mesoamerican city.

Daniel turned the screen so that Teal'c could see. "Professor, I'd be willing to...uhm...bring Nick's notes to you personally."

"So you can use my find to propagate your family's insane alien conjectures? Not going to happen!"

"I can assure you that I no longer have any desire to promote my.. previous theories," said Daniel. Which is why he had no intentions of letting Nick's notes out of his possession. Of course if Wodeski didn't agree, he would have the dig quarantined faster than the professor could howl `academic impropriety'.

Wodeski's gnashing teeth made an interesting noise over the phone. "When?" he demanded.

Daniel glanced at the wall clock. If he left now, he could be in Mexico City after lunch. "Early this evening."

Wodeski hung up; another of his infamous mannerisms.

Sighing, Daniel glanced across at Teal'c, whose face had adopted a look of stoic resignation. "What? What is it?" Daniel demanded.

"I would be happy to accompany you, Daniel Jackson."

"Oh, look Teal'c, that's not - "

"Where?"

Daniel almost jumped. He turned and stared at the man standing in his doorway.

Hands stuffed in the pockets of his wom leather jacket, a blankly innocent look on his face, Colonel Jonathan `Jack' O'Neill strolled in. "So," he continued, his eyes coming to rest on Nick's open journal. "What's goin' on?"

Teal'c replied, perhaps a shade too quickly, "Daniel Jackson wishes for me to accompany him to Mexico."

"Acapulco?" Jack's face registered astonishment. "I thought we were going fishing?"

Glancing at Teal'c with a look of understanding, Daniel said, "Um, yeah....ah this just came up, Jack, and..." He grabbed a leather satchel from the floor and tossed it onto his desk. "If you'd like to come, of course. I mean it could be a complete waste of time, but my undergraduate professor in anthropology - he's actually an archeologist now, he gave up anthropology after that incident with the Australopithecines, then his father died and left him an income in excess of several small countries. Anyway, he's just found a tomb, well he didn't actually find it, but - "

"Daniel!" Jack abruptly cut off his rapid-fire explanation.

"Okay, well." Daniel closed Nick's journal and packed it into the satchel. He pulled out his passport, scrunched from being jammed at the back of a drawer, and waved it at Teal'c. "You'll need to get the one that General Hammond organized for you."

Teal'c made for the door with a speed that belied his Olympian frame.

Looking like a kid who's just learned that someone else was throwing a better party, Jack called after him, "Buy me a T-shirt. Extra large!"

"I will do so, O'Neill."

"Sorry, Jack." Daniel snatched up his bag, turned off his desk lamp and all but ran out the door.

Jack was silent for a moment, then called after them, "Have fun. And don't forget to tell Hammond where you're going!"

Daniel waved an acknowledgement and hurried after Teal'c. "Oh," he called to Jack over his shoulder. "Could you let Sam know? I was supposed to have lunch with her. And if we don't get back sooner," he flashed a brief smile, "Merry Christmas."

Despite briefly switching bodies with Teal'c, Jack had never really gotten the whole kelno'reeni thing, so it should have come as no surprise that Teal'c had never really gotten fishing. To each his own. But Acapulco? Jack tried to conjure up an image of Teal'c and Daniel sitting on a beach under a coconut tree, sipping Pina Coladas sprouting paper umbrellas and four pounds of decorative fruit. He was still trying to picture it as he walked past Carter's lab - and did a double take. The door was open.

"Carter," he demanded, walking inside. "What the hell are you doing?"

Sitting on the floor of the lab was a large, butt-ugly contraption. The long-fingered hand of a woman appeared over the top of the titanium casing, stroking it with a lover's caress, or perhaps maternal protectiveness. A mop of short blond hair extracted itself from the gizzards, then a set of wide blue eyes stared up at him. Carter's cheek was smeared with gunk and she had that early-morning, disheveled look. "Sir? I thought you'd left already." She stood and grabbed a rag from her workbench.

"I just came back to get... something. And don't change the subject."

Her eyebrows lifted innocently as she wiped her hands on the rag.

Jack glared at her. "General Hammond ordered SG-1 to take two weeks off. It's almost Christmas, Carter. Weren't you going to see your brother?"

She looked down at the machine. "Mark's taken the family to Hawaii, so I was just - "

"Ah!" Jack held up his hand. "Time. Off. Carter. Teal'c and Daniel have left the building, now it's your turn."

"I was supposed to have lunch with Daniel." She blinked in surprise.

"Yeah, well, he and Teal'c are going to Acapulco."

Her hands froze. "You're kidding."

"I'm sure we'll hear all about it when they get back. Unfortunately. Now why don't you leave that ...that ...?"

"Generator for the X-302."

Memories of its ill-fated predecessor threatened to elevate an incipient headache into a full-blown migraine. "Yeah, that," he replied, wincing. "Anyway, if you want to drop by the cabin sometime, I'll make you a cup of coffee. Real coffee," he added, frowning in the direction of her empty cup.

Carter continued to stare at him, her face reflecting uncharacteristic confusion. About what, he wasn't entirely sure. It was straightforward enough. She had to go find a life for two weeks. And if his Minnesota cabin wasn't exactly a five-minute detour, the casual offer seemed less problematic than an outright invitation.

"You're going fishing at this time of year?"

He considered for a moment, then tried for nonchalance. "Icefishing?"

She blinked.

What the hell, nonchalance was overrated. "Okay, well." He tossed her a wave and left. No point waiting for a definitive no.

Jack was halfway down the corridor when Carter called, "Sir?" He turned to see her hurrying out of her lab, still wiping her now clean hands on the rag. Her fingers betrayed her uncertainty but he saw resolution on her face. "You know.. .maybe I could just -"

Klaxons rang and the familiar alert echoed throughout the subterranean complex, "Unscheduled off world activation!"

Staring at her in disbelief, Jack lifted his arms in surrender.

"What's happening?" Jack asked when he arrived in the control room. Reflections from the lucent blue puddle rippled across the gray walls. He glanced down at the Stargate, surprised to see the iris open.

General Hammond shot him a disapproving frown. The frown intensified when Carter walked in. "I thought I ordered SG-1 to take some down time?" A small sigh of resignation escaped the General's lips when Daniel and Teal'c ran into the room. "Never mind."

Jack lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Daniel.

"Eh... the next flight to Mexico isn't for a couple of hours." Daniel stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What's going on?"

"It's SG-10," replied Hammond. "They're not scheduled to return from M4D-376 until tomorrow."

"Sir," said Sergeant Harriman, looking up. "They're transmitting now."

Carter moved to stand behind Harriman, no doubt to watch the incomprehensible stream of incoming data. Jack gently nudged her and mouthed, "M4D-376?"

She stared at the screen. "It's a moon orbiting a gas giant. SG-10 accompanied a geological team there to collect geothermal naquadah samples. They've been gone almost two weeks."

Jack had known SG-10 was off world with a bunch of rock hounds, but he could never remember the alphanumeric designations of the planets.

Telemetry from the MALP fuzzed and spluttered, and then a bloody-faced visage appeared. A familiar tension tingled Jack's spine and he exchanged looks with Hammond. The General's expression had switched from annoyed to alarmed. "Major Anders, is that you?" asked Hammond.

Onscreen, a shaky Anders replied, "Sir." He sat down heavily, lifted a roughly bandaged hand and pushed back the hood of his parka. A few flakes of snow settled in his matted hair. Whatever had happened to the team, the immediate danger was past. Or was it? Anders cast a suspicious look back over his shoulder. The sky was bruised and sullen, but that wasn't what caught Jack's attention. There was something peculiar about the clouds capping the mountain. They pulsed rhythmically, changing hue from amber to a charred red. Jack's lips thinned in revulsion. It might have been five years, but the false memory of Daniel dying in a wall of flames on Oannes raised its ugly head and snapped at him. He almost recoiled from the screen.

Carter actually did take a step back, and bumped into him. "Sony, sir," she whispered.

Jack held out a hand to steady her, but Carter was already examining the scene with clinical detachment. He envied her ability to reduce even the worst situation down to something that could be analyzed and catalogued like a bug on a pin. More than that, he depended on it. "Volcanoes," he muttered under his breath. "Great."

Hammond's order broke the momentary spell. "Medical teams to the `gate room. On the double, we have injured." He turned back to the screen. "Major, what happened?"

"Big quake, sir," wheezed Anders. "We were setting up the last seismic station on the ancient mud-bubbles above Frying Pan Lake, when it hit." He paused to get his breath. "The ground turned liquid, and then geysers shot out everywhere!"

Vapor trails from Anders' mouth fogged the camera lens. Grimacing, he held his ribs and leaned forward to wipe it clear. "Dabruzzi and Jablonsky are bringing back Sergeant King." Behind him, two people were carrying a makeshift stretcher up the long, narrow ramp. "She's scalded real bad. Peterson and MacDougall can't walk. Need a medevac team for them, ASAP, sir."

Jack turned and went downstairs. Boots clumped on the concrete as Daniel, Carter, Teal'c and General Hammond followed. Dr Fraiser arrived in the `gate room from the other direction, a train of medical orderlies in her wake.

The ripples in the event horizon barely moved when the men stepped through the `gate. Jack recognized the civilian volcanologist, Robert Dabruzzi. His beard was crusted with bloodstained ice, probably because of the deep cut on his cheek. Mud caked his orange ski pants and his woolen shirt was tom and filthy. The second man, a geologist named Jablonsky, looked worse. The stretcher, fashioned from survey poles and the men's knotted parkas, carried Sergeant Amanda King. Her bums weren't evident; they were hidden beneath her clothes, but her normally attractive ebony face was gray with pain and shock.

Fraiser was up the ramp directing everyone. "Get her on the gurney - gently," she said, examining King. "And set up a morphine drip immediately"

The `gate shut down and Anders staggered down the ramp. Jack grabbed him before he fell. "Take it easy, Major."

"I'm...okay. Just - " Anders coughed. A smattering of blood sprayed from his mouth.

Remembering the truly exquisite feeling of broken ribs puncturing lungs, Jack carefully lowered Anders onto a stretcher. Before he could move back, the Major grabbed his arm and said, "Sir... you gotta listen. MacDougall and - " His words turned into a choke and he began bringing up blood - a lot more blood.

Fraiser speared Jack with an icy glare and inserted herself between them. "It'll have to wait, Colonel. Major Anders is hemorrhaging. Infirmary, now!" she ordered the medics.

"The dam holding back Frying Pan Lake," said a voice from behind, "is on the verge of collapsing."

Jack turned around. Dabruzzi didn't look up as he continued to speak; he was too busy untying his parka from the makeshift stretcher. "There's a blizzard forecast tonight. I have to get back."

"You're not going anywhere until I've seen to that laceration!" Fraiser called sternly on the way out.

Dabruzzi started to object, but Hammond said, "Where are MacDougall and Peterson?"

"We got them to the instrument hut." The volcanologist's eyes were filled with concern as he watched Anders carried out. "It's up in the next valley. When the dam gives way, the floodwater won't reach them."

"What are their injuries?"

"Peterson's ankle is busted and MacDougall's knee is wrecked." Dabruzzi pulled on his parka.

"How long do you estimate the dam will hold?" asked Hammond.

"I'm not an engineer, but at the rate it's crumbling, I'd say a day, two at the most -unless we get another of those weird quakes, then it's anyone's guess. The Stargate should be safe enough. It and the DHD are embedded in a raised basalt platform about ten feet off the ground. It's located in a hanging valley, so the water will just flow straight past and out the other end. I'm more worried about Peterson and MacDougall."

"Sir," said Jack. "Request permission to -

"If Peterson and MacDougall are safe for the moment," interrupted Hammond. "And you're sure the `gate will weather the flood, it might be better to wait until after the dam breaks."

"Absolutely not, General." Dabruzzi shook his head decisively. "If the blizzard is as bad as predicted, the men could be in serious trouble. There are minimal supplies in the hut, and next to no heating. We'd moved everything down into the main camp in anticipation of returning to Earth tomorrow."

Hammond considered a moment. "Get that taken care of" He pointed to the volcanologist's cheek. "Then report to the briefing room."

"General?" Jack prompted.

Staring at each of them in turn, Hammond said, "Alright, SG-1 report to the briefing room as well. Meanwhile, I want a medevac team prepared to move out. But I'm not giving the order to go until I have a more thorough understanding of the situation."

Fifteen minutes later, Jack was scratching at a tiny blob of wax that some overenthusiastic cleaner had smeared across the briefing room table. "Although most folks call 'em mudslides," he said, interrupting Dabruzzi's explanation of the particular species of volcano on M4D-376, "it's actually liquefaction."

Silence followed. He looked up. Carter and Daniel were staring at him like he'd grown another head, while Teal'c seemed vaguely amused. "What?" Jack demanded innocently. He bulldozed the tiny curls of wax onto the carpeted floor. "I was just reading up on Io's volcanoes." And if he sounded like he knew something about it, maybe Dabruzzi would cut his briefing in half. The sooner they got this over with the sooner they could retrieve McDougall and Peterson. And the sooner he could quit stomping all over his personal demons. Well, one of them. The conditioned terror that Nem had instilled in them on Oannes had almost succeeded. Believing Daniel to be dead, they had almost abandoned him. Nothing, especially not fear, could justify leaving anyone behind.

"So these so-called `frozen' mud bubbles are like a house of cards that's full of water?" said Hammond.

"That's right, General." Dabruzzi ran a hand across his scraggly beard. The gash on his face was taped together, but he hadn't had time to get cleaned up. "Earthquakes generate seismic waves. When these waves travel through the mud - it's actually a form of high silica clay - at a certain frequency, the silica structure collapses and releases the water in a process that Colonel O'Neill correctly described as liquefaction. The moraine dam holding back Frying Pan Lake is also made from this high-silica clay mixed with glacial rubble. The earthquake has severely weakened it."

"Strictly speaking, shouldn't they be called WD-376-quakes?" Jack instantly berated himself; he was just feeding into Dabruzzi's delusion that he was paying attention.

Confusion crossed Dabruzzi's face. He shot Jack an odd look, obviously trying to figure out if he was being suckered. Still frowning uncertainly, the volcanologist reached across the table and sorted through a dazzling array of readouts. "General, the entire planet is like Iceland. There are hot springs and lava tunnels, ice fumaroles, mud pools, colored mineral lakes, in fact, just about every hydrothermal and volcanic formation you can name. It's practically a theme park for volcanologists."

"Because the moon is in orbit around a gas giant," explained Carter, "it's normally subjected to intense tidal forces. However, the orbit is somewhat erratic, and every fifty-two years the forces exerted by the primary planet apply an even greater than usual pressure on the crust."

"Triggering even more tectonic activity that'll peak in a couple ofweeks." Dabruzzi nodded agreeably. "We expected that, General. The liquefaction that burned Sergeant King is a textbook example of how geothermal naquadah forms."

"Nothing textbook about the injuries," said Jack, somewhat irritably.

The volcanologist looked at him squarely. "Colonel, Air Force Academy textbooks teach men how to kill and maim thousands. Volcanoes aren't malevolent."

There was a short, embarrassed silence. Carter did a little shuffle in her seat, while Daniel cleared his throat. Hammond said, "The lake, Doctor?"

Dabruzzi's gaze shifted from Jack to Hammond. "The level of Frying Pan Lake rose alarmingly last night. That, and the forecast blizzard, is why we'd decided to leave today. We were installing the last sensor when an unusually shallow quake triggered the liquefaction."

"Unusual?" said Carter.

"It felt almost magmatic."

"Which means?" Hammond prompted.

"The volcano could be on short fuse." Dabruzzi rubbed his eyes. "Thing is," he added, "I can't tell what's going on unless I get the information the sensors are feeding into my laptop. And it's back at the camp. If we wait until after the dam breaks, the flood will take everything in its path. The campsite, my laptop - and the rock samples that indicate this moon may prove to have the richest source of naquadah we've ever found." He sat back and folded his arms.

Slick move. Hammond's face lit and Carter looked like she'd been given an early Christmas present. "Sir, I - " she began.

"I know what you're going to say, Major, but the safety of our people comes first." Hammond's eyes narrowed in on Dabruzzi. "How long will it take to recover Peterson and MacDougall?" Glancing at Carter in acknowledgment, he added, "And the FREDs?"

"Six, maybe eight hours. We'd already decamped. I can finish packing the FREDs and get them to the `gate in about the same time as it'll take for a medevac team to recover the men. General, if we wait until after the blizzard, even assuming Peterson and MacDougall will be okay, trying to get them to the `gate through snowdrifts could be a hell of a lot more dangerous than if we retrieve them now."

"My thoughts exactly!" Jack began tapping his pen on the table with an impatient staccato. "General, if we leave soon, we can be back before dark."

"I'm aware of that, Colonel." Hammond's tone was just brusque enough to remind Jack who was in charge. "All right," he added after a moment. "The medevac team will leave immediately to recover the men. Colonel O'Neill, you and Major Carter retrieve the FREDs."

Daniel lifted his finger. "Ah, General -

"Dr Jackson, I believe you and Teal'c are booked on a flight to Mexico?"

"Well, there's always tomorrow," Daniel replied, his eyebrows raised dismissively.

"It doesn't take four people to drive two FREDs, Dr Jackson."

Dabruzzi nodded and stood. "Thank you, General."

"You're not going anywhere, Dr Dabruzzi," said Hammond. "You're injured."

The big volcanologist touched his cheek. "That? It's just a scratch. General, I have to accept responsibility for what happened. Despite the...ah...intense pressure from the Pentagon to source naquadah, it was my job to advise on the safety of the operation. I should have recommended an evacuation last night."

Hammond pushed his chair back. "I understand how you feel, but I want you to report back to the Infirmary."

Jack had also noticed Dabruzzi's fingers. They were in need of some serious manicuring, preferably after the frostbite on one of them had been treated. He wondered how the volcanologist had hidden it from Fraiser's eagle eyes; a skill like that could be invalu able. He also saw the self-recrimination in the man's face. Scientist or not, he was beginning to like this guy.

Hammond's glower turned to him and Carter. "Then, when you get back, I don't want to see the two of you anywhere near this facility until the New Year. Is that clear?"

CHAPTER TWO

aniel stood beside Teal'c, and stared down through the control room window at the Stargate. It had only just shut down behind Jack, Sam and the medevac team when it began dialing in again. Hammond had ordered the iris closed, and the titanium leaves slid together with a greasy metallic clunk.

"Wormhole stabilized," said Sergeant Harriman.

"You think they're coming back?" Daniel tried to keep the concern from his voice.

"No one else is scheduled to return today," replied Hammond.

"Something's coming through, but I can't get a fix on it." Harriman shook his head. "It's not a traveler. But it's not a radio transmission, either, sir."

The tension in the control room mounted. Then a white-haired old man in a slightly crumpled gray suit walked through the closed iris. "Nick?" Daniel blinked in surprise.

"Dr Jackson?" Hammond turned to Daniel, perplexed "Can you see something?"

SFAs poured into the `gate room, weapons aimed at the top of the ramp. Nicholas Ballard hesitated, and then looked up into the control room. His arctic blue eyes lit in recognition and he smiled.

"Someone," replied Daniel. "Uhm, it's my grandfather! Remember how he was the only one who could see or hear me after I was phase shifted on P7X-377?"

"Because he'd used the crystal skull."

"Sir," said Sergeant Harriman. "I've double checked. The incoming wormhole originated from P7X-377."

"Since Sam and Jack are the only other ones besides me who've used the skull," Daniel stared at his grandfather, "I guess I'm the only one here who can see him."

"Stand down," Hammond ordered the SFAs.

Daniel bounded down the stairs and into the `gate room. "Nick! I was just..." He motioned in the direction of his office. "Talking about you and... What are you doing here? Why didn't you use the IDC we gave you?"

"No time!" Nick replied in short, clipped tones. "Ah," he added when General Hammond and Teal'c walked into the `gate room. "It is good to see you again."

Eying the ramp quizzically, Hammond said, "Dr Jackson?"

"They can't see or hear you, Nick," Daniel said to his grandfather.

"Of course." Nick nodded dismissively. "Where is the crystal skull, the one that I found in Belize?"

Surprised by the request, Daniel replied, "It's still at the Smithsonian. Why?"

"And the Paris and British skulls?"

While Nick's skull was unique because of its hinged jaw, two similar skulls were kept in the Trocadero Museum in France and London's Museum of Mankind. "After we left you on P7X-377," said Daniel, "we contacted the curators - "

"You told them about the giant aliens?" Nick's bushy white eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Uhm, not exactly." Daniel winced and ran his hand across the back of his neck, hoping Nick wouldn't take this the wrong way. "We said that under the right circumstances, the skulls could ...ah, produce vivid hallucinations. They've been removed from display and locked away."

Nick shook his head worriedly. "Then someone has discovered a fourth skull."

"Fourth?" Daniel frowned.

"Did you not read my notes on skull lore?" Before Daniel could reply, Nick waved his hand dismissively. "That does not matter now. What is important is that you find and stop whoever has the fourth skull from trying to use it again."

"Again? Why? What happened?"

"The skull that I found had been kept by Mayan priests inside the Pyramid temple of the Feathered Serpent, in Belize."

"The feathered serpent was also known as Quetzalcoatl."

Nick nodded impatiently. `But the mercenaries who brought the Paris and British skulls to Europe in 1891 did not come from Belize. They came from Mexico, having purchased the skulls from grave robbers who desecrated two tombs beneath the Temple of Tonatui, in the City of the Gods."

An icy chill of apprehension gripped Daniel. Tonatui was the Aztec sun god. His temple had been mounted on top of the Pyramid of the Sun, the largest of the step pyramids at Teotihuacan - a name that literally translated meant the `City of the Gods'. "Wodeski! He called me less than an hour ago."

The crepe-paper skin across Nick's brow furrowed, and his hands balled into angry fists. "Wodeski!" he said venomously. "That old fool. I should have known."

Daniel figured it was best not to remind his grandfather that he had at least a decade on the professor. Instead, he said, "Wodeski's team recently found a third, undesecrated tomb, beneath the Pyramid of the Sun. And he wants to see your notes from Belize."

"Then it is he who has found the fourth skull. You have to stop him, Daniel!" Nick raised his hands and gestured imploringly. "If he tries to use it again, he could cause the Pyramid to collapse, just like the temple in Belize was destroyed when I used the skull that I found there."

"What makes you think Wodeski's tried once?"

"I was working on some translations when the power began to build, and then it just... stopped." Nick turned to General Hammond, his tone urgent as he said, "You must send me back immediately. If Stanislaw succeeds, I have to see where he is taken."

Confused, Daniel said, "Won't he end up inside the pyramid on P7X-377?"

"It is a transport network. He will be taken to another planet." Nick shook his head adamantly. "There is no time to explain, Daniel. You must stop Stanislaw."

"General," Daniel said to Hammond, "Nick has to go back straight away. He - "

Hammond nodded. "I got most of it, Dr Jackson. You can fill in the details later. Sergeant?" he called to Harriman in the control room.

"Sir?"

"Dial up P7X-377."

"Yes, sir."

The `gate began rotating almost immediately.

"Nick," said Daniel. "I'll come and see you when we've found Wodeski."

The backwash from the unstable vortex shot out and snapped into place. Nick smiled briefly. "I always like that part." But then his voice dropped warningly. "Daniel, be very careful. Remember the Australopithecine incident? Stanislaw has become obsessed with clearing his name and making a great archeological discovery."

"The discovery of a written language at Teotihuacan alone will elevate him to the ranks of Howard Carter."

Nick walked up the ramp and paused in front of the event horizon. "Perhaps. But finding a road to other worlds... My madness came from my obsession, Daniel. Stanislaw's comes from a much darker place. Whatever happens, you must not trust him."

The `gate shut down, and Daniel conveyed what Nick had said to Hammond and Teal'c.

"What do you suggest we do?" asked the General.

Daniel frowned. "We have to inform the Mexican government, and get them to detain Wodeski."

"That means involving the Pentagon and State Department," Hammond replied. "Senator Kinsey's recent investigation into the loss ofAmbassador Faxon -"

"Sam had no choice!" Daniel blurted angrily. "The Aschen would have wiped us out with that bioweapon!"

"I'm fully aware of that, Dr Jackson, but the situation with Washington is somewhat delicate at the moment. I'd prefer this handled quickly and quietly, preferably without involving anyone outside the SGC. You say the professor is expecting you?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean he'll wait before trying to use the skull again. He'd enjoy having me fly all the way down there, only to tell me he didn't need Nick's notes after all. More importantly, the Pyramid of the Sun is a major tourist attraction. Every day, hun dreds, sometimes thousands climb the steps to the top. If Wodeski uses the skull - "

"It could collapse the pyramid and kill a lot of people." Hammond pursed his lips.

"Popocatepetl volcano is nearby," Daniel added thoughtfully. "When I booked the flight, they warned me it's on high alert. The pyramid was built directly over a four-chambered lava tunnel. Excavation has always been a problem because the entire valley is honeycombed with caves and faults."

The General looked up. "I can still pull a few strings. I'll talk to Dr Dabruzzi and the USGS. Maybe we can get them to issue a warning that the site is in danger."

A wave of relief washed over Daniel. Since the skull only worked when correctly positioned inside the pyramid, the closure would stop Wodeski from attempting to use it. He glanced at his watch. If he and Teal'c left now, they could still make the flight to Mexico City.

Jack stood in front of the `gate on M4D-376 and looked around. The eldritch mountainscape should have been beautiful, but the pulsating clouds over the volcano created a sense of sinister anticipation. Shuddering, he pulled the fur-lined hood of his white parka up over his head. He no longer noticed the brief cold of `gate travel. The desultory snowfall was just fine, too. Hell, he liked snow. But the chill in his gut was not inspired by cold. "Is now a good time to mention my volcanophobia?"

Beside him, Carter also pulled her hood on. "I thought you liked them."

"After our little vacation on Oannes, and then Netu? What is it about moons?"

"Well, the gravitational pull of the gas giant - "

"Ah!" he cut her off. "Just ...don't start, Carter."

"Yes, sir."

Jack's mouth tightened in annoyance. Not because Carter's reply was a little more crisp than usual, but because of the forbidding terrain. He scanned the U-shaped valley with binoculars. The medevac team had left ahead of them and had already reached the cutting in the western escarpment. The main camp was on the eastern side of the valley. Jack focused on the dam and lake at the northern end. Now he understood why the team had dubbed it, `Frying Pan' Lake. While much of it was hidden behind a gorge, what he could see was capped with vapor curls dancing across the boiling surface. The cliffs surrounding the lake were barren except for a handful of trees clinging to rocky outcrops. Enormous in diameter, the trees grew most abundantly around weirdly shaped ice towers - fumaroles, Dabruzzi called them. Venting yet more gas and steam, the fumaroles looked like frozen volcanoes in miniature. He turned and surveyed the southern end of the valley. A bunch of rocks and gravel were piled up at the far end.

"According to the survey report," said Carter, "behind that moraine is a three hundred foot drop into the next valley. That's where the Goa'uld had their mining operation."

"Why would the Goa'uld have mined a valley three hundred feet below where they set up the `gate?" He tucked the field glasses away Looking up at the lake, Carter replied, "Maybe they began up there?"

Gusts of wind sent tendrils of vapor cascading down the face of the dam. "And busted a water main?"

Carter smiled. "The rest of the moon is much the same. Ice and snowcapped mountains separated by interstitial glaciers, or geothermally active valleys covered in low clouds. Wow, look at that!" She pointed over his shoulder.

Jack turned. A coal-black flume of ash belched from the volcano's tom throat, forcing aside a mass of gray snow clouds. Some seconds later, a disarmingly loud crescendo, like the rumble of a freight train, rolled across the brooding landscape. "I'd prefer not to," he murmured, and stepped onto the long ramp. It was bad enough seeing it through the MALP, but here the sense of malevolence was almost suffocating. "A little too Mordorish for my taste."

"Mordorish? " Carter shot him an incredulous look. "I thought you didn't like science fiction."

"Someone gave Teal'c a couple of tickets. He asked me to go with him."

"And you agreed?"

Jack shrugged and kept walking. "It's Christmas."

The ground, normally coveredwith the ash from the volcano, was carpeted in a soft layer of cotton-ball white. The cinders beneath the snow crunched under their boots like dead insects. Another rumble rolled across the valley.

"If the eccentric orbit ever decays significantly," said Carter, "this moon could turn into another Tollan."

More ash disgorged from the mountain. "Please, Carter, I'd rather not be reminded."

"What about the volcanoes on lo?"

Jack felt her gaze. "That's different - Jupiter's moons are at the other end of a telescope. A celestial telescope."

Between reading up on lo and Dabruzzi's briefing, Jack knew that the cherry-red glow over the volcano and the ever-present rumbling meant the lava inside the crater was sloshing around, doing its thing, not bothering anyone. The lava lake and geothermal activity acted like release valves on a pressure cooker. The effects were spectacular but not normally dangerous, although SG-10 might disagree with him on that. And no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, his instincts weren't agreeing, either.

At the bottom of the ramp, Jack paused, squinted at the baleful clouds, and then pulled out his sunglasses. They added an artificial darkness to the already dismal atmosphere, but the snow glare was intense. "All right," he conceded. "It's those damned memories from Oannes. And don't tell me they're not bugging you, too, especially after Netu."

A look of disgust crossed Carter's face. Whether it was from real or implanted memories, or the second-hand memories she'd inherited from Jolinar, he couldn't be sure. Come to think of it, she seemed to be losing some of her natural chirpiness of late. Seeing one too many friends die tended to do that. The last few months had been particularly hard on her, with the loss of Orlan and Narim, and Kinsey's witch-hunt after she'd been forced to leave Joe Faxon on Volian.

He put the thought aside and peered up at the lava cliffs. They looked like gigantic, multi-layered mud cakes with the chocolate oozing out everywhere. Dollops of creamy snow added to the illusion. Jack noticed an emerald-green shadow about fifty feet up an ice wall, just behind a huge tree. "There's a cave up there." The moon might not have any Goa'uld, or hostile natives with pointy sticks and bad attitudes, but you never knew when you might need cover.

"You hear that?" Carter adjusted her grip on her P90.

"Which particular that?" There was so much grumbling going on; the entire place sounded like it had a bad case of Montezuma's revenge. Smelled like it, too.

Carter started to reply when the gurgling abruptly resolved itself into a geyser shooting almost fifty feet into the air.

"Lots of naquadah, huh," he mumbled, moving out of range of the spray.

"It was Dabruzzi who theorized that naquadah might be deposited like geothermal gold." She stepped around a slippery looking patch of ice. "It builds up as a precipitate in the underground fracture zones of geyser fields, just like the white scaly build-up of calcium inside old kettles. That's probably why the Goa'uld abandoned the moon fifty years ago. The naquadah ran out and they had no idea that all they had to do was find another old geyser field and start digging."

Something about that didn't add up. "Couldn't they just sense the stuff?"

"I think getting to it was more the problem. In most places it's covered by thick basalt. You'd have to know exactly where to dig."

Another rumble shook the ground. "Yes, well," Jack said, picking up the pace. "Let's not dally, shall we?"

At the camp, a sugar frosting of snow sprinkled the containers stacked near the FREDs. Lights were on inside two of the cabins. Jack glanced up at the darkening clouds, then at his barometer. "Pressure's dropping."

Pulling off her pack, Carter said, "I'll disconnect their naquadah generator."

The place reminded Jack of McMurdo, at least what he could recall of it through a haze of morphine. He remembered Carter though, refusing to let him die alone in the ice cave. Still, Antarctica hadn't been a wasted trip. They'd picked up a nice new Stargate, and he'd added another destination to his ever-growing list of least desirable vacation spots. He rubbed his nose but the rotten egg stench of hydrogen sulfide wouldn't budge. This place was definitely going on the list.

It took most of the afternoon to finish packing and loading everything. A final check inside Dabruzzi's hut revealed an open instrument case under the bed. Jack pulled out the case, smirked, then closed the lid and tucked it under his arm. The only surprise was that it was almost full.

Outside, the snowfall had increased and the air was oppressive, warning of the imminent storm.

"I checked the last hut," Carter said when she joined him. "It's clear."

"Okay." Jack added Dabruzzi's case to the second FRED and fastened the straps. "Let's go."

During the walk back, the temperature steadily declined. So did the visibility. A thick mist filled the valley, covering the Stargate platform and ramp until only the ring was visible. Wisps of fog curled around the `gate like spectral fingers. It looked more like a piece of jewelry carelessly discarded by some bygone race of giants than a highly sophisticated piece of technology. Jack shivered and pulled his jacket closer. He'd been watching too many movies with Teal'c.

Abruptly, the mist closed in on them until the visibility was reduced to a few feet. "Could this place get any more gloomy?" he griped, checking his compass. "Crap. It's going around in circles."

Dabruzzi had warned them that compasses and radios were next to useless on the volcanic moon. Although the `gate was only a short distance away, if they didn't reach it soon, they would have to stop and wait for the fog to lift.

"The ground's icing up," replied Carter. She carefully guided the FRED between a bunch of scraggly bushes half buried in snow.

"So am I." Jack pulled his sunglasses off The visibility didn't much improve, but he could make out the shadow of the cliff. A few minutes later, something darker loomed ahead of them. It was the ramp to the `gate.

Having tried, and failed, to contact the medevac team three times, Jack was somewhat surprised when his radio crackled. "O'Neill," he replied, looking around.

Amidst the clutter of noise and static, he heard, "... have Peterson and MacDougall."

"Copy that. How're they doing?"

"Better than Anders ...wait ...you?"

Peering myopically into the fog, Jack turned his radio off and called, "Tsipouras?"

"Up here, Colonel. We're on the platform."

The vague tightness in Jack's gut eased a little. "Okay, Captain," he called. "Dial the `gate." The fully laden FREDs had plenty of traction, but the ice made the ground treacherous, and the ramp was narrow. It would take some minutes to get them to the top.

Another tremor rolled across the valley. The metallic whine and clunk of the rotating `gate was only marginally louder than the rumbling from the volcano. Through the fog, Jack could see the amber glow of chevrons locking into place. The wormhole shot out, displacing the mist, then snapped reassuringly into place.

"Sir," Tsipouras called down. "You need a hand with the FREDs?"

"That's okay, Captain," Jack replied, "Go on through and hold the `gate open at the other end."

The medevac team lifted the stretchers and stepped into the event horizon. Just as Jack guided the first FRED up onto the platform, he heard the second FRED whine to a halt. He turned around. It had stalled at the top of the ramp. "Oh, for - "

Carter smiled, pushed her hood back and squatted by the engine. "I'll get it moving again, sir."

The uneasy feeling that had been with Jack since they'd arrived abruptly transformed into an overwhelming sense of dread. In one swift move he lifted his P90, crouched behind the first FRED and searched the landscape for an unseen enemy. On the ramp, Carter was doing the same. Crap, that meant it wasn't his imagination. "Major?" he called softly.

"Nothing, sir." A quick, uncertain frown crossed her face.

The sooner they were out of here, the better; this place was seriously creeping him out.

"It's probably the sub-harmonics," she added, still looking around. "At certain frequencies, seismic waves set up a discordant sensation in your brain - "

"My brain's discordant enough, Major. Just get the -" A bright flash lit the sky. He swung around to cover Carter. Nothing. Except that the fog in the valley suddenly cleared, and he could see the face of the dam - which appeared to shift somehow. An unearthly sound, like a whole yard full of freight trains tore past his ears. Then everything started shaking. "Holy ...crap!" When the shockwave hit, he could actually see the basalt ramp buckle and bend beneath Carter.

Jack had been in earthquakes before, and there was nothing particularly unusual about this one, but the FRED was in danger of being shaken off the platform. He grabbed the vehicle to steady it - or himself. Then Carter's high-pitched scream cut through the wrenching noise. The second FRED had pitched backwards, knocking her down and pinning her foot between the wheels.

"Carter!" Jack shoved the first machine into the disconcertingly tranquil event horizon, and then all but threw himself down the ramp. A shorter, deeper rumbling and shaking now replaced the long rolls of the `quake. He looked up - and a spasm of raw terror clenched his groin. The dam had vanished, and a churning wall of gray water was bearing down on them.

"Oh, God. Run!" Carter yelled. "You can make it through the gate!"

"No!" He grabbed her by the arms and pulled, but the heavily laden FRED held her pinned to the icy slope.

"Go!" she shouted. He couldn't hear her through the incredible noise tearing across the valley, but her could see her lips and her eyes, begging him to save himself. To leave her. Again. He let go of her arms and slammed his shoulder against the FRED, desperately trying to push the machine off her.

The thirty-foot high wall of heaving, foaming boiling water was almost on them. Jack briefly entertained the hope that it might wash them into the wormhole - they could probably survive a little scalding - but the angle was wrong. He met Carter's eyes, and then the water tore him away and tossed him into the filthy, steaming maelstrom.

CHAPTER THREE

tchoo!"

Another earth tremor diverted the rental agent's attention from Teal'c's fedora to a massive basket of ferns swaying overhead. The greenery failed to liven up the cubbyhole office, which was jammed between shops selling duty free tequila and Aztec sun calendars made in Taiwan.

Snatching up the rental contract and keys, Daniel backed away from the threatening plants. The increasingly powerful quakes were a reminder that the eruption of Mt Popocatepetl, affectionately known as Popo to the locals, was imminent. Although the volcano did not pose a direct threat - it was fifty miles away - the perennially potent mix of hydrocarbons and allergy-triggering pollutants that dominated the city's air had sent his rhinitis into a frenzy.

Daniel's sneezing finally let up when they reached the hills around Tepeyac. Through the car window he cast a miserable eye at the setting sun. Barely discernible behind a thick cloud of pollution and volcanic haze, it sent outrageous streaks of scarlet and purple across the sky. The Aztecs, who had ruled Mexico before Cortez arrived, had always considered a red sunset to be a bad omen.

It was dark by the time they reached the Hacienda San Miguel de Teotihuacan. At the reception desk, a middle-aged concierge welcomed Daniel and Teal'c to the hotel, and asked, "You have come for the big party tonight, senors?" His enormous Pancho Villa moustache curled upwards in a smile.

Cheers, clapping hands and squeals of delight drifted across the large swimming pool and into the reception, momentarily drowning out the sounds of the mariachi band. Festivals, usually religious and always colorful, were almost weekly events in Mexico. This celebration, however, was punctuated by American accents and champagne corks.

"Professor Wodeski invited me." Daniel replied, glancing outside. "Ah...I sent some documents to the professor earlier today. Could you just check..?" He indicated the message boxes on the wall behind the desk.

The concierge reached into box 249, and a slight frown creased his brow. "I regret, senor, it has not arrived as yet." He peered across the pool. "I can ask the professor if you wish. He is just over there."

"No, that's fine." Daniel's smile widened. "I have a copy with me.

Once inside their room, Teal'c went to the large, open window and looked out across the terrace pool to the party. "It would appear that the discovery of the crystal skull is well known."

"I don't think that's why they're celebrating," Daniel replied, pulling off his jacket. "Crystal skulls are unusual, but they're not a major find. The glyphs are." He glanced through the window to the pool. "C'mon," he added, heading back out the door. "While Wodeski's soaking up the adoration from his postgrad students - who undoubtedly did all of the work - I want to try and get a look inside his room."

Inclining his head in understanding, Teal'c followed. "That is why you wished to know the number."

Wodeski's room was only a short distance along the hallway. Daniel knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he looked around to make certain no one was watching, then ran his hand along the doorframe and the blackened, wrought iron hinges. "This place was built to withstand a siege." Crouching down, he examined the catch. After several minutes experimentation with a penknife, he muttered, "I wish Sam were here. Her lock-picking skills would make a cat-burglar envious. Not that I've had any experience with cat-burglars, but..."

The door opened from the inside. Daniel looked up guiltily - at Teal'c. "How did you? Where did you - ?"

"The evening is warm, and Professor Wodeski's window was open to the terrace." Teal'c turned and went back inside.

Daniel blinked. "Right. Of course."

A short time later, he was standing in Wodeski's bathroom, holding an exquisite gold death mask in his hand. The workmanship was extraordinary. Inlaid with a pattern of tiny turquoise tiles, the design was virtually identical to a death mask found in 1999, in a burial chamber beneath the Pyramid of the Moon, only a few hundred yards north of the Pyramid of the Sun. Archeologists were certain that the tomb had belonged to one of the mysterious original inhabitants of Teotihuacan.

"I have found something," Teal'c called from the main room.

"So have I." Daniel's voice was heavy with disappointment. He'd had his suspicions for some time; this confirmed it. Wodeski was an archeological thief.

It had nothing to do with money; the professor was most likely hoarding a collection of priceless artifacts in one of the family mansions scattered around the world. But a theft like this could prompt the already paranoid Mexican government into rescinding the permits of honest researchers.

Daniel walked out of the bathroom to see Teal'c reading what at first glance looked like a comic book. "Where did you get that?"

Teal'c looked up. "I find your television shows most instructive. This was between the mattress and the base of the bed" Pointing to three brightly colored glyphs on the cover, he handed it to Daniel.

The ancient codex was not a book in the conventional sense, but a long piece of fig bark, or amatl folded together like an accordion, and illustrated with pictograms. Frowning in concentration, Daniel examined the images. "Is this what I think it is?"

"I do not know. What are you thinking?"

The first glyph was of a man wearing a maxtlatl - a loincloth with a long apron - holding a human skull close to his face. In the second, rays of golden light enveloped the man and the skull. The third glyph showed the man entering the ninth, or perhaps it was the tenth level of Heaven, Omeyocan. Before him was the god, Quetzalcoatl. "It's an instruction manual," said Daniel, "in how to use the crystal skull."

Outside, an explosion of fireworks lit up the night sky. Colored lights followed, dancing across the low clouds. Teal'c looked out through the open window. "What is that, Daniel Jackson?"

One of the attractions of Teotihuacan was a Disney-style laserlight show featuring the once mighty warriors of the Aztec empire. Aside from the historical inaccuracy, it meant that the Mexican authorities had ignored the warning from the USGS; the tourist dollar was too alluring.

Fingering the glyphs on the codex, Daniel mused, "I wonder what stopped him from completing the process the first time?" Wodeski had read Nick's paper years ago. Although the professor might have forgotten the details, the codex provided him with all the information he needed to use the skull.

Teal'c continued to watch the fireworks. "Perhaps he became fearful when lights shone from the skull."

"Given that he's probably kept the skull's existence a secret, he would have been more concerned about being discovered..." Daniel's voice trailed off and his eyes widened in realization. "Uhoh." He dropped the codex onto the bed and ran out the door. "The show! That's why Wodeski's waited. He can use the lights and noise as a distraction!"

After fruitless minutes searching the party for the professor, Daniel checked with the concierge, who replied, "Si, Senor. Professor Wodeski said he was going out for a short time. He will soon return."

Daniel and Teal'c hurried out to the parking lot. In the sky, the laser-lights flickered wildly. Daniel could feel, as much as hear, the deep bass drums and conch-shell trumpets. Heart pounding almost as loudly as the music, he wasted precious seconds trying to shove the wrong key into the car's ignition. More fireworks exploded overhead. The engine roared to life. Oblivious to the speed bumps, he shoved his foot on the accelerator and raced out of the driveway.

A half-mile along the road, he swung the car into a sharp turn, spraying gravel against the open wooden gates. Almost directly ahead of them rose the floodlit Pyramid of the Sun, centerpiece of the ancient city of Teotihuacan. Nearby, more lights illuminated the smaller but equally daunting Pyramid of the Moon.

Tour buses and dilapidated pickups, the latter most likely used to bring in entertainers, were lined up in the parking lot beside the Avenue of the Dead. Daniel leaped from the car, almost bumping into a woebegone donkey tied to the gate. The animal eyed him suspiciously while the bored ticket attendant informed him and Teal'c that they were late, but they needn't hurry, for the main attraction had yet to begin.

The white spotlights on the pyramids dimmed, then colored lights played across a stage in the center of the Avenue of the Dead. It looked more like a transplanted movie set from Close Encounters than an archeological dig. The drums and trumpets changed tempo, heralding the entrance of spectacularly costumed jaguar and eagle warriors who flanked a muscled and bronzed reincarnation of Moctezuma II, last ruler of the Aztec civilization. The Aztecs had made overdressing an art form, one that even the Goa'uld couldn't surpass. Adorned in gold jewelry, a huge quetzal-feathered headdress and cape, and an elaborately embroidered loincloth, the actor actually looked like the real thing. Ooohs and ahhs rolled across the audience. Of course, most of these people failed to appreciate that Moctezuma II had never ruled Teotihuacan. The city had been abandoned more than half a century before the Aztec nation even came into existence.

The booming drums sent shudders through the ground, heightening Daniel's anxiety. He and Teal'c pushed through the crowds until they reached the southern face of the Pyramid of the Sun. Daniel had expected to see the area cordoned off to protect the integrity of the dig, but even he was surprised by the additional security measures. Razor wire fences surrounded the entire quadrant, and signs in Spanish and English warned potential intruders that guards patrolled the area twenty-four hours.

"The lock has been broken," Teal'c said, pulling the gate open.

"And where are the guards?" Daniel looked around.

Impelled by an even greater sense of urgency, they hurried down into the excavation pit and along a dimly lit tunnel. Thick, insulated power cables ran along the wall. Why would anyone need that much power for lighting?

They emerged into a larger excavated underground area, which had been set up with machinery, worktables and computers. It took Daniel a few moments to realize what was going on. Then he saw a dark burgundy puddle oozing across the ground.

Teal'c was already on the other side of the bench, looking down. "I believe I have found the guards."

Daniel was no stranger to the sight of gaping flesh and jagged bone, the result of heavy caliber bullets tearing through the human body. But he still felt a deep sense of frustration and anger at the violence.

"Would Professor Wodeski have killed these men?" Teal'c asked.

"I wouldn't have thought so." Daniel frowned thoughtfully at the flashing lights and computer displays. "But this would explain the security measures and power cables. The Museum has been running the same experiment used to search for hidden chambers at Giza. This is a muon detector. And it's starting to spike!"

"This way," Teal'c called, and ran down a narrow tunnel heading beneath the pyramid.

Daniel followed. Suddenly, a familiar, golden light flooded the passage, and the stone walls began to shake. Loud creaks and shudders echoed ominously, and rubble began to fall. "Teal'c!" he called. "It's too late, come back!"

A supporting beam crashed down in front of Daniel. Chunks of rock followed. The golden light grew brighter. "Teal'c!" Daniel had no idea how far the effects of the skull would reach; it could conceivably transport him along with Wodeski. But because Teal'c carried a symbiote, he would be left behind while the pyramid collapsed on top of him. "Teal'c! You have to get out of here!"

The ground heaved beneath Daniel's feet, and choking dust billowed along the tunnel. More rocks fell and another beam caught his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Before he could get up, the light vanished, then something heavy slammed into his head.

Cold! Bitter cold knifed through Sam's chest. The Colonel's ragged voice, "C'mon Carter, hurry up and breathe. I'm freezing my butt off, here! Shit..." Something clumsily pinched her nose. Through the noise, she heard his desperate whisper, "C'mon, Sam."

Damp warmth ringed with sharp, bristly cold covered her mouth, and then air was forced into her lungs. She gagged and coughed. Hands rolled her on to her side as a hot gush of vomit burned up her throat and sinuses and she spewed.

"Yes!" cried O'Neill.

Why was the Colonel so thrilled at the sight of her heaving her guts out? Sam felt her hair brushed back from her face; felt him holding her shoulders as she threw up again and again. A shockingly bright light burst from the leaden sky. Seconds later it was followed by a loud, explosive noise. Artillery? A spasm of fear quashed her nausea. The rumble grew louder and deeper. Not artillery - lightning.

Sam opened a gluey eye. Thirty feet away another bolt of lightning struck with the explosive impact of a mortar shell, sending rocks and gravel tumbling down the slope. Slope?

"What gods - apart from the usual ones," O'Neill groused, lifting her over his shoulder and scrambling upwards, "have I so royally pissed off- no puns or cliches intended - to deserve this?"

Did his shoulder have to dig into her stomach? Any second now he'd be wearing the last of her lunch down his back. And why was she so agonizingly cold when they should have died in the boiling waters of the lake? The wind was hurling fistfuls of icy needles through her wet clothing.

Abruptly, the wind stopped. Vague images floated in and out of focus. She'd clung to the webbing of the FRED just before the wave hit. Her arms had been almost wrenched from their sockets, but she would not let go; the vehicles and their supply containers were waterproofed and designed to float. Pounding, violent motion, filthy, acidic water in her mouth and eyes, gulping air. The pain in the back of her head told her that something - the FRED perhaps - had knocked her unconscious.

The Colonel lowered her to the ground, saying something about a cave, and going back for containers.

Cold. Want to sleep.

"Fight it, Carter, stay awake!"

Why was it so hard to open her eyes? Ice? She rubbed ineffectually at her face but her hands were numb and useless.

Time passed. The noise outside grew louder and the light behind her closed eyelids grew darker. Her head pounded, her foot, throat and sinuses ached, and her mouth tasted foul. Someone was shuffling about nearby, panting hard. Then he was talking. Too much noise; leave me alone and let me sleep.

"Carter! Dammit Major, stay awake. That's an order!"

Insistent hands tugged at her feet, then at her wet clothes. Why was he taking off all of her clothes? She whimpered and batted her clubby hands at him. How could cold be so agonizing? "Please, sir!" He was roughly pulling something up her legs. What was it he wanted her to do with her arms? She felt the texture of soft dry material over her head and shoulders, and maybe, just maybe, the bitter, killing cold was less painful. Then she heard a zipper. Sleeping bag, thermal blankets?

"Don't get any ideas, Carter," he muttered.

Sam felt him curl around her, his warm breath hard on her neck, miserly conserving every joule of what little heat they could generate. The bitter, knife-edged cold gradually subsided to mere misery, and the creeping shadow of death reluctantly slunk away.

Sore, cold, filthy, hungry and nauseous. Situation normal.

"We're gonna get out of this. Okay?"

She almost believed him.

CHAPTER FOUR

aking up was not a pleasant experience. Sam felt as if her body had been used as a punching bag and her head as an ice hockey puck. Her eyeballs hurt. Hell, her hair hurt!

Something warm and yielding with a slight sandpapery texture, something vaguely familiar that she associated with safety, pulsed against her nose and mouth. There was movement beneath her. Breathing? She jerked back when she realized her nose was buried in the Colonel's neck. Why was that?

Rubbing her gritty eyes, Sam looked around. A diffuse green light illuminated the interior of what looked like an ice cave. Well, this was familiar. She concentrated on recalling what had happened. There'd been a flash of shockingly bright lightning followed by a deep rumble. She'd been thrown to the ground, and then the FRED was over her, rocking dangerously. A fetid gust of wind, redolent with eu de Vulcan, had whipped snow and ash into her face. She remembered looking up, and staring at death. The Colonel should have gone through the `gate, but he'd refused to abandon her. The last time she had seen that look on his face...

No, that memory triggered inconvenient truths, ones that should have remained buried.

Beneath her, he stirred.

"Colonel?" Her throat was dry and raspy. She couldn't remember throwing up but the acrid aftertaste was evident.

"You were expecting someone else?"

Sam carefully rolled off him. He fumbled around inside his sleeping bag, pulled out a canteen and handed it to her. "Drink as much as you can," he said. "I'll fill it with snow again."

Taking the bottle, she sipped some of the not too cold water, gratefully washing the taste out of her mouth, and, more importantly, getting some fluid into her. "You should have gone, sir," she whispered, handing it back to him.

"What, and miss a winter vacation in a theme park for volcanologists?" He swallowed some of the water. "The entire goddamned lake must have come down on us. I figured we'd be broiled, not frozen."

Recalling Dabruzzi's grousing about tepid coffee and lukewarm MREs, Sam said, "The air here is much thinner than on Earth; water boils at maybe fifteen degrees lower than normal. The ambient air temperature and permafrost ground must have further cooled the water before it reached us." She paused, then added, "Sir, what happened to the `gate?"

He shook his head. "Couldn't see through the steam. The whole place was doing a good imitation of a Turkish bath. Nothing was being sucked into the center, though."

Sam pulled the sleeping bag over her shoulders, sat up more, and looked around. In the growing light she could make out the shapes of containers. The Colonel must have unloaded the FRED during the night. "The SGC should have been able to close the iris within seconds, but probably not before the water messed with the electronics. Could take them days to get the `gate operational again."

"I didn't think water went through a wormhole."

"Standing water won't, but that had a lot of momentum." In the eerie light she saw him get up and shuffle into a darker part of the cave. "Sir, are you injured?"

"For once I'm in better shape than you."

"Then why are you shuffling?"

"They're called sleeping bags, Carter, not walking bags. Gimme a minute to find some pants."

Grunting, she tenderly massaged the lump on her head. "Dry sleeping bags."

"And clothes." O'Neill walked into view again dragging a case labeled 'Sgt AKing'.

Sam rubbed her eyes and stared at him. He was wearing a pair of purple ski pants and a day-glow orange ski jacket. On his head was a ridiculous multicolored beanie - complete with fuzzy pink pom-pom - that only a vengeful grandmother could have knitted. Definitely not military issue.

Fragmented images came into focus and coalesced. She should have died, would have died unless... Sam ran her hands over her chest and legs. Instead of BDUs she was dressed in an over-large polo neck and fleecy track pants. She glanced up. In the dim light, O'Neill's gaze was carefully masked. "Thanks, sir."

"Good move, Major, keeping hold of the FRED. For once we lucked out; it had their personal gear." He sat on another container labeled `Maj RAnders'.

Offering him a pallid smile, Sam carefully checked her ankle. It was tender, but there was no pain when she rotated it. "All the comforts of home."

He pulled out the field-cooking unit and looked around with an appraising eye. "You can shop for drapes after breakfast, but I get to choose where the plasma screen TV goes."

An hour later, Jack had changed into Anders' uniform and was walking to the entrance of the cave, idly eating an RCW - the cold weather equivalent of an MRE. The air was so damned thin and cold that the stuff was freezing before he'd even gotten it into his mouth. He scowled at the gunk on the spoon. On the upside, having lost its taste, it was marginally less unpalatable.

Ander's uniform was a little snug around the shoulders but it was a lot better than Dabruzzi's taste in winter wear. Not that he'd been complaining last night. He'd opened the first case he had found, half expecting to see rocks

At the entrance of the cavern Jack stopped and looked out. The blizzard had passed and the scenery was much as it had been when they'd come through the `gate. Except for the trees, the mountains were still lifeless and morbid. The volcano glowered, perhaps a little more than yesterday, and the clouds had that roiling, turgid look, the one that made the food curdle in his stomach. The only real difference was that the valley floor was about thirty feet higher and lumpier, and all of the scraggly bushes and SG-10's huts had vanished along with the dam. And, oh yeah, so had the Stargate. Sort of. In the center of the newly formed ice lake was a rounded bulge where the top of the `gate poked through the ice.

Jack wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't drowned in the flood; it had felt like being shoved into a washing machine on spin cycle. Not that he'd ever been in a washing machine on any cycle, but hey, you grabbed your metaphors where you could. Finding Carter barely alive, and then getting her into the cave had been no picnic either, but aside from some spectacular bruising where the wheels had pinned her leg, she seemed okay. He'd had no qualms about stripping off her wet clothes. They'd had to do some pretty intimate things for one another over the years. Hell, they'd been captured, tortured and subjected to appalling personal indignities, but he'd never once heard her complain - except for that time on Simarka when she'd had to wear that little blue number. In fact it had looked pretty darned good on her. Even better had been the expressions on Teal'c and Daniel's faces.

"Acapulco, huh?"

Jack snorted softly and turned around. Sergeant King's uniform fitted Carter about as well as Anders' fitted him. Still, it was a whole lot better than their clothes, which stank like hell - literally - despite being frozen solid. "Warm sandy beach, blue Pacific waters, pina coladas." He gestured with his spoon to the icy lake. "Look on the bright side, Carter. We scored a room with a view. They're probably in some dive overlooking an alley full of trashcans. I bet Teal'c's in a deep state of kelno'reem right now, while Daniel's poring over musty old documents."

"Wow!" Carter took a few steps outside and stared at the lake.

"I've taken bearings." Jack eyed the clouds, thick with the promise of another blizzard. "The next storm will probably bury the `gate entirely."

"Water from the thermal lake must have stopped feeding into this one. You see that slight depression?" She pointed just in front of where the `gate was buried.

"The one about the same size and shape as the kawoosh?"

Carter turned to face him. Her nose and cheeks were bright pink from the cold, and a few wisps of blond hair curled out from beneath her black watch cap. It gave her a somewhat elfin appearance. "They must have gotten the `gate working faster than I thought," she said. "The ice has reformed, but the snow hasn't filled the depression. That means they dialed out during the night." She stared at her radio and frowned.

"I checked. Battery's fine, but all I get from any of them is static."

"Between the `gate being underwater, a blizzard and the electromagnetic interference from the volcano it's not surprising."

"Carter, what part of Dabruzzi's `the water will just flow straight past and out the other end' lecture did I miss?"

"Debris from the collapsed dam must have plugged the moraine at the southern end of the valley. If it hadn't been so cold last night, most of it probably would have drained out by now. When the SGC dialed out, and we didn't respond - "

"They'll have assumed we were killed.

Her eyes took on their familiar determined look. "General Hammond won't assume that, sir."

"That doesn't get us back."

"Once the ice is thick enough to walk on we can cut a hole over the DHD, and then use one of the geologist's telescopic survey poles to punch in the address. The backwash from the vortex will disintegrate any ice in front of the `gate, just like it did when the SGC dialed up during the night. Standing water won't flow through, however that doesn't stop us from swimming through."

"Carter, that water is freezing!"

"We'll only be immersed for a few seconds. Sir, the mid-winter Polar Plunge at McMurdo takes place in minus forty degrees."

"That's where they run out of the hut, jump in a hole cut in the ice over Antarctic water, and then run back into the hut, right?"

"Naked."

"Naked. Carter, you know how I feel about singing soprano." He patted her shoulder. "Okay. Senior officer gets the hot showers first."

Her eyebrows did a confused dance across her forehead. One of these days she'd figure out that his occasional doses of pessimism were designed to trigger her extraordinary Getting Them Out Of Trouble skills. That was the day she would be ready to lead her own SG team. He missed her already. "How's the leg?"

She flexed her foot. "The ice pack you put on it seems to have worked."

"I didn't put -" Jack stared at her poker face. "Don't tell me, you and Teal'c have been practicing jokes on one other. C'mon." He lifted his balaclava up over his mouth. "We need to get the FRED up here."

A lump that looked like a large, half-finished snowman sat about thirty feet away on the edge of the ice lake. Carter pulled King's borrowed ski mask and goggles on while Jack tied one end of a guide rope around a nearby sapling. Although they would be well within sight of the cave, the sudden onset of a whiteout could be fatal. He checked the air temperature. It was hovering around minus thirty; much colder than last night. The barometer was also falling again. Winter set in fast around here.

Leaving Carter to work on the FRED, Jack used a collapsible field shovel to clear a path to the cave's entrance. Normally a tedious job, it was made doubly hard in the ratified atmosphere. When he finally finished, he refastened the straps on the FRED that he'd hastily removed the night before - and noticed a familiar shape in the cargo. "Their naquadah reactor's here. Can you use it to get the engine going?" The vehicle hummed to life. "Or not."

Pulling on her outer gloves, Carter stood. "No, but I can rig it to give us heat and light."

"The cave goes back a ways. It doesn't get any darker, but it feels warmer."

Carter looked up at the cliff face. "Caves, even ice caves normally maintain a constant temperature year round. It's probably a lava tunnel. Could even be thermally heated. After all, the whole moon is tectonically active."

The volcano ejected a particularly large cloud of ash. "Like I could forget," Jack mumbled. Fifteen seconds later, a deep, throaty roar rolled across the valley, along with a stench that, despite the balaclava, tore through his sinuses and lodged in the back of his throat. "Does the damned thing have to be so flatulent?"

He could have sworn he heard Carter chuckling, but then it turned into a choking cough. "What's the matter, Major? Can't take a little brimstone scouring your lungs?"

Inside the cave, they loaded the FRED with the things he'd brought up the night before, and then continued along the downward sloping tunnel. It was definitely getting warmer. Jack pushed back the hood of his parka and tugged his balaclava down. He scratched his chin and wondered if Anders' shaving kit was in one of the boxes. On second thought, if they ended up stuck here for any length of time the sooner he grew a beard the better.

Weird looking patches on the walls bathed the tunnel in an eerie green glow. "Any idea what that is, Carter?"

She touched one of the areas and examined her gloved hand. "Looks like some kind of bioluminescent organism."

"Great. Glow bugs." Hopefully they would prove less deadly than the assorted glow bugs they'd encountered on the last couple of moons.

About a hundred feet along, the tunnel ended in an area a little smaller than the `gate room. The temperature hovered around freezing, considerably warmer than the entrance. He looked around. "Home sweet home."

It wouldn't be a whole lot of fun, but they'd been in far worse situations. And for once, neither of them was more than superficially injured. Carter's ideas generally worked, so with any luck they'd be home in a few days. Meanwhile, they'd inventory their supplies, then collect firewood and anything else useful they could find. If the weather held after the next storm, they also needed to check the hut where Peterson and MacDougall had been.

Jack was unloading the FRED when a warm tendril of air touched his face. He looked up and around. "You feel that?"

"Over here, Colonel," Carter called from behind a rock fall. "The tunnel keeps going."

He walked across and looked in. "See if you can get the reactor working while I check it out."

The FRED wouldn't be able to negotiate the narrow tunnel and rock-fall, but he and Carter could carry what they needed inside. The warmer they could stay, the fewer calories they would have to consume. In the unlikely event that Carter's plan didn't work, their rations would last longer. Equally importantly, while the survey team hadn't encountered any large predators, he needed to make certain there were none holed up in the tunnel. He didn't fancy sharing living space with this moon's version of a Grizzly.

The tunnel continued to slope down, and grow warmer. Fifty feet along, more rock falls partially obscured a side passage. He looked inside and caught a glimpse of something. Cool. Or in this case...

Back where they'd parked the FRED, Carter was crouched in front of the naquadah reactor, doing something creative with the wiring. He bent down and whispered in her ear, "What would you give for a hot bath?"

"Funny, Sir." She glared up at him, lifted her bare hands to her mouth, and blew warm air into them.

"I'm serious, Carter," he added with a smug grin.

Cocking an eyebrow at him she said, "Don't be cruel, Colonel. I'm wearing at least ten pounds of frozen ash and grit, and the container full of RCWs? They're all vegetarian."

Jack uttered an expletive. Then he remembered the case he'd retrieved from beneath Dabruzzi's bed. His grin returned when he saw it on the FRED. Patting the box, he said, "It's full of candy bars. Chocolate, Major, after a warm bath." Then he motioned with his finger for her to follow.

With a look of disbelief, she went after him. "You are serious; you found a hot spring?"

Inordinately pleased with himself, Jack all but rocked on his heels as he stood at the entrance of the side passage. Offering her a bow that would have done Teal'c proud, he said, "Ladies first."

Carter crawled through, then stepped into the huge cavern. A cry of primal terror echoed through the tunnel.

"That's the situation, I'm afraid," said General Hammond. "We haven't been able to use the `gate since the flood. Although almost everything was backed up in the mainframe, I doubt we'll get the primary dialing computer operational and systems tested for at least another six hours."

Daniel Jackson stood with his hands in his pockets, frowning down at the `gate room. The bruises on his face exaggerated his brooding look. Fortunately, he had sustained few injuries when the tunnel beneath the Pyramid of the Sun had collapsed. Equally fortunate were those outside, for the structural integrity of the pyramid appeared to have been unaffected by Professor Wodeski's use of the crystal skull.

Teal'c placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. He did not wish to instill false hope in Daniel Jackson, but he had great faith in O'Neill and Major Carter. "They have survived much worse."

"The water was hot, but not enough to bum them," said General Hammond. "And the FRED that came through the `gate carried rocks and instruments. They should have been able to salvage food and supplies from the second vehicle."

"But you heard something hit the iris," Daniel Jackson said, his voice filled with unease. "Twice."

"A great deal of rubble, including tree branches, came through with the water before we got the iris closed. Those thumps were most likely caused by more debris."

"Or Jack and Sam."

"I do not believe so." Teal'c pulled out a chair, sat down and calmly clasped his hands together on the briefing room table. "Something prevented O'Neill and Major Carter from entering the `gate, otherwise they would have done so prior to the water reaching them."

Teal'c understood Daniel Jackson's concern, but nothing could be done until the Stargate was operational. Worrying about events over which one had no control seemed to be something at which the Tauri excelled.

General Hammond regarded Daniel Jackson with knowing eyes. "I'm as concerned as you, Dr Jackson, but Teal'c's right. Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter - and you and Teal'c - have a knack for surviving against the odds. Your own escape from the pyramid is a case in point. Now, why don't you sit down and tell me exactly what happened?"

Daniel Jackson touched the place on his head where the beam had struck and briefly rendered him unconscious. "Teal'c managed to pull me out just in time." He sent Teal'c a grateful look, and added, "The local authorities have assumed that Wodeski and the guards died in the quake. Engineers are concerned that any attempt to recover the bodies will result in further cave-ins. They've advised that everyone stay well clear of the excavation site until Mount Popo settles down."

"That could be months from now," said General Hammond. "Teal'c, are you certain the skull transported the professor from beneath the pyramid?"

"Indeed I am," Teal 'c replied. "Professor Wodeski was in a large cavern at the end of the tunnel, holding the skull in a manner similar to that which is depicted on the codex. Regrettably, I failed to reach him before he vanished."

"That doesn't necessarily mean he left, does it? He might just have become invisible to you."

Teal'c had been unable to see the `giant alien', Quetzalcoatl on P7X-377 because his symbiote had prevented him from making the necessary phase-shift. The experience had been one more reminder that, despite his freedom from service to Apophis, he was still enslaved at the most fundamental, spiritual level. For, as Master Bra'tac had learned on Kheb, no one who carried a Goa'uld within them could hope to achieve that to which many Jaffa ultimately aspired to, Ascension. "When Professor Wodeski disappeared," he replied, "the skull fell to the ground, and the light that had been coming from it vanished. I believe this indicated that he was no longer present."

"I agree with Teal'c, General," said Daniel Jackson. "Just before I was knocked unconscious, the light and shuddering stopped, which would signify the transfer was complete."

"The cavern and tunnel then began to collapse," Teal'c added.

"Nick said that Wodeski would be taken to another planet, not P7X-377. Now that the cavern has gone, the professor can't return to Earth," Daniel Jackson finished.

General Hammond sat forward and picked up a file from the table. "I read some of your grandfather's reports about the pyramid on P7X-377 being both a source of power and a network transport hub, but I didn't entirely understand them."

Daniel Jackson accepted the file and opened it. "I remember this one," he said after reading the first few lines. "Nick can get a little carried away, but essentially what he learned was that Mesoamerican pyramids, while constructed using similar architectural and engineering techniques to the much earlier Mesopotamian Ziggurats or Egyptian step pyramids, were used for entirely different purposes.

"We know that the pyramid shape has unique properties that focus energy in the same way that the shape and material in the walls of a sound studio can enhance or alter the quality of sound. Early last century, a Frenchman named Bovis discovered that recently dead animals, like rats, found inside the pharaoh's chamber of the Khufu Pyramid mummified instead of rotting. A radio engineer named Drbal subsequently discovered that placing a blunt razor blade one third of the way up in a model pyramid causes the blade to re-sharpen."

Teal'c looked at him in surprise. General Hammond smiled and said, "I remember trying that myself. It was one craze in the '70s that actually worked."

"It certainly did - still does," replied Daniel Jackson, closing the file and pushing it to one side. "Drbal patented the process. It works because, when correctly aligned with the Earth's magnetic field, the natural resonance set up within the pyramid shape realigns the crystalline structure on the cutting edge of the blade.

"The Goa'uld used the pyramids at Giza as landing platforms, but the pyramid shape is critical to channeling power throughout their Ha'taks. The `giant aliens' - Quetzalcoatl's race - also use the natural resonance in the pyramid shape, but as chambers that focus the energy to transport people from place to place."

"Via crystal skulls." Hammond nodded. "But how would your grandfather know where Professor Wodeski was taken?"

Daniel Jackson turned and looked down at the technicians working on the Stargate. "I have no idea. That's why we need to see him."

Teal'c followed his gaze. It was evident that Daniel Jackson's anxiety was not for Professor Wodeski, but for O'Neill and Major Carter. Despite his earlier words, as General Hammond and Daniel Jackson continued to talk, Teal'c found that he, too, could not shake off a measure of concern for his friends.

CHAPTER FIVE

sn't that a little cliched, sir?"

"Quetzalcoatl! Chocolati Quetzalcoatl!" A cluster of children dressed in brightly feathered cloaks danced around the Colonel like displaced birds of paradise.

He shot her a disarming grin. "C'mon Carter, it's what GIs do. And don't give me that Daniel stuff about ruining their teeth or messing with their culture. If we'd gone with your idea of feeding them vegetarian RCWs - "

Sam smiled and shook her head in resignation. Except for the Orbanians, a relatively advanced society, and the alien Quetzalcoatl on P7X-377, they'd encountered few Mesoamerican cultures. Until the Colonel had made like Santa Claus with the chocolate bars, the children, twenty-one in total, had cowered in terror. Well, one of them hadn't been cowering then, but he sure was now.

Crouched in the comer by himself was a youth of about sixteen, naked except for a burlap loincloth and a tarry black coating on his skin. When Sam had stepped into the cave, he'd been holding an upraised knife over a little girl lying on a slab of rock. The other children had been standing clustered together, obviously frightened, but making no move to stop what looked to be a sacrificial ceremony.

The girl had screamed - not at the raised knife, but at the sight of Sam. When she'd grappled the boy and wrested the knife off him, it hadn't helped the situation. If anything it had sent the other children into a panic. Nothing she and the Colonel said or did had been able to calm them, until he'd hit on the idea of the chocolate bars. The children now clustered around O'Neill - but refused to let her anywhere near them. Sam figured she looked pretty scary after being near-drowned and half-frozen to death. But then the Colonel hardly looked much better.

While the children were distracted, she checked the cave. Boil ing water gurgled out of a large crack in the wall, and into a series of circular pools separated by bridges of mineralized deposits. Some of the pools were wide and shallow, while others were deep enough to bathe in. Tendrils of steam gently caressed her ankles, and everything glistened wet in the low light. An entire civilization of bioluminescent organisms had adapted to the warm, moist environment.

Kneeling, Sam tested the water temperature with a cautious finger. It was definitely boiling, but not scalding. A nearby, deeper pool was somewhat cooler, the perfect temperature for a bath. She itched, literally, to climb in and soak away accumulated aches and pains, mud and cold.

The child who'd almost been sacrificed - she could only have been seven or eight - tentatively approached from behind. Reaching out a chocolate-coated hand to touch Sam's hair, the little girl declared in wonder, "It is the color of the sun!"

Sam slowly turned around. "Hi there, my name's Sam. What's yours?"

"I am Two-water," the little girl replied shyly. She offered Sam a hesitant smile and a battered posy of flowers.

"Oh, they're beautiful." Sam brought the pitiful little bundle of coral-colored blossoms to her nose, and inhaled. They smelled of wild jasmine and frangipani.

Two-water's eyes lit. "Chalchiuhtlicue?"

"You insult the goddess with your paltry gift," barked her erstwhile executioner.

Two-water cringed and hid behind Sam, but not before the youth leaped to his feet and cuffed the little girl hard enough to knock her feathered headdress askew.

"Hey! Leave her alone!" Sam fended off the boy and placed herself between him and Two-water. The younger children screamed and ran to the far comer of the cavern.

"Kids? Kids! We're not gods. We're..." O'Neill shot Sam a look of entreaty.

"Travelers," she said, crouching and putting her arm around Two-water. "Peaceful travelers from a... a faraway land." That gen erally worked.

"Long way away." O'Neill gestured with his arm.

An older youth, this one wearing a bright feather cape and beautifully patterned loincloth, ventured, "From Omeyocan?"

The Colonel's face screwed up. "Acapulco," he muttered. "Great, Daniel, just great."

"Acapulco?"

"No, no!" Sam said quickly. Without Daniel they had no idea what they were getting into. "My name is Sam and this is - "

"Jack," the Colonel replied. "And you are?"

"Muan-zac. It means White-owl. That is my sister." He pointed to Two-water, who now clutched Sam's hand. "Ifyou are not gods," White-owl added, his expression turning solemn, "then you must allow the apprentice priest, Heart-eater, to sacrifice us before Chalchiuhtlicue comes through the Chappa'ai and steals our souls."

That had a nastily familiar ring to it, with the matter-of-fact delivery adding an extra chill. The expression on O'Neill's face reflected the sick feeling in Sam's stomach.

Without warning, Heart-eater lunged for Two-water and snatched her away.

"Hey!" Sam managed to grab a fist-full of Heart-eater's long hair, jerking him to a halt. Someone tackled her from behind, knocking her, Heart-eater and Two-water down. The little girl scrambled away while Sam wrestled with... White-owl? Then Heart-eater began kicking her. She grabbed his ankle and twisted him to the ground.

They might only have been teenagers, but they were wiry, strong and they'd obviously been trained in personal combat. Somewhere between pinning Heart-eater to the floor and pulling White-owl's surprisingly powerful hands from around her neck, Sam saw that the Colonel was having his own problems. And it made her blood run cold. The screaming children had run at him, apparently in an attempt to stop him from reaching a youngster who had picked up Heart-eater's knife. The little boy held the handle so that the stubby dark blade was angled inwards. Eyes squeezed shut and mouth set in a determined grimace, he evidently intended to thrust it into his own chest!

"No!" cried Sam. Abandoning all attempts to subdue her attackers without hurting them, she jabbed an elbow into White-owl's stomach then shoved Heart-eater into one of the deeper pools.

The Colonel reached the would-be suicide first, but only after knocking down some of the younger children. Wresting the knife from the boy, he yelled, "Okay, everyone, that's enough! Nobody's feeding anyone's hearts to some god!" O'Neill looked sternly at them all, but Sam saw the anguish in his eyes. "You hear me? Nobody here is going to die."

The children's screams gradually subsided into sobs and sniffles. Something small and black scampered across the cave. Two-water scooped the animal - it looked like a skinny, bald rat with big ears - into her arms, and clung onto it. Looking at Sam, her voice was tremulous as she said, "I don't think you're the bad Chalchiuhtlicue, are you?"

"No, I'm not." Sam tried to inject reassurance into her reply, but the adrenaline-induced tension now fed a deep-seated revulsion and anger. She met the Colonel's brief, knowing look. His jaw was clenched. What sort of horrors had this `bad' Chalchiuhtlicue perpetrated on children that they preferred death?

Clutching his chest where she had hit him, White-owl's face cleared and his eyes lit in a way that reminded Sam of Skaara. "You really are Quetzalcoatl," he gasped. "And the true Chalchiuhtlicue!"

She was about to deny it, but O'Neill shot her a warning look. Unless they wanted to deal with a bunch of hysterical kids hellbent on killing themselves, or each other, or something, they were going to have to play along until they figured out what was going on. She reached down to help Heart-eater from the pool. Time to build some trust.

"Then why," he asked, accepting her hand but frowning suspiciously, "did you take our fire priest, Blood-feaster, into the Chappa'ai?"

Sam reflexively tightened her grip on Heart-eater. He smelled awful, but she couldn't sense a Goa'uld in him, or any of the chil dren.

"Because the fire priest was wrong!" White-owl declared forcefully.

Heart-eater's eyes rounded and he began shaking. "You blaspheme against Tzcatlipoca? He will strike us all down!"

"Not while his brother has come to save us." White-owl beamed at O'Neill.

The Colonel's face had adopted a familiar blank expression. "Ah...what makes you think we took Blood-blister?"

Instead of answering, Heart-eater peered into Sam's eyes, as if seeking something he was terrified of finding. "Blood-feaster brought your children to you and Quetzalcoatl, oh Goddess of Water. Then the one who guided us through the Ohtlin ictlan, the Roads of Mictlan, jumped from Blood-feaster's arms." His eyes flicked to the shivering creature that Two-water held. "It ran before the Chappa'ai just as it burst forth in the Great Tear."

Sam glanced at the animal. It was a bald Chihuahua, small enough to have avoided the vortex that had undoubtedly killed their priest. "When did this happen?"

"A day past, Goddess."

A brief spasm of guilt gripped Sam. Then again, their arrival may have stopped the children from being sacrificed. Or worse.

Heart-eater blurted miserably, "I am but an apprentice priest to Tzcatlipoca, oh great Chalchiuhtlicue. Having no knowledge of what this sign meant, we fled into the secret chamber beneath the Chappa'ai. But the tlaloque spirits who turn the rain to cold white death..." Again, he hesitated, and looked at White-owl. "We returned here where there is warmth, for we knew you would be angered if your children were damaged. When you sent a flood to drown the Chappa'ai, we thought... Please, Goddess, I meant only to serve!"

Sam released Heart-eater's hand. He skittered backwards until he lay prostrate before them. The Colonel went to speak, but then all of the children kneeled and bowed their heads - except Twowater, who tugged on Sam's hand and asked, "You are going to take us to the Emperor's garden and set us free, Chalchi, aren't you?" The little girl's eyes were full of desperate hope.

The others raised their heads and began to fire off questions. "Then we will no longer be slaves?"

"We can go home to our parents?"

"We will not be sacrificed?"

But Heart-eater howled in despair, "Then the world will surely end!"

"Replay that," ordered General Hammond. "One frame at a time."

Sitting in front of him in the SGC control room, Sergeant Harriman's fingers flew across the keyboard. On the screen, the two seconds of speckled, milky gray-green came into focus again, then the MALP transmission from M4D-376 spluttered and died.

A few thousand gallons of putrid water pouring through the `gate the day before had not put Hammond in a good mood. His first instinct had been to tear a new orifice in Dabruzzi's anatomy. But the man's look of disbelief, which rapidly transmuted into agonizing self-reproach, had been painfully familiar; Hammond had seen it in the mirror countless times. Dabruzzi's entire existence was now focused on recovering Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter.

"There!" Daniel pointed to the top of the screen. "Go back and freeze the last frame."

Hammond looked at him. `What did you see, Dr Jackson?"

Daniel bounced on his feet like a nervous cat until Harriman replayed the MALP transmission. "That!" cried Daniel. "Right there - that's ice." He turned a worried face to Dabruzzi.

The big volcanologist squinted at the image. "Yeah, you're right. The ice and moraine at the southern end of the valley must be acting as a natural dam. Given the volume of water..." His eyes flickered as he did some rough mental calculations, then his whole bearing altered. "I've SCUBA dived under ice caps. Despite the particulate matter in the water, there's a lot of light getting through. But that's ice all right, no more than a few inches thick. That's the best news yet." He almost slumped in relief.

"Would you care to explain, Dr Dabruzzi?" Hammond said.

"They would have been pounded some by the wave front as it passed, but both Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter trained in ditch and recovery, right?"

Hammond nodded. A lot of good people washed out of flight school because they couldn't handle being tossed into rough seas weighed down with heavy gear, parachutes, or worse, still strapped to Martin Bakers. O'Neill and Carter had dealt with both simulated and real situations with the same aplomb they applied to everything else.

Dabruzzi tapped the screen. "This tells me that they weren't swept over the cliff into the next valley. The surface of the lake is frozen now, but assuming they survived the wave front, which wouldn't have been that high when it hit the `gate platform, then they should have been able to make it ashore while the water was still warm." He turned to Hammond. "They're only hope of survival would have been to find shelter before the blizzard hit."

"Wouldn't the camp have been washed away?" asked Daniel.

"Yeah, but not far from the gate is a big ice cave that leads to a magma tunnel. I'm only guessing, of course, but under the circumstances there's nowhere else they could have gone. Not far inside are a couple of geotumors - magma blisters, caverns - they could hole up in, including one with a hot spring."

Teal'c was standing silently in the background. For such a big man - or Jaffa - Hammond was constantly surprised by how inconspicuous Teal'c could make himself. Daniel Jackson, on the other hand, was radiating enough nervous energy to power the `gate. Nearby, Siler, an extraordinarily large wrench in his hand, was talking to an SFA. "Sergeant?" Hammond called.

Siler looked up. "Sir?"

"How long would it take you to rig up an underwater probe? We need to make contact with Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter."

Dabruzzi pulled at his beard. "Even if you don't get a signal, it doesn't mean they're not alive. As I told the Colonel yesterday, our radios were damned near useless."

Hammond's eyes darted between them, then settled on Siler expectantly. Hope and human ingenuity was the unofficial motto around the SGC.

"Well, sir," the technical sergeant replied. "I could probably rig up something simple, but it would be better to get a remote controlled camera from the Navy. That'd allow us to swim it around some and see what's going on."

Hammond stared at the screen. He didn't want the Navy asking awkward questions about why the Air Force needed a submersible probe beneath Cheyenne Mountain. He'd have to call in more favors. "All right," he said to Siler. "Tell me what you need and I'll have it here within twenty-four hours. Meanwhile, Dr Jackson, now that the `gate is operational again, why don't you and Teal'c go pay a visit to that grandfather of yours?"

Daniel began to object, but Hammond added, "Son, you can't do anything to help Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter until we know what the conditions are on the other side of the `gate. You'll be back from P7X-377 before we can get a submersible here."

CHAPTER SIX

o they liked vegetarian RCWs, who'd have guessed? Although, given the waif-like condition of the children, Jack suspected it had been a while since any of them had seen a decent meal.

Pretending to be gods was just plain wrong, on all levels, but it had been the only way to keep any kind of control over the situation. Since it was too wet to bunk down in the hot springs cave, they'd settled on making camp in the tunnel just outside. Warmed by a patchwork quilt of feather cloaks, Air Force uniforms and Dabruzzi's eclectic collection of colorful clothes, the children looked as contented as if they were home in their beds, clutching teddy bears and soft woolen blankets. It was a telling statement on the hardships they must have endured in their short lives that they found such meager offerings comfortable. And yet, they didn't have the bruised, battered and feral - or worse, openly abused and vacant - looks he'd seen in too many kids in too many refugee camps. And all of them were well behaved, even respectful. These kids had grown up in poverty-stricken but loving homes, ones where obedience and temperance were necessary adjuncts to survival in a harsh world.

Jack looked at the sorcerer's apprentice, Heart-eater, sitting alone in a dark niche beside a rock fall. Good thing, too. Stinking like a flyblown corpse, he was home to enough bugs to drive an anteater into a feeding frenzy. He'd accepted the food, but rejected the offer of a coat. The black stuff on his skin apparently kept him warm.

"Zazanilli, Muan-zac!" called one of the children. "A story, White-owl!"

Two-water, who had adopted Carter and was now sitting in her lap, said, "Yes, brother, you are the oldest, you must tell us a story."

"Tell us of how Quetzalcoatl made us."

"No," called another. "Tell us how Quetzalcoatl promised he would return at the end of the world and take his chosen people to Omeyocan!"

They were obviously trying to impress Jack with their knowledge of Quetzal's deeds. Which didn't make him feel any better about the whole god thing.

"Tomorrow," said White-owl seriously, "will be the last day before Nemontemi."

The word Nemontemi hushed the children, and they huddled closer together. "Then tell us of Nemontemi," said a teenager.

White-owl nodded sagely. "This is the story I shall tell, as told to me by my colli, my grandfather, who was but a boy during the last Nemontemi, fifty-two years ago.

"Oc ye nechca, once upon a time, when Chalchiuhtlicue destroyed the last world in a great flood, the gods decided to build a fifth and final world. Tonatui made his glorious ship in the sky, the sun, while Quetzalcoatl," White-owl glanced at Jack, "made this world, Xalotcan. Then he made mankind - "

"By tricking Mictlantecuhtli, lord of the Underworld, into giving him the bones of people from past worlds," called one of the older children.

"Shh! Do not spoil the story!" scolded Two-water. Most of the children giggled. They'd obviously heard it a dozen times, but their enthralled looks said it was a favorite tale.

"And Tzcatlipoca made the great planet in the sky, Meztli, to which we are bound. But when Tzcatlipoca and Tonatui became jealous of their brother, Quetzalcoatl, they drove..." White-owl paused and looked uncertainly at Jack.

The other children also turned and stared at him expectantly. Great. What was he supposed to do now?

"You know," said Carter, "I think White-owl's telling the story very well."

"Yeah," Jack added quickly. "Don't let us stop you. We like stories. Love 'em...in fact." Next time Daniel decided to go on vacation, he'd tie him to a chair.

White-owl glowed with pride, although his voice turned solemn. "The brothers drove Quetzalcoatl away, and began to fight amongst themselves. Each day Tonatui rides Ichan Tonatiuh, his glorious sun ship, across the sky. But by evening he has grown weak, and Tzcatlipoca, the lord of the night, defeats him in battle. That is why we must give our hearts to Tonatui, so that he may rise each moming and cast his light upon our world, Xalotcan."

"I do not like Lord Tzcatlipoca," Two-water whispered loudly to Carter.

"Ah!" White-owl chided her with a frown. "It is Lord Tzcatlipoca that keeps us safe at night, by holding us close to Meztli. If it were not for him, Xalotcan would be cast adrift into the night sky, and the tlaloque spirits would send cold, white rain to cover the world and kill us all. This is why we must also give Tzcatlipoca our hearts and blood, so that he can grow strong and come to us again each evening."

Well, what a surprise. A couple of Goa'uld named Cat Lips and Tonto squabbling over who controlled the place, each one demanding 'hearts'- probably Jaffa armies - from the local population.

"After fifty-two years of fighting this battle every day, Tzcatlipoca and Tonatui become weak." White-owl's voice lowered dramatically. "Tzcatlipoca casts us adrift from Meztli, and the god Mictlantecuhtli grows restless in Mictlan, the Underworld, and shakes the ground. Tonatui can no longer push aside the floating water skins in the sky, so we do not see his golden face, and Chalchiuhtlicue..." He paused and shot a quick, nervous glance in Carter's direction. "It is said that she orders the tlaloque spirits to fill the floating water skins with poison. When this fire-rain falls upon the ground, it kills our gardens, and we hunger and die. This is Nemontemi, the no-time, where the days have no name and the living and dead are as one. During Nemontemi we must feed many more hearts to Tonatui and Tzcatlipoca to renew their strength, or our world will end.

"But as with all worlds, the day will come when our world, Xalotcan, must end, and it will do so during one such Nemontemi. This is the time as foretold by Quetzalcoatl, for he promised that he would return, defeat his brothers, and take those loyal to him to Omeyocan."

Jack felt a tug on his sleeve. Two-water was gazing up at him. "Is that why you have come, Jack Quetzalcoatl? Because this Nemontemi is the end of the world?"

Twenty pairs of big brown eyes turned worriedly to him. A few years ago he might have dismissed the story as a parable, but as he met Two-water's solemn stare, he remembered assuring Cassie's people that an eclipse didn't mean the end of the world. Bad call.

Eyeing Jack thoughtfully, White-owl said, "Quetzalcoatl has not come to us as a god, but as a man. The gods have always walked amongst us in the guise of humans, for what happens at the end of each Nemontemi?"

An older child replied, "Those of us who have proven to be the most righteous, the most perfect in body and mind and spirit, become Tzcatlipoca and Tonatui!"

"Then," White-owl finished with a flourish of his hands, "with their chosen Jaffa they ascend in glowing rings of light to their great ships in the sky, to battle once more."

Okay, well, that pretty much confirmed it. There were four or five Goa'uld, at least two whom had ships, but since they were both dipping into the same resources, they weren't exactly system lords.

When Two-water yawned sleepily, White-owl smiled and said, "Now it is time to sleep. Tomorrow, when Quetzalcoatl and Chalchi take us to the Emperor's palace garden, we shall be free, and we will see our families again."

Tossing her arms around Carter's neck happily, Two-water cried, "Oh, thank you for saving us, Chalchi! Can you come and live with us for a little while? My mother always believed that the true Chalchi was kind and beautiful." She frowned at Heart-eater. "And not the wicked monster that the fire priests said!"

The smile on Carter's face froze. White-owl looked at her, and said, "They cannot stay, little sister, for Quetzalcoatl must not be here when Tzcatlipoca and Tonatui arrive in six days, or it will be as Heart-eater says, the end of the world."

The monumental Mayan pyramid on P7X-377 was no less breathtaking than the first time Daniel had seen it two and a half years earlier. As with his previous visits, there was no sign of life, no birds fluttering overhead, not even the chirp of a cricket to break the silence of an utterly tenantless landscape. Sam had said that normal life forms could not survive the regular bombardment of ration radiation from the pyramid, and that the atmosphere was probably artificial. It was disturbing nonetheless. Looking over the side of the walkway all he could see was amorphous gray rock. Green was not one of the colors on P7X-377.

Nick walked out of the pyramid and looked up. "Daniel! Good, I've been expecting you." Moving with a degree of sprightliness that Daniel hadn't seen in twenty years, his grandfather disappeared back inside. "Come, come, I have something to show you."

With Teal'c on his heels, Daniel hurried inside - and ran right through his grandfather. He stopped and spun around. "Ali, Teal'c, could you take a step back?"

Teal'c's habitual look of attentive indifference was, Daniel knew, a survival trait acquired during a lifetime of service to Apophis. But along with his willingness to volunteer information, Teal'c's range of expressions had gradually increased since joining SG-1. Right now, his face was curiously uncertain.

"You're, ah, standing in my grandfather."

Teal'c's left eyebrow shot up, and he promptly stepped back. "My apologies, Nicholas Ballard."

"That really is disconcerting, even when it happens to someone else," Daniel muttered. "Uhm, Nick? We...ah, failed to stop Professor Wodeski."

Oblivious to the incursion into his ethereal body, his grandfather was staring at the wall, tapping a finger to his lips in thought. "I know." Nick's voice dropped and he turned a worried eye to Daniel. "The pyramid?"

"Is okay. Only the cave and excavation tunnel collapsed." Nevertheless, Daniel still felt the pang of anger. "We think Wodeski murdered the guards."

"In Peru, on a site he was overseeing, a guard was shot and artifacts stolen. Stanislaw blamed thieves." Nick's eyes narrowed. "That was not the first time such a thing has happened. Always, it is thieves." He turned and led them further inside to the alcove overlooking the cavernous interior of the pyramid. A narrow walkway in the center led to a platform where a rose quartz crystal skull was mounted on a pedestal. Nick stopped near the walkway, and began examining a section of the nearby wall.

"Do you know where Wodeski is?" Daniel asked him.

Nick's face adopted the self-satisfied expression of one who has been vindicated after a lifetime of ridicule. "Another world. Perhaps it would be best if you left him there?" His voice was hopeful.

"Grandfather." Daniel sent him a reproachful look.

"It was just a thought." Nick shrugged and pointed to what appeared to be a keystone. "I do not know why a door exists. When one no longer has a physical body, walls do not present a problem. But you are still made of solid flesh, Daniel, so you must push here."

Daniel gently nudged the beveled block. A door-sized section moved aside with the gritty, heavy sound of stone sliding across stone. Teal'c clutched his staff weapon in surprise when a light appeared from nowhere, revealing a dozen marble steps leading into a small, roughly circular chamber.

"This is amazing!" Daniel all but danced around the room in excitement, Teal'c following cautiously behind. The dark marble walls featured the same glyphs that they'd seen in Nick's journal and the Teotihuacan codex.

"There is so much to learn here, Daniel, so much to understand, I have barely begun." Nick beamed like a post-doctorate with a million dollar research grant. "Place your hand here." He pointed to a proustite pedestal in the center of the room.

"Why?" Daniel wondered how much of the writing Nick had managed to translate.

"You will see."

Still with his eyes on the glyphs, Daniel placed his palm on the crystalline block. It was slightly oily and warm to the touch. A column of light, as bright and alive as aflame, silently shot up from the center. He snatched his hand back with a gasp, then his jaw slack ened in wonder. The light swirled around their heads and divided into five spinning balls. Their rotation slowed and the colors shifted from magenta to blue-white as they dropped to eye-level. "It's the same machine that Ernest Littlefield discovered! Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

Teal'c looked less certain. "I do not believe this is the same device, Daniel Jackson." The holograms were more solid in appearance, and they did not represent atoms or molecules, but five worlds. "Nor is it a device used by the Goa'uld."

"I have spent a great deal of time reading your reports," said Nick, "so that I could understand these aliens, the Goa'uld. Your theory that many ancient civilizations vanished suddenly because the Goa'uld took them is only partly correct."

Daniel's eyes were drawn to the sphere with an extraordinarily detailed rendering of Earth. "How so?"

"In the past," Nick explained, "Quetzalcoatl and others of his race, the Omeyocan, also took people from Earth."

Alarmed, Daniel looked up. "Why?" His voice was full of suspicion.

"Do not worry, Daniel. It is alright." Nick smiled reassuringly. "It was a very long time ago, before the Egyptians buried the Stargate. The Omeyocan were..." He searched for the right words. "I think they were conservationists, like park rangers. When the Goa'uld came to our galaxy, the Omeyocan took tribes of uninfected humans from Earth and seeded them on planets outside the Stargate network."

"The giant aliens are called Omeyocan? That's the Nahuatl Indian word for Heaven, but it also means the heavenly bodies in the sky, including the sun, moon and stars. You said many planets. There are only four here, in addition to Earth."

"Twelve and a half centuries ago, in a distant part of our galaxy, there was a great battle between the Omeyocan and a group of evil Goa'uld."

Peering over his glasses at Nick, Daniel said, "Calling the Goa'uld evil is a little redundant, Grandfather. The Goa'uld define evil."

Nick shook his head and waved his finger for emphasis. "No, even by Goa'uld standards these were evil, an abomination exiled by their father, Ra, because they had done unspeakable things." He shuddered. "Many Omeyocan, and all but one of these Goa'uld, Coatlicue, died in this great battle. When Coatlicue fled, she needed new human slaves to take with her into exile. She had no knowledge of the worlds protected by the Omeyocan, but she did know of one planet where she could be sure to harvest slaves without fear of Ra finding her."

"Earth."

"Yes. With the Stargate buried, Ra was unlikely to return in his ship because he had stocked many other worlds with humans. Quetzalcoatl knew that when Coatlicue reached Earth, she would exact a terrible revenge on him and his mate, Chalchiuhtlicue, by making slaves of the people under his protection."

"The inhabitants of Teotihuacan."

Nick nodded gravely. "Quetzalcoatl also knew that those whom Coatlicue could not enslave would be killed, and the city razed."

" Teotihuacan was burned and ransacked, but there's no evidence of any Goa'uld weapons having been used"

"Coatlicue had only one badly damaged ship." Nick shrugged. "Perhaps her weapons had been destroyed in battle. What you must understand, Daniel, is that for more than five hundred years after Teotihuacan had been built, the inhabitants used the skull transport system to settle four worlds that Quetzalcoatl and Chalchi had made ready for them." His eyes were fixed on the hologram. "These are the four planets that you see here. By 750AD, travel, trade and scientific exchange between these worlds and Earth had been well established. But after the great battle and Coatlicue's escape, Quetzalcoatl warned the people of Teotihuacan that they must abandon Earth forever."

The hologram was exceptionally detailed. Ignoring the temptation to reach out and touch one of the images, Daniel said, "Then why did the skull in Belize transport you here, and not to one of these worlds?"

"Each skull takes travelers to only one place. The rose crystal skull that I found in the Temple of Quetzalcoatl in Belize led here to this world, what you call P7X-377, because this pyramid," Nick gestured around them, "is the hub of the transport network."

"So there must have been four additional skulls beneath the Pyramid of the Sun, each of which lead to the worlds shown here," Daniel finished.

"In its rush to civilization mankind has lost so much." Nick sighed, but then he looked at the hologram, and added, "At least we can be comforted by the knowledge that, if Earth ever falls to the Goa'uld, these worlds remain forever protected."

"Because even if the Goa'uld or some other hostile race find the skulls, they can't use them."

"This is why your friend, Teal'c, may not use the network." Nick shook his head in regret. "For although his soul has not been stolen, he carries a Goa'uld within him."

"It also explains why there's a `gate on this world," Daniel said with sudden insight. "No Goa'uld who comes here could ever use the skull network. In fact, Quetzalcoatl isn't even here, is he? That's why we can't see him until the skull network is activated."

"It took me a long time to realize it, but I think that perhaps he and Chalchi died in the last great battle I spoke of, and that use of the skull triggers a mechanism by which their images appear."

"Like an interactive computer program."

"Once there were many Omeyocan." Nick walked around the chamber, pointing out certain glyphs as he went. "And so there are many other map rooms with devices such as this."

"My God, do you know what this means?" cried Daniel excitedly. "There could be dozens, hundreds of worlds out there, all with cultures as advanced, or more advanced than ours, who've never had any contact with the Goa'uld!"

"Alas, Quetzalcoatl will not allow me to see these other map rooms." Nick pouted and crossed his arms in a pose Daniel well knew.

Recalling the pre-programmed interactive tests on Cimmeria, and Jack's experience with the repository of the Ancients, Daniel said, "Quetzalcoatl is probably trying to protect you, Nick. We've learned that our brains aren't designed to absorb knowledge indiscriminately."

"Perhaps you are right." Nick's feathery white eyebrows lifted in resignation. He looked across the room. "Your friend, Teal'c, seems very interested in the hologram."

Only then did Daniel realize that Teal'c had heard just one side of the conversation. He took a few moments to explain.

"That is incorrect, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c's frown deepened. "There are Stargates on three of these worlds."

Nick's expression faltered. "That is not possible. These planets were chosen because they are outside of the Stargate network."

Teal'c ran his hand over the light generated from the center of the pedestal. The `page' did not change.

Nick moved to stand beside Teal'c. "You must place your hand on an image to enlarge it."

"Touch one of the worlds," said Daniel.

When Teal'c tried, nothing happened. Leaning forward to examine the images more closely, Daniel added, "It probably contains the same built-in mechanism that prevents a Goa'uld from accessing the skull network. Let me try."

Although it was only a hologram, Daniel felt the same oily, warm sensation as when he'd touched the pedestal. The image of the planet enlarged, prompting him to step back.

"I believe that is Orban," said Teal'c.

Nick was frowning now. "He is mistaken. He must be!"

"No, I think Teal'c's right." Daniel examined the image. "The Orbanians are almost certainly descended from the people who built Teotihuacan. And they had a history with the Goa'uld, although it's been lost." He touched a second sphere. It enlarged while the first image shrank.

"That is Tollan." Teal'c's matter-of-fact voice made his pronouncement no less worrying.

"It certainly is."

"No. It is not possible!" declared Nick, the lines on his face deepening with concern.

"Narim showed us holographic maps of what their planet looked like before volcanoes destroyed it." Daniel turned to his grandfather. "You were the one who taught me that Tollan was the ancient Mayan name for Teotihuacan. Tollan architecture and city planning certainly reflected that. They knew about the Goa'uld, they had defenses against them - at least until the end." He touched the hologram of the third world. When neither he nor Teal'c recognized it, he enlarged the fourth and final world.

"Daniel Jackson, do you not recognize this from the aerial surveys?" Teal'c ran his hand along a snowcapped mountain chain.

"That is the world to which Stanislaw went!" Nick's voice was urgent.

His eyes riveted to the detailed rendering of the mountains, Daniel said, "How do you know?"

"You see the small lights in the round shaped valley east of the mountains? They are where the skulls should be. The white light, which represents Earth, glowed."

"Can we get a closer look?"

"Touch the image twice, quickly."

With Nick's help, Daniel learned to navigate the map, enlarging the area and changing the perspective until the image pretty much matched what they'd seen through the MALP. No doubt about it. "That's the valley on M4D-376 where SG-10 were exploring for naquadah."

Nick walked around the hologram shaking his head gravely. "Where did you find the co-ordinates of these Stargates?"

"On the Abydos Cartouche. Although it's thousands of years old, the inscriptions appear to have been periodically updated by Ra. Based on the number of addresses Jack later gave us, when he had the knowledge of the Ancients downloaded into his brain, we know there are many planets with Stargates that the Goa'uld aren't aware of"

Teal'c inclined his head in agreement. "The Goa'uld also move Stargates when necessity dictates. Most often to mining colonies."

"AndM4D-376 is an abandoned Goa'uldmining colony." Daniel winced at the thought of Jack marooned in some magma tunnel with Wodeski. They would get along so well.

"Is it not possible," said Teal'c thoughtfully, "that Professor Wodeski's first failed attempt to use the skull precipitated the earthquake that injured SG-10?"

Daniel groaned and brought a hand to his forehead. "Of course! Dabruzzi said the quake was weird." Making a quick mental calculation, he added, "The second time he used the skull, it not only collapsed the excavation tunnel and cavern on Earth, it also caused the second quake on M4D-376 -which broke the dam!"

Nick was paying scant attention. "I must inform Quetzalcoatl." He hurried up the steps. "These worlds were meant to have been protected from the Goa'uld!"

"Wait - Nick?" Daniel followed him. "Why wouldn't Quetzalcoatl know that already? I mean, even if he - it - is some sort of sophisticated computer program, hasn't there been any communication with these planets since they were settled?"

Shaking his head, Nick picked up his pace. Daniel caught up with him at the edge of the narrow walkway to the platform where the skull pedestal sat. The silvery walls and ceiling of the cavern kept slipping out of focus. Like the spindly gray stalagmites, they did not seem to exist entirely in this dimension. Even the patches of luminous orange were difficult to define, as if they were powered by something that existed in an ethereal beyondness. Only the platform itself offered a firm point of reference.

The Omeyocans had also been insubstantial, ghostlike. What if the skull network had been abandoned because they had long vanished, and all that remained was a legacy and hope that the humans they had protected would one day rise up and defeat the Goa'uld? The thought that the great and wondrous beings who had built this place might be gone forever, saddened Daniel immensely.

"Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c was staring at him.

"Sorry, Teal'c. I just got...a little lost there for a moment." Daniel stepped out onto the walkway.

Nick was nearly across; his pace confident, nothing like the old man who had staggered and almost fallen eighteen months earlier.

"Why was the rose skull that you discovered," Daniel called, "kept inside Quetzalcoatl's temple in Belize, and not Teoti huacan?"

"All the great Mesoamerican cultures, the Incas and the Olmecs, the Mayans and Toltecs, even the Aztecs, who came much later, worshipped Quetzalcoatl. And the people of Teotihuacan traded with the Mayans." Nick walked to the pedestal, bent and stared into the eyes of the skull. "You must tell all that you have told me to Quetzalcoatl. Perhaps, he may answer you."

Turning to Teal'c, Daniel said, "Uhm...I'm not entirely certain what's going to happen once Quetzalcoatl learns that his protected worlds aren't so protected anymore. If it is a computer program, then probably nothing. General Hammond is expecting us back in two hours. If I don't reappear by then - "

"I shall return and inform General Hammond," Teal'c replied.

Daniel had read accounts of people who had declared that looking into the eyes of a crystal skull was like standing on the edge of something wondrous, and if only they could have abandoned their mortal bodies, the secrets of the universe would have been revealed. His first encounter had been a little less wondrous. While the eyes of the skull had certainly drawn him, being stuck in an other-dimensional plane, in a ghostlike existence where no one could see or hear him, was not his idea of a fun out-of-body experience. Yet he had also glimpsed the edges of something similar on Kheb.

The crystal skull's rose tint turned gold, and tiny bubbles began to swirl within the cranium. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, thin, fractured strands of starlight emerged from the skull and surrounded Nick. They quickly expanded to envelope Daniel and Teal'c. Soon the entire cavern was lit by threads of light, blowing around them with the force of a brisk wind. When the filaments of golden light passed through him, he felt the feathery touch of this ineffable awareness again. Something was waiting for him, something with infinite patience. Something ... wonderful.

Daniel blinked rapidly. It was probably just a hallucinatory side effect of the intense Muon radiation. Beside him, Teal'c stiffened and his eyes widened, but he remained unmoving. Daniel envied his stoicism. He knew that Teal'c would stay there until he reappeared or until it was time to go back through the Stargate.

"Quetzalcoatl!" called Nick.

The wind died but the sense of enormous power remained. Tendrils of white fog rose from the depths of the chamber and gathered around the stalagmites. A portion of the fog thickened then coalesced into the form of a giant, ghostly humanoid. Only the upper half of the alien's body was visible; the rest faded from view in the fathomless depths. Nick could well be right. The Omeyocan could be a sophisticated holographic image.

"Uy ah ual ing ual ing wetail!" it called in a deep, resonant voice. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Moving closer, it pointed to Daniel. "You have returned."

"Yes! Yes, I have. I'm sorry, but I bring news that I think you may find disturbing."

The white apparition pulled back momentarily. If it was possible for a computerized specter to have an expression, then this one certainly looked curious.

"Quetzalcoatl, the..." Daniel pointed towards the chamber that Nick called a map room. "The planets where you took the people from the city we now call Teotihuacan. My friend here - " He gestured to Teal'c, whose face indicated he was definitely sensing something. "Although he is Jaffa, he has dedicated his life to fighting the Goa'uld who enslaved his people. Teal'c recognized three of these places... because they have Stargates."

"Coatlicue!" Quetzalcoatl bellowed, and flew towards Daniel. The specter veered up and over his head only at the last moment, then another phantasm appeared from the depths, and fog closed in around them.

Every instinct in Daniel urged him to flee, but he stood his ground. "I -" He glanced at Teal'c. "We have been to three of these worlds. Tollan was destroyed when its orbit shifted, and the Goa'uld once enslaved Orban, but the people are now free. The third world, a moon-

"Xalotcan." Quetzalcoatl's voice boomed through the cavernous chamber.

"Okay ...Xalotcan, was mined by the Goa'uld. It appears to have been abandoned-"

"What of Yaxkin?"

Assuming Quetzalcoatl meant the fourth world, Daniel replied, "We have not been there."

The Omeyocan appeared to multiply as they flew around his and Teal'c's heads. "Coatlicue!" The evidently despised name echoed around the cavern. "Coatlicue!"

Daniel began to rethink the computer generated hologram theory; these guys were seriously agitated. Maybe it had been programmed to act that way? Maybe -

"Daniel Jackson!" called Teal'c.

Startled, Daniel replied, "You can see us?"

"Indeed!" Teal'c's eyes followed the swirling phantasms.

"I did not think it was possible." Nick stared at Teal'c in amazement.

The Omeyocans slowly settled back into the depths until only one - presumably Quetzalcoatl - remained. "You!" He - Daniel decided it was a `he' not an 'it'- pointed a feathery finger at Teal' c. "Uy ah ual ing ual ing wetail. You have chosen to die rather than let your Goa'uld symbiote take a host. You have earned the right to travel these worlds." Then turning once more to Daniel, he said, "Why did you come?"

"Someone on Earth used a skull, and we hoped to learn where he had been taken." Daniel glanced at Teal'c. It wasn't exactly why they'd come, but an idea suddenly struck him, so he added, "I believe that two of our friends, the people who were with us when we first came here, are also on Xalotcan. They used a Stargate to get there. An earthquake caused a flood that covered the `gate and prevented our friends' return. We would ask if we might use the skull network to go to Xalotcan and find them."

Quetzalcoatl inclined his head in agreement, and then descended into the depths. "As you wish. Look into the eyes of the skull."

Daniel hesitated. "Uhm...that's it?" he said to Nick. "We need to report to General Hammond."

"Of course." Nick nodded. "The skull will make you corporeal again. When you come back here, it will take you to Xalotcan. There you will arrive in a temple where the rose skull is kept. It should be near the `gate because that is what the image shows on the map."

"What if there is no temple anymore, or the skulls are hidden in burial chambers, like Teotihuacan?"

"The network takes its energy from this pyramid." Nick stepped up to the skull. "If all five skulls have been destroyed, you will not leave here. If they are buried, then you will arrive in a suitable resonating chamber nearby. A large cave, perhaps."

"What if we can't find the rose skull, how do we get back?"

Nick's brow furrowed. "Then you may not journey back."

CHAPTER SEVEN

ack had become accustomed to the low-level background noises: the soft gurgling water from the nearby hot springs cavern and the deep rumblings of the volcano. But he would never adjust to the endless tremors. That and the pervasive stench of brimstone were a constant reminder that they were sitting on a thin skin of frozen rock above a very, very big ball of molten moon.

Two-water was curled up asleep between him and Carter, sucking her thumb, all but buried in Sergeant King's sleeping bag. A couple of charcoal ears stuck out beside her. The hairless dog stared up at him with ridiculously large eyes. "Hey, Toto." He leaned down and patted the animal's head. It tentatively licked his hand before curling up inside the sleeping bag again.

Carter started breathing again. It had freaked him out when he'd discovered her like that after the flood - although he hadn't so much as found her, as stumbled over a lump of snow beside the beached FRED. But his relief had instantly turned to dread. Her face had been white and her lips blue. Another something to shove into the basement of unwanted memories. He still wasn't sure if she'd stopped breathing altogether, or if it had been a combination of extreme cold and the same problem that had afflicted him during the night. He'd kept waking up short of breath, then found himself hyperventilating to compensate.

That's when he'd remembered that something similar had happened to him in the Zagros Mountains. The weird breathing pattern wasn't altitude sickness; it was how the human body adjusted to thin air. The kids weren't affected because they'd grown up in it.

Carter's breathing changed again. "Sir?" she whispered.

In the dim light he met her eyes and nodded. She moved gently so as not to disturb Two-water then grabbed a canteen from inside her sleeping bag. They walked back along the tunnel towards the exit, drinking as they went. One thing he did remember about high altitudes and thin atmospheres, the more they hyperventilated to get the oxygen they needed, the more CO2 their kidneys had to scrub from their body. Keeping up their fluids was vital, no matter how much it made you pee.

The temperature dropped with every step until they arrived at the outer cave. Despite the lack of wind it was one hell of a lot colder than the night before. It was also a lot lighter. The storm either hadn't materialized, or it had been and gone. Jack went outside to check on the condition of the lake, and stopped in his tracks.

Carter, ever the scientist, walked out further and looked up at the night sky. "The gas planet must be what the children call Meztli, and this moon is Xalotcan. The orbital eccentricity has -"

"Major," he said in a low voice. From the comer of his eye he saw her smile of acknowledgement.

It had been a long time, too long perhaps, since the sheer beauty of the moment had given Jack O'Neill pause. Once upon a time he had looked up at the heavens with childlike wonder, and, although he would never admit it, dared to dream what it would be like to set foot upon the airless dust of alien worlds. Like most such childhood fantasies, they had become buried under a succession of bitter disappointments served up by reality. Alien worlds had not offered majestic panoramas of stark, awe-inspiring beauty, but terraformed planets inhabited by mortal enemies pretending to be gods.

But tonight, as he stood at the entrance of the tunnel, he caught a glimpse of those past dreams.

The sky was clear. Even the persistent volcanic ash plume was barely a smudge above mountains silhouetted by a planet that dominated fully two thirds of the night sky. The swirling clouds of the gas giant cast a veil of pastel light across the mountainscape. Normally, the orbiting rings were edge on, and would have been seen as little more than a thin shadowy line bisecting the planet. But tonight, the moon's eccentric orbit provided them with a different perspective. The rings, now at an angle to them, looked like rainbow ribbons encircling the enormous world. "I remember," he whispered, "the first time I saw Saturn through a telescope."

Carter turned to face him. Backlit by the glow from Meztli, her hair shone like a burnished halo. The vapor from her breath curled softly around her in the windless night, adding to the illusion. She was like a guardian angel; one who'd saved them countless times. He hastily dismissed the thought and turned away from the landscape's deceptive beauty; it had no place on a world that butchered children. "What kind of culture," he said in an icy tone, "sacrifices kids?"

"Sir, I don't think this is just about the Goa'uld. I think these people are Aztecs. From what I remember of high school, they believed that to be sacrificed to a god was to become a god."

He shot her an incredulous look. "Why would anyone want to remember high school?"

A crooked smile appeared on her lips. "Do you remember that bracelet Daniel found on Orban?"

After a moment, he said, "No."

"It had the symbol of a Mayan water goddess on it. Her name was Chalchiuhtlicue."

"That's what the kids called you."

Carter nodded. "And the giant alien in the Mayan pyramid on P7X-377 called himself Quetzalcoatl. The Aztec emperor, Moctezuma, mistook Cortez for Quetzalcoatl."

"Which signaled the end of their world." Now it was Carter's turn to stare at him. He added, somewhat defensively, "I saw it on the History Channel."

She kept staring at him.

"Okay," he admitted. "I was in traction and couldn't reach the remote." He tested the stability of an icy outcrop, then climbed up the outside of the cave until he was facing a rock overhang. Pulling the FRED's signal beacon from his pocket, he set it securely in the rock and switched it on. Their radios might not be working but there was always a chance that, next time the SGC dialed out, they'd pick up some sort of signal. The overhang should protect the beacon from being buried by snowfall.

When he stepped back down, Carter said, "I think the Aztecs adopted Mayan gods. One thing I am sure about was that they used the Mayan calendar, which accurately calculated the orbit of Venus around the Sun to one day in six thousand years. They also calculated the time it takes the Earth to orbit the Sun - 365.2421 days."

Of course she would remember that; who wouldn't? "And...?"

"And instead of leap years, every fifty-two years they had a sixday `dead' period, where time didn't count because they couldn't fit it into their calendar. Sir, every fifty-two years this moon's orbit becomes unstable. White-owl said that their Nemontemi or 'notime' lasts for six days. "

"Sounds Goa'uldish to me. The usual `worship me or I'll destroy your world' stuff, conveniently backed up by - " A large ash cloud belched out of the volcano. "That. Carter, didn't you say the naquadah mine had been abandoned?"

"Yes sir, but that doesn't mean these people stopped believing in their gods, especially when the cyclic orbital shift and resultant increase of tectonic activity substantiates their beliefs. It would even explain things like the `fire' or acid rain killing their crops."

Jack frowned at the volcano. Aside from the god thing, he could sympathize. "Maybe. But it still sounds like a couple of Goa'uld are regularly paying them a visit, picking up a few Jaffa, changing hosts, terrorizing the local population. The usual stuff" He looked down at the ice lake stretching across the valley. "How long do you estimate until it's safe to dial out?"

Carter stared at the lake and considered for a moment. "The temperature's low enough to walk on the ice now, but with all these quakes, the surface will keep breaking up. I'd say another twentyfour hours to be certain."

He folded his arms across his P90. At any other time he would have taken the kids to the SGC as a temporary measure, then come back to find out what was going on. But under the current circumstances, they didn't have much choice. He and Carter could survive an hour's trek across the ice and a Polar Plunge, but the kids wouldn't - and there was no way he was leaving them behind.

"Sir," Carter added. "Even if we can get these children home, and they are set free, that doesn't mean that others won't be sacrificed in their place."

"Major, we've dealt with this sort of thing before. Once these people know the Goa'uld aren't gods, they'll stop pandering to them."

She shot him a skeptical look.

"So, it's a little more complicated than that," he conceded. "But this is what we do, Carter. If there's as much naquadah here as Dabruzzi thinks, the Pentagon will fall all over itself helping these people depose the local snakeheads. Cat Lips and Tonto might have ships, but if they have to change host regularly, they don't have a sarcophagus."

Naturally, Carter pointed out the obvious flaw. "And if Whiteowl is wrong and the Goa'uld come back while we're there?"

He tossed her a flat smile. "Then we go to Plan B."

Nicholas Ballard's eyes closed and his lips curled with delight as he inhaled the rich velvety caffeine aroma. "It is good to be alive again, although I confess I didnot miss feeling my age." He clasped the coffee mug as if it were a priceless artifact, and exhaled a sigh of unmitigated pleasure.

Across the briefing room table Daniel smiled. Nick had been somewhat put out when Quetzalcoatl had returned all of them to their normal, solid state of existence - until his grandfather realized that he had not eaten in eighteen months. The phase shifting that had allowed him to see the Omeyocan had also eliminated the mundane needs of the physical world, like food and water. After a huge dinner, he was now on his third cup of coffee.

General Hammond's look of amused indulgence turned curious. "Dr Jackson, do you think the Omeyocan are computer programs?"

"More like automated caretakers." Daniel opened a file on the table and pulled out a set of photographs. "If they were alive in the sense that we think of it, I doubt they'd have nothing better to do than hang around the basement of the pyramid until someone comes wandering by, asking for directions." He scowled. He was beginning to sound like Jack.

Reluctantly lowering the cup, Nick said, "It was wonderful at first. There was so much to see. But then I began to have my doubts." He shook his head. "I still do not know for certain."

"Nick, the writing?" Daniel prompted.

"Ah!" Nick's bright blue eyes opened wide. After patting his pockets, he pulled out a notepad and carefully turned the pages before handing it to Hammond.

"Now, General, compare them to this." Daniel slid the photographs down the table.

Hammond sat forward and examined the images. "Where were these taken?"

"When Jack first met the Asgard, they told him they belonged to an alliance of four races that included the Nox, the Ancients and the Furlings. They also said the Ancients had left this universe."

"Abandoning the `gate technology."

"Until now, the only evidence we've ever uncovered of the Furlings is that writing." Daniel pointed to the photographs. "From P3X-972, where we found Ernest Littlefield."

Hammond looked at the notepad again. "And this same writing is from the pyramid on P7X-377?"

"It is the only alien writing in the pyramid. All other texts are from ancient human cultures." Nick's face was a picture of frustration. "So much more to learn. Can you not ask the other aliens, the Asgard and the Nox, what they know of these Furlings?"

"We've tried," Daniel replied. "We get the same `you're too young' or `you're not yet ready' reply. General," he added, turning to Hammond, "I can't categorically state that the Furlings built the skull network, but a race that advanced would surely keep an eye on the planets they seeded - unless, like the Ancients, they abandoned the galaxy. I think they left the Omeyocans behind to maintain the network. Then the Goa'uld all but wiped them out, and the transport system fell into disuse."

Daniel paused before adding, "The thing that's always fascinated scholars is the complete absence of writing at Teotihuacan. There are no codices, no murals, no carvings; it's as if someone had carefully obliterated all possible reference to the prior inhabitants, including what became of them. I think this was a deliberate ploy to prevent the Goa'uld Coatlicue from learning where they'd gone."

Nick nodded in agreement. "I, too, believe this is what happened."

"But she found these worlds nonetheless," said Hammond.

"So it would seem." Daniel sighed.

Hammond's eyes took on a thoughtful look. "What about the codex that Professor Wodeski discovered? Didn't that come from Teotihuacan?"

"Yeah, I've thought about that. It was from a tomb deep within the Pyramid of the Sun. Those who were charged with the task of covering their tracks probably didn't expect anyone to desecrate graves. It wasn't until centuries later that tomb raiding became a profitable pastime. When Coatlicue arrived, she must have ordered the city searched for clues. And I doubt that she would have stopped at digging up the dead. Assuming the other tombs contained codices as explicit as the one Wodeski found, she would have been able to figure out where everyone had gone."

"The knowledge of four human worlds existing outside of the Stargate system would have greatly appealed to an exiled Goa'uld," said Teal'c.

"Especially a Goa'uld bent on revenge against Quetzalcoatl," added Daniel.

"And," Hammond said. "It would also have given her time to rebuild her power base without Ra's knowledge."

Teal' c inclined his head in agreement. "Indeed."

"The thing is, General," said Daniel. "We now have a way of getting to Xalotcan. Even if we can't find a crystal skull to get home, we can make sure Sam and Jack, and hopefully Wodeski, have enough supplies until the `gate is accessible."

"I think we can go one better," said Hammond. "While you were away, Sergeant Siler rigged up a small video camera in a plastic housing. The footage it sent back confirms that the `gate is under ice. Although the vacuum created by the vortex caused the ice to break up, it was still too thick for the camera to reach the surface. We were planning on sending a team of divers through in an attempt to make contact with Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter."

Daniel sat forward. "But?"

"A submersible probe and equipment will be here by this evening. However, with the situation in the Gulf, we can't get qualified divers with the necessary security clearances until after Christmas."

"Then let Teal'c and me go there using the crystal skull."

"You think you can find them? It's a big moon, Dr Jackson."

"According to the holographic map, the skulls were in the valley just east of the mountains where the Stargate is located. There has to be a structure something like the Pyramid of the Sun, or at least a large cavern with similar resonating properties, otherwise Wodeski wouldn't have arrived. Just like at Teotihuacan on Earth, there are lava and magma tunnels under the mountain. Presuming Coatlicue used the local population as slave labor, she would have needed relatively quick access from the city to the mining camp - most likely via the same tunnel Dabruzzi mentioned."

"SG-10 saw no signs of manmade structures other than the abandoned mine."

Daniel stuffed the photographs back into the folder. "General, until it was excavated, Teotihuacan looked like a bunch of hills. On Xalotcan, the valleys are pretty much always covered in cloud, and the infrared markers that would normally indicate signs of civilization are useless because of the geothermal activity. What we do know is that a Goa'uld, presumably Coatlicue, brought in a `gate and set up a mining operation on Xalotcan. Since Tollan and Orban are part of the same network, Coatlicue must have invaded them, too, and later been defeated, possibly killed."

"Which could explain why the mine was abandoned." Hammond nodded, but he still wasn't convinced.

"General Hammond," said Teal'c. "Dr Dabruzzi believed that O'Neill and Major Carter would have taken refuge in this tunnel near the Stargate. If we cannot locate the entrance from the eastern side, I believe we can traverse the mountains on foot. According to the map we saw on P7X-377 the way is not difficult."

Well-provisioned Sherpas might not find the way difficult either, but Daniel said, "General, even assuming Jack and Sam survived the flood, they could be injured. We don't know how much time they have. This is our best hope of finding them."

Hammond sighed heavily. A knowing expression in his eyes, he said, "All right Dr Jackson, you and Teal'c have a go."

CHAPTER EIGHT

ow we know who bought all those Indiana Jones props on eBay," said Jack. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of skulls lined the walls of the huge cavern. Every nook and cranny that did not have a skull stuffed into it glowed with golden artifacts. Aztec gold. Except for the bones - and a deep crevice in the center of the ground that glowed ominously and shimmered with heat - the place was like the fabled El Dorado. Wherever he looked, even up at the domed ceiling, gilt skulls stared back at him.

Jack had seen more than his fair share of skull racks in South East Asia, where despotic regimes celebrated genocide. The only difference here was the scale, and the fact that death seemed to be not merely celebrated, but venerated. Even weirder, the green glow bugs had taken up residence on, and in many cases inside, the bones. Whoever had set up this place were seriously in need of counseling.

The children filed past him, seemingly oblivious to the bizarre juxtaposition of opulence and death. "Black Beard meets Moctezuma?" Carter muttered as she followed.

"This," declared Heart-eater loudly, "is Teotihuacan's tzompantli, its skull cave. It is many times greater than the tzompantli at Xalo, where the Emperor lives."

"So Tea-in-a-can's zom pants are bigger than Xalo's," Jack said. "This means...?"

"Sir?" Carter's voice was stiff with suppressed emotion. She was looking inside another tunnel. The entrance was decorated with obsidian-bladed spears and exquisite gold objects. Something important was obviously kept inside, although Jack had a bad feeling about what `important' meant to these people.

Carter's lips were compressed and her nose twitched with barely contained repugnance. "It's filled with children's skulls." Her voice fractured. "Hundreds of them."

"Sacrifices to Tzcatlipoca." Heart-eater smiled slyly at the children, all of whom had gone terrifyingly quiet.

Since they'd started their daylong trek down the tunnel, the kids had been extraordinarily well behaved, especially considering that they'd had to make the journey uphill just the day before. The teenagers had taken it in turns to carry the younger ones and the supplies from the FRED, while the youngsters never complained or whined. Until now. As much as Jack hated to see them frightened again, he was glad when they scampered across the ground and clustered around him. Kids should be able to act like kids, and that included crying when they were scared. But what came next shook even him.

"Choca!" Heart-eater screeched at them. "Cry with pain so that your tears wash away the fire-rain of Chalchiuhtlicue. It is your tonali - your fate!"

Two-water, who had been clinging to Carter's hand, stared up at her. The little girl's voice was tremulous as she said, "I will cry for you, Goddess, if that is your wish."

Carter's face twisted in disbelief. "Oh, honey, nobody wants you to cry. And no one's going to hurt you."

The children were tom with uncertainty. Jack might not understand the culture, but he understood people, and these kids had been brainwashed into believing that being sacrificed to some god or other was their ultimate goal in life. Where had he heard that before? "Listen to me, kids." He looked up and met Carter's eyes again. "No one's sacrificing anyone, not while we're here."

Visibly taking control of herself, Carter bent and pulled Twowater into her arms. "That's a promise."

"Stop him!" White-owl shouted, and, along with two of the older boys, took off in a dead run around the edge of the glowy pit.

"Whoa!" Jack yelled when they disappeared into a darkened tunnel.

"It is Heart-eater," White-owl called back, and kept running.

Jack started after them. "Carter?"

"Sir!" She was trying to extricate Two-water from her arms, but, eyes wide in silent terror, the little girl was clinging to her like a limpet.

Seeing Carter's predicament, Jack said, "Stay here and watch the kids." Just as he reached the tunnel, White-owl and the boys ran back out.

"That Road ofMictlan divides into three," White-owl declared. "We cannot tell which one Heart-eater took. But if what you say is true, then we must leave here, for until we reach the Emperor's garden in Xalo, we are still slaves. If Chalchi does not wish us sacrificed to her, Teotihuacan's fire priests will send us to serve Tzcatlipoca by cutting our hearts out!"

So much for the heart and blood thing being a metaphor for Jaffa. Jack was suddenly aware of the tremendous heat climbing up his back. He spun around and looked down into the pit. It was a long way to the bottom, perhaps three hundred feet, but the sight did some interesting things to his already churning stomach. "Holy... Okay, kids, we're out of here. Now!"

Backing away from the edge, Jack looked around the cavern for an exit. A dozen side passages offered the promise of getting completely and utterly lost. Great. "Which way?" he demanded.

White-owl scooped a younger child into one arm, pulled a spear from the wall and pointed to a set of stone steps that led up into a darkened recess. "That Road of Mictlan leads to Xalo."

Jack waited at the bottom of the steps with Carter, while the nimble-footed youngster's scampered up. Two-water and the toy dog stared up at him from the Major's arms. Scratching the animal behind its ears, he said, "Hey, Toto."

"His name is Xipe," said Two-water, and hugged the animal.

"Spiffy, huh." Weird name for a dog, but then everything about this place was a few shades beyond weird.

"What's with the hole in the ground?" Carter asked him.

"Neighborhood barbeque. Although I don't think it's the friendly get-together-over-a-beer kind." Climbing up the steps, he called to White-owl, "How far is it from here to Xalo?"

White-owl looked at him oddly, but then he shrugged and replied, "Three hours, perhaps less."

Jack reached the top, having acquired a child in each arm on the way. He looked around the narrow platform. There didn't seem to be any way out.

"Oh," Carter mumbled. She was looking out over the pit.

A slow-moving river of lava - or was it magma? Whatever, the stuff inside volcanoes that made a real mess of everything when it came out - was bubbling and spewing around inside, periodically spitting globs of yellow-white stuff against the black walls. "Did I mention I don't like volcanoes?" he said.

"Well," replied Carter, "it makes sense. After all, these are magma tunnels."

That answered one question. "Didn't I hear you say they were ancient?"

She grimaced. "Like the ancient mud bubbles and geyser fields, yes, sir. It's probably because of the orbital eccentricity."

He shot her a dark look, the one that usually stopped enlisted men in their tracks. Unfortunately, Carter was becoming immune to his glare, so he turned back to White-owl - who was reaching above his head with the spear. Jack looked up. About three feet above White-owl's head was a large, wooden trapdoor. There were no hinges, just a hole in the center that White-owl was pushing against. The kid was both observant and planned ahead. He'd make a hell of a soldier. The heavy trapdoor moved a little but then the spear snapped.

"Okay," Jack said, looking around. "Plan B."

White-owl stared at the splintered ends of the spear. "What is aplanbee?"

"Carter?" Removing his pack and P90 as he went, Jack walked across to a ledge, and then gestured to his shoulders. "Climb aboard." Although White-owl wasn't as tall as Carter, the kid was much stockier and probably a lot heavier.

She hesitated and her eyes flickered to his knees. "Sir?"

"I'm not planning on squats, Major."

Handing Two-water to White-owl, Carter removed her pack, climbed onto the ledge, and, bending low to avoid bumping her head on the roof of the cavern, wrapped her legs around Jack's shoulders. With much giggling from the children - which Jack encouraged with a few theatrical grunts - he walked her across to the trapdoor. The weight increased as Carter pushed the wooden door aside, then she pulled herself up.

"Clear," she called down.

He looked up. A rope ladder fell on his face. More giggles drifted up from below... and was that one from above?

"Sorry, sir."

"No giggling, Carter, it's bad for discipline in the ranks." He handed up her pack and weapon, then helped the children up the ladder.

The tunnel looked much like the others, complete with glowbugs. After pulling the rope up behind him, Jack lowered the trapdoor, and then looked around for something to secure it.

"What is it that you seek?" asked White-owl.

"Something to slow Cat Lips' priests down." Another rumble shook the tunnel. Was he imagining it, or were the quakes increasing?

White-owl looked at him oddly. "Now that we have left the skull cave, no one will follow. This close to Nemontemi none but you, Quetzalcoatl, would dare walk the Roads of Mictlan."

Carter's eyebrows did a little dance, the one that said, uh-oh.

"Great! Well... lead on, White-owl." Jack showered him with a confident smile.

"Sir," Carter whispered when the children had gone ahead. "They think we're gods. And gods are supposed to be omniscient." When he said nothing, she added, "It means - "

"I know what it means, Carter."

"Yes, Sir." She shook her head in puzzlement. "Colonel, none of this adds up. The children were taken to the `gate to be sacrificed, so what are all those skulls doing back there?"

He shot her an incredulous look. "You're asking me? I thought we'd just established that I'm not omniscient?"

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "Sorry, sir. I was just thinking out loud. If White-owl's story is accurate, then some of these people are being turned into Jaffa to fight for Tonatui and Tzcatlipoca, while children are sent through the `gate to Chalchiuhtlicue. But the skulls back there must mean that they're also sacrificing people, including children, in the old Aztec way." Her face screwed up. "Why would the Goa'uld want them to do that?"

"For the sheer hell of it?" Jack ventured. "Remember, Carter, these are Goa'uld we're talking about."

"Yeah, but that's a little extreme, even for Goa'uld." She sighed. "I wish Daniel were here."

"It will be night when we arrive," said White-owl when they caught up with him.

In the mossy light of the cave, Jack could see the concern on White-owl's face. "Is there a problem with that?" Aside from the fact that the kids had only had a short break since their departure, had almost been sacrificed to a snakehead, real or imagined, thought the world was coming to an end, and, even when freed, were probably facing starvation.

"The children will not leave the temple until dawn, or else a demon might eat them."

Demon? This just kept getting better and better! Before he could ask, Two-water stumbled and dropped the chocolate bar she'd been clutching. The dog jumped out of her blouse and scurried away, tail between its spindly legs.

"Xipe!" cried Two-water. Having lost both the animal and her chocolate, which was now liberally coated in dirt, Two-water's face collapsed and she began to cry. Not girlish sobs; she didn't make a sound. The poor kid just sat in the dirt and hung her head in complete and utter dejection.

Carter moved to pick her up but Two-water lunged desperately for the chocolate.

"It's okay," Jack said, reaching for it. "I'll get you another one."

Two-water snatched it up first, and looked up at him with stricken eyes. It was then that he noticed all of the kids clung onto the bit-sized individually wrapped pieces of chocolate like they were gold. "Hey, kids? You can eat it, there's plenty more here." He patted the bag that White-owl carried over his shoulder. The boy's chest visibly swelled with pride. Carter's face did that confused thing again. He was definitely missing something. Another long, grinding shudder shook the tunnel.

"You are very kind," said White-owl when they began walking again.

"On our world children are not mistreated," Carter replied.

Jack caught her look over the top of Two-water's now battered headdress. Since when?

Her lips thinned, and she held the girl a little closer.

White-owl looked down, then added, "Vow that I have met you, Chalchi, I am ashamed."

Carter hesitated. "Uhm... Why?"

"When the crops were killed by fire-rain, the priests said it was because you were angry. Many starved, but we were fortunate, for Quetzalcoatl's priests bought us to serve in his Temple, paying three months worth of grain to our families.

"Two mornings past, the Lord of the Underworld, Mictlantecuhtli, shook the ground in a way we had never felt before. It opened a hidden passage in the Temple of Tonatui, revealing the sacred Ohtliquetzalcoatl, the Roads of Quetzalcoatl." White-owl glanced at Jack. "Believing this to be a sign of your return, a fire priest took ten of us to the Chappa'ai as a gift to you, in addition to the ten gifts normally given each month to Chalchi.

"When your servants emerged from the Chappa'ai, but did not come to take us from the chamber beneath, we did not know what to do. It was so cold ...we should have been stronger. It was I who convinced Heart-eater to take us back to the warm Roads of Mictlan. When you sent the flood we...we thought it was because we had not been strong enough for you, and that when you found us, you would punish us. I did not want my sister to be taken by you, Chalchi, that is why I begged Heart-eater to give her heart to Tzcatlipoca."

Manfully trying to bite back tears, White-owl's voice dropped. "Please forgive me for trying to steal your gifts. But I had heard... terrible things." Oblivious to the frantic, silent wordplay between Jack and Carter, he added, "I am sorry."

Carter went to speak, but closed her mouth. Her eyes were burning with sick anger. This whole setup was as rank as the deepest pits in Netu, and that `monthly gifts to Chalchi' bit had a suspiciously Nirrti-like ring to it. As for taking the kids home...

Two-water hugged Carter and whispered sleepily, "Soon I will see mother?"

White-owl smiled at Jack. "Yes, little sister, we shall soon be free, and home with our mother and father."

The children's pace faltered. White-owl strode out in front of them. "Come, all of you! We're almost there. Quetzalcoatl and Chalchi have promised to protect you from the demons, and we shall enter the Emperor's palace gardens. There, the jaguar warriors, Tzcatlipoca's guardians of the night, will celebrate our freedom and take us to our homes."

Jack exchanged another less-than-thrilled look with Carter. Goa'uld, Jaffas, demons and jaguar warriors; this was so turning out to be a bad idea. And the damned rumbling and shaking from the quakes was slowly driving him nuts!

Proudly pointing to where the tunnel divided into two, Whiteowl declared, "That is the way to our skull cave. Would you like to see it?"

The children's feather capes hung about their grubby, tired little bodies. They looked like a bunch of bedraggled parrots after a hurricane. "Y'know, I'd love to," replied Jack. "But I think maybe we should get the kids home, first."

White-owl looked relieved. He was putting on a good show but he, too, was obviously reaching the end of his endurance.

The green glow-bug light tapered off into a brighter, sickly yellow color. The texture of the walls also changed, from basalt to carved granite blocks. They emerged from the tunnel into a large, rectangular room with magnificent, brightly colored murals. In the flickering light of a half-dozen torches, the painted figures seemed to dance across the walls. It was such a contrast to the eerie gloom of the tunnels that the children no longer clustered together in a tight little bundle of fear, but picked up their pace and began whispering happily to one another.

Carter looked around. "Boy, Daniel would love this."

"Yeah, well, don't tell him otherwise he'll want to see it. White-owl," Jack said, turning away from Carter's troubled gaze. "What's with the demon?"

White-owl was bowing to a picture of some guy with a feather boa and big nose. When the kid finished, he cast a cautionary glance in the direction of the younger children, and dropped his voice before replying, "You do not know?"

Jack hedged. "I don't always get all my memos."

White-owl blinked.

"It's a...god thing."

"Ah, of course you do not know... because the demons are not real?" White-owl ventured. When Jack didn't reply, he added, "It is a story that grownups tell children to prevent them from wandering away at night."

"Like the bogeyman, huh?"

"I do not know of this demon." White-owl frowned.

Jack winced. He had to stop doing that. "No, I meant, the demons are not really real."

White-owl looked at him thoughtfully. "The demons supposedly come from the darkness, the portal to Mictlan, the Underworld. You, Jack Quetzalcoatl, have led us through the Roads of Mictlan unharmed, but for the smaller children it is hard to understand"

Oh, he could so sympathize with that; he didn't understand any of it. Pointing to a bright light shining through a doorway, he said, "That the way out?"

White-owl nodded. "Otiacicoh, we have arrived. Meztli lights the night sky."

Signaling Carter to watch their backs, Jack cautiously looked outside into a huge city square, and examined the layout with a professional eye. A round looking pyramid thing dominated the center. Beside it, a large fountain, of all things, gurgled and splashed away in the center of what looked like a carefully mani cured arrangement of palms and other foliage. A dozen frogs had set up a croaking competition, almost but not quite drowning out the low hum of cicadas. It all seemed peaceful enough, although weirdly warm and still. And what was with the planet, Meztli? Instead of giving off a bluish light, it had taken on a coppery hue.

The cornerstones of the nearby buildings had been carved into massive gargoyle-looking snake things with fangs, feathers and long tongues. Definitely Goa'uldish. On the upside, the angle of the light coming from the overhead planet created stark shadows across the square; there would be plenty of cover as they made their way across.

Two-water whimpered softly against Carter's shoulder.

"Brave little sister, we are almost home," said White-owl, taking her from Carter. "I can see the Emperor's palace; it is just the other side of the zocalo, the central plaza."

"Mother, father?" Two-water whispered.

Jack could see a stone wall, probably seven feet high, on the far side of the plaza. "That the place?"

White-owl nodded. "We must stay in the light."

Well, that was a bad plan; no way were they traversing the open ground, enclosed on all sides, in broad Meztilight.

"The children will not go into the darkness," White-owl reminded him.

Demons. Great.

Bright, anxious eyes clustered around him with a soft rustle of feathers; the promise of freedom and home had renewed their flagging spirits. No point in hanging around. Jack checked his weapon and then stepped out into the plaza.

The first thing Teal'c smelled was the thick sickly-sweet odor of blood. A great deal of it tinged with something he knew well from his time with Apophis. Few Tauri understood that one could smell pain and terror. O'Neill was an exception. He also understood that terror came in many forms and could, on occasion, prove useful.

The crystal skull on P7X-377 appeared to have transported them into a large cavern glowing with a dim green light. There was neither a pedestal nor a crystal skull; however a half dozen humans lay prostrate on the ground before them. Naked but for rough brown loincloths, they chanted in a language of which he had no knowledge. A short distance away, a body was sprawled facedown on the earth. Its fingers clutched what appeared to be a large feather headdress.

"Uh-oh," whispered Daniel Jackson. He pushed back the hood of his parka and removed his ski goggles. "This is not good."

Teal'c said nothing as he, too, removed his hood. Under such circumstances he had always found it best to allow others to speak first. It generally proved most enlightening.

One of the prostrate figures, a man with exceedingly long, filthy hair, stole a quick glance in his direction, and then cowered. "Oh mighty Quetzalcoatl, we beseech you!"

Daniel Jackson's eyes slid from the murals on the walls to the tattoo on Teal'c's forehead. "Oh..."

"What is it, Daniel Jackson?"

"Your tattoo is identical to the glyph representing Quetzalcoatl. And we're wearing white. The murals depict a whiteskinned Quetzalcoatl arriving on white clouds, or a bright white light. We must be inside a temple dedicated to him."

"Quetzalcoatl, we beg your forgiveness." The same groveling man continued to speak. "When we discovered the Ohtliquetzal- coatl, the Roads of Quetzalcoatl, we sent offerings to you, to the Chappa'ai. But then Chalchiuhtlicue caused a great flood!"

The seconds passed. Teal'c wondered if perhaps Daniel Jackson's hesitation was due to the stench of death and blood. Curiously, the odor did not come from the recently dead body, but from the prostrate figures.

"I am not Quetzalcoatl," Daniel Jackson said at last. "But we are his messengers."

A good choice, for Daniel Jackson spoke the truth.

"Please, please stand up that I may see you," Daniel Jackson added.

When they did not move, Teal'c scowled. If Daniel Jackson wished to take on the guise of a messenger of the gods, he had much to learn; a messenger was the mouthpiece for that god. "Your god orders you to stand!" he bellowed.

Daniel Jackson looked at him in alarm, but his words had the desired effect. The figures found their feet with alacrity, although their eyes remained suitably downcast.

"These people," Daniel Jackson whispered to him, "are not the people Quetzalcoatl brought from Earth."

That much was evident. Even in the gloom Teal'c could see that the men were black-haired and copper-skinned. The Orbanians were gold-haired and pale-skinned. "What name do you give this place?" he demanded loudly.

" Teotihuacan, oh mighty god."

"The name the Aztecs gave it." Daniel Jackson's nose wrinkled at the stench. "Coatlicue must have brought Aztecs here to mine the naquadah. They were incredible warriors. With her as their deity, they would have slaughtered the original inhabitants." He regarded the men and, still whispering, added, "These must be fire priests, the ones who made blood sacrifices. What are they doing here? Quetzalcoatl is not going to be happy when he learns this."

Apparently one of them heard this last statement, for he sank to his knees, pulled aside his filthy brown cape, and cried, "Take my heart and blood that I may serve instead!'

Ignoring the fire priest's outburst, Daniel Jackson continued to speak in low tones. "Assuming this is where Wodeski arrived, he could be in serious trouble. And if Jack and Sam ended up here..." Raising his voice, he called, "Tell me of the others who have arrived."

The one with the exposed chest looked hesitant. "You do not know, my Lord?"

"You question the one who speaks for Quetzalcoatl?" Teal'c's words echoed around the chamber almost as effectively as a Goa'uld's voice.

Blanching beneath the layers of filth on his face, the fire priest spluttered, "No! Of course not my Lord Jaffa."

Lord Jaffa?

Teal'c bellowed even more loudly, "Then tell us!"

"Our lord god Tzcatlipoca arrived two days past in the same manner as you, my Lord, within the skull cave beneath his temple. He came in the guise of a fire-haired man with pale skin."

"Oh...great," Daniel Jackson groaned. "It's worse than I thought. Tzcatlipoca was the Aztec god of the night. He must be another Goa'uld, but these people mistook Wodeski for him!"

Once again addressing the fire priests, Daniel Jackson demanded, "What of those who came through the Chappa'ai before the flood?"

This time, the priest did not hesitate. Indeed, the words tumbled quickly from his mouth. "Chalchiuhtlicue and Quetzalcoatl, my Lord. After the flood, they spent the night in the Roads of Mictlan. Instead of taking the offerings, they returned them to the capital city, Xalo. An apprentice priest, Heart-eater, journeyed with them. He can speak to you of this."

"They could be talking about Jack and Sam," Daniel Jackson whispered. "Except that they would never pretend to be gods..." Eyes narrowing in thought, he added, "Unless the `offerings' were human sacrifices."

" Tonatui has not yet arrived, Lord, that is why I beg your forgiveness for not properly attending your arrival."

Daniel Jackson moaned under his breath. "Great," he mumbled. " Tonatui was the god of the sun."

Teal'c's frown deepened. Many Goa'uld appeared to share this world. Most unusual.

The foul smelling priest glanced nervously at the body on the ground. "We did not expect.. .we did not... More than thirty thousand xochimiqui will give up their hearts during Nemontemi so that our Lord God Tonatui can continue to sustain this world. Another thirty thousand have been promised to His Greatness, Lord Tzcatlipoca. But if it is Quetzalcoatl's wish - "

"Do not presume to know the wishes of Quetzalcoatl," Teal'c bellowed, cutting off his words.

Daniel Jackson's agitation was evident as he explained, "Xochimiqui means sacrificial prisoners acquired during a Flower War. That means sixty thousand people will be sacrificed during Nemontemi to just two gods."

"You!" Daniel Jackson pointed to the one who talked. "Take us to Lord Tzcatlipoca. The rest of you, bring the apprentice, Heart-eater, to us so that we might hear his words."

Teal'c took careful note of their route as they followed the fire priests through a complex series of corridors and narrow walkways. The walls were covered in bright, bold murals. The meticulous detail of the paintings, the cleanliness inside the structure and the order in which it was kept - no scuff marks on the whitewashed walls, no chips or scratches in the carvings - seemed at odds with the dour, ill-smelling men who led them.

"This is definitely a temple dedicated to Quetzalcoatl," said Daniel Jackson. "But he was one of only two Aztec gods - the other was Chalchiuhtlicue - who never accepted human sacrifice. The priests dedicated to him were always clean and welldressed as a mark of respect." His frown deepened. "And why would Coatlicue allow these people to continue to worship Quetzalcoatl, when she hated him?"

"Perhaps she was unable to force them to abandon all of their beliefs."

Every cornerstone in the tunnel featured a carving of a snake's head with a circlet of feathers. Daniel Jackson ran his hand across the surface of one. "Quetzalcoatl as the Olmec feathered serpent. He purportedly used a number of avatars, one of which was a white-skinned man."

When he and Daniel Jackson emerged from the pyramid, the disturbing feelings that had been with Teal'c since they had arrived, intensified.

"Atchoo!" Daniel Jackson rubbed his eyes and nose even as he looked around in wonder. It was not the fire priest alone who carried the stench of death. There was something more. Less chemical than the smell that had pervaded the air in Mexico, it was nevertheless distinctive and unforgettable. "Oh, great," added Daniel Jackson nasally. "This place smells exactly like Netu."

"I agree."

Daniel Jackson looked at him over his glasses. "As I recall, you didn't have the pleasure."

"The journey from Netu to Earth was lengthy, and the teltak was... small."

The fire priest walked ahead of them along a wide avenue. At the far end, perhaps a mile and a half away, was a structure similar to the Pyramid of the Moon at Teotihuacan. Behind the pyramid, bleak, snow covered hills glowed with an artificial warmth from the overhead planet. Beyond the hills, a tall volcano lit the clouds with a pulsating ruby light. They had indeed arrived at the valley next to where the Stargate lay submerged.

"This is incredible!" Daniel Jackson spoke softly so that the fire priest could not hear. "The Adosada platform on the Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent - Quetzalcoatl - is missing but it's otherwise identical to the one on Earth. And the Avenue of the Dead, the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon, they're in the same configuration as Teotihuacan."

"These pyramids differ somewhat to those in Mexico, Daniel Jackson."

"The pyramids on Earth have largely been rebuilt, arguably with more enthusiasm than accuracy. These could well be exact replicas of the originals." He shook his head. "What I don't understand is why the Omeyocan chose a moon in an unstable orbit as a sanctuary world."

"Perhaps the orbit was not unstable when they chose it."

"The skull network must have been abandoned." Daniel Jackson looked back along the Avenue.

"I saw no crystal skull in the cavern in which we arrived."

"Me neither. It must be hidden somewhere nearby."

In the streets leading off the Avenue, two-storey, boxlike structures vied for space in the cramped confusion typical of any overcrowded city. Unlike the barren ruin of Earth, this Teotihuacan was a living, vibrant community. Lamplight flickered in windows, a baby cried, interrupting the call of nighttime crea tures, and water trickled from the fountains. It all appeared peaceful, deceptively peaceful, for despite its order, Teal'c sensed an underlying wrongness that had been triggered by something more than the stench of terror and death. Something else, something he could not yet identify, had provoked in him a sense which he had believed himself long since free.

Teal'c felt fear.

CHAPTER NINE

am had expected to see a few pyramids similar to the ones on Orban, but Xalo was an entire city of ziggurats, and the scale was breathtaking. The double pyramid from which they had emerged was over two hundred feet tall. A pair of oversized steps angled steeply up the face of the structure, and enormous carved snakes wound along the balustrades of the tiered platforms. Another bad sign, or were snakes an integral part of Aztec culture? A persistent headache - too little sleep broken by a troubled dreamscape, and the visceral impact of the skull cave, conspired to blunt Sam's distinction between her own memories and those imposed upon her.

Any hope of stealth had evaporated the moment the children stepped out into the light. Despite the distractingly awesome architecture, Sam watched the shadows, alert for anything from armed Aztec warriors to whatever constituted demons on this world. But they managed to herd the children, too terrified of the dark or just too bone weary to make any noise, across the plaza unchallenged. Only the sudden silence of the cicadas and frogs announced their presence.

A day and a half earlier the gaseous bands of clouds that made up the planet's atmosphere had been pastel blue and lilac. Now they were streaky crimson and sienna. The volcanic dust in the atmosphere must have increased markedly in the twenty-four hours they'd been in the tunnel.

Despite the architectural simplicity of the buildings, they bore an air of dignity and ageless permanency, and there was nothing plain about their appearance. Everything seemed to have been dipped in shades of copper and gold. No doubt the crepuscular light exaggerated the hues, but Xalo was a city that worshipped the colors of the sun. Lush plants and paintings on the buildings broke the Euclidian angularity with splashes of green, aqua and blue. Everything had an almost reverentially cared-for look. The only indication of anything amiss was the slightly different hue of still-drying paint on sections of the walls, and here and there, the paved plaza showed cracks and newly replaced cobblestones. Despite the obvious ability of the structures to withstand all but the most intense earthquakes, Xalotcan's erratic orbit around Meztli was leaving its mark.

"Sir," she whispered. "Have you noticed how orderly everything appears? Maybe the children exaggerated how bad things were."

"You ever see one of Saddam Hussein's palaces?" he whispered back.

Sam grimaced. Point taken.

At the palace walls, the older children scrambled over the top, and then helped the youngsters up. Sam was lifting Two-water to White-owl when she saw the jaguars. They came from nowhere and everywhere at once, walking upright, silently approaching from the shadows. "Colonel!"

"I see `em." He all but tossed the last child up, and then, with the practiced familiarity of a hundred hostile encounters, swung his P90 around and stood beside her with his back to the wall.

They weren't jaguars, but men dressed in jaguar skins. Sam was certain that she and the Colonel could take them all out and make it back to the double pyramid. Assuming White-owl was right about the taboo, they'd be safe from pursuit once they reached the tunnel. But despite their impressively frightening appearance, the men didn't seem hostile, and between the large fanged jaws enclosing their faces, they were... smiling? The grandness of the city reminded Sam that, while the Aztec religion had been shockingly brutal, the people had lived in a highly sophisticated and law-abiding society, one that arguably surpassed Rome in its splendor and influence. This wasn't Earth, but very little seemed to have been lost in the translation - or the passage of time. "Sir? I can sense the presence of Goa'uld...but I don't think they intend to hurt us."

"Jaffa?" he suggested.

"Jaguar warriors!" White-owl declared happily. The other children squealed in delight.

"Okay, guys," said O'Neill. "We don't want any trouble here."

"It is Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue!" White-owl called out to the warriors. "They came through the Chappa'ai."

The warriors hesitated, then one pointed to Sam's hair, and declared, "The boy speaks true; it is Chalchiuhtlicue!"

"We come in...peace?" The Colonel lowered the muzzle of his P90 a fraction.

From that point on, things went remarkably well. The children, now officially freed slaves, were welcomed into the Emperor's grounds by the captain of the jaguar warriors, a middle-aged man named Atlatl. Like the other Jaffa, Atlatl carried a vibrantly patterned shield and a long, feather-tipped spear that looked more ceremonial than practical. His jaguar skin suit had been stitched together with such craftsmanship that only his hands and feet, and the lower part of his face were visible. "Imagine trying to go the bathroom in one of those things?" muttered O'Neill.

In Sam's admittedly limited experience, children were not good at pretence, especially when they were tired. Their delight at seeing the warriors was genuine. Each man collected a child in his arms and moved off along a pebbled path, hugging and smiling at them with all the affection of besotted fathers.

"Come," Atlatl said to her and the Colonel. "We will take the children to where they can rest. You do them a great honor. You do all of us a great honor by returning them to us on the eve of Nemontemi."

"Now, see, about that -" began the Colonel.

"I understand that you cannot remain, Quetzalcoatl." Atlatl spoke in rapid, hushed tones. "You wish to avoid your brother, Tzcatlipoca. You know, of course, that has already arrived at Teotihuacan."

The Colonel's eyes darted to Sam's. Oh, crap. "Avoiding is good," he replied in a carefully modulated voice.

Sam quickly composed her face. None of this made any sense. Why would Jaffa - and she was certain they were Jaffa - help the estranged brother of a Goa'uld to whom they were loyal? They had to be aware that neither she nor the Colonel carried a Goa'uld. Which begged the question of why Atlatl accepted White-owl's word that they were Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue. Because they had come through the Chappa'ai and she had blond hair?

"Chalchi, your name will be blessed once more." Atlatl pushed back his jaguar jaw helmet, revealing the dark tattoo of an openmouthed jaguar's head on his brow. "It is as we suspected, the fire priests of Teotihuacan take their duties too literally. Now that you have come, the Emperor will have the power to cease this barbaric sacrifice of children in your name."

"That... would be good, that's why we brought them home. They will be going home, won't they?" The Colonel's voice carried an edge.

"My men will take them to their homes at the first conch. Now that they have been personally blessed by you, they are more sacred to me than my own sons."

They walked through gardens that would have made Nebuchadnezzar envious. Everything smelled of jasmine and frangipani, like the bouquet that Two-water had given Sam. The portico of the palace was similar to the Minoan palace on P3X-797, except that these columns were square, not rounded. Sam was somewhat surprised when Atlatl didn't invite them in, but instead led them to a colorful, open-sided marquee near the steps. Straw sleeping mats had been spread across the ground, and earthenware flasks and cups sat on a raised platform at one end. The marquee couldn't possibly have been erected in the few minutes since they'd arrived; it was evidently a permanent feature, a sanctuary for escaped slaves. Another perverse contradiction in this complex culture.

The warriors tenderly placed the children on the mats. Women dressed in simple-cut, long white skirts and square-necked shirts emerged from the palace, wrapped the children with beautifully patterned rugs, and offered each one food and a drink. The women smiled and bowed constantly to Sam and O'Neill, and whispered thanks to them for returning the children.

More warriors came to join the others until, before long, over a hundred stood gathered around the marquee. When the last child was settled, Atlatl called in a low but authoritative voice, "Who is it that led you to freedom?"

White-owl pointed to O'Neill and opened his mouth to speak, but Atlatl asked him, "What is your name?"

"White-owl, Captain."

Atlatl turned to the warriors. "This man-child led the fire priest Blood-feaster to his tonali - his fate - as ordained by the gods. Then he led our children and the true and merciful gods, Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue, here to the Emperor's palace."

White-owl looked like he was about to deny this honor, but Sam caught his hand and squeezed it, hoping to silence him.

"From this day forth these children will be treated with honor so that they may continue to serve Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue in freedom, in this life." Atlatl turned to the Colonel expectantly.

Hesitating only a moment, O'Neill said, "Yeah, uhm...we don't want any more sacrifices. Ever. Especially not children." He met Sam's eyes. "Especially not children."

A loud rumble from the distant volcano failed to drown out the murmurs of approval from the jaguar warriors. Atlatl kneeled before the Colonel, a signal for the other warriors to do the same. "You do us great honor, Quetzalcoatl," Atlatl repeated. "For we know with your coming through the Chappa'ai, the end of time is almost upon us."

Sam chewed her lip. Her instincts said the children would be fine, but that last part had an ominous ring to it. Rubbing a hand across her face, she wished the weird feeling of insecurity and the persistent headache would let up.

She wished Daniel were here.

Stanislaw Wodeski's eyes shone brightly in the dim light of the Temple of the Jaguar. The sense of unease Daniel had felt since they'd arrived escalated when he saw the professor's eyes. Then he realized that the glow in them was the reflection from the lavish gold pieces decorating the walls, coupled with an unhealthy dose of avarice. Not a Goa'uld then, just a murderous thief

Wodeski, sallow skinned and carrying the flab of too many dinner parties, looked ridiculous in his elaborate costume. His long maxtlatl was a dark wine-red, most likely dyed from the crushed bodies of thousands of Coccus cactic - cochineal beetles. A thick U-shaped piece of solid gold hung from his turkey gobbler neck. Inlaid with a geometric tile pattern of lapis lazuli, the neckpiece tossed discolored reflections onto his pasty, unshaven jaw.

Draped over the professor's shoulders was a cape of richly woven cloth portraying the Toltec likeness of the god, Tzcatlipoca. The Aztecs had adopted the god in the twelfth century then altered his appearance in the fourteenth. That the Xalotcans were still worshipping the original, Toltec likeness, meant they must have been brought here between six and eight centuries ago. Which made sense, since survey reports suggested the `gate had been on the moon for about six hundred years.

Something about that whole time thing bothered Daniel, but it eluded him, perhaps because of his growing sense of outrage. "Professor," he said in a deceptively calm voice.

Startled, Wodeski looked up. Covering his graying carrot-colored hair was a headpiece of feathers - black and red, the colors of the god who stalked the night and demanded the hearts of thousands. How in character for the professor to have impersonated the most bloodthirsty god of them all.

Wodeski snapped his notebook closed and beamed in recognition. "Daniel Jackson!" His voice was loud enough to waken the still-sleeping residents of the city.

Daniel stood in stiff-necked repugnance as the professor came rushing to him like a long-lost friend.

"My God, boy, do you realize what I've found? Look at this place!" Wodeski gestured around them to the fabulously decorated temple, one of dozens that lined the Avenue of the Dead.

"What you've found?"

The professor's eyes instantly turned cunning. "How did you get here?" he snapped.

"Same way as you, through the crystal skull network. The one you said Nicholas Ballard imagined."

"Ballard was a fool." Wodeski waved dismissively. "He claimed some garbage about giant aliens. I discovered the skull is a time machine!"

"A what?" But of course that was exactly what it would seem like to someone who didn't know.

"Who's that with you?" Wodeski peered into the shadows.

"His name is Teal'c," said Daniel. "Why are you impersonating Tzcatlipoca?"

In a failed attempt at a whisper, Wodeski replied, "Don't play coy with me, boy. You and that grandfather of yours have obviously been coming here for years, pretending to be gods, living out some adolescent fantasy life. Well, you can't stop me from doing the same!" He pushed past Teal'c and walked outside to the entrance of the temple.

"It's magnificent!" Wodeski stood with his arms spread wide, gazing along the Avenue to the nearby Pyramid of the Moon. "To come back in time and see it as it was in its heyday - "

"In Teotihuacan's heyday," Daniel said dryly, "it wasn't populated by Aztecs, and it wasn't called Teotihuacan! Don't you get it?" He moved to stand directly in front of Wodeski. "This is not Earth."

"Oh don't be stupid, boy! I know this culture better than anyone. They've already begun warming up for Nemontemi. Yesterday I saw no less than a hundred taken!"

The feeling that something was very wrong suddenly exploded into a full-blown sense of dread. "Taken by what?" demanded Daniel. The Goa'uld wouldn't bother with the bodies of those sacrificed in the days leading to Nemontemi when they would be offered perfect specimens later. Preliminary offerings were just a way of cleaning out the prisons and giving the elderly the one last chance of entering Omeyocan, rather than being banished to the Underworld.

"Spofforth and Kasugo were wrong," Wodeski declared, ignoring him. "They maintained that only the xochimiqui, those captured during the Flower War and sacrificed to the major gods, were eaten."

"Eaten?" Teal'c's voice was curiously flat.

A flutter of an unwanted memory snaked its way into Daniel's mind. He closed his eyes and shook it off. The madness induced by Artemis was completely different to what was happening here. "The Aztecs had the same problem on Earth," he explained. "A chronic shortage of protein. Cannibalism wasn't mindless, or random. It was as structured as every other ritual associated with Nemontemi." Then he saw the expression on Wodeski's face, and his stomach lurched. "You didn't..."

"Don't be so righteous, Jackson. You must have wondered what it was like. All these years of studying cultures that indulged in ritual cannibalism. You can't tell me you weren't the least bit curious - "

Daniel grabbed him by the arms. "Dammit, what sort of game do you think you're playing? Look!" He grabbed Wodeski's jaw and forced his face to the sky. "That planet up there is not an illusion. You have to come back with us, now, before the real gods arrive!"

Teal'c cocked his head and looked at him oddly. Real gods?

Wodeski burst out laughing. "Real gods?"

"Goa'uld!" Daniel all but jumped up and down in frustration. "They're not really gods! They usurp the role of ancient human deities and - " He waved his hands in the air.

"Who is it that approaches the gods?" Teal'c called in his best intimidating voice.

Daniel spun around. The arriving fire priests immediately dropped to the ground. A seventh figure, slighter and shorter than the others, seemed uncertain, until the fire priest behind him gave him a quick shove, and sent him sprawling face down onto the ground. Okay, so this must be the apprentice.

Pasting an imperious look on his face, Daniel said, "Stand, Heart-eater, and tell me if the gods that came through the Chappa'ai were dressed all in white?"

Heart-eater's head nodded jerkily in the dirt.

"Answer!" Teal'c bellowed.

Daniel sent Teal'c a look, but as much as he loathed intimidation, these people would expect no less.

"Yes, my Lord Jaffa," replied Heart-eater, daring to lift his head an inch. "They wore white. Then they removed their garments and appeared much as you do now. Their skin was not gold, as yours is," he added, risking a quick glance at Teal'c. "But was also white."

Sam and Jack were alive, and well enough to travel. Daniel almost sighed in relief. "And where did these... gods go?"

Heart-eater. Daniel didn't need to see the boy's face; everything about him screamed mortal terror when he blurted, "They... accepted flowers! And then they took the children, the offerings, to Xalo. I...left them when we reached our tzonipantli, our skull cave." He moved an arm through the dirt until it pointed in the general direction of the Pyramid of the Moon.

Now Daniel understood. The Aztecs normally `sacrificed' only flowers to Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue, but during Nemontemi, some diehard fire priests would hedge their bets and sacrifice a few slave children. If the same rule applied here to escaped slaves as had applied on Earth... "To the Emperor's palace garden?"

"Please, my Lord, I am worthless, I have failed in my duties!"

"No, no you haven't failed," said Daniel in a resigned voice. "And you're not worthless. But we...wish to find Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue, for we have been on a long journey and would rejoin them before we return to Earth."

"Onweyocan," Teal'c whispered.

"Omeyocan," Daniel quickly corrected.

"Omeyocan?" Wodeski said loudly. "Now who's playing g... rlph!"

Teal'c had moved back into the temple's shadows, and grabbed Wodeski from behind. "If you do not refrain from speaking again," he whispered to the struggling professor. "I shall find it necessary to remove your tongue."

Fortunately the fire priests were still prostrate, and Heart-eater couldn't possibly hear anything; he was shaking so hard his teeth were rattling. "When?" Daniel asked the apprentice.

"Three conch shells past."

Three hours ago. From the comer of his eye Daniel saw Teal'c pull Wodeski inside the temple. They couldn't very well drag the professor along by the scruff of his feathered cape, at least not while he was playing the mortal manifestation ofTzcatlipoca. But equally they could not leave him behind. "Leave us," Daniel said. "We will confer with... Tzcatlipoca."

The priests remained prostrate on the ground until Daniel went back inside - to see Wodeski squirming ineffectually in Teal'c's arms.

"We don't have a lot of time, Professor," said Daniel. "So you need to listen very carefully." Wodeski stopped struggling long enough to glare at him. "Good. Now unless you believe in Velikovskyism and think the planet up there is Venus doing a close fly by, you cannot possibly retain the illusion that you're still on Earth."

Wodeski rolled his eyes but nodded.

Teal'c slowly removed his hand from the professor's mouth. "You may speak. Quietly."

"When I found the skull and looked into the eyes, I realized that, well, Ballard might have been on to something." Wodeski's voice turned grudging. "Although I admit until seeing that... thing out there in the sky - they call it Meztli - I thought that I really had gone back in time." He looked up at Daniel. "I'm not a moron. I knew I'd have to return before Nemontemi ended." His eyes darted to Teal'c, and he snapped, "Now get your grubby paws off me!"

Teal'c impassively retained a firm grip on the professor's arms.

"Listen, you young fool," Wodeski hissed at Daniel. "What difference does it make? The fact is this culture is Aztec and the impact on the archeological community... Why it will cause an upheaval greater than the invention of carbon dating!"

"Except this isn't Earth, it's a moon called Xalotcan. This culture has probably evolved in ways that you cannot possibly imagine."

"Don't be so agonizingly melodramatic! Would you please let me go?" The blue spider veins across the professor's nose and checks were threatening to burst.

"Only if you give me your word that you'll come back with us.

Wodeski pulled a face like a petulant child. "You can't get back without me. I have the skull!"

Teal'c's eyebrow hiked up. "I believe that the true Quetzalcoatl will not be pleased when he learns of this, Daniel Jackson."

"True Quetzalcoatl?" Wodeski was trying to twist free when he caught sight of Teal'c's tattoo. His smirk evaporated and he went still. Eyes narrowing myopically, he demanded, "What's that gold thing on your forehead?"

"A symbol of slavery," replied Teal'c.

"Teal'c's not human, he's Jaffa," said Daniel. "He carries in him the larval form of a parasitic Goa'uld, an alien, which, as I was trying to tell you before, usurps the belief structures of the inhabitants of different worlds. In other words, they like to play god. Quetzalcoatl is not a god, either. He's a very advanced alien who's ...in charge of the skull transport system."

Wodeski stared at Daniel incredulously.

"If you try to return to Earth by using the skull," Daniel continued. "You'll end up under a hundred tons of rubble, which is all that's left of the excavation tunnel and cavern. The only way out of here is through the Stargate."

If Nick was right about how the skulls worked, then Wodeski would probably arrive in one of many caves around Teotihuacan. But Daniel had no intention of telling him that.

"Stargate? What's that?"

"You may have heard them refer to it as a Chappa'ai."

Wodeski's eyes flickered in recognition. He stopped struggling then turned to look at the glyphs on the far wall. "I wondered about that. It's another transport device, a ring shaped thing. Right?"

Daniel followed the direction of Wodeski's gaze, but it was hard to make out the images in the spluttering torchlight.

"Everyone joked about you vanishing off the face of the planet," the professor continued. Visibly deflating, he grumbled bitterly, "So your ideas weren't insane after all. Oh, alright then, I suppose I better go back with you."

When Teal'c cautiously released him, Wodeski rubbed his arms, and straightened his cloak and headdress. "But make no mistake, boy," he added grumpily. "You better cite my name as a co-discoverer. After all, I found the skull at Teotihuacan and used it to get here all by myself"

"We'll make absolutely certain you get all the credit." And a life sentence in a Mexican jail. "C'mon," Daniel added, picking up the professor's fallen notebook. "We need to get out of here before sunrise."

They left the temple and headed for the Pyramid of the Moon, Wodeski chattering as they walked. "The fire priests call the skulls the Ohtliquetzalcoatl."

"The Roads of Quetzalcoatl," said Daniel. "That makes sense."

"They believe Quetzalcoatl gave the skulls to the people that were here before, the ones who built Teotihuacan. But the skulls disappeared soon after the first Aztecs arrived. That's when they began using that thing you called a Chappa'ai. There's been a lot of quakes recently. When I arrived, a big one broke open a sealed chamber in the cavern beneath the Pyramid of the Moon - the Temple of Tzcatlipoca - and a skull fell out."

The professor's arrival had not only caused the flood, it had triggered a disastrous chain of prophetic events, for the appearance of the skull, followed by `Quetzalcoatl's' arrival could well be interpreted as signs that the world was coming to an end. "And the priests just gave it to you?"

"One of them tried to use it." Wodeski shot Daniel a supercilious smirk. "He couldn't get it to work so he practically threw it at me."

"Since you let him think you're Tzcatlipoca, he was probably hoping you'd use the skull to confront Quetzalcoatl on another world."

Wodeski abruptly grabbed him by the arm. "The priests said the Chappa'ai was flooded. You said the skull on Earth is buried. So how did you get here?"

"I used another skull to come via a different planet."

A look of cunning crossed Wodeski face. "Pilli ocelotl!" he shouted into the night. "Noble jaguars!"

Suddenly, Teal'c raised his staff weapon and called, "Jaffa! Kreef'

Daniel saw them, jaguar shapes emerging from the shadows. At Teal'c's words they faltered - but only for a moment. Daniel pulled out his zat and turned to cover their backs.

The professor was having none of it. He used the distraction to scurry into the shadows of the pyramid. Daniel went to stop him but Teal'c fired his staff weapon. A smoking hole appeared in one of the smaller pyramids along the Avenue. The jaguar warriors froze in their tracks.

"Oh, great," Daniel muttered. How would Coatlicue have Jaffa unless... He groaned softly. Unless she was a Goa'uld queen like Hathor, and her offspring were now posing as Aztec gods, including ones named Tzcatlipoca and Tonatui.

"They come for the Roads of Quetzalcoatl!" screeched Wodeski. "They come so that Quetzalcoatl can end the world!"

The Jaffa carried wooden swords like fence palings with handles. Lined with razor sharp slivers of obsidian, the swords gleamed black in the strange light. For all their odd appearance, Daniel knew that the weapons were deadly. But what interested him more was the Jaffa's lack of staff weapons. And their hesitation. It suggested that while Coatlicue had taken over of the planet by slipping into the Aztec belief structure, even with a number of offspring, her control was limited. The warriors were now tom between loyalty to Tzcatlipoca and their considerably more ancient belief in the prophecies of Quetzalcoatl.

One of the jaguar warriors lunged from the shadows. Two more attacked from the opposite direction. Teal'c shot the first in the leg, while Daniel zatted the second and third. The others hung back, muttering something about lightning and fire-rain. And tonali - the fate of the world.

"They're not dead" Daniel pointed to the men he'd zatted. If these people followed the Aztec belief structure as closely as it seemed, then he would have to play this very, very carefully. "Our presence here must not be seen as fulfilling prophecy!"

"Yca mapilxocoitl," spat one of the warriors.

It was so incongruously commonplace that Daniel couldn't help it; he burst out laughing.

Teal'c stared at him like he'd lost his mind.

"It means, literally, `you can take that with a pinch of salt'," explained Daniel, still chuckling. "I suspect the saying is originally Aztec." When Teal'c continued to stare at him, he added, "I'll explain later." Then he called out to Wodeski, "You gave me your word, Professor!"

Wodeski was hiding behind a large block of stone. "To quote my warrior, yca mapilxocoitl."

His warrior? Wodeski seemed to be immersing himself in the role a little too deeply. "Listen to me, Professor. You have to come back with us otherwise you'll be marooned here."

"I lied to you, Jackson. The fire priests gave me all four skulls, including the one like Ballard found! I'm betting it's the one I need to get back, right? And when I inform the academic community of what you've been doing here - "

"They'll do to you exactly what you did to Nick!"

The zatted jaguar warriors had begun to wake. Their companions made no attempt to help them, nor were they backing away. For an Aztec, dying for your god was a sacred duty. You then got to hang out with the gods and your dead buddies for four years before being reborn on Earth as a carefree butterfly. But in their minds, if Quetzalcoatl really was about to return, it signaled the end of all worlds, which put a more permanent face on the meaning of the term dead.

"Good old Mexican standoff, hey Jackson?" Wodeski called.

Did the damned man have to be so right? He should have zatted Wodeski when he'd had the chance. And then what? Tied him up and had Teal'c carry him to the `gate? "One last time, Professor, it's not the end of Nemontemi you have to worry about. None of the skulls will get you to Earth, and if you don't leave before the Goa'uld arrive, you're going to end up as the main course."

"Bye-bye, Jackson!"

"You can lead an equine to the well," Teal'c said. "But you cannot force him to imbibe."

"That's horse and...oh forget it. Nick was right; we should leave Wodeski here. It'll be dawn in a few hours, and we still have to find Jack and Sam."

CHAPTER TEN

am looked down at Two-water, who was dozing in her lap. The toy dog, Xipe, had somehow found its way into the little girl's possession again. Despite the warm air, the forlorn little Chihuahua shivered uncontrollably.

Dabruzzi had warned them that seismic waves generated subharmonics, the sort that caused dogs to howl before an earthquake. He had further warned them it could make people edgy, even paranoid. Sam just hoped that was the reason for her headache and disorientation, and that it wasn't masking the symptoms of incipient altitude sickness.

A conch shell sounded a booming aubade. Two-water sat up sleepily, wrapped her arms around Sam's neck, and said, "I will miss you, Chalchi. Will you remember me when the time comes for me to enter the next world?"

Sam bit her lip and looked at O'Neill, who paused pulling on his pack. How could she promise Two-water a place in a Heaven that did not exist? She recalled something that Daniel had once told her, that belief in an afterlife gave people hope when their lives had none. The children were now safe, so what harm was a promise that would make Two-water happy? "Of course I'll remember you," she replied.

While the jaguar warriors looked on curiously, the Colonel reached into the bag that White-owl had carried all the way from the cave, and distributed every last one of the chocolate bars to the children. White-owl, now versed in the mechanisms of opening foil wrappers, showed one of the bite-sized bars to Atlatl.

"Chocolati!" declared the warrior, staring at O'Neill. In the dwindling light of the setting Meztli, Sam could see that Atlatl had actually paled. "You truly are Quetzalcoatl!" His voice quivered with fear, but then a strange mixture of adoration and relief crossed his face. "When you return, I and all that I am, is yours."

The Colonel opened his mouth to make what could only be some flippant remark, but then he seemed to change his mind, and nodded gravely. Something very important had just happened; Sam only wished she had a clue what it was.

White-owl's knowing grin once again reminded her of Skaara. "Thank you, Jack Quetzalcoatl," he said. Turning to Sam, he added, "I look forward to the day that I may serve you both in Omeyocan." Then he bowed deeply and, lifting Two-water into his arms, followed the warriors.

"God, it's good to see you two!" called a familiar voice.

Sam spun around. A troupe of jaguar warriors - and Daniel and Teal'c - were coming along the path from the pyramid.

"You see?" White-owl called loudly as he continued walking. "They really are gods!" The children waved a final goodbye.

Daniel looked startled, while Teal'c smiled and said, "It is indeed good to see you."

A surge of delight flooded Sam. "Daniel! Teal'c! How did you get here?"

"We found them at the entrance of the Roads of Mictlan," one of the jaguar warriors said to Atlatl. "They say that they are Quetzalcoatl's messengers, and that they came from Teotihuacan." He pointed to Teal'c's gold tattoo.

"Ah, yes." Daniel turned apologetically to the warrior. "About that. I'm really sorry I...well, you know."

"I, too, regret that we attacked you needlessly," added Teal'c.

"You attacked them?" The Colonel stared at Daniel.

"Yes, well, we had a few problems with the jaguar warriors in..." Daniel turned and pointed back they way they had come. "Uhm, in Teotihuacan."

Atlatl looked at the sky again. It was getting lighter. "Quetzalcoatl - "

"Maybe I should explain on the way," Daniel said, following Atlatl's gaze. "We really need to be leaving before the sun.. .before Tonatui lifts his face into the sky and sees you."

Atlatl nodded gravely and motioned for the men with Teal'c and Daniel to walk with them. Speaking to the Colonel, Atlatl said, "If Tzcatlipoca has learned that you are here - "

"No, no," Daniel replied rapidly, sending O'Neill a quick look.

Despite her headache, Sam immediately felt a whole lot better. Daniel obviously knew a lot more about what was going on than they did.

"Tzcatlipoca knows only that Teal'c and I are here," Daniel added. "And we made certain he thinks we've gone back to the Chappa'ai."

Atlatl bowed deeply to O'Neill. "We will await you return, Quetzalcoatl." His eyes softened as he turned to Sam. "You are both beautiful and kind, Chalchi. The children will once again sing songs of joy about the beloved wife of Quetzalcoatl."

Sam consciously kept her smile affixed while the Colonel shot Daniel a peculiar look. She could have sworn she saw Teal'c grin.

At the entrance of the palace gardens, eight jaguar warriors carrying torches took up formation around them. "What's with the fan club?" O'Neill whispered to Daniel.

"They'll stay with us until we enter the magma tunnels, what they call the Roads of Mictlan. Since your reputation precedes you, they won't follow."

"I have a reputation?"

Daniel muttered softly, "Quetzalcoatl has a reputation."

"Remember, White-owl explained how Quetzalcoatl tricked the god of the Underworld?" Sam whispered.

The Colonel's mouth rounded into an `oh'.

Inside the double pyramid, they retraced their steps until reaching the passage that White-owl said went to Xalo's skull cave. It marked the beginning of the magma tunnel that would take them to Teotihuacan's skull cave, and then the Stargate. Daniel bowed to the jaguar warriors and thanked them for their escort.

Five minutes along the tunnel, O'Neill said, "Acapulco booked out, was it?"

"Acapulco?" Daniel's face took on its characteristic puzzled look.

"More importantly, did you bring me a T-shirt?"

"From Acapulco."

"Is there an echo in here?" said the Colonel. "You know, pina coladas, fascinating stuff that just had to be translated and some guy who had problems in Australia and didn't discover a tomb."

Daniel's perplexed expression intensified by several orders of magnitude. Blinking rapidly, he turned to Teal'c and said, "I don't recall any mention ofAcapulco."

"You are correct, Daniel Jackson."

"See?" Daniel turned back to the Colonel.

"No, not really, but I'll get over it. So, T, did ya bring me a Tshirt from not Acapulco?"

"I did indeed, O'Neill. It is back at the SGC."

The Colonel beamed. "Extra Large?"

"Yeah," said Daniel. "We picked it up at the airport. Made in Taiwan. Sony about that."

Sam smiled. It felt good - no, more importantly it felt right to have the team together again.

"And it wasn't Australia, Jack." Daniel took off his pack and opened it as they walked. "Wodeski - my old professor, the one we went down to Mexico to see - once tried to secure a research grant by claiming a garden-variety Australopithecine he found was an entirely new species of hominid. It wasn't like the Piltdown man or anything." He took something from one of the inside pockets. "But it's a practice not so jokingly referred to in the academic community as Researchagranticus. Unfortunately, Wodeski inherited his father's collection of, and penchant for, black market archeological items. Despite his predilections, the professor is genuinely obsessed with archeology, and, well, he found a crystal skull and used it to get here."

"What?" O'Neill said. "He's here, on this planet?"

"Moon," amended Sam. "And you followed?" she said to Daniel.

"Via P7X-377." Daniel handed her a small yellow instrument case. "We brought some equipment to open the Stargate."

"Daniel," she said, accepting it, "the `gate is underwater."

"And enough ice to sink the Titanic," added the Colonel.

"And you have to locate the DHD and dial out without freezing to death. Yes, we know. We brought SCUBA dry suits."

Jack stared at him. "It's close to minus forty up where the Stargate's buried."

"But only twenty-eight in the water," Sam reminded them.

Daniel blinked. "Forty. Ow, that is cold. I just hope we can get it working."

"This?" Sam lifted from the instrument case a robust looking remote control and TFT screen sheathed in heavy-duty rubber.

"The submarine." Daniel rummaged around his pack some more.

The Colonel eyed the bag curiously. "Got a portable black hole in there, have you?"

"No, this." Daniel pulled out a packet of antihistamines and popped one out of its gel packet. "The stuff coming out of the volcano is really... unpleasant."

During the walk to Teotihuacan's skull cave, Daniel explained what he'd learned from Nick and Quetzalcoatl. It fit in with much of what White-owl and Two-water had told them, although a lot of things still didn't add up.

When they reached the wooden trapdoor, Teal'c carefully slid it aside and looked down. "The cavern is empty," he declared.

"What about Heart-eater?" asked Daniel.

"He is not present."

"You've met the little cockroach carrier?" said the Colonel.

"Yeah." Daniel's face screwed up in regret. "The fire priests banished him to the Roads of Mictlan for failing in his duties. He's the one that showed us this passage. I offered to bring him with us to Xalo, but he said he'd wait here. Now that it's Nemontemi, the fire priests should be arriving anytime soon, so he's probably hiding someplace. We better get moving, too."

"Okay," said O'Neill. "What exactly happens during name-ontummy - aside from the fire and brimstone stuff?"

Teal'c lowered the rope ladder and climbed down.

"On Earth," Daniel explained, "Nemontemi was considered such a dangerous time that, in the months before, the Aztecs engaged in ritualized battles called xochiyaoyotl or oxlylotl."

"Fish wars?" The Colonel shot him a look of disbelief.

Daniel chuckled. "Oxlylotl or Mexican walking fish is also the name of a flower that changes form, or becomes something greater after `death'."

"Right!" Sam said, nodding. "Just like oxlylotls turn into salamanders when you add iodine to the water."

"You actually did that?" O'Neill's eyebrows furrowed.

Sam hedged guiltily. "Uhm...my high school science teacher did."

"What happened?"

"It... died. But it evolved, first," she added quickly. Before he could comment, she turned and climbed down after Teal'c.

"Spilled blood or `flowers' kept the gods and therefore their world, alive, and got them safely through Nemontemi," Daniel said, following her. "Some historians believe that a few troops from each side fought at a prearranged time and place with the sole purpose of capturing `enemies' who were then ritually sacrificed. The fire priests here said that they're preparing to sacrifice sixty thousand."

"Sixty what?" O'Neill said when he joined them. "Anyone spell genocide? Carter, tell me again how the survey team came up with `uninhabited'?"

"Given the number of people they're preparing to sacrifice, I'd say the entire population would have to be at least two million." Daniel looked around the skull cave. "Mostly in and around the two cities, Xalo and Teotihuacan, but there's likely to be a lot of small settlements and outlying farming communities. If it's the same here as it was on Earth, every man, woman and child must come to the city where the sacrifices will be made - in this case, here at Teotihuacan."

Teal'c tossed the ladder back up into the passage. Daniel continued, "On the last night of Nemontemi, every fire across the world must be extinguished before a new fire can be rekindled in the open chest of the god-incarnate of Tzcatlipoca. Then the fire is passed out to everyone. Since the sacrificial victim on Xalotcan is taken over by a Goa'uld, I can only assume they'll use the chest of the previous host."

The Colonel stared at Daniel. "Afire. In the guy's chest."

"Only after his heart has been ripped out."

"That's just...not right."

On the steps to the lower level of the skull cave, Sam paused. "Colonel, you notice anything different about the pit?"

O'Neill's face twisted in distaste when he peered over the edge. "Looks the same to me. Lots of hot, globby magma."

"I'm certain the level has risen."

He turned to her and said, somewhat hopefully, "Maybe it's supposed to do that?"

The false memories from Oannes - and their stint on Netu - had had an admittedly powerful impact on Sam, but she had rationalized those and dealt with them. Her brief time as Jolinar's host rarely bothered her now, especially since the death of Mar- touf; it was as if a cycle had somehow been completed. But as Sam watched the magma, something, perhaps the smell, triggered Jolinar's memories of Bynarr, the way she had been with him. Her headache abruptly intensified, and the images coalesced. The visceral impact drew a sharp breath from her. It hadn't been torture or rape; it had been something far worse, as if a piece of Jolinar's soul had been infected, and it had slowly eaten away at the perfect beauty of her time with Martouf. Now it was trying to infect her mind.

"Carter."

She flinched. The Colonel was standing directly in front of her, his eyes void of emotion. But he knew. She knew he knew because occasionally, very rarely, his own carefully fabricated mask slipped, and she saw the raw pain beneath.

Sam wet her lips. "I'm...not sure, sir. Maybe I misjudged it the first time."

His expression said bullshit, but he turned and continued down the steps.

"In few hours," Daniel said as they crossed the skull cave, "this place will start filling up with bodies."

Perhaps the residue of Jolinar's memories affected her perception, but in the fiery light of the cave, the skulls seemed alive. Sam took one last look around, trying not to imagine what it would have been like for the victims. Trying not to imagine what it must be like for the children.

And trying to convince herself that Two-water and White-owl really were safe.

They entered the sloping magma tunnel, and the terracotta glow was soon replaced by the familiar viridescence. "The situation here on Xalotcan," Daniel continued. "Is different from our other encounters with the Goa'uld."

"Oh, yeah?" O'Neill looked back past Teal'c, who was bringing up the rear.

Sam felt it as well, a sense of being watched.

"Like the Greeks, the Aztecs imbued their gods with human traits," Daniel continued. "They were incestuous, squabbled, and killed one another, meddled with humans for sadistic or sexual pleasure. In short, they were the most bloodthirsty gods in human history. Over the centuries hundreds of thousands of people were sacrificed to them."

"And this is different to the Goa'uld, how?" The Colonel stopped and motioned for them to be quiet. Teal'c looked around, his expression uncertain.

Sam couldn't hear anything, but the sensation was still there.

"It's not, that's my point," Daniel added when the Colonel motioned for them to continue. "The presence of the Goa'uld here is almost incidental. Deposing them will not change the Aztec way of life, which revolves around ritual sacrifice. Jack, these people believe implicitly that to die a natural death means being consigned to Mictlan, Hell." He turned to Sam, his eyes strangely compelling in the spectral light. "There is no greater glory than to give your life to the gods."

"You'd think they could come up with a more original line," O'Neill muttered.

Sam hardly heard the Colonel, only the soft cadence of Daniel's voice as he continued; "They believe that the surface of the ground is but a thin crust between the world of the living and the spirit world. In the same way that the Day of the Dead is a celebration of life in Mexico, Nemontemi was - still is on Xalotcan - a celebration of everlasting life. For flesh is born from pain, and dwells in pain, and only through the freedom of death can one embrace the rebirth of the soul. Just as crops grow and are ploughed back into the ground, so too are bones like seeds, while flesh and blood becomes the food of the living."

His words were mesmeric; stripping away five years of carefully erected psychological barricades. She could see her arm coming down; ready to tear the heart out of the terrified little boy, to smell his death, as exquisite as nectar. Soon she would know the sweet taste of blood...

"Carter."

... on the obscene planet where she knew what it was like to run like a wolf, where the hot surge of desire to hunt and kill, to drink of his life was as powerful and lustful as any -

"Carter!"

Sam staggered and gagged. Once again, his voice had pulled her back from the abyss. What the hell was wrong with her? That was the second time in less than an hour. She looked at O'Neill, confused. "Sir?"

The Colonel's dark eyes bored into hers. Oh yeah, he knew all right. Great team bonding stuff, that mission to Artemis' planet. Really, just great. She reached into the side of her pack. "Headache."

Daniel's frown turned contemplative. "Yeah, me too."

"I, too, find this place disturbing." Teal'c's eyes narrowed, and he again looked back the way they had come.

"Maybe it's the thin air." O'Neill paused then added, "Break out the C4 with that Tylenol, Carter."

With so many faults and cracks in this area of the tunnel, it was probably the best place to create a blockage. Sam pulled off her pack.

"You're going to blow up the tunnel?" Daniel said in alarm.

"No," O'Neill replied.

"Oh, good."

"Teal'c and Carter are."

"What? Why?" Daniel cried. "Jack, they won't follow us. No one, not even Chalchiuhtlicue dares walk the Roads of Mictlan during Nemontemi, unless of course she's with Quetzalcoatl. Mictlantecuhtli, the god of the Underworld, supposedly prowls the tunnels, looking for victims to consume."

Consume. The word triggered another bout of visions, and Sam's self-doubt returned in full. Artemis had taken her mind and given her a lust for something that would have made Hannibal Lecter shudder. Then Jolinar had climbed inside and rummaged around some more, adding a few of her own uniquely inhuman horror stories. But Sam had dealt with the memories, rationalized them, categorized them and filed them away.

She bit her lip and focused on setting the charges. Nothing to get excited about, really; it was years ago. Long forgotten. They'd dealt with worse since. Blown up planets, hell, she'd even blown up a sun. Memories couldn't hurt you.

Just haunt you.

Teal'c carefully placed the C4 in the cracks, as high up the sides of the tunnel as he could reach. Pity it couldn't blow up a few of the demons that lurked in the not so-deep recesses of her brain. Sam downed the Tylenol with a swig of water. Lots of water. As they continued to climb, the air would grow even thinner.

"Daniel," said O'Neill. "It'll only take a zat blast to hole the little blockage we're going to create. This is just to make it harder for anyone, including old Mick, to come prowling after us."

Daniel looked uncertain, but Sam said, "I'll set the timers for ten minutes." She forced herself to smile. "We should be home in time for the Christmas party."

The Colonel's eyes lit. "They're gonna have cake, right?"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

am woke to the sound of soft footfalls. She reached for her sidearm but the Colonel placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Wordlessly, she stood, pulled on her jacket and balaclava, and picked up her P90, all the while trying to ignore the pounding in her forehead.

O'Neill said nothing as he handedher a small packet andcrawled into her recently vacated sleeping bag. Good, that meant everything was quiet. She signaled that she was going up to check the weather. He nodded, pulled the folds of the bag around him, and closed his eyes. She popped two Tylenol from the packet, swallowed them with half a liter of icy water and then headed up the tunnel.

Other than the now constant tremors and the crackle of ice underfoot, it was relatively quiet. Sam walked outside and looked around the valley. Except for the roiling, fire-tinged clouds that shrouded the volcano, the air was crisp and clear. Perhaps it was an optical illusion but the mountain seemed more threatening. A particularly foul smell wafted across the valley and into the cave. Grotesque images tugged at the fabric of her consciousness.

Sam hurriedly turned back inside, leaned against the cave wall, and rubbed her eyes. Janet had once told her that smell was the most evocative of the senses. The stench of the skull cave had been a redolent reminder of Netu and also Artemis' planet. But while all of SG-1 had enough fodder to feed a dozen lifetimes of psychotic nightmares, the strange visions and compulsions that attempted to ooze their way into her mind had not waited until she was asleep.

Every SG team member had learned to employ psychological defenses against the horrors they'd encountered. Daniel immersed himself in musty books and Teal'c in kelno'reem. Having lost his family, the Colonel now went fishing. She worked on her motorbike. All induced a Zen-like state of relaxation. Sam snorted softly. Someone had even written a book about it.

Pulling her balaclava on, she walked outside again, and looked down to where the Stargate was buried beneath the ice and snow. Since their radios weren't working, it was equally likely that the signal from the remote control wouldn't reach the submersible. Her original plan had meant using the naquadah reactor to power the geologists' laser cutter. They could rig a tripod on the ice above the DHD, then -

A soft sound alerted her. She lifted her P90, clicked off the safety and backed into the shadows.

"Hey, Sam, just me," said Daniel.

Sam lowered her weapon and walked into the cave. "Sorry," she mumbled, then pulled the balaclava down from her mouth. "Did I wake you when we changed watch?"

Daniel brought the hood of his jacket over his head then wrapped his arms around himself and bounced on his heels. "Ahhg! It's cold up here! And no, you didn't wake me. Call of nature."

"Storm's passed." She pointed outside.

"I feel like my eyeballs are going to freeze." Daniel rubbed his gloved hands together. "How on Earth did you and Jack survive Antarctica?"

"It wasn't as cold as this." Nevertheless it had been a sobering - and humbling - experience. Sam had always thought of herself as a practical person as well as a good theoretical scientist, but it wasn't until joining SG-1 that she learned that knowledge, even practical knowledge, wasn't worth squat unless she could use it in real-life situations. In Antarctica, her failure to apply simple common sense to the problem had almost gotten her and the Colonel killed. It had taken Daniel, who wasn't even a physicist, to figure it out. Just like he'd figured out how to get the Stargate working in the first place.

Sam closed her eyes and shook her head. What was wrong with her? Why was she plagued by this sense of .. failure? She had never failed at anything in her life. Except for that time on Artemis' planet, when she had been unable to control the compulsion, and almost killed the boy.

"Getting worse?" asked Daniel. Sam looked up. He'd taken his glasses offandwas rubbing his face. "Headaches and weird visions, I mean." He replaced his glasses and examined the bioluminescent fungi with narrowed eyes. "Memories of things probably best forgotten."

"I'm beginning to think that maybe they're mildly psychotropic," she replied, eyeing the green glow suspiciously.

"When the Spanish discovered peyote in Mexico, they called it `satanic trickery' that gave the user `diabolic visions'." Daniel met her look. "This stuff," he gently prodded the spongy, glowing fungus, "is probably the real reason why the fire priests forbid entry into the Roads of Mictlan. They don't want people emulating Carlos Castaneda." He paused, then added, "Whatever you're seeing or feeling, Sam, it's not necessarily who you really are."

"C'mon, let's go back inside where it's warmer."

Teal'c knew that his tolerance to temperature extremes and oxygen deprivation was greater than that of his teammates. He therefore suspected that the headaches experienced by Major Carter, O'Neill and Daniel Jackson had been triggered by the same thing that had engendered fear in him.

Master Bra'tac had taught him that fear was a burden, but that any burden could also be put to good use. While the others slept, Teal'c had gone into the hot springs cave, to sit alone and explore this forgotten sensation, in an effort to understand it.

The first time he had truly tasted fear was when he had been ordered to kill his friend, Va'Lar, who had failed in his duty to Apophis to defeat the forces of Ra. In the same way that Teal'c did not have the words to explain how his staff weapon functioned, so too did he lack the words to explain what he had done next on that fateful day. He knew only that if he took the life ofVa'Lar, his soul would irretrievably belong to Apophis. Perhaps it was a fatal flaw in him, but that thought had provoked a doubt, one that could only be resolved with knowledge. So he had let Va'Lar live. Further, he had deceived Apophis by presenting him with a dying symbiote from another fallen Jaffa.

Apophis had believed him.

With such knowledge came comprehension: Apophis was not omniscient. The people of Chulak, his people, were enslaved to a false god. It therefore followed that all Goa'uld were false gods, and their power rested only in their ability to enslave Jaffa, body, mind and soul. And so his fear was born: his people's souls had been stolen, and they would forever remain enslaved to false gods.

From that day forth he had begun to tread a different path, one that required he live two lives. The first was as Teal'c, First Prime to Apophis, student of Master Bra'tac, father to Rya'c, and husband to Drey'auc. The other, the secret life in his soul, was that of a Shol'va. For he knew the time would come when he would turn his back on that which defined him, face his fear and drive out the false gods.

"I can save these people!"

Again, he had no words, just instincts. And on that second, fateful day in his life, the fear he held for his people had been broken open, and transformed into hope.

The next time he had felt fear had been very different, for it had been implanted in him by the ancient being, Nem, on the planet Oannes. While sharp on the outside, that fear bore no substance.

The fear Teal'c now felt was much the same. Hollow. Since there had been no opportunity for any being to instill false memories in him, he could only conclude that the sensation was baseless, and rested solely with the volcanic nature of the planet. The fear did not recede, but he dismissed it as no longer having meaning for him.

He opened his eyes and looked up.

Major Carter stepped into the hot springs cavern. "Hey, Teal'c."

Daniel Jackson followed her. "'Morning, Teal'c." He removed his gloves and proceeded to wash his hands in the waters of a bubbling pool. Then turning to Major Carter, he said, "Y'know, I've been thinking about why the jaguar warriors in Xalo believed you and Jack were the true Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue, despite neither of you carrying a symbiote."

Teal'c opened his pack, removed the white sachet in the RCW marked `apricot oatmeal', and poured the contents into a cooking pot.

"In Mesoamerican mythology, Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtli cue were benevolent deities." Daniel Jackson went to his pack and removed the coffee. "Quetzalcoatl created mankind, and promised to return at the end of the world and save his followers. But when Wodeski ordered the jaguar warriors to attack us, it was to prevent Quetzalcoatl from returning, and causing the end of the world." Tearing the packet open, he added, "Now, Nick said that Coatlicue sought revenge against the Omeyocan. Instead of getting these people to abandon their beliefs, Coatlicue must have demonized Quetzalcoatl, called herself Chalchiuhtlicue - "

"And turned Chalchi into the wicked witch?" finished Major Carter.

"Something like that. You arrived through the `gate just ahead of the flood, then stopped the children from being sacrificed. I think it was the very absence of Goa'uld in you that supported their belief that you and Jack were the compassionate gods of their mythology, and not the Goa'uld usurpers."

Major Carter looked less certain. "Maybe, but that doesn't explain why, if Tonatui and Tzcatlipoca are fighting with each other for control of Xalotcan, the people here have Flower Wars to capture sacrificial victims. Why aren't the Goa'uld just battling it out like they normally do, with Jaffa armies?"

Carefully holding the pot of oatmeal in a pool of boiling water, Teal'c said, "Perhaps because Tzcatlipoca and Tonatui require hosts who believe strongly in such rituals."

Daniel Jackson ceased in his preparation of the coffee and stared at him. After several moments, he said, "Oh my God. That's why you chose Sha're, isn't it?"

Nothing of the host remained - or so Teal'c had been led to believe. Yet he had seen the false gods take hosts before, and he had witnessed how a powerful host could temper the worst excesses of its Goa'uld.

Make a difference. Master Bra'tac had seen into his soul, understood his fear - and used it to give him purpose. Those words had never seemed more important to Teal'c than when Apophis had ordered him to choose a host for Amaunet. The woman he had taken from Earth had spirit, but perhaps too much, for Amaunet had rejected her. So he had chosen Sha're, in the belief that, beneath her softness and beauty, was an indomitable strength of will that might offer a more subtle influence on Amaunet. In the beloved of Apophis, such temperance could make, and indeed had made, a difference.

Daniel Jackson sucked in a deep breath and met his eyes. The bond between them was a peculiar and tragic one; for by choosing Sha're, and then killing her, Teal'c had tom the soul from the man he now called friend. Although Daniel Jackson had forgiven him both times, Teal'c could see that the final piece in a five and halfyear-old puzzle had finally settled into place. It was a subtle thing, but it also eased a small part of his own burden of guilt. "If a host's spirit is powerful enough," he said, "I believe that in some cases it can influence its symbiote for good. Or bad"

A brief, sad smile of acknowledgment crossed Daniel Jackson's lips. He continued with his preparation of the beverage, and, turning to Major Carter, said, "To answer your question, Tonatui and Tzcatlipoca are battling it out, but in a way that works best for them as exiles with limited resources. The people on this planet are unquestionably Aztecs. On Earth, their culture was the quintessential example of a self-fulfilling prophecy. They built an extraordinary civilization after overcoming almost impossible engineering problems, because they believed the gods had prophesied that they would - and told them how. The Goa'uld walked into a society whose very existence wasn't just governed by, but depended on ritual warfare, human sacrifice, even cannibalism, for its success. It's like I said yesterday, the Goa'uld presence here is almost immaterial."

Jack woke abruptly and sat up. One of the few useful skills he'd acquired in that hellhole of an Iraqi prison was how to keep his subconscious way down there in the basement. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. Mostly, he could prevent the door to the basement from opening even when he was asleep. Mostly.

Despite the early hour, everyone else was apparently awake. The smell of coffee and reconstituted oatmeal managed to battle its way past the ubiquitous volcanic odor. He climbed out of the sleeping bag, rearranged his hair and went into the hot springs cavern.

"Morning, sir," said Carter.

"Coffee's ready." Daniel offered him a flat smile. "RCWs, boiled, broiled, fried or sunny side-up, take your pick."

Jack's nose wrinkled. He should eat, but his headache was nauseating. "Maybe I'll pass. Hey, T, sleep well?"

"I did not."

"Bad dreams, huh?" He walked across to a pool and, hoping it would drown the road workers jack-hammering his skull, plunged his head in.

"I do not dream, O'Neill."

"I knew that, I was just.. you know." The jack-hammering continued. Did they have to take the `jack' part so literally? There had to be a pun in there somewhere.

"I did not sleep."

"Oh, okay. Kelno'reem?" Where had he put the Tylenol?

"I was unable to enter kelno'reem. This place," Teal'c looked around, "is not suitable."

"The cave?"

"No, the moon."

"Thanks Teal'c," Carter said, accepting a bowl from him. Jack could smell her oatmeal. Rotten eggs with a dash of apricot. Nice. She sat down on the stone slab that Two-water had been splayed out on, ready to be sacrificed to lord Cat Lips. It was the only semi-dry place in the cave. "Weather's good," she added, handing him the packet of Tylenol. "If we can't get the sub operational, I've worked out how to cut through the ice."

Jack popped three of the tablets and downed them while Carter finished explaining what she had in mind. "Sounds like a plan," he said. "Let's finish up here, then it's snow time."

They had just finished packing the FRED when a particularly large quake sent a deep grinding sound through the tunnels. Jack glanced at Carter, hoping she might have some idea what it meant. With her balaclava and hood on, he couldn't see her face. Still, he could tell she was tense. They all were.

The Stargate was no longer visible, even the bulge had vanished beneath a fresh layer of snow. Using the bearings that Jack had taken the first morning, they navigated the FRED across the lake. The snow was lightly packed, but working to clear a path through the fractured ice while battling for every molecule of oxygen made for an unpleasant morning's work. Worse, every shudder was followed by loud groans, nerve-wrecking cracks, and fingernail-onblackboard squeals as the surface of the lake shifted beneath their feet. The volcano kept up its sound and light show, and the lack of wind meant that ash settled on everything and everyone like a dirty shroud. Where larger, still warm cinders fell onto the snow, ugly blackheads appeared. The hotter embers seemed to exclusively pick on Jack. He decided that it had to be some sort of karma thing. On the upside, it was also desensitizing him. He no longer hated volcanoes, he just disliked them a whole lot.

It was close to midday by the time they reached the center of the lake. Jack stopped the FRED and took a final bearing. "This is it. The DHD should be directly under us."

Carter pulled out the remote control that Daniel had brought. "Let's hope we're close enough to overcome the electrical interference."

"When Siler sent the sub through," said, Daniel, watching over her shoulder. "He parked it right beside the DHD."

"This is great!" Carter pulled down her balaclava and smiled.

Jack came to peer over her other shoulder. A murky, swamp green light appeared on the tiny TFT. "Carter, it's a blank screen."

"Yes sir, but not if I do this." She switched something on the controls and two floodlights lit the image.

From beneath the ice, a glow appeared between Jack's feet. He looked down. "Cool."

"Ugh!" Carter's face screwed up.

Jack looked over her shoulder again. A blurry human hand floated in front of the miniature submersible's camera. Carter focused the lens until they could see that the hand was attached to a woman dressed in the overdone clothes and jewelry that earmarked a Goa'uld.

"She appears to be wearing a hand device," said Teal'c in clinical detachment. One less Goa'uld, so much the better.

"Calciumcure?" Jack suggested with more than a trace of levity.

"You mean Chalchi," Daniel corrected.

"No, I mean something with a cure at the end"

"Chalchiuhtlicue was affectionately known as Chalchi." Daniel lifted his ski goggles and looked more closely at the image. "I was telling Sam earlier that I think the Goa'uld Coatlicue pretended to be the Omeyocan, Chalchiuhtlicue. The gold must have weighed her down before she could dial out. Didn't you say that Tonatui and Tzcatlipoca arrive by ship? I wonder why she - presuming she is, or was, Coatlicue - used the `gate?"

Jack looked at him. "The Goa'uld have never been known for happy families."

Daniel frowned. The sort of frown he got when he was about to postulate some contorted and painfully voluminous theory on Goa'uld relationships.

"It was just a thought," Jack said dismissively.

"More importantly," Daniel added. "Since she was in exile, I wonder where she came from?"

"Perhaps from the fourth planet in the network, Yaxkin," suggested Teal'c.

Whatever Daniel was about to say was cut off by another loud crunching sound. Balancing herself against the shaking, Carter continued to manipulate the controls. "Wherever she came from, her being here would explain the depression we saw in the ice the morning after the flood. I thought the SGC had dialed up during the night."

"No," Daniel replied absently. "They couldn't get the `gate operational for some time."

"Well, whoever `she' was, she definitely won't be wanting any more kids." Jack made no attempt to hide his satisfaction.

"And she's ... not exactly young. Which confirms your idea about the lack of a sarcophagus." Daniel pulled his frosted glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "Y'know, something about this whole thing just doesn't add up."

Carter rotated the submersible until the top of the DHD came into view, then she brought the robotic arm to rest on the first glyph.

"Okay, kids." Jack turned to the FRED and pulled out the SCUBA dry-suits. "How `bout we continue this discussion someplace warmer?"

Since taking command of the SGC, General George Hammond had become accustomed to seeing SG-1 walk, run, stagger, fall, and even dive through the `gate. Seeing them swim through was an entirely new experience.

The first to arrive was Teal'c. Landing heavily on the ramp, in his arms was the body of a gray-haired elderly woman dressed in elaborate clothing. Immediately behind him was Dr Jackson with the small submersible. Next came a FRED, followed by Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill, who tumbled on top of the vehicle in a gush of water.

"Someone should post a memo about the hazards of swimming through the Stargate," O'Neill said after sliding onto the floor of the ramp.

"If you'd swum down to the bottom before coming through as we planned, it would have been fine." Dr Jackson pulled off his diving mask.

"You weren't guiding the FRED." O'Neill stood and kicked a dripping tire. "That thing is what got us stuck there in the first place. I should have left it behind."

"Welcome home, SG-1," Hammond said, smiling broadly. "It's good to have you back."

Colonel O'Neill wiped the water off his face and smiled at Hammond. "Thank you, General. You'll be pleased to know that our time wasn't entirely wasted. We met the locals. Friendly bunch who sacrifice more people than the usual, pissant Goa'uld. We didn't kill anyone though - "

"Except a Goa'uld. I think it's Coatlicue masquerading as Chalchiuhtlicue," piped up Dr Jackson. "And Teal'c shot a pyramid and a jaguar in the leg."

"We didn't exactly kill her." Major Carter tossed her saturated hair back off her face, and looked down at the body of the woman. "She drowned. We also recovered all of the geologists' notes and laptops."

"But had to leave Dabruzzi's chocolate behind," finished O'Neill. He began to pull off his dry-suit.

Dr Jackson swung around to face him. "Chocolate? Jack, tell me you didn't give the children chocolate."

O'Neill froze. "Why would I tell you that, Daniel?"

"Because Quetzalcoatl gave chocolate to mankind. It's considered to be the food of the gods. Even one cocoa bean was worth a small fortune."

Major Carter choked back a peculiar noise.

"Jack?" Dr Jackson's eyebrows lifted, and, as much as the bulky suit would allow, crossed his dripping arms in expectation.

O'Neill shot Major Carter a warning look. "One word and you're on vegetarian RCWs for a month."

Dr Jackson closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. "Okay, well, that would have clinched their belief that you were Quetzalcoatl."

"D'ya think Quetzy will mind?"

"I don't know; I'm not sure what the rules are about impersonating a god. Or goddess." Dr Jackson sent a disappointed frown in Major Carter's direction.

"Don't look at me," she objected. "I was just... there!"

Hammond shook his head. This promised to be one hell of a debriefing.

CHAPTER TWELVE

hat are you and Cassie doing for Christmas?" Sam pushed open the door to the Spanish restaurant and walked into a room full of laughter and warmth.

"For one thing we're having you over," Janet Fraiser replied, pulling off her overcoat.

The strains of a Spanish guitar drifted like tinsel from overhead speakers. A waiter wearing a bolero and a Santa hat guided them to a booth beneath the smoke-stained poster of a picador. In the center of the wooden table sat a wine bottle liberally coated with the waxy residue of a hundred cozy nights. Topped by a stubby candle, it looked like a Matterhorn in miniature. The waiter left with their coats and returned soon after with tumblers and a jug of sangria.

"I'm kind of surprised you agreed to Spanish," Janet added. "I mean, it's not Mexican, but..."

"The Spanish never set foot on Xalotcan, it was pure Aztec." Sam poured the sangria.

"Welcome home." Janet raised her tumbler in salute. She sipped from the glass, then pitching her voice low, added, "The.. speci men you brought back was a queen, all right. I found immature larvae in her."

"Wasn't she a little... old?"

"The host was, yes, which is why I ran a test on the symbiote's genetic makeup."

"And?"

"I found something quite interesting, a mutation - an extra gene. From what I can tell, it seems to have restricted her ability to maintain the host's body. Her larva carried the same gene."

"So they can't retard the aging process. Does that mean that her Jaffa and offspring's hosts would be more vulnerable to injury?"

"Almost definitely. I also suspect that as mature Goa'uld, they would have less psychological control of the host."

"Without a sarcophagus, it would explain why they have to change hosts every fifty-two years," said Sam. She recalled Teal'c's words to Daniel, about the Goa'uld choosing hosts that believed implicitly in the culture. "And they incorporated that need into Aztec rituals. Could also explain why children were regularly being sent to the `gate."

"She was experimenting on them."

Sam closed her eyes. "God, no wonder they were so terrified."

The door opened, and a wandering Santa came inside. "Merry Christmas, everyone!" he called, dispensing candy canes among the patrons.

Janet waited until he had passed, then said, "I also found traces of a psychotropic substance in your blood. You must have been having some interesting dreams."

Sam knew that Janet was fishing, but she didn't mind. As Cassandra's adoptive mother and the only other permanent female officer on the base, Janet had become her closest friend outside SG1. "I had my suspicions about the green glow bugs, that's why I brought back a sample."

"Green glow bugs?" Janet laughed softy. "That has to be one of the Colonel's expressions."

"Sorry" Sam's quick smiled faded, and she added, "There were a couple of times when I had some intensely disturbing... memories."

"Well, if you do go back, don't spend too much time in the caves. And I'll treat you all withAcetazolamide. It works quite well as a prophylactic against mild altitude sickness. It should help with the nightmares, too."

Sam looked doubtful. "I'm not sure we're going back. Daniel seems to think that even if we can convince them to rebel against the remaining Goa'uld, which they seem ready to do, they'd revert back to their original culture."

"What if you could show them there's another way?"

"The Pentagon doesn't want us to get involved unless there's enough naquadah to justify an operation of that scale. Although Dabruzzi's examining the samples and data now, we won't have a full analysis until after Nemontemi is over." Sam suppressed a momentary surge of anger. "Waiting until the Goa'uld have left for another fifty-two years is also `strategically sensible'."

Janet's expression soured, but then she sighed in resignation. "Well, that is our mandate, to find technology and resources to defend ourselves against the Goa'uld, not engage in outright confrontation - if we can avoid it." She examined Sam through lowered eyes. "Sam, are you okay? You don't normally let that sort of policy decision get to you."

"I just keep thinking about the kids. Maybe we should have brought them back here."

"I have my hands full with Cassie."

Sam laughed. "Two-water reminded me of..." She paused when the waiter came and took their order. Two-water hadn't reminded her of Cassie, but the little girl had tugged at her heart in a way Sam couldn't explain.

Janet examined her with knowing eyes. "Maternal instinct is a powerful thing, Sam, even when you don't have children."

They'd had this conversation before, generally around Christmas and Cassie's birthday. "When I was engaged to Jonas, we figured on waiting a few years before having children, and then I'd take a year or two off. I knew that balancing work and family would be difficult, but back then I really believed I could do anything." Sam paused and sipped her drink. So much had changed since then. "I mean I still want to have children, someday. But to be the sort of mother I'd want for them would mean giving up all that I am. And I'm not ready to do that, Janet. It would be dishonest to myself, to my commitment to the Air Force, to those children, and to the moral obligation I have to do everything in my power to protect..." She lowered her voice. "Earth."

Being part of the SGC had given Sam an incredible life, but it was also an exclusive world. It was hard to meet anyone, let alone make small talk when everything you did was classified. As to a relationship with someone who did know... She thought about Martouf, on Netu, the way Apophis had tried to use his memory of Jolinar to betray the Tok'ra. The military's rules about fraternization existed so that you could never be placed in a position where your personal feelings got in the way of making difficult decisions.

Janet gave her a considered look. As if reading her mind, she said, "Not everyone at the SGC is in the military."

And Sam didn't need the safety net of rules to fall back on, at least not when it came to those outside the military.

Her phone began vibrating in her bag. She glanced at the screen before lifting it to her ear. "Colonel?"

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he grumbled.

"We just ordered."

"Get it to go. General wants us back at the base. Damn!"

Sam grinned when she heard the familiar television voices in the background. "VCR, sir?" she suggested.

"It was a Christmas marathon!" he groused. "D'oh!"

Daniel stared across the briefing room table at Dabruzzi. "How long did you say?"

Sam was sitting beside the volcanologist, typing something into her laptop. Hammond was frowning. Jack looked bored, the sort of deliberately bored look he got when he was concerned. Only Teal' c appeared to accept the news calmly.

"A month, maybe," replied Dabruzzi. "But celestial mechanics isn't exactly my field. That's why I asked if Major Carter could come in and run a simulation." He turned to Jack. "It was only when I began examining the data - thanks for getting my computer, by the way - that I realized what was going on with the moon's mantle."

"The orbital instability has increased dramatically," Sam said, and kept typing.

"And that would mean?" Jack said impatiently. "Ten words or less, Carter. Make it five and I'll spring for a beer."

Carter paused, exchanged a quick look with Dabruzzi, and then replied, "Think Tollan."

General Hammond sat forward and looked at her expectantly. "You mean, it's breaking up? When will you know for certain if this is the case?"

"It's a matter of when, not if, sir. I should have an accurate time frame soon." She hit the return key on her laptop, and then sat back. "It'll take a few minutes for the program to run."

"What do you think?" Hammond turned to Jack. "Could we evacuate everyone?"

"Two million people via the Polar Plunge?" Jack replied, picking up a pen. "Hey, we're good, but not that good."

"What about using the skull network?" suggested Hammond.

Daniel bit his lip in thought. "Even if we could, most of the inhabitants would refuse to leave."

"Oh, here we go." Jack began doodling a death's head on his note pad. "There's always someone who believes it's the will of pick-your-deity."

"Huitzilopochtli."

Jack shuffled his chair back. "Gesundheit."

Ignoring Dabruzzi's snigger, Daniel said, "Huitzilopochtli is the name of a god, Jack. He's also known as Moctil, Mextli, Mexitl or Uitzilpochtli, the Hummingbird Wizard." He frowned and, opening his file folder, pulled out a list. Something was missing... something to do with the names of the gods.

"Whoa!" Jack cried. "How many damned Goa'uld are running the place?"

"TheAztecpantheon features ninety-seven major deities, includ- ingAcuecucyoticihuati, Coyolxanuhqui, Huixtocihuatl, Macuilcoz- cacuahtli, Tlahuixcalpantecuhtli, Xmulzencab and Yiacatecuhtli," replied Daniel absently. What was it that connected them all?

Jack stared at him. "You practiced that, right?"

"Here." Daniel handed him the list.

As Jack's eyes traveled down the paper, a slow smile spread across his lips. "This is great!"

Sam's eyebrows shot up and she looked at him. "It is?"

Daniel blinked, pulled the list from Jack's fingers and re-examined it. What had he missed?

"Yeah." Jack snatched the paper back. "Do you realize how many points just one of these is worth in Scrabble?"

A choking noise from Sam quickly turned into a fit of cough ing, while Dabruzzi covetously eyed the list. Daniel pulled off his glasses and began cleaning them. It wouldn't help him see any better, but it seemed vaguely constructive. "The god Piquete-zina, for example - "

"Who?"

` - or Batman," Daniel continued without missing a beat.

"Batman was a god?"

"Piquete-zina means Batman, Jack. Many ancient deities took on the form of animals, and this was essentially an animist culture. Batman's friend and companion was supposedly the..." Daniel pulled the paper from Jack's hands again, and ran a finger down the list. It was there somewhere. "...chief god of alcoholic beverages, R-"

"Robin? You gotta be kidding."

"Rabbit," Daniel finished, tapping the paper. "Drunken-rabbit."

"There's a god named Drunken Rabbit?" Sam's blue eyes were wide with disbelief.

"Several, in fact. A total of four hundred lesser deities, the offspring of Mayahuel - Drunken Rabbit - and Patecatl."

"Why so many?"

"Rabbits, Carter," said Jack dryly. He plucked insistently at the list in Daniel's fingers. "Drunken rabbits."

"The point being, Dr Jackson?" said General Hammond, somewhat impatiently.

"The point is, that even if we can save everyone, then what?" Jack said. "We find some other planet for them where they can just keep on with this whole human sacrifice thing?"

"Jack, they're not bad people!" Daniel released his grip on the paper - he'd print out another later. "You must have learned by now that you can't judge a civilization based on our cultural perceptions of what's right and wrong."

"They sacrifice kids!"

"Who are going to die anyway unless we evacuate everyone!" Daniel jammed his glasses back on. Moral quagmires. He was tempted to argue but he knew both viewpoints too well.

"You said it yourself, Dr Jackson," said Hammond. "The Aztecs were doing this long before the Goa'uld abducted them from Earth."

"Did not Nicholas Ballard say that the Goa'uld had been exiled by Ra because they had done unspeakable things?" asked Teal'c.

Andthat's when ithithim. "Oh my God, ofcourse. Teal'c, you're right." Daniel pushed his chair back so hard that it almost fell. He leaped up and began pacing the briefing room. "I can't believe I've been so stupid!" he cried, bringing his hands to his head in frustration. He turned and saw Jack's cautiously raised eyebrow. Everyone was staring at him. "Jack, you...well, you're right, too!"

"I am?" A tiny smile rode across Jack's lips and he looked around at the others. "I'm right!" Then a cautious frown appeared. "Exactly what am I..." He looked at Teal'c. "...are we right about, Daniel?"

"It's what's been bothering me from the beginning. The Goa'uld are responsible for the sacrifices. All of them, because Coatlicue stayed on Earth!"

Hammond released a frustrated sigh. "Dr Jackson, what are you talking about?"

Daniel's voice almost ran away with the words as he explained. "After Ra exiled them in 750AD, the `evil' Goa'uld battled with the Omeyocan in a distant part of space until only one badly damaged ship remained. The surviving Goa'uld, Coatlicue, then went to Earth to collect slaves."

"If her ship was damaged," said Sam. "It could have taken centuries to reach Earth."

"Exactly! She must have had a sarcophagus, at least, back then." Daniel grabbed the chair and sat back down. It was something he didn't like to dwell on, but Hathor had needed his DNA in order to produce human compatible larvae. "Once Coatlicue arrived, she took a human mate and then created the first Jaffa for her offspring. In Aztec mythology Huitzilopochtli - Hummingbird Wizard - was born from Coatlicue around 1100AD. In mythology, Coatlicue also claimed to be Quetzalcoatl's mother." He rapidly paged through a thick book as he talked.

"A little Oedipus problem there?" said Jack.

"No, his wife was Cha/chiuhtlicue."

"Of course, what was I thinking," Jack muttered.

"I'm now certain that Coatlicue pretended to be Chalchiuhtlicue, and distorted an essentially Mayan religion to suit her somewhat pathological pleasures." Daniel found the page and tapped it with a finger. "Here." He handed it to Jack, who stared at the illustration of a half-naked woman with a magnificent headdress, and strings of human hearts and hands around her neck and waist.

"Hat's cool. Accessories are a little over the top."

"I think fashion is the problem." Daniel pointed to the writhing snakes clustered about Coatlicue's waist. "This has always been interpreted as a skirt of snakes. But in fact she's probably - "

"Giving birth to them!" Sam's nostril's flared in disgust.

"It would explain how Huitzilopochtli supposedly emerged from Coatlicue `with all the knowledge of his mother' and, after describing himself as the new sun god, founded the Aztec civilization. To celebrate his birth, Huitzilopochtli gave four priests explicit instructions on exactly how to set up what would rapidly become the largest empire in the New World."

"What are you saying? That all these gods," Jack held up the list, are Goa'uld?"

"The Aztec legends of gods doing battle, the incest and shifting alignments, the so-called `star wars', all of it can be explained by power plays between Coatlicue's offspring!"

"So," said Jack. "An exiled Goa'uld queen didn't adopt the Aztec empire, she founded it. Doesn't explain how she located Tollan, Orban and these other planets. I mean the skull system isn't exactly Goa'uld compatible, right?"

"I believe I know the answer," said Teal'c.

"You read this?" Daniel opened his grandfather's journal to the page of glyphs.

Teal'c inclined his head. "It tells of how a snake goddess, one of an ancient race of alien reptiles, came to Earth and took the leader of a powerful warrior tribe as a human mate."

"That's it! Coati in Nahuatl means snake. The Emperor's 'assistant' was always called cihuacoatl, snakewoman."

"Subtle," Jack muttered.

"If Coatlicue had the same power over men as Hathor...uhm.. . had over us - "

Sam looked at Daniel. "It would explain how she learned about the skull network."

"Here." Daniel pointed to the image of a priest holding a skull. Light beams shone out to encompass a numeric glyph that denoted thousands of warriors. "Archeologists assumed that the `sacrificed' warriors from the Flower Wars, the xochimiqui, were sent to four metaphysical worlds, Heavens, otherwise known as Omeyocan. But they must have been sent on military campaigns to the four worlds the original Teotihuacanos settled via the crystal skull network: Orban, Tollan, Xalotcan and Yaxkin. Coatlicue and her offspring didn't need the skull transport system. Once they knew the location of these worlds - the Aztecs were amazing astronomers, adept at making celestial maps - they could go by ship, and then establish Stargates on each world. On Xalotcan the original inhabitants were likely slaughtered, but the Tollans and Orbanians eventually defeated them."

PushingNick's journal to one side, Daniel opened a smaller notepad. "This is Wodeski's. He was taking notes on the `Chappa'ai' when we found him." He scanned the cramped, spidery handwriting. "It's a little hard to read, but he mentions how Coatlicue lost her `bed of life' and her `great home in the sky' when one of her sons, Tonatui, deposed Huitzilopochtli, the first Aztec sun god, and conspired with her other children to kill her. In the Aztec mythology on Earth, Coatlicue survived. But on Xalotcan, she supposedly died - at about the same time as Chalchiuhtlicue appeared, and began demanding monthly sacrifices through the `gate. Then Tonatui's brother, Tzcatlipoca, betrayed `them all' - presumably all of Coatlicue's Goa'uld offspring - to Coatlicue's father. Her father is referred to as a sun god, from worlds `far away'. Apparently he..." Daniel squinted as he read the glyphs, "...'cut most of the gods asunder and made the people dig rock from the ground and send it through the Chappa'ai'."

"So Cat Lips betrayed Tonto and the other Goa'uld to Ra in return for...what, some two-bit naquadah mine?"

"Okay." Sam sat forward again. "The simulation is coming up now."

Jack glanced at the laptop screen, then continued to fill in the details of the death's head on his notepad. "Want to bet it's because Ra double crossed `em?"

"Good guess, sir." Sam scanned the data scrolling beside the 3D image on the screen.

"Guess?" Jack mouthed, somewhat indignantly.

"Extrapolating backwards," Sam continued, "it would appear that the orbital decay was instigated fifty-two years ago."

Daniel looked up from Wodeski's notes. "That would have been during the last Nemontemi."

"The same time as the naquadah ran out," Dabruzzi added.

"Well, now that we know what's really going on, we cant abandon them." Daniel closed the notepad.

"According to this, the orbital decay is actually increasing." Sam's eyes were wide with concern. "The moon's crust will begin to break up within a week, maybe less."

Dabruzzi groaned. "The volcano will blow before then. And it's just a parasitic vent."

"That volcano is the size of Vesuvius." Daniel's face screwed up. "How can it be just a parasitic vent?"

The volcanologist stood and picked up a black marker pen and piece of paper. He drew a large circle with two dots spaced near the inside edges. "This is the valley and the dots are the cities of Teotihuacan and Xalo." Drawing a smaller circle around Xalo, he added, "This is a crater lake. The entire valley is a collapsed caldera almost thirty miles across."

"Across?"

"Yup." Dabruzzi affirmed. "The original crater was probably about twenty miles in diameter. When the volcano blew, she would have shot a good chunk of Xalotcan into space. They call the volcano Popocatepetl, or Popo?" He glanced at Sam. When she nodded, he continued, "Okay, same as the one here on Earth. But on Xalotcan, Popo is like a tiny pimple hanging off the edge of a huge boil that's already ...uhm...popped."

Daniel was beginning to feel sick.

"Tell me again how this was safe?" Jack said, his face a mixture of incredulity and repugnance.

"Popped boil, no problem - until the orbit began decaying." Dabruzzi drew little dots all around the edge of the caldera. "All these mountains enclosing the valley? They're maars - old vents - likely to start going active anytime. Worse, the Stargate valley is a natural conduit for pyroclastic and lava flows." He put the lid back on the pen and sat down again.

Daniel turned to Hammond. "General, you suggested using the skull network to relocate them."

"It wasjust a suggestion, Dr Jackson. Clearly, you'll first need to discuss this with Quetzalcoatl."

"The Goa'uld may be responsible for the ritual sacrifices," Teal'c said. "However, these people appear to have killed the prior inhabitants. Quetzalcoatl may not wish to assist them."

"You're right." Daniel slumped back into his chair. "And we still have to convince them to leave. Quetzalcoatl might have been able to do that, but if he - it - is only a hologram - "

"The Xalotcans believe that O'Neill is Quetzalcoatl," Teal'c added.

"Thank you, Teal'c!" Jack cried in disbelief.

"You are welcome, O'Neill." Teal'c inclined his head.

Feeling a surge of hope, Daniel lowered his voice, injecting into his tone a level ofpersuasive reasoning that usually worked. Despite their philosophical differences, Jack always considered what he had to say and at the very least factored it into his decision making process. "Jack, Teal'c has a point. You want them to stop their ritual sacrifices, right? But you can't take away someone's belief structure without leaving a vacuum. And what fills that vacuum can be infinitely more dangerous. We're in a unique position."

"We?" Jack glared at him.

"The jaguar warriors will follow you," Daniel added quickly. "They've promised their lives to you!"

"Hey, dressing up like a Chinese New Year dragon is one thing, but playing evangelist - "

"Jack," said Daniel. "Right now we...okay, specifically you are probably the only one who can save them. You're not going to have to do much except just... be there. Gods are like emperors; they rarely, if ever, speak directly to people except through amouthpiece. The fire priests believe I'm Quetzalcoatl's voice. All you have to do is look the part. Once we relocate them, we can introduce them to people like the Salish. That will allow them to retain an animist religion, but one that respects and embraces life, not death."

Jack went to object, but Hammond said, "Washington wouldn't agree to our involvement if it were just about the Goa'uld. But as you pointed out, Dr Jackson, this is a humanitarian situation. I'm therefore authorizing a trip to P7X-377. Find out if Quetzalcoatl is prepared to let you use the skull network to evacuate these people."

"Uhm...Nick wants to return there as well," Daniel ventured.

"I think that's a good idea. He knows Quetzalcoatl and may be able to persuade him to help."

"Fine." Jack crossed his arms defiantly. "We're off to see the wizard. But there is no way in hell I'm dressing up in a bunch of chicken feathers."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

e's not happy," yelled Daniel Jackson.

"Ya think?" O'Neill cried above the incredible noise and vibration inside the pyramid on P7X-377.

During the walk from the Stargate to the pyramid, there had been much discussion as to whether the Omeyocan were a product of Furling technology or living beings. In Teal'c's mind, all that mattered was that the Omeyocans acted like living beings, therefore they should be considered as such. He could not tell how many of them now flew around the chamber as the energy wind tore at them, but it felt as if the entire planet would soon shake itself apart. Nevertheless, he stood his ground, the calm center of a hurricane.

"This is amazing!" Major Carter's hair was whipping about her head. "It actually phase-shifts us so that we're not harmed by the radiation." She continued to observe the readouts from the hand held radiation detector. Beside her, Nicholas Ballard looked strangely wistful.

Daniel Jackson winced when a particularly large gust blew his boonie hat into the tenebrous depths of the vast pyramid.

"Yep, they're pissed!" called O'Neill.

"Coatlicue has stolen my beloved's name! Where is Coatlicue?" demanded the Omeyocan.

"She's dead!" replied Daniel Jackson. "She drowned when the Stargate valley flooded on Xalotcan."

The shaking ceased and the swirling clouds settled into a dense, white fog. Quetzalcoatl appeared before them once more, and moved close to stare into Daniel Jackson's eyes. Then he turned to Nicholas Ballard, and declared, "He speaks the truth. You have vanquished our enemy. Uy ah ual ing ual ing wetail."

As with the last time he had been there, Teal'c felt a force of great power reach into his mind. The Omeyocan extended a large white finger towards him. "Only those who relinquish the Goa'uld as gods, as you have done, may pass." The finger swirled to O'Neill, vaporous trails following in its wake. "You will lead them in my name." Then he slowly descended into the void.

"Lead them to where?" Daniel Jackson called.

"Yaxkin. Mixmaakyan siibil beora. Bin, ilik. When you return I will not be here. Look into the eyes of the skull."

"Wait!" Daniel Jackson cried, and reached out as if to stop him, but Quetzalcoatl had gone.

"Do as he says, Daniel."

"But Jack - "

"Sir, the readings went wild then ...I think I understand." Major Carter looked up, her eyes wide. "It's going to change us again, not send us anywhere. At least, not yet."

"But we don't know - "

"Daniel, just look into the damned skull!" O'Neill's voice brooked no argument.

Nicholas Ballard's eyes were sad and knowing, as if he had lost a great and wise friend. Perhaps he had. Daniel Jackson exhaled once, forcefully, and reluctantly stepped up to the slate pedestal. The light played around his head, and noise filled the pyramid. Then abruptly, it ceased, and all was quiet.

Teal'c watched with some amusement as O'Neill patted himself down, confirming that he was solid once more.

"Would someone explain what the hell just happened?" O'Neill turned and marched back along the narrow walkway. Major Carter went to speak, but O'Neill raised a gloved finger. "Ah! Five words or less, Carter."

"What happened to ten?" The glare O'Neill sent over his shoulder prompted Major Carter to add, "Sir. It's a quantum transportation device."

"Salutations and elisions count as additional words, Carter."

"Well," Daniel Jackson said, "I think that answers your question." When O'Neill shot him an incredulous look, he added, "About you impersonating him."

"I agree," said Teal'c. "Quetzalcoatl stated that you should lead them, O'Neill."

"Like Moses to the Promised Land!" Nicholas Ballard offered O'Neill a wide smile.

They stepped off the walkway and O'Neill turned around. "Now just a - "

"He was very clear about that, Jack." Daniel Jackson went to the wall and placed his hand on the keystone. "The Goa'uld queen is dead, and he granted our wish."

"Indeed he has." Teal'c made no attempt to hide his own amusement. But it was also filled with regard. O'Neill had proved his worth in such matters on many occasions.

O'Neill sent him a sour look. "Let's just say that I can convince everyone to shift house - remembering of course that this is maybe two million people we're talking about - what makes you think this planet, Yak Skin, is gonna want them?"

"Yaxkin," corrected Daniel Jackson. He stood back as a section of the stone wall opened.

"That's what I said." O'Neill followed him down the marble steps and into the map room.

"Jack, don't be deliberately obtuse."

"Who said anything about deliberate?"

Daniel Jackson placed his hand on the pedestal in the center of the room. The holographic device activated, and light shone upwards. "Quetzalcoatl said, Mixnaaak yan siibil beora. Bin, ilik. `None live there now. Go, see'."

"He must have gone there looking for Coatlicue," said Major Carter, watching the spinning orbs of light coalesce into planets.

"Okay," said O'Neill. "But even ifYak Skin is suitable, there's still the little matter of getting everyone off Xylophone. We can fit what, maybe a dozen people at a time on that platform?" He motioned outside, in the direction of the skull pedestal.

Nicholas Ballard appeared confused by the question. "Why would you not take people directly from Xalotcan to Yaxkin?"

O'Neill stared at him. "And exactly how would we do that?"

"Hopefully, through the British or Paris skull," said Daniel Jackson.

"How do we know which one goes where?" asked Major Carter.

Daniel Jackson pointed to the lights on the holographic planets.

General Hammond walked in and placed an instrument box on the table. "The British crystal skull will be here tomorrow morning. The additional items that Dr Jackson thought would be useful should also be here by then."

Jack looked up gratefully. "How did you manage that, General? It's Christmas Eve." With any luck, Hammond's arrival would put an end to Carter's unabridged version of how leopards and mutants passed through everything. No matter how dense.

"I've called in more favors this past week than I care to think about." Hammond joined Daniel and Dabruzzi hovering over Carter's computer. "Vow, Major, exactly how does it work?"

Okay, maybe not. Jack turned to watch the lights flashing across the wall. What the hell was all this stuff, anyway? Part of the main computer?

"It's a basic Conservation of Energy Law, sir." Carter pointed to some squiggly things on the screen. "If energy is not emitted when neutrons decay into protons and electrons, then it must be emitting muon neutrinos and electron antineutrinos. In highenergy muon colliders - which is what the pyramid on P7X-377 appears to be - radiation is released when the escaping energy reacts with surrounding material, in our case, well ...us. The more intense the decay, the stronger the negative reaction. That's what caused - "

Hammond held up his hand to forestall her. "I just want the basics, Major."

"Yes, sir," said Carter, dropping her hand. "Okay, we know that the Stargate is like a giant superconductor that deconstructs an object at a subatomic level then sends a charged energy stream through the wormhole, and reconstructs it at the other end. Before sending matter anywhere, the crystal skulls trigger a molecular phase-shift which, among other things, renders the objects, or people, invisible to most of the electromagnetic spectrum."

"That would explain why no one could see me, even with infrared scanners," said Daniel.

"Exactly." Carter nodded. "Once phase-shifted, exciting the matter at just the right frequency in one resonating chamber sets up a parallel state in another chamber elsewhere in the universe."

"The caverns within or beneath the pyramids," said Hammond.

"That's right, sir. Imagine a tuning fork that's set to produce a frequency of, say, two hundred and fifty-six cycles a second."

"I'm sorry?" Hammond frowned.

"Middle C, sir. I doesn't matter what frequency, it's just an example. If you strike the fork, without making physical contact with other nearby forks, those set with the same natural frequency will vibrate in sympathetic resonance. Forks set to a different frequency won't. We know how to measure sound waves so we understand the process, but we can't measure, except by deduction, the resonance between these chambers."

Jack turned to her. "So the pyramid on P7X-377 is a honkin' great tuning fork?"

"Much more than that, sir. As Daniel said, it's also the primary power supply and network hub. Instead of different frequencies, each appears to use slightly different quantum states to transport phase-shifted matter through subspace."

"I'm not sure I follow," said Dabruzzi, scratching the wound on his face.

"Really?" Jack shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at him.

"I'm a geophysicist, not a quantum physicist."

"I thought you were a volcanologist."

"Same thing, more or less."

"If it's that sophisticated," said Jack. "You'd think they could have done something about all the shaking and rattling, like maybe adding a few shock absorbers." He looked down at the machine still parked on the floor of the lab. Generator for the X-302, huh. He hoped the engineers who'd built the '301 hadn't made this one, too.

"The network's obviously fallen into disrepair," Carter replied. "Just as a singer with perfect pitch can crack glass, the vibrations act with an almost explosive force."

Daniel was nodding. "Explaining why the temple in Belize and the cave and excavation tunnel at Teotihuacan collapsed."

"We had a similar problem on a smaller scale with the `gate. That's why we added frequency dampeners."

Dabruzzi looked skeptical. "How come when you're out of phase you can walk through walls, but you don't fall through the floor?"

Jack looked up. "Yeah, y'know, I've often wondered about that."

Carter shot him an odd look, but Daniel said, "Because you choose not to. I wasn't in that state very long but while I had no control over solid matter, I did have control over where I perceived myself to be in relation to things. I was used to seeing things from a certain height above the floor, so that's where I...was. It took me a while to figure out I could walk through walls, and then when I jumped down onto the floor, Sam heard me, so there is some interactivity with this world. I guess if I'd remained in that state long enough I could have learned to interact with matter and make it do things, and...I don't know, levitate or something."

"Cool." Jack sat on the edge of a stool. "Does that mean when we turn into anti-Nintendo mutants, I get to fly around?"

A smile tugged at Carter's lips. "No, sir. When you arrive, the resonating chamber reintegrates your particles, just like what happens at the other end of a Stargate-generated wormhole. In some ways the technology is more advanced than the Stargate, but in other aspects, it's not as efficient. I'd have to say it was created to perform a similar function by an equally advanced but entirely different race."

Daniel readjusted his glasses. "Convergent evolution. I don't think there's much doubt it was the Furlings."

"Which skull sends you where?" said Hammond.

"Each of the five planets in the map room on P7X-377 have one rose light and four other colored lights," explained Daniel. "The rose light represents skulls like the one Nick found in Belize. These send travelers to the hub on P7X-377."

Carter picked up a small block of clear crystal. Prismatic rainbow colors danced in the light. "The other skulls are also colored, although each is permanently set to a specific `frequency'. By noting which colored lights on the holographic maps are absent, we've deduced that the yellow British skull takes travelers to Yaxkin. However, once the evacuation is complete, we can't return to Earth from either Xalotcan or Yaxkin because we don't have the green skull. That's why we also needed the one that Dr Ballard found."

"So you can return here via P7X-377." Hammond opened the box he'd brought with him and withdrew the rose crystal skull. "The Smithsonian would like it returned in one piece."

"General, we really need to check out Yak Skin before we go taking anyone there," said Jack.

"I agree. That's why I'm authorizing you to return to P7X377. By the time you report back here, we should have everything you need to begin the evacuation."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

he billowing dust began to dissipate. Something fluttered overhead, sending small pebbles to the ground. Teal'c instinctively lifted his staff weapon. Eyes narrowing against the bright sunlight, he saw three brightly colored birds clutching the edges of a hole in the roof. Daniel Jackson sneezed. The birds squawked fearfully then flew outside.

Major Carter looked around the interior of the huge domed structure. "It's enormous!" Her voice echoed off the walls.

They were standing on a mound of dirt that had accumulated beneath the hole. O'Neill's boots clumped hollowly as he stepped down and made his way to a wide, open doorway. "Smells old," he observed.

Teal'c followed. Small lizards and insects scurried out of his path, taking refuge amidst the rubble. Here and there, weedy plants grew through the cracked terracotta floor.

"Over here." Daniel Jackson veered towards what appeared to be a second entrance. The closed doors might once have been pigmented in bright colors, but it was difficult to tell, for the deleterious effects of time and weather had taken their toll. "It looks like this place was purpose-built to transfer large numbers of people. You see these inscriptions on the posts?"

"Okay, Daniel," said O'Neill. "You stay here and find out what happened. Carter, work out where you want to put the skull so we can get back. Teal'c, you're with me."

They emerged from the rotunda into an even larger, covered plaza. "Tollana meets the Louvre - except fifty times larger," said O'Neill, looking up and around the inside of a glass pyramid that exceeded the dimensions of a Goa'uld mother ship.

Most of the glass panes were discolored or broken, and thick vines curled up and around the metal framework. Numerous birds and small animals had found a home amongst the vegetation.

O'Neill donned his sunglasses. "Let's check outside."

They spent several hours exploring the nearby buildings. Of the people who had once inhabited the city, there was no sign, nor was there any indication of what had befallen them. The only damage they saw had not come from any battle, or catastrophe such as an earthquake or flood, but from the encroachment of plants and animals.

When they returned, Major Carter was building a cairn of broken tiles on the mound in the center of the rotunda. Daniel Jackson squatted by the furthermost doorway, examining the glyphs.

"Find anything useful?" O'Neill asked.

Daniel Jackson spun around. "Oh... ah, well, the name of the city was Picari. Their language is based on a form of ancient Mayan, similar to early Orban -"

"Do I need to know this, Daniel?"

"Uhm...I guess not, except they were definitely the same people who built Teotihuacan. From what I've read so far, they continued to use the skull network for six centuries after leaving Earth. But the really interesting thing," he said excitedly, "is that they used the network to trade with worlds outside those we saw in the map room!"

"That's nice. But what happened to them?"

"I was just getting to that. See here." Daniel Jackson pointed to the glyphs on a lichen-encrusted panel beside the door. "The Aztec priests from Earth arrived through the skull and, professing to have no knowledge of the Goa'uld, made friends and then returned to Earth. A short time later, thousands of warriors began arriving through the skull. The first thing the warriors did was take control of the skull transport system here in Picari, so the people of Yaxkin couldn't send word to the other worlds for help. Then Coatlicue arrived by ship, and, well, you can pretty much guess what happened next."

"We saw no evidence of any fighting in this city," said Teal'c.

`Because Coatlicue hadno weapons, she was relying on the sheer number and ferocity of the Aztec warriors. The people here had no experience in warfare or fighting, but they did have an advanced understanding of biotechnology. They employed a racially specific bioweapon, a pox." Daniel Jackson ran his hand along the bottom line of glyphs. "Unfortunately, the virus mutated so that everyone, not just the Aztecs, eventually became infected. The Picari elders left this note as a warning to any incoming travelers."

O'Neill frowned. "Virus. Great."

"No, it's okay Jack. The warning is about the Goa'uld. The people who inscribed this message knew that once the last of them died, the disease would die with them."

"Are you sure about that? You know how I feel about bugs, Daniel, especially the small kind."

"Yes, sir." Major Carter walked down the mound and joined them. "Although a virus isn't exactly a bug, poxes are species specific. That's how the WHO were able to wipe out smallpox on Earth, by eradicating it in the human population."

"So we have an empty planet. Sweet!" O'Neill turned to Major Carter. "You find any of the skulls?"

Daniel Jackson pointed to the mound. "According to the text, they're under there, encased in something that would take a nuke to open. The elders did that to prevent any of their own people spreading the plague off world." He walked across to another set of glyphs. "See here? Coatlicue also brought in a Stargate. I think this is the planet she used as a base."

"'Gate?" O'Neill's interest was evident. "Why wouldn't the Yak Skins have used that to get off the planet?"

"Perhaps they did not know how," said Teal'c.

"Where is it?"

"I haven't figured out their map system, yet," replied Daniel Jackson. "Could take me a while to locate it."

"All right, we'll keep it in mind." O'Neill looked around the dome once more. "What do you think, Carter? Can we use this place to evacuate everyone?"

Major Carter looked uncertain. "Teal'c, how big was that cave you saw beneath the Pyramid of the Sun on Earth?"

Teal'c examined the room. "I believe it was approximately this size."

"Assuming the cave beneath the Pyramid of the Sun on Xalotcan is the same, we could probably move up to two thousand people at a time. Problem is, sir, the dome is badly cracked. I'm not sure how much more shaking it can take."

Daniel Jackson shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Remember when the `gate on Earth was hit with an energy charge, you and Jack were redirected to the one in Antarctica?"

"We were deflected there," said Major Carter.

"Wodeski didn't arrive beneath the Pyramid of the Sun on Xalotcan, he arrived in the tzompantli, the skull cave, beneath the Pyramid of the Moon, because that's where four of the skulls were hidden."

"Then why didn't you and Teal'c arrive there?"

"Because Wodeski removed the skulls. Teal'c and I arrived in a cave beneath the Pyramid of Quetzalcoatl. That can only mean one of two things. Wodeski either hid them there, which I very much doubt, or-"

"A fifth skull is hidden somewhere inside that pyramid," said Major Carter.

"And? So?" O'Neill said impatiently.

"Sir, if this dome fails," replied Major Carter, "people will be diverted elsewhere."

"There is a large pyramid structure just outside," Teal'c pointed to the open doorway.

Major Carter nodded. "That would probably do it, sir."

"Okay, Major, set up the skull," said O'Neill. "The sooner we get back, the sooner we can begin the evacuation."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

on't even think it, Carter," snapped O'Neill. "Or, so help me, I'll have you busted to lieutenant!"

Sam was having her own issues with the long skirt and complex headdress that Daniel and General Hammond had wangled from the conveners of the Aztec sound and light show in Mexico. "This is worse than the Shavadai dress on P3X-593."

"You look fabulous, Major." Dabruzzi's gaze was frankly admiring.

Her scowl had no effect on him.

"He's right," said Daniel, who sported a square sunshade of feathers in the heraldic pattern of the Quetzalcoatl bird. The `shade was held in place by a frame across his back and fastened to a breastplate covered in red and green feathers. "It's so...you!"

"Although the P90 spoils the effect," said Dabruzzi thoughtfully. "Maybe you should - "

Sam's scowl turned deadly. Bad enough that they were going to a hostile planet dressed, as the Colonel said, like a bunch of feathered Chinese New Year dragons; no way she was going unarmed. "Do I have to wear it exactly like this?"

"TheAztec civilization was an imperialistic hegemony," replied Daniel. "You dressed according to your station or suffered grave, usually fatal, consequences. It was different when you were in mufti, as it were, but this is an official second coming. We have to keep up appearances."

"When in Rome, huh?" said O'Neill.

Sam finished tucking the last of the C4 detonators inside her shirt, and then looked around at the others.

If Daniel's outfit was fetching and Teal'c's magnificent, the Colonel looked, well, amazing. He was wearing at least twice as much gold as anyone else, and his feather headdress was half as big again as Daniel's sunshade.

"It itches," O'Neill griped as he finished packing hand grenades, knives, small packets of C4, P90 magazines and a zat gun into various pockets inside his floor-length green quetzal-feather cape. "And Fraiser made me take anotherAlka-Seltzer."

"Acetazolamide," correct Dabruzzi, who was dressed as a jaguar warrior.

Reaching down to Jack's loincloth, embroidered with the Mayan version of the feathered-serpent god, Daniel said, "All you have to do is adjust the apron part of the maxtlatl - "

"Ah!" O'Neill snapped. He jerked away. "I've been peeing all by myself for... a long time."

Sam turned to hide her grin. Acetazolamide worked as a prophylactic against altitude sickness by flushing CO2 from their blood, which pushed their kidneys into overdrive. Maxtlatls didn't come with buttons or zips, and it had taken the Colonel half an hour to put it on.

"So, what's the word for facilities?" asked O'Neill.

"Chinampitl," replied Daniel. "You'll see them everywhere, they look like tall wicker baskets. It's interesting, because the name actually derives from the word for reclaimed farmland. They use human manure to fertilize the gardens, so - "

"Daniel!" The Colonel threw him a particularly stony glare.

"Uhm...okay, well, all right everyone." Daniel turned to face the room. "Final position check."

In addition to Dabruzzi, who had insisted that he just had to see a planet in the process of tectonic self-destruction, eight Marines would accompany SG-1 to Xalotcan. Quetzalcoatl was expected to arrive with an entourage, so the Marines were dressed as jaguar and eagle warriors, the elite forces loyal to both Tzcatlipoca and Tonatui. That would give the impression that `Quetzalcoatl' had power over both major gods. Although Chalchiuhtlicue didn't feature in the end-of-the-world scenarios, with the Goa'uld Coatlil- cue/Chalchiuhtlicue dead, Sam's presence as the `true and merciful' Chalchiuhtlicue could be decisive.

"When we arrive," Daniel said. "Four Marines - two jaguar and two eagle warriors - will carry the quetzal-feather canopy over Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter, Dr Dabruzzi and myself. Teal'c will take point and look... well, like you usually look, Teal'c."

"He means fierce," clarified the Colonel needlessly.

Teal'c inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"Two more jaguar Marines will take up formation ten feet in front," continued Daniel. "The last two eagle Marines will be ten feet to the rear. Only Teal'c and I are expected to talk, so ignore anyone if they speak to you."

One of the Marines, a sergeant named Welch, shot the Colonel an uncertain look. "So ... Quetzal is the Grim Reaper, right?"

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "No! Quetzalcoatl's return does not cause the end of the world. He promised he would return at the end of the world, to take his people to Omeyocan, or Heaven. The real Quetzalcoatl has asked Colonel O'Neill to do just that."

"What about this guy we're after, Wodeski? Isn't he pretending to be one of these Goa'uld?" Welch looked confused.

"Wodeski doesn't know what a Goa'uld is," replied Daniel. "But yes, he's masquerading as the god Tzcatlipoca, who we think is a Goa'uld due to arrive on the moon in three days. Wodeski's presence there now is actually to our benefit. By openly vanquishing `Tzcatlipoca', Colonel O'Neill - Quetzalcoatl - will have fulfilled one of the principal end-of-the-world prophecies. This should convince more people to follow him. And Wodeski won't be hard to find. During Nemontemi, Tzcatlipoca remains in his temple on the Pyramid of the Moon."

"Once we have Professor Wodeski," said Sam. "We'll set up the crystal skull in one of caves beneath the Pyramid of the Sun and begin transporting people to Yaxkin."

"And if the Goa'uld turn up, or they're already there?" Welch asked.

The Colonel was tying the last strap on his rubber sandal. "We don't have the luxury of time to wait until after they've gone," he said. "The Goa'uld are only as powerful as their Jaffa armies. None of the Jaffa we encountered had staff weapons, and they'd sooner work for Quetzalcoatl, so we should expect some support."

"Which is exactly what you're meant to convey." Daniel gestured to the Marines' eagle and jaguar costumes. "However, it's just a show of support. Prophecy says this final battle is between the gods, not their armies."

"These Goa'uld," said Sam, "are not able to sustain the host's bodies as well as other Goa'uld, and they don't have sarcophagi. We expect them to be old, and more susceptible to injury and death."

"Okay," said O'Neill. "Let's go." He edged sideways out of the door, cautiously trying to keep his headdress in place.

"Remember," Daniel added during the walk to the `gate room. "In the same way that our civilization revolves around economy, theirs revolves around ritual. Every building, every painting and sculpture, the clothes they wear, even how they fight is governed by religious doctrine. If we can maintain the illusion that Colonel O'Neill is Quetzalcoatl, they'll abandon their worship of the Goa'u1d, leave everything they own and move to a new world without batting an eyelid."

"No pressure," muttered O'Neill.

General Hammond followed them into the `gate room. When the vortex stabilized, he met the eyes of each of them in turn. There'd been other missions, more important, certainly more lives at stake, but there was something about this one that seemed... different. Sam couldn't quite place it until the General said, "On this day two thousand and one years ago, a child was born who brought with Him the hope of peace on Earth and goodwill to all men. Regardless of your religious convictions, this mission embodies the spirit of Christmas at its most fundamental level. Merry Christmas everyone, and God speed."

On the walkway from the Stargate to the pyramid on P7X-377, Sam pulled out her hand-held radiation detector, hoping to measure the decay rate of leptons; it would determine the exact type of energy being given off. Minutes later they were inside, and Daniel was staring into the eyes of the rose crystal skull. The by now familiar energy wind and spiraling golden light whipped out from the skull and enveloped them. She was still adjusting the settings when a dark emerald green replaced the disturbing, other-dimensional pyramid walls. The familiar stench attacked her olfactory nerves, triggering some really, really bad memories. Not altitude sickness then, and not fungi; surely not smell alone.

One of the Marines inhaled sharply. Dabruzzi was staring at the readout on his hand sensor. A verdant pallor had replaced his nutbrown tan. "Sub-harmonics really add to the sensorium," he said in a cracked whisper. "The magma chamber's emitting a frequency below the audible range of hearing - at just the right pitch to send cats mad, dogs howling, and people into those snug white jackets with straps."

"Suck it up, everyone," O'Neill ordered. "Do not adjust the controls on your television set. The creeped-out feeling you are experiencing is all in your mind."

"Or magma," quipped Dabruzzi.

Now that Sam understood what was causing her anxiety, she could deal with it and concentrate on assessing their surroundings. The cavern was as Daniel had described, complete with the bouquet of death and the fire priests throwing themselves onto the ground before them. An additional feature was a collection of headless corpses sprawled haphazardly across the blood-soaked ground. Tremors shook the cavern, and a deep, keening sound, the sort that would have made most people's blood freeze, emanated from the fire priests.

"Oh...crap," Daniel said. "I was afraid of this."

"Which particular this, would that be, Daniel?" demanded O'Neill.

"The sacrifices. The increased tectonic activity and sense of terror has prompted them to start mass sacrifices to all of the gods, even Quetzalcoatl. They're hoping to stave off the end of the world."

Dabruzzi glanced up. Sam's eyes followed - to the cracks in the roof and walls of the immense cavern. "Sir, I really think we should leave."

"Not sir." Daniel sent her a warning look. "Quetzalcoatl."

"Right." Had to remember that.

"Quetzalcoatl returns!" Teal'c's deep voice echoed ominously. He stepped forward, prompting the filthy fire priests to scurry backwards. "Rise, so that he may lead the chosen to Omeyocan before your world is destroyed!"

A peppering of large rocks crashed to the floor as yet another quake hit. It was too much for the fire priests, who panicked and fled the chamber crying out Quetzalcoatl's name. Their voices carried the mortal terror that Sam had heard on too many planets dominated by Goa'uld. Judgment Day had arrived on Xalotcan.

"Okay, move!" O'Neill ordered when whole chunks of the ceiling began to fall.

"This way." Teal'c led them up through a bewildering maze of passages and richly decorated rooms. Gold ornaments andpieces of once-bright murals lay scattered across the ground between fallen rocks. Dust filled the air, and masonry shuddered and creaked dangerously. Daniel sneezed and then sneezed again as they pushed past fresh corpses.

Finally, they were outside in a narrow courtyard flanked by tall walls. They dusted themselves down and unfurled the canopy of quetzal-feathers.

"Car - Chalchi," said the Colonel softly. "Okay?"

She nodded.

"Daniel?"

"Wind-feather," Daniel corrected, straightening his sunshade.

"And Jaguar-claw," Dabruzzi reminded them, pulling his jaguar `helmet' over his face.

O'Neill did a double take. "Jaguar-claw?"

"What, you don't like it?"

"It just seems a little ... pretentious."

Dabruzzi looked the Colonel up and down. The expression on O'Neill's face conceded the point.

The sounds of voices, hundreds, thousands of gaily chattering voices filtered over the top of whitewashed stone walls. Sam tried to get a glimpse, but all she could see were rows and rows of thatched roofs and adobe buildings. Every few hundred feet the skyline was broken by taller ziggurat structures, each one alive with activity. The upper steps looked to be decorated with wine-red rugs, somewhat frayed at the edges. Then her stomach clenched. Not rugs, blood. Sam swallowed and looked up. Above it all hung a bruised and ocher sky.

Teal'c led them along a narrow passage. The ground was covered in tiny, pockmarked pebbles. Ominous rumblings came from within the pyramid. The cavern had probably collapsed; they had got out just in time. Of greater concern were the caverns beneath the Pyramid of the Sun. With the Stargate inaccessible, the skull transport system was their only way to evacuate the planet.

They turned the comer, walked past a row of stone featheredserpent heads, and emerged in the huge sunken plaza of the Citadel.

Abruptly, everything went quiet. It was like walking out into a football stadium, except that everyone - those milling around inside and the tens of thousands on the surrounding platforms - were staring at them in absolute, chilling silence. No one moved, no one seemed to breathe, not even a baby cried. The Colonel shot her a worried look; the Citadel was a natural trap, a killing ground.

One of the feculent fire priests broke the silence. "Abase yourselves before Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue!"

A sea of cloth and gold and feathers instantly moved to obey. It was a spectacular motion of color, but like O'Neill and the Marines, Sam was more interested in the behavior of the hundreds of jaguar and eagle warriors across the platforms and along the steps of the surrounding pyramids. They bowed low, but they did not abase themselves. Quetzalcoatl was a god, but he was not their god.

The Marines stood perfectly still, as stonily indifferent as Daniel had warned them they must be. But Sam felt their tension. No mistake now, the red on the steps of the pyramids was blood, huge pools of blood. Sam had seen death before, and carnage that would have sickened the hardiest of soldiers. But the horror here resided in the atmosphere of manic celebration. This wasn't some unspeakable war crime, but a gigantic, citywide festival of death.

Merry Christmas.

A plume of gray ash boiled out of Popocatepetl. Moments later, the noise reached them and a deep shudder rolled underfoot. Then a light peppering hit their canopy. Tiny pebbles fell to the ground, joining others already there. A disturbing moan flowed across the crowd. Sam wanted to ask Dabruzzi what the spongy-looking stones were, but he was staring at his instrument. The volcanologist was still an unhealthy shade of porcelain. Sam wasn't sure if it was because of the readings he was getting, the blinding sense of panic set up by the subliminal harmonics, or the gothic horror they had walked into.

Teal'c called out in the powerful voice of an orator, "Quetzalcoatl has come to lead those who would follow him to Omeyocan!"

The crowd shifted slightly, collectively indecisive.

"Raise your eyes so that you may see." Daniel pointed to Popocatepetl, and then gestured to the mountains surrounding the valley. Despite the haze there was no mistaking it; at least three more mountains were belching thick smoke. "Oc ye nechca," Daniel continued. "Once upon a time, Tlaloc, the god of rain, sent to you the gift of life. But the tlaloque spirits have become angered. Two weeks ago they sent fire sticks to burst open the floating water skins in the First Heaven. Then Tonatui in his rage turned his face from the world and the tlaloque spirits made the water hard and cold, like rocks. Now Mictlantecuhtli, god of the Underworld, sends his spirits to rain fire-rocks upon you, as he shakes in anger beneath your feet, tearing the world asunder. Meztli, the great world in the sky, has cast you from his breast. This time, he will not call you back!"

Popocatepetl chose that moment to belch another cloud of ash into the churning sky. "No amount of blood," Daniel continued. "Not the hearts of a million xochimiqui will change the tonali, the fate of this world, for the gods will do battle one last time, and only those amongst you who renounce them will know the promise of Quetzalcoatl!"

Daniel began to walk, a signal for them to move out. The crowds parted and the noise of conversation, desperate and argumentative, increased in tempo. The Marines dressed as eagle warriors climbed the steps out of the Citadel, leading them on the long walk up the Avenue of the Dead. The fire priests scurried ahead and took up point. They were not about to pass up an opportunity for self-aggrandizement.

Word spread quickly. Quetzalcoatl's arrival confirmed that this indeed was the end of the fifth and final world. Each man must now choose his tonali, his fate in the world of the dead. Until Quetzalcoatl confronted Tzcatlipoca, many would rush to the pyramids dedicated to the hundred other gods. Here they would demand to die at the hands of the fire priests, their hearts offered to a lesser god as payment so that they might enter one of the lower realms of Omeyocan. Even more would beg to be sacrificed on the apexes of the Pyramid of the Moon and the Pyramid of the Sun. They believed this would ensure their entry to Tezcatlipoca's or Tonatui's Omeyocan - conditional on one of them winning the coming battle. Or they could heed Daniel's words; that only those who forswore all other gods but Quetzalcoatl and abandoned the bloody rituals of sacrifice, would be saved.

Long lines of men, barefoot and dressed in simple white maxtlatls, stood on the steps of the smaller ziggurats like kids waiting for a carnival ride. They weren't going to risk their modest place in a lower heaven by gambling with their soul and backing one of the bigger gods.

Down in the Avenue, thousands of men and women, peasants and nobles alike, laughed and danced, intoxicated by religious ecstasy. Lines of people churned in and out, moving to the sounds of some unheard rhythm. Sam felt like she'd been thrust into a nightmare Mardi Gras. "Why aren't women queuing to be sacrificed?" she whispered to Daniel.

"Women can't enter Omeyocan unless they die in childbirth."

An absurdly relieved anger rippled through Sam. That cruel chauvinism might keep the women alive long enough to be evacuated to the new world; one where any new belief structure would include a Heaven open to all.

It also made her promise to Two-water seem that much more poignant.

The rain of spongy pebbles increased. "What is that stuff?" the Colonel asked Dabruzzi.

The volcanologist's frown deepened. "It's pumice, a frothy dacite rock. Imagine shaking a soda bottle then freezing the bubbles as they shoot out. It's small stuff, but along with this ash," he motioned to the soft rain of gray flakes, "enough of it can bury a city."

Sam looked up at Popocatepetl. Her instincts demanded that she turn and run from its brooding, malignant presence, but she stared at it determinedly. Fear had never interfered with her reasoning before; she wasn't about to let it do so now.

Beside her, O'Neill's face bore an intense look of concentration, and his nostrils quivered. "Son of a..." His fractured voice was a warning. Above the stench of hydrogen sulfide gas and coppery blood was an enticing smell, like roasting flesh. But according to Daniel, these people didn't have cows or pigs and rarely ate meat. Instead they harvested frogs and tadpoles, and snacked on cicadas. Which meant they were cooking and eating...

Teal'c's back stiffened. The Marines gripped the frame of the canopy until their knuckles where white. Dabruzzi moaned softly and Daniel suppressed a gag. The festive images fell away, exposing the true horror beneath. "Oh, God," Sam whispered. Chaotic ill-formed memories surfaced. The desire of the Hunt, the madness of Artemis, flooded her senses.

The Colonel's voice pulled her back from the waking nightmare. Again. "Carter."

"I'm fine, sir." Her voice was soft and sibilant, like the delicate rain of ash and cinders.

"I'm not," Daniel whispered.

"Me neither." Dabruzzi sounded ill.

There were squabbles in the sacrificial lines, people pushing and shoving, anxious to enter Omeyocan before the gods did battle, or before the world ended - soon, if the increasing intensity of quakes was any indication.

Concentrate on the plan. Sure, she could do that. Find Wodeski; publicly depose him and then they could put a halt to this dark rapture of a world gone horribly insane.

"This is just day three," Daniel reminded them. "They did this every fifty-two years for six straight days."

"And they all..." Sam stopped. She knew the answer. They all ate, even children like Two-water. For a brief, manic moment she wanted to abandon the Xalotcans to their fate. But they were just as much victims as any others that the Goa'uld had enslaved. She clung to her sanity by focusing solely on the job at hand. Right now, that meant constantly reevaluating their position, noting the regularity of the intersections, examining the side roads and taller buildings for possible strategic withdrawal and defensible locations. Daniel's observations were different but equally important; they focused on people.

"The fire priests are each dedicated to a particular god. These guys," Daniel eyed the priests in front, "the ones in the temple when we arrived, are Tzcatlipoca's, dressed up in their Nemontemi finest."

"And that means?" O'Neill demanded softly.

"Sunday best."

"And that means?" the Colonel repeated.

"The bodies in the cavern were priests dedicated to Quetzalcoatl. They probably tried to stop these fire priests from sacrificing anyone to...you." Daniel lowered his voice. "Remember how Sergeant Welch thought Quetzalcoatl's return caused the end of the world? Coatlicue encouraged these people to think the same thing. That's why the fire priests loyal to Tzcatlipoca sent sacrifices to the `gate for Quetzalcoatl. They hoped it would stop you from coming."

"But they told everyone to bow to Quetzalcoatl," said Sam.

"Doesn't mean squat." The Colonel's eyes scoured the buildings lining the streets, alert for an ambush. "Obsequiousness is a survival trait."

The crowds wove around them like flocks of noisy parrots - or perhaps, vultures. Daniel glanced back and said, "On Earth, on the last night of Nemontemi, after the mortal form of Tzcatlipoca had a fire kindled in his chest, the priests waited until they could see the Pleiades before declaring their world safe for another fiftytwo years. Then everyone returned to their villages with the new fire, and the cycle of birth and death began again. Here, the fire priests most likely deduce Xalotcan's position relative to their orbit around Meztli."

Sam looked up. "By tomorrow night they'll see that it's continuing to decay."

They passed another intersection, one hundred and eighty seven feet after the previous one, exactly the same distance from the intersection prior to that; another reminder of the meticulous town planning. But not by these people, who had slaughtered the original inhabitants in the name of their Goa'uld gods.

"By tomorrow they won't be seeing anything," said Dabruzzi. "These ash clouds are going to get a whole lot worse."

Perhaps it was her imagination, but the putrid gasses and sense of malevolence coming from the volcano seemed to grow worse. A pack of Chihuahuas snarled at one another like angry rats, not because of the lack of food, but because of the thing that tore at the edges of their psyches, demanding that they run howling in mindless terror from this ineluctable reality.

Dabruzzi made some morbidly flippant comment, and O'Neill said, "That was in bad taste."

Daniel's nose wrinkled. "That was in bad taste, Jack."

"That's what I said!"

The Colonel and Daniel continued one of their unique and seemingly pointless word plays, but Sam was oddly grateful; it distracted her from things that pounded at the edges of her memory, demanding to run free, as Artemis had demanded she run free.

"How long are these soundless sound waves going to keep transmitting the heebie jeebies?" the Colonel asked Dabruzzi.

"Not long, now."

"Good." Daniel's voice was stiff; he was rigidly fighting to maintain control. Sam wondered if he was beset by the same memories that plagued her.

"Not good. The seismic waves are intensifying, and the frequency is increasing." Dabruzzi's eyes were glued to his sensor, focused on events that could be measured and understood.

O'Neill's eyes flickered. "And that's bad because...?"

"Popo is about to erupt."

"About? Can you be a little more specific?"

"An hour, a day, but when she goes we should be safe, at least for a while." Dabruzzi gestured to the hills behind the Temple of the Moon. "There's a series of ridge lines and the Stargate valley between us and the volcano."

"I feel so much better," O'Neill said under his breath.

They arrived at the base of the Pyramid of the Sun. Two rows of men, all young and fit, stood either side of the river of blood that oozed down the steps. Daniel tried to keep walking, but the crowds closed in ahead of them, expectant. The fire priests stopped and looked up. "Tzcatlipoca!" they called in unison, pointing to the top.

"Cat Lips?" said the Colonel, following their gaze. "I thought this was Tonto's place?"

"You mean Tonatui."

"That's what I said."

Sam looked up. It was hard to see around the quetzal canopy over their heads, to the top of the Pyramid of the Sun. "The Goa'uld Tzcatlipoca, or Wodeski?"

Daniel's expression soured. "The fire priests have already identified Wodeski as Tzcatlipoca. The professor doesn't know the Goa'uld are real, so he must be claiming dominion over both the sun - Tonatui - and Meztli."

"So what?" prompted the Colonel.

"Deposing Wodeski will give you immediate dominion over both Tonatui and Tzcatlipoca's followers. That will convert the rest of the population."

Daniel began to climb the pyramid, seemingly oblivious to the foul puddles that sucked at his sandaled feet. Clouds of displaced flies buzzed in the air. "This is it," he added in a low voice. "It's a one-way journey up here for all but the guards and fire priests."

Eagle warriors stood in clusters on the steps, making no move to stop them. In the near distance on the Pyramid of the Moon, they could see jaguar warriors guarding more queues of sacrificial victims.

Leaving the noise of the crowded streets behind, they climbed the over-large steps. At each level the silence grew more telling until the entire world seemed to be holding its collective breath. Even Popocatepetl had gone ominously quiet.

It would have been hard going in the ratified atmosphere, but Daniel had warned them to take their time. Their slow progress meant that people throughout the city would continue to die at the hands of the fire priests, but it was imperative that they maintained the illusion of confidence and regality.

When they neared the apex, a lone voice called from the top, ` Ayya pocheoa!"

"Wodeski." Daniel's voice was flat with anger.

"What did he say?" O'Neill asked.

"Fart."

"As in...?"

"Flatulence."

"Well, that's not...nice." The Colonel's fingers slowly curled into a fist.

From above, Wodeski screamed, "Kill them. Kill them all!"

Sam tensed. Nobody moved except them. Even the flies had stopped buzzing them.

Daniel reached the last step. "Don't be a fool, Professor. Everyone knows this is between you and Quetzalcoatl."

His eyes red with gloating and madness, Wodeski's screeched, "Mine! It's mine, not yours!

"Your what?" Daniel walked onto the tennis-court sized apex of the Pyramid of the Sun.

At the rear of the platform was an elaborate wooden temple. Fire priests stood at the entrance, staring at them in hungry anticipation. Sam's eyes were drawn to the globs of blood clustered like sores on Wodeski's unshaven cheeks.

"You're insane," Daniel whispered. The Colonel stepped up beside him.

Wodeski laughed shrilly. Behind her, Sam heard Dabruzzi's muffled grunt. The professor's gums and lips were also bloodied. Her vision tunneled and she began to sway. Artemis had tried to twist her mind the same way. She remembered, felt the desire to eat -

Far below, the tiny dogs cut through the silence with shrill howls of terror.

Then all at once, it stopped. And something in her mind snapped.

The veil of madness that had tried to claim her, vanished, and a calming boost of adrenaline washed away the strange fugue. She noticed the same subtle alteration in the others. The weird seismic waves must have stopped. That meant -

"Professor," Daniel's voice was deceptively composed.

"Tzcatlipocaf' Wodeski's eyes bugged in rage.

O'Neill's face said it all. This was bullshit, and they were wasting time. He rotated slightly, to maximize the momentum behind his punch. When his fist hit Wodeski's jaw, blood sprayed out of the professor's mouth and his head snapped around hard enough to send him staggering backwards into the temple wall. He collapsed against it in a heap.

"Right, Daniel. Caves?" The Colonel dropped his hand and flexed his fingers.

From the fire priests came a desolate keening that extended across the Avenue. They raised their obsidian and chalcedony knives and then threw themselves at the Colonel. The madness in them obviously was a little more deep-seated.

Daniel fielded the first priest, losing his sunshade in the process. The Colonel took out a second with a simple parry followed by a solid, fleshy punch. Teal'c ducked and turned, tossing a third over the side of the Pyramid. The fire priest's cry was cut off as he hit head first, his neck audibly cracking. The last one made the mistake of going for Sam, who disarmed him and shoved him face down into the sticky pool at her feet. The Marines secured the rest of the platform by firing a couple of short bursts from their P90s into the stone steps. Fragmented chips of rock scattered the sacrificial wannabes and eagle warriors.

Daniel looked out across the vast city. "Oh, my..."

Sam's eyes followed. "Wow." Now that her senses belonged exclusively to her again, she could appreciate the scale of Teotihuacan. Daniel had shown them artist's impressions of this, the City of the Gods, in its halcyon days. Except for the low, glowering sky, the reality was more detailed and less perfect, and infinitely more magnificent.

Beyond the city, the valley spread for miles in every direction. To the east was the capital city, Xalo, where she and the Colonel had taken the children just days before. It wasn't visible through the ash-filled air, but she could just make out the lake and causeway. Sam had to remind herself that both cities sat within a caldera. The explosion that had formed the crater must have been on the same scale as the eruptions that had ripped Netu apart.

A commotion below caught her attention. Hundreds of thousands of people lined the Avenue and side streets and swarmed over the smaller pyramids. The largest gathering, Quetzalcoatl's followers, were directly below them at the base of the Pyramid of the Sun. A procession of people, mostly well dressed but many in simple peasant's clothes, emerged from beneath the Pyramid of the Moon. Leading them was a particularly magnificent jaguar warrior. "Sir?" said Sam.

"Quetz, Carter."

"It's Atlatl and the children!"

The Colonel turned around to look. A brief smile crept across his face.

Daniel called out loudly, "Tzcatlipoca is vanquished. Let Quetzalcoatl lead you to Omeyocan!"

Sam wasn't sure how far Daniel's voice carried, but a ripple went through the crowd. Then it became a visible wave as people down the length of the Avenue turned to face the Pyramid of the Sun. The cry went up across the city; Tzcatlipoca had been vanquished.

"Daniel!" the Colonel reminded him. "The cave out of here?"

"Oh...right. What about the professor, we can't just leave him here?"

"More's the pity," muttered Dabruzzi.

"I will carry him," Teal'c said.

He hoisted the professor onto his shoulder like a trophy. The fire priest whom Sam had been restraining curled into a fetal ball and began to weep. He was no longer a danger to anyone; his world had ended with the victory of Quetzalcoatl over Tzcatlipoca.

They reached the bottom of the Pyramid of the Sun the same time as Atlatl's army of children and warriors arrived. Around them, the crowds were crouched in supplication, chanting, "Quetzalcoatl, Quetzalcoatl!"

Atlatl met them with a deep bow. His smile faltered when the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. Then everything began shaking violently. A ringing and wrenching sound filled the air. This time, there was nothing subliminal about it. Dabruzzi scrambled for his sensor.

"That has a familiar ring, no pun... oh, crap!" O'Neill's eyes widened as he looked up and over Sam's shoulder. "Poppa Kettle just blew his top!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ack had thought the volcano had been erupting before, but he now understood what erupting meant. Before it had been puffing smoke like a big honkin' chimney. Gray, kinda cheesy special effects, lots of smelly stuff and a dash of glowing fuchsia to give it just the right touch of brooding malevolence.

This was an eruption of an entirely different species, more along the lines of a tactical nuke versus a fistful of C4.

"Overture!" Dabruzzi's face had reacquired its normal shade of nut brown. His eyes darted between the volcano and the sensor in his hand that was spiking red all over the place.

"Overture? " Jack said, barely able to hear himself think between the noise like an F16 pulling out of a bomb run fifteen feet from his ear, and the mortal cries of a hundred thousand - give or take -Xalotcans now running in every direction. He'd always wondered about that. Why did panicked people run in every direction?

"Popo's just clearing its throat," yelled Dabruzzi with a suspiciously smug smile. "We're in no immediate danger."

Tell that to the screaming hordes. The only way he was going to get any kind of control was by sticking to the god routine. "Hold your ground!"

Jack's orders were meant for his team; but he had also spoken directly to Atlatl. The jaguar warrior averted his gaze, arguably more terrified of the consequences of looking a god in the eye, than the monumental eruption now taking place. Jack reached across and grabbed Atlatl by the arm. "Hold. Your Ground! I can save these people, but you have to do exactly as I say."

The children clutched one another and crouched low, the boys flinging their short little feather and agave capes over theirs and the girls' heads. Jack couldn't hear their cries over the noise, but he knew they were all in serious danger of being trampled. Carter fired a short burst from her P90 above the stampeding mass of human ity, but with no comprehension of what this new noise meant, most ignored her.

"Do as your god orders!" Teal'c bellowed.

Atlatl's warriors immediately sprang into action, forming a human shield to protect the children, effectively barricading a section of the Avenue. It took a few minutes, but a manic sort of order returned. People either clambered up the pyramids, determined to die for some god, any god, rather than risk death from Popo, or they scurried inside temples and buildings, pulling ash-covered cloths over the doorways and windows in the futile hope that the structures would offer some protection.

Jack looked up at the volcano. For the first time since he'd seen it, the scarred lips of the mountain were completely visible, mostly because so much stuff was shooting out at such an incredible velocity that gravity couldn't get a look in - yet. As he watched, the top of the cloud, now in the upper reaches of the atmosphere, began to boil over. Although most of it was spreading to the north, some of it spilled in their direction.

"Sooner or later we're gonna get hit with a massive rain of dacite," yelled Dabruzzi. When Jack shot him an impatient glare, he added, "Mostly pumice but there'll be big stuff with it; could cause serious injuries if we stay outside."

"We'll take cover - "

"The roofs will collapse under the weight." Dabruzzi tucked the sensor back in his jaguar-skin shirt. "Ever see that movie, The Last Days of Pompeii?"

"Yeah."

"Same thing."

"Daniel! Cave, now!" yelled Jack. He turned to three of the Marines dressed as eagle warriors. "Welch, Can, and Bradley, make sure he gets there."

Daniel pulled off his pack, withdrew a yellow instrument case, took out the crystal skull and ran up the first steps of the Pyramid of the Sun. He paused a moment to get his breath, and, holding it aloft, called loudly, "Ohtliquetzalcoatl. The Road of Quetzalcoatl!"

It was a coincidence, Jack knew, but at just that moment a shaft of miserly sunlight found a gap in the roiling clouds, and illuminated the skull. The light was channeled through the cranium, and blazed out of the eyes like twin yellow laser beams.

"The Road of Quetzalcoatl!" The words became a chant, echoing throughout the city. "Quetzalcoatl will take us to Omeyocan!"

"Atlatl," Jack said. The warrior went to kneel, but Jack grabbed his arm. "Listen! Cut the bowing and kneeling stuff, will ya? We need to get these kids to safety."

Jack had recognized the captain of the jaguar warriors back in Xalo. Atlatl was a professional soldier, same as he. Canny, middleaged, more scars on his soul than on his body. He bore the eyes of a man who had seen too many people die for no good reason. Now, as Atlatl looked at him again, Jack saw that something big had gone down these last few days. Loyalty to Quetzal had not come cheap.

Daniel ran down the steps and then disappeared around the far side of the pyramid, the three Marines dressed as eagle warriors hard on his heels.

"Lord Tzcatlipoca claimed dominion over both his and Tonatui's realms," said Atlatl. "Then he ordered your children sacrificed." The warrior's eyes slid from Jack's to Carter's, then back again. "His fire priests took their parents and cut their hearts out before my men could stop them. Then Tzcatlipoca ordered all of those who swore loyalty to Quetzalcoatl to be killed, and your temples razed." Atlatl's voice dropped as he continued, "The fire priests ordered us to defile your names so that our world would not be destroyed. We battled long and hard against Tonatui's eagle warriors until my men broke through their ranks."

Jack's stomach clenched. "Where are your sons?"

Atlatl paled. "I left them so that I could defend your children. Their throats were cut along with their mother's. But I thought..." His voice cracked in shocked disbelief. "You did not accept them into Omeyocan?"

A familiar agony, one Jack had thought carefully locked away, tore through him like shrapnel. Atlatl's loyalty to Quetzalcoatl - to him - had cost him his family. Until now the warrior had believed they were safe in death, in a Heaven run by Quetzalcoatl.

Barely aware of the children filing past, oblivious to the small pieces of pumice falling on his head and shoulders, Atlatl's expression dissolved like soft clay in the rain. The man visibly shrank in on himself, pulling Jack with him, into a place he never wanted to be in again. "You are not a god?" Atlatl whispered hoarsely.

Jack didn't have to wonder how words could be both bitter and dead at the same time.

"Quetzalcoatl, Chalchi! Chocolati Quetzalcoatl!"

He was suddenly aware of the kids, his kids, including Whiteowl and Two-water, crowding around them. Atlatl stared at him with the same expression Teal'c had worn on Chulak, after turning on his fellow Jaffa and killing them, abandoning a lifetime of indoctrination.

Atlatl looked lost.

The seconds passed while a silent moment of truth moved between them. "I.. promised them there would be chocolati in Omeyocan," Atlatl said, absently placing a battle-scarred hand on Two-water's head.

The little girl looked up at them with wide, solemn eyes. Whiteowl's brow furrowed in uncertainty. The cheeky, playful demands from the children fell away into quiet obedience. Their parents had been butchered, and they hadplaced their faith in Jack to save them. But something was wrong.

Being a god sucked.

Avoiding Carter's knowing eyes, he said, "Hey, kids? How about you go with Chalchi. I'll catch up."

When the children were out of earshot, he turned to Atlatl_ "I can't bring back your family anymore than I could bring back my own son. But I can save these children, and l can save your people, if you'll help me." His voice was low but heartfelt. It was all he had to give. "Omeyocan is not some world of the dead, it's a world where people can live. But only if we move, now." He pointed overhead. Eerie, purple inkiness was spreading across the sky, enveloping the gray clouds.

His eyes shifting to Teal'c, who was standing on the other side of the line of children heading for the pyramid, Atlatl said, "The Jaffa wears your mark."

Behind the children, the guys lined up for sacrifice had been squatting on the steps of the pyramid, their heads bowed, waiting for the inevitable. Now that the first waves of panic had subsided, they began to stand and look around. Cat Lips, a god, was slung like a sack of corn over Teal'c's shoulder. The world was cracking and breaking, and the jaguar warriors of Xalo were apparently sworn to Quetzal. Loyalties were shifting. Some of the local eagle warriors, beginning with the ones who had been guarding the prisoners, broke ranks and began helping Atlatl's men with the children. Jack hoped Daniel had found the right cave.

Atlatl was still staring at him, waiting for an answer, trying to comprehend.

"Teal'c was where you're at right now," Jack said. "He's a Jaffa, but he's also my friend."

Teal'c had moved to join them. "We must hurry, O'Neill."

Wodeski groaned but didn't wake. If he had, Jack would have been tempted to put him back to sleep - permanently. Insanity was a feeble excuse for what the professor had done to the children, and to the man who stood before him.

Atlatl sucked his lips and spat out gritty ash. He turned to Teal'c. "You are First Prime to Jack Quetzalcoatl, Jaffa?"

"No," Teal'c replied, meeting Jack's eyes. "He is not a god, for gods - false gods - destroy worlds. This Tauri, this man, my friend to whom I have sworn loyalty as a brother, has killed many false gods and saved a dozen worlds. Although he cannot save this world he will save your people and lead them to a new world, one where there are no false gods to steal your souls with lies and demand the living hearts and blood of your people."

It was one of the longest speeches Jack had ever heard from Teal'c. He just hoped he could live up to it.

The last of the children filed by, the loyal Xalo jaguar warriors in their wake. A few of the men cast a questioning glance at Atlatl, but he indicated they should keep moving. With the same fervent intensity Jack had often seen in Bra'tac, Atlatl physically lifted himself from despair. "Then tell me what you wish me to do, Jack Quetzalcoatl."

Jack claspedAtlatl's arm and turned to follow the children. "Get your men to tell everyone that I want an orderly line of people going into the pyramid. And I want priority given to women and children. I mean it," he said, looking back down the Avenue. "The world we're taking you to is not some men only club. It's gonna get rough outside, but the longer your warriors can maintain control, the more of your people we can save."

Atlatl nodded and began calling to his men.

Jack caught up with the kids. He smiled at White-owl, not as bitterly as he felt, and said, "Hey, White-owl, gonna give me a hand here?" He pulled his pack out from beneath his cape, and held it out. "You're in charge of the chocolate, okay?" Then he winked at Two-water, who giggled and tried to hide in Carter's ash and blood splattered skirt. The little girl's hands firmly clutched the black Chihuahua, Spiffy. Jack reached down and patted the animal. "Let's go.

The rest of the children, jaguar and eagle warriors, and about two hundred prisoners milled uncertainly around a tiny entrance at the base of the pyramid. What the hell was taking Daniel so long?

Coughing and choking on dust, their eagle feather capes torn from their shoulders, Welch, Can, and Bradley ran out of the doorway. "Get back!" Welch cried. Seconds later Daniel ran out, just ahead of an almighty roar - and this time, it wasn't from the volcano. The entire pyramid was shaking and shuddering.

"Back up everyone!" Jack glanced over his shoulder. Great choices. Pelted by pumice outside, or crushed by falling masonry inside. Thanks to a gluey mix of pumice and blood on the ground, they slipped and skidded as they ran into the center of the Avenue of the Dead. And could it possibly get any darker?

"Cavern's are gone!" Daniel shouted in his ear.

"All of `em?"

"I'm not sure." Daniel pulled the remains of his mangled sunshade off his back and tossed it to the ground.

Jack turned to Atlatl. "Is there another way into the caves beneath the pyramid?"

"Only the fire priests know; it is sacred ground."

Oh yeah, it was definitely getting darker.

"How did you get here from Xalo?" Carter asked Atlatl.

"I defied the fire priests and used the Roads of Mictlan. We saw the red shadow of Mictlantecuhtli rise from beneath. We escaped him because we believed we were blessed by Quetzalcoatl."

"Shit!" Dabruzzi's nose was buried in his sensor.

"What?" Jack demanded.

"We got magma moving directly under us." The volcanologist looked up. "That's what's caused the guts of the pyramid to collapse."

"The pit!" Carter declared. "The magma river in the skull cave."

"Mictlantecuhtli roams the tunnels during Nemontemi!" cried Daniel excitedly. "Mictlantecuhtli isn't a Goa'uld. It's magma!"

Behind them, the Pyramid of the Sun rumbled and the topmost section began to cave in, but Carter was staring ahead of them, at the Pyramid of the Moon. Her feather headdress was crushed and gray with ash and liberally adorned with pumice, but her expression was concentrated, and calculating.

"Major?"

She turned to Jack with certainty in her eyes. "Sir, if the magma isn't too high, instead of the caves beneath the Sun pyramid, I think we use the skull cave to transport everyone."

"Didn't you say the caves were set to different frequencies?" Dabruzzi sounded oddly disappointed.

"No, the skulls determine frequency. The caves act as resonating chambers, but any enclosure of approximately the right dimensions and material should do the job. On Yaxkin, it's a manmade rotunda."

Jack didn't hesitate. If Carter was almost certain, then it was a gilt-edged proposition. "All right everyone," he called waving his arm and pointing to the Pyramid of the Moon. "Let's go!"

"Of course if this idea doesn't pan out," Dabruzzi said, looking around like a kid in a toy store, "we get to watch the end of this world, instead."

"That was unsettling," said Daniel as they ran.

Sam rubbed ash from her eyes. "The part about watching the end of the world?"

"Hope." Jack tossed the volcanologist a jaundiced look. "The way he said it." Scientists. Go figure.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

aniel looked across the magma pit to the far side of the skull cave. Sam was measuring something, trying to work out the best place to set up the crystal skull.

"No pressure Car...Chalchi, take your time!" Jack called.

"Just a few more minutes," Sam replied.

"What the hell are all these giant pineapples?" Jack looked around the floor of the cavern.

"What? Oh... those," replied Daniel. "They're bodies."Although many of the sacrificial victims were being cooked and eaten, an equally large number, mostly the elderly and diseased, were being prepared for cremation. Their bodies were placed in a seated position, wrapped with a saffron-tinted agave bag, and topped with a cluster of long spiky leaves.

Jack ripped off his feather headdress and tossed it aside. It landed in a dark, sticky pool of blood. During the walk along the Avenue of the Dead, Daniel had known exactly what Sam was reliving. He, too, had been forced to recall the erotic, blindingly compelling desire to hunt and kill, to taste blood. But, like Sam, back on Artemis' planet he had clung to sanity. Because Artemis' choice of him had been wrong. It had to be wrong; otherwise it meant his soul was flawed.

In the five years since, Daniel had learned the bitter truth. The madness of the sarcophagus on P3R-636; the corruption of power in the visions Shifu had given him, all pointed to a shadow lurking within him. But he had a choice, and he would never willingly choose that dark road into the Abyss. As Wodeski had done.

The professor was lying on the floor where Teal'c had unceremoniously dumped him. Despite the influence of the Goa'uld, what had been happening in the City of the Gods prior to their arrival had been a highly ritualized and controlled event. The way these bodies were carefully wrapped proved it. Each one would have been lowered into the pit with due ceremony. It vindicated his belief that the Aztecs were not mindless monsters; they were people worth saving.

Unfortunately, there was no time now for religious niceties. Word was spreading fast that Quetzalcoatl would lead those who came to the Pyramid of the Moon to Omeyocan. The bodies were severely hampering access to the cave.

Atlatl ordered his men to clear the cave by tossing all corpses, wrapped or unwrapped, into the magma. Daniel picked up one of the bagged bodies. When it began to slip out of his grip, a teenager whom he recognized from the Emperor's garden helped him carry it to the pit. The magma was fifty feet below, much higher than when he and Teal'c had passed through the chamber a few days earlier.

The teenager introduced himself as White-owl. Forgetting his nom de guerre, Daniel replied, "Hi, I'm Daniel Jackson."

White-owl's eyes turned wide and he shouted to the other children, all of whom were helping in the gruesome task, "He is the son of Jack Quetzalcoatl!"

Blinking furiously, Daniel objected. "What? No...I'm-"

But it was too late; the voices grew louder as they circulated among the children. Then the warriors took up the call, "Jack-son, son of Jack "

"Daniel?" Jack had one of the body bags hoisted over his shoulder. A peculiar look crossed his face. "Son? What happened to Wind-feather?"

"Ready ... Quetzalcoatl! " Sam called.

Jack was still staring at him. "Ah...that would be you?" said Daniel, and looked across the cavern to where Sam and Dabruzzi had built a cairn of slate rocks.

"Let's get the kids over there." Jack tossed the body he was carrying into the magma. "Carter? You take the first group."

White-owl picked up a small girl and hurried around the edge of the pit to Sam. Soon, that side of the cavern was crowded with children. Nobody was certain how far the influence of the skull extended, so to make room for more, Dabruzzi came back around to their side of the pit. The three Marines and a dozen jaguar warriors made to follow him, but Jack ordered them to stay with Sam. Although Yaxkin was deserted, she would need help with the children, especially if the rotunda collapsed.

"Do you think the skull will transport the warriors?" Dabruzzi asked when he joined them.

Daniel shook his head. "I'm not sure. They may have renounced the Goa'uld as their gods, but they still carry symbiotes."

People poured into their side of the cavern and clustered around them, strangely silent, watching in wonder as the light from the skull spiraled out around Sam's head.

The bubbling hiss of magma changed tone, and a deep rumble echoed through the cavern. Everyone braced themselves in expectation. Another large quake hit, but this time, it didn't stop. It got worse, a lot worse. The light coming from the crystal skull vanished, and the makeshift pedestal collapsed, sending the skull rolling across the floor and towards the magma pit! Sam lunged after it. A shrill cry came from one of the children. The face of the little girl that White-owl was carrying suddenly contorted with grief, but Daniel could no longer hear her screams above the noise as the walls of the cave shuddered and cracked. Hundreds of skulls and gold decorative pieces began smashing onto the ground and falling into the pit.

"Alice!" squealed Wodeski. It was the first sound he'd made since Jack had punched him. "Let me up, let me up! The floor's burning!"

Daniel was more concerned with the sudden surge in the magma. It rose from the depths, hissing and contorting like a living being, a mythical dragon, perhaps. No surprise that the Aztecs - indeed, every human civilization since the dawn of man - associated it with a malevolent deity.

A tiny black animal darted between Daniel's legs. Hands grabbed him roughly and pulled him back from a newly opened crack in the ground. Jack was shouting in his ear, while basalt rocks and gold objects rained down on them. The heat hit him like a blast furnace when magma spewed over the edges of the pit and across the ground - which began splitting into heaving black islands over the fiery sea.

Teal'c and Dabruzzi grabbed two of the children who had not made it to Sam's side of the cave, and vainly tried to push back the crowds - who were still trying to get in through the tunnels. Daniel snatched up another child and lifted her onto his shoulders. "Hang on tight!" he called to her. Sooner or later, someone would fall and be crushed.

Then Daniel heard his own voice crack in disbelief. "Oh, God, no!" The floor where Sam, the other children and Marines had been, was gone. In its place was an ever-widening river of magma that effectively bisected the cave. He looked across to the tunnel leading up to the Stargate. A cluster of worried looking faces stared back at him. "Sam!" he cried in relief. "You okay?"

"Yeah!"

But Daniel could see her expression through the shimmering waves of heat.

"Skulls?" Jack yelled.

"Gone, sir!" she called back. "Both of them. Along with Can, Bradley and two jaguar warriors."

Daniel spun around and confronted Wodeski, who was once more in Teal'c firm grip. "The skulls! Where did you put them, Professor?"

"Let me go. You're insane!" Wodeski screamed. The floor beneath them continued to buckle and crack. "You can't use them in here, you'll burn us all alive!" He pounded Teal'c's chest. When that didn't work, he lunged at the child Teal'c was carrying in his other arm.

A rending crack tore through the cave, and the crowd surged forward. A woman with a baby on her back and a toddler in one arm slipped towards the magma river. Teal'c released his grasp on Wodeski and lunged for the woman just as Daniel snatched the child from her hands. The little girl already on Daniel's shoulders wrapped her arms around his head, desperately clinging on. Momentarily blinded, Daniel couldn't see what happened next, but he heard Teal'c's bellow of rage.

Someone pulled the girl from Daniel's shoulders, and he could see again. Atlatl hoisted the child onto his own back. Through the noise of hissing magma, bucking rocks and screams, Daniel heard him call, "This way!" The warrior pointed to the stone steps that led to the tunnel to Xalo.

Daniel turned to Teal'c, who held the woman and her baby in one arm, and the toddler in the other, and yelled, "Wodeski?"

Teal'c's face was a mask of self-recrimination. "He escaped."

Not that it mattered any more. Their one chance of using the skulls had depended on this cave - which was fast filling with magma. Without a resonating chamber, the skulls were useless.

Atlatl and his men helped the children across the remaining patch of solid ground towards the stairs. With people still pouring into the cavern, and the magma still rising, it was now the only way out.

"Get out of the damned way!" Jack ordered.

A group of fire priests and eagle warriors, who had arrived from another tunnel, blocked the path. Oblivious to the heaving ground beneath their feet, their sharpened obsidian-bladed club-swords gleaming in the surreal light, the warriors set upon the remaining Marines without mercy.

"Son of a..." Daniel heard Jack's expletive a fraction of a second before the P90 exploded in his ear. The attacking warriors were flung back and into the rippling magma. A momentary flame was the only sign of their passing; the liquid river engulfed them whole.

For all the ritualized violence they had witnessed since they'd arrived, the vicious slaughter of the Marines was the first serious attack on them. "I said," Jack shouted at the fire priests still blocking the steps. "Move!"

But they would not move.

"Being killed by a god is the fastest way to Heaven," Daniel called. "You're going to have to shoot them!" He saw the look on Jack's face. The warriors who'd taken out the Marines were dead, but these guys were unarmed, and just stood there like incensed mules.

"Your god orders you to move," bellowed Teal'c. "If you do not, he will deny you entry into any Omeyocan!" The quake continued and more magma oozed through the buckling, fractured ground.

"If he is truly Quetzalcoatl, then let him defeat Mictlantecuhtli!" a fire priest spat defiantly.

Jack reluctantly raised his P90. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the shaking stopped. Except for the hiss of the receding magma, the skull cave was filled with an awed silence.

"What just happened?" Jack said, turning to Dabruzzi.

"Momentary respite." The volcanologist dragged his arm across the rivers of sweat cascading down his face. "Level of activity is still increasing."

Half of his head gleaming a florid gold from the light of the magma, the other half, a verdant copper from the bioluminescence, Teal'c yelled, "Kneel to your god!"

The shocked fire priests all but fell onto the burning ground. Atlatl pierced Jack with an oddly curious look, but then he was up the steps, grasping the hand of another child as he ran. Jack lifted two more children into his arms and followed.

While Dabruzzi and the jaguar warriors helped the remaining children negotiate the crumbling steps, Atlatl was pushing others through the trapdoor, at the top. Another quake hit just as Daniel and Teal'c reached Dabruzzi. The cracks in the ground widened, revealing slivers of dark red. Dabruzzi almost lost his footing on the way up. Teal'c determinedly gripped the woman with her baby. Juggling the toddler and his staff weapon in his other hand, he leaped up on the stumps of protruding rock, nimble as a mountain goat. Daniel, who was directly behind, felt the last of the steps collapse beneath his feet. Atlatl reached down, snatched his shoulders, and with a powerful jerk, lifted him and the child he was carrying onto the edge of the platform. Seconds later, the last fragments of the steps fell away into the ever-widening river of magma.

Daniel scrambled to his feet. Below, people continued to pour into the skull cave, desperate to follow Quetzalcoatl to Omeyocan. Teal'c was in the tunnel above, lifting the children that Dabruzzi andAtlatl were handing to him. Jack was looking over the edge of the platform, but there was no way across the magma river to Sam and the other kids.

His face screwed up against the waves of heat, Jack shouted, "Carter! Plan B!"

"Sir?" she yelled back.

"Take the kids to the Stargate."

"It's a twelve hour walk!" Daniel objected. "And how's she going to dial out, assuming, of course, they haven't all frozen to death before they get that far?"

Jack swung on him. Face drenched in sweat and beet red from the heat, he snapped, "You got any better ideas?"

Sam was cut off from them, and they were all cut off from the city. Daniel bit his lip and winced. There was no other option.

Atlatl joined them. "Where do you wish me to take the children and women, Jack Quetzalcoatl?"

A cry from below caught their attention. There were still hundreds ofpeople in the lower level of the skull cave. Unable to return through tunnels surging with people desperate to get in, they were now caught on a narrow ledge between the wall and the swollen magma river. One man, a well-dressed noble, tried to jump across to where Sam and the other children stood. He didn't make it.

Daniel thought he should have been immune to horror by now, but watching as people fell into the magma, begging Quetzalcoatl to save them from Mictlantecuhtli, made him ill. God only knew what it was doing to Jack. He had promised to save Atlatl's people. Instead he was forced to stand by impotently as one by one they died ghoulish deaths.

Voice stiffly devoid of emotion, Jack pointed to the tunnel where Sam was waiting, and askedAtlatl, "Can we get to that tunnel?"

"No, it goes only to one place, the Chappa'ai." Atlatl pushed his jaguar skull back off his dripping face. They were all slowly cooking to death.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "What about the `gate?"

"The Chappa'ai," Daniel corrected.

"From this Road of Mictlan," said Atlatl, pointing to the tunnel overhead. "Another Road leads up to the hills. I am uncertain where it begins, although I have heard it is a two-hour walk from here, and a further three-hour walk overland, along a ridge to the Valley of the Chappa'ai. But at this time of year the cold winds sent by the tlaloque spirits will kill as surely as Mictlantecuhtli would bum."

Dabruzzi joined them. "Cold's the last thing we're gonna be worried about outside. Like I said, Popo blowing is just the overture."

The sour tension in Daniel's stomach wracked up another notch. Jack stared at Dabruzzi. "And?"

"I can't say for certain, but it's gonna get mighty warm. Surface of the lake could melt, partially or completely, especially if the hot springs start feeding into it. On the upside, it might drain out, but then we'd have to wade through boiling mud." His face screwed up and he looked down at the magma. "Still, it's better than stickin' around here."

Jack's frown deepened. "Okay, Atlatl, that's now officially Plan B." He spun around and called out, "Carter? We're going to take another tunnel. We should reach the Stargate in about five hours."

Daniel saw her hesitation, then she called back, "Yes, sir!" Behind her, the little girl in White-owl's arms was screaming and trying to pull free.

Another quake shook the skull cave. Magma surged out of the pit and across the crumbling floor. Shrill screams instantly cut off when the last of those in the cavern were engulfed. The sounds of massive rock falls followed, then dust billowed from the tunnels. The underground structure, possibly the entire pyramid, was collapsing.

"Everyone out of here, now!" yelled Jack.

The heat was unbelievable. When everyone was through into the next tunnel, Daniel and Jack looked down through the open trapdoor. Little remained in the cavern but black crusty scabs on a sea of churning magma.

Something cool and wet licked Daniel's cheek. He turned to see two big dark eyes staring at him from a pocket in Jack's cloak. It was the same animal that had run between his legs. "Hey, there," he said, and stroked its bald head.

"He belongs to one of the kids." Jack stood. "I was going to call him Toto, but Two-water says his name is Spiffy."

It took Daniel a few moments to make the connection. "You mean Xipe." When Jack frowned uncertainly, he added, "Xipe is the name of a god."

"I may be dense, Daniel, but I'm not dyslexic. It's a dog." Jack checked his weapon as they walked.

Daniel's brief smile turned to a grimace. "Fire priests often wore the skins of sacrificial victims and danced to Xipe."

Jack's hands faltered. His blackened and sweat-soaked face couldn't disguise his repugnance. "I am absolutely not going to ask why."

"It was a fertility rite."

"Did Freud know about these guys?"

"The dogs were supposedly used as guides through the Underworld."

"Underworld." Jack cast a furtive glance over his shoulder. "As in Hell?"

"Uhm... something like that. Xipe represents the idea of rebirth after death. The dogs were considered to be apotropaic devices."

Jack shot him a warning look. "Daniel."

"Good luck charms to ward off the evils the owners would likely encounter in the Underworld."

When they caught up with the others, Dabruzzi said, "At the rate the magma is rising it will flood these tunnels in three, four hours."

"It'll take Carter twelve to reach the `gate with the kids."

"Except that you blew up the tunnel," Daniel reminded him. "She's got to dig through that, first."

"A few rocks is all. She's got a zat on her."

Dabruzzi's expression darkened. "Is it uphill?"

"All the way. But Carter's also got enough C4 on her to blow the tunnel behind them again."

Daniel nodded. "Forming a dam to stop the magma."

"I hope she knows that." Dabruzzi sounded doubtful.

"This is Carter we're talking about." Jack's voice was falsely jocular. "She'll make it."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

am felt the eyes of the eight jaguar warriors on her. White-owl had finally calmed Two-water down, although the little girl was quietly inconsolable over the loss of Xipe. The other children, almost forty altogether, were in good shape. Half of them had done this walk before so they knew what to expect, but with minimal food and water it wasn't going to be fun.

"Alright," she said, trying to smile. Her face felt like it had been sandblasted and broiled. "Quetzalcoatl will meet us at the Chappa'ai, and we don't want to keep him waiting, so we better get moving."

She ordered two of the warriors to bring up the rear, while the others dispersed among the children. Three of them picked up the youngest ones and began singing softly to them. Soon, all of the children took up the strange, wistful melody.

"Major?"

Turning to Welch, she said, "Thanks for saving my life back there, Sergeant."

"I'm sorry I couldn't grab the bag with the second skull, too, ma'am." He tugged off his eagle warrior helmet and shook his head. His hair was saturated and the skin on his face was red and beginning to blister.

"Chalchiuhtlicue," Sam corrected in a whisper. When the yellow crystal skull had fallen into the magma, she'd reached for the bag with the rose skull, but then the ground tipped, sending her over the edge until she was barely clinging on. Before the heat could do more than singe her hair and eyebrows, Welch had hauled her up. She'd screamed at him to forget her and save the bag. But he couldn't; he just couldn't let her go, not for a bag.

"If it's all the same to you, Major, I can only wrap my tongue around Chalchi. What's going to happen when we get to the `gate? Isn't it still under ice and water?"

They'd lost everything but the clothes they wore and their weapons. The only food was the pack of chocolate bars that White-owl carried, no doubt melted into a mass of brown sludge. She was about to reply when there was a commotion from behind. Weapons ready, they hurried back past the children.

"Don't kill him!" White-owl cried out. "Quetzalcoatl will only accept those who renounce sacrifice."

One of the jaguar warriors who had been bringing up the rear, had his arm around the struggling form of... "Heart-eater?" The warrior had drawn a thin obsidian knife to cut the boy's throat. "Put the knife down," Sam said in a carefully modulated voice. "There's not going to be any more killing."

The warrior reluctantly released Heart-eater. The boy staggered forward and fell to his knees before her. "Goddess!"

The whole godhead thing bugged Sam as much as O'Neill. Well, maybe not as much. The look on the Colonel's face when he realized how much Atlatl had lost in the name of Quetzalcoatl was another memory she could have lived without.

Her nostrils flared as she stared down at the apprentice priest. He smelled worse than ever but right now he seemed like nothing more than a terrified kid. "What are you doing here, Heart-eater?"

"I.. followed you and Quetzalcoatl, Goddess." He dared to lift his head a fraction. "To the valley of the Chappa'ai."

Sam frowned. The skin on her forehead pulled painfully. "You're lying. We blew up the tunnel."

"I...saw that the Road you took was blocked, so I traveled a shorter Road of Mictlan to the Chappa'ai."

She assumed he meant the tunnel the Colonel and the others were now taking, until he added, "There are many Roads of Mictlan to the Chappa'ai. All are connected, and some are much faster than others. Goddess, please, I have not yet made my vows as a fire priest to Tzcatlipoca. Ifyou would have me...I would become your priest instead."

He had to be lying. He would have frozen to death in minutes dressed in nothing more than... "Where did you get this?" Sam bent down and swiped a finger across the now patchy black on Heart-eater's skin. It looked like pine tar, most likely distilled from the massive trees that grew up in the mountains.

"The fire priests keep oxitl in a small cavern near the fire pools cave, where you found us."

The heat and humidity of the hot springs probably kept it viscous. An idea began to take form. "How much oxitl is there?"

"Enough for four, perhaps five people, Goddess."

"How long will it take to walk to the Chappa'ai?"

Heart-eater looked at the children. "Less than three hours."

Sam considered their options. Only one person needed to get through to the SGC. Welch could stay with the kids in the hot springs cave while she covered herself in tar and dressed in every item of clothing she could find. She could blow a hole in the ice with a shaped C4 charge - there was enough stashed under her shirt - swim down the few feet to the DHD and dial out. By the time the Colonel, Daniel and Teal'c arrived at the `gate, a rescue team would have come back through with the necessary equipment to deal with a mass evacuation. "Okay, Heart-eater, show us this Road of yours."

It took a little under three hours for Sam and the children to reach the hot springs cave. They would have arrived even sooner but for the ruptured ground and partial blockages in the tunnel; Xalotcan was tearing itself apart from the inside out.

The children, uncomplaining as ever, sat down quietly in a group. Filthy, emotionally exhausted, footsore from the trek over hot and broken ground, the weary look in their eyes was replaced by wide smiles and coos of delight when White-owl distributed the chocolate.

When Heart-eater showed her the stash of sticky oxitl, Sam was tempted to lather herself in the stuff and head straight out onto the ice field, but first she needed to see what conditions were like. Despite her relatively thin clothing and the deadly cold, she could survive a quick reconnoiter knowing there'd be a hot bath when she got back to the cave. After all, the Polar Plunge involved getting naked and wet in minus forty.

"Stay here," she ordered Welch. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Ma'am?"

"Just going to check the weather."

He sent her a doubtful look, but she climbed out of the cave and joggedup the tunnel. Although it was hard to breathe, running would get her circulation moving before she hit the frigid air - except the temperature remained more or less constant. That didn't make any sense, particularly since it was already uncomfortably warm.

The tunnel grew darker. And warmer. What had happened to the bioluminescent organisms? Had she misjudged the time of day? Maybe it was already night outside. Or worse, this high up in the mountains, the clouds from the volcano could have closed in on the valley. The gray ash on the floor of the tunnel became thicker. Why ash and not pumice? The bums on her face started to sting with the heat.

In the outer cavern, the ash was so thick that it lifted into the air around her face as she waded through. Sam tore a strip of cloth from her filthy shirt and wrapped it across her nose and mouth so as not to inhale the light, airborne particles. Not a trace of bioluminescence remained. And the cavern was much larger; the ice had vanished. Her labored breathing was not only from exertion, but also from a creeping dread. She reached the entrance and looked out. "Oh my God!"

Clouds of blue-black boiled low across the sky, blocking out all but faint scraps of the late afternoon sunlight. But it was bright enough to see the full impact of the cataclysm.

Sam didn't know much about volcanoes, but she remembered the photos taken around Mt St Helens after the 1980 eruption. A pyroclastic cloud had gored the valley, flattening everything in its path with the efficacy of a nuke. The Stargate valley now looked much the same. All of the enormous trees were gone, stripped from the ground as if by a giant scythe, and flung against rocky outcrops like matchsticks. One tree near the cave had been over twenty feet in diameter. All that remained was a splintery apparition. And everything was covered in thick ash. The `gate was no longer submerged beneath a lake of frozen water; it was visible again, a ghostly ring in a sea of copper-tinted gray. For behind it all, Popocatepetl's cinder cone was bleeding incandescent rivers of lava. Xalotcan was hemorrhaging.

She pushed through the ash outside the cave and looked north. Her heart almost stopped. A glowing snake of molten rock was making its way down the valley. At the speed it was traveling... Abandoning the mental calculus, Sam ran back into the cave and down the tunnel. Ripping the cloth from her face she screamed, "Welch! White-owl, get everyone up here now. Run! "

Slipping and skidding on the misbegotten sandals, Sam knew their chances of making it through the thick ash that covered the valley floor were next to nil. But they had no choice. It was make the attempt and maybe die, or wait until Xalotcan tore itself to shreds, and definitely die.

Then she saw the ruddy glow, and felt the blast of heat from the tunnel they'd walked up. Oh please God, no!

"Chalchi?" called White-owl running towards her. He held Twowater in his arms. Her dark brown eyes were wide, and her face and hands were covered in gooey chocolate. A stream of children clambered out of the cavern, Welch and the jaguar warriors bringing up the rear.

The look on Sam's face must have been enough, because they broke into a run when she yelled, "We have to get out of here, now!"

"Major?" Welch caught up with her.

"Everyone out?" she demanded breathlessly-

Heart-eater and a warrior ran up to them. "We are the last, Chalchi."

"Then run as fast as you can. We have to reach the `gate. Lava is coming down the valley!"

Heart-eater looked at her, confused.

"Mictlantecuhtli is going to...to eat the Chappa'ai!"

The warrior looked over her shoulder at the slowly moving river of magma flowing up the tunnel. He paled and then broke into a dead run. Welch went to say something but Sam snapped, "Save your breath, Sergeant!"

They reached the outer cavern, sucking painfully for every molecule of oxygen. The children and warriors stood clustered at the entrance, staring up the valley. The lava was moving fast. It had already engulfed the area where the frying pan lake had once been. If they'd been running ahead of it, they might have been able to outpace it, but from this angle it was questionable which of them would reach the `gate first.

"C'mon!" Sam grabbed White-owl by the arm and started pulling him along. He clutched his sister and shook his head.

Sam turned. Like the others, White-owl was wide-eyed and frozen into immobility. Even the warriors stubbornly shook their heads and began backing into the cave. This was insane! They couldn't stop. "You have to come, now! I'm going to open the Chappa'ai and take you to ... Omeyocan. If you stay here, Mictlantecuhtli will get you anyway. It...he's coming up the tunnel!"

Support came from an unexpected quarter. "Do you disobey the word of our goddess?" yelled Heart-eater. "I have seen with my own eyes how Quetzalcoatl and Chalchi have gone through the Chappa'ai!"

Rumbles echoed around the valley. Everyone's eyes turned to the strange lightning that tore through the purple and black clouds, lashing the fractured rim of Popocatepetl. Heart-eater used the distraction to snatch Two-water from White-owl's arms. The apprentice priest ran down the slope to the lake, sending clouds of ash billowing around him. Two-water screamed in mortal terror and fought desperately to escape the clutches of the one who had threatened to sacrifice her to Tzcatlipoca. Angered beyond reason, White-owl chased after them, but his stocky legs were no match against the longer-limbed Heart-eater. Welch grabbed two of the younger children, one in each arm, while Sam picked up a boy of about six. Ignoring her body's demand for oxygen, she set out after Heart-eater across the lake.

The pyroclastic cloud that had melted the lake in its superheated path had also burst the moraine dam at the southern end of the valley. While the rubble had been carried away, the oven-hot ash had mixed with the water to form a soft, squelchy gray paste that now covered the valley floor, right up to the base of the Stargate. Running on it wasn't easy; nevertheless it was better than wading through hot ash. It also gave Sam renewed hope.

With his lighter body and lungs conditioned to the thin air, Heart-eater swiftly reached the `gate. He placed the still screaming Two-water on the muddy ground by the half-buried DHD, and ran back - straight past White-owl, who stopped and stared at him in amazement.

White-owl's expression altered when he realized how he had been tricked. He yelled at Two-water, "Stay there, little sister!" and followed Heart-eater back past Sam.

Chancing a look over her shoulder, Sam saw the other children were right on her heels. The older ones began passing her. Then came the jaguar warriors, each one carrying petrified children in their arms.

Sam's lungs felt like they were filled with splintered glass. Her head pounded, demanding oxygen, but she couldn't stop. The lava had slowed somewhat as it entered the wide valley, but it was still only fifty feet from the DHD - about the same distance as her. A warrior ran back to her and took the boy from her arms like a relay runner. She kicked off the now broken sandals and ran barefoot over the last twenty feet, sucking hot air from the sickly face of the lava rolling relentlessly towards them. Barely able to see the symbols on the DHD, her head spinning from lack of oxygen, she took precious seconds to make certain the address was correct.

"Get back," Welch ordered the children and warriors. "To the side of the `gate, away from the vortex." But there were few places to go. And none of them understood what `vortex' meant.

"Close up, close up ranks!" Sam pulled the children around her and hit the center nub. The event horizon shot out and snapped back into place. She punched in the IDC and waved Welch through. He picked up two children and plunged into the welcoming blue pool. White-owl grabbed his sister and hesitating only a moment, followed. The warriors also faltered, but the heat of the lava was already singeing the hair on their jaguar skins. They herded the children through until finally, only Sam and Heart-eater remained. She took his hand and, with one last glance up at the magma oozing from the tunnel through which they'd fled, stepped into the wormhole.

Cold Sweet, painful cold. The swirling patterns of light flew past on her journey across the galaxy. But Sam didn't see them. The sick agony of realization was ripping her heart out as effectively as any fire priest. Two hours behind her, deep within the labyrinthine tunnels, the Colonel, Daniel and Teal'c had been unable to escape ahead of the relentless magma. They had met the same horrific fate as those left behind in the skull cave.

They were dead.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

he metronomic ticking in General Vidrine's office continued long after her words had ceased. Sam sat stiffly, her eyes focused on the photograph of a Tomcat mounted on the wall behind the General. Its presence there no doubt puzzled visitors, a talking point for the curious. She idly wondered what their reaction would be if he replaced it with a picture of the X-302.

Colonel Burnett's voice cut through the silence. "How are the children?"

A strange, bittersweet sensation came over her. She silently thanked Burnett for focusing on the only thing to mitigate her failure.

"They're still in quarantine at the SGC," replied General Hammond. "But they're going to be fine."

"They're very resilient," said Sam. "More so than most children." More so than I.

"The... jaguar warriors?"

"Now that they understand the true nature of the Goa'uld, they're dedicated to taking care of the children; the last of their people," Hammond replied. "The Salish have offered them a home."

"Why the Salish?" Burnett looked confused. "Why not the Hopi or one of the other Nahuatl tribes?"

"Not the Salish of Earth," Hammond said. "PXY-887."

Burnett went to speak, paused, then tried again. "How can you be certain Xalotcan was destroyed? If your only access was via this... Stargate - "

"Major Carter's father arrived in a tel'tak - a small cargo ship - less than twenty-four hours later." Hammond glanced at Sam. "He sent back a full report."

"Cargo ship? General Jacob Carter?" Searching vainly for something sensible to add, Burnett blurted, "I thought he'd retired."

"Dad's not entirely human anymore. He's the host for a leader in the Tok'ra resistance. The Tok'ra are a type of symbiote that's biologically identical but philosophically opposed to the Goa'uld. They have a number of interstellar capable ships." But none that can turn back time.

Burnett stared at her, his lips moving ineffectually. Eventually he managed, "Vertical learning curve, huh."

General Vidrine stood, signaling the meeting was over. "Then you better get started, Colonel."

During the trip down the elevator, Sam watched Burnett attempt to grapple with what he'd just learned. He settled on the one thing in his world that had remained unchanged, his role as her new commanding officer. "You're reporting back to Cheyenne Mountain tonight?" he said.

"Yes, sir. Due to the security situation they've requested that I assist in sterilizing Colonel O'Neill's house and Dr Jackson's apartment." Then she would speak at their service and push the wreaths into the blue-gray event horizon, to travel through a wormhole now forbidden to her. Finally, she would attend a second service, one with an empty coffin in a military cemetery, and salute while six jets flew overhead, and then one peeled off into space.

How apt.

Would the Colonel's ex-wife accept the ritually folded American flag? She should know the answer; she knew military protocol, chapter and verse. It had proved an excellent shield, an excuse to deny so many things.

"Piece of advice, Major."

"Sir?"

"When I lost my commanding officer - he wasn't a hell of a lot older than me, maybe ten years - but after what we'd been through, it was worse than losing my father." Burnett shook his head. "And my buddies. It wasn't just the whole brother's in arms thing; it was something more. I thought nothing could be worse, until I had my own command and had to send kids, hardly old enough to shave, home in body bags."

He met her stiffly controlled look, and then added, `By the time you report to me, I'll have read your file - the real one - and I'll be in a better position to understand the work you've been doing. But Major, being a military officer does not stop you from being human. If you ever feel a need to talk to someone - "

The elevator door opened. "Thank you, sir." She saluted, and pulled on her overcoat. Outside, it was still snowing.

"I...I apologize for being so abrupt. Before," said Dr Carter.

"I'm sorry?" Sam looked up from the generator the Colonel had made when he'd had the knowledge of the Ancients downloaded into his mind. She shared a look with Dr Carter and laughed nervously. "Weird, huh," she added, wondering how anyone, especially herself, could be bothered with such long hair. "I mean, I don't have to say that because you're thinking - "

- the same thing. Yeah."

"But there are differences. Of course. That's why you're here."

Dr Carter's smile froze.

Sam didn't see her facial expressions every day to read herself as well as others could. But still, she knew. "I...what did I say?"

"Nothing." The reply, too quick. Dr Carter's shoulders drooped. "No hiding it, I guess."

"It's okay. I know when I get like that I'm the last person I want to talk to. Work is easier."

"How could you have joined the Air Force after...?" Dr Carter's words made it sound like a betrayal. "I hated him, I could never forgive him."

"It wasn't Dad's fault," said Sam.

"He was driving!"

Sam's fingers hesitated a moment. "I blamed Dad for not picking up Mom on time. In this world, she caught a cab. Same outcome."

Dr Carter visibly paled. "It's not events that change history, but how we react to them. God, all of this really is my fault."

"No!" Sam was vehement. "If Daniel had not found the mirror on MR-233, we'd be in the same mess." She paused. "Guess you couldn't have hated the Air Force that much, huh?"

"Guess not." A quick, sad smile flittered across Dr Carter's face. "Worked for it, married into it..." Her gaze faltered and she stared at the machine.

Sam followed her look. "I'm not sure this can be fixed. Half the components are so fried I can't tell what they are."

"Nothing is so badly broken inside that it can't be fixed."

"You obviously never met a man named Jonas." Sam continued to stare at the engine. The Harley had been scrapped asjunk, broken beyond repair. But she'd always been good at fixing things, and it had proved cathartic, a simple, mechanical puzzle to solve.

She looked up. "Thanks for your help, Sergeant."

Siler was just tightening the last nut. "Yeah, no sweat, Major."

Sam stood and wiped the grease from her hands. Time to ride.

The machine climbed the hills with ease, despite the thin mountain air. She opened the throttle. The wind bit into her exposed face, a cold so intense that it burned. She leaned low and forward. Why wasn't her bike helmet protecting her against the burning cold? So cold, the world around her was frozen, a fantasy woodland. His cabin should be up ahead. What was she doing there? Coffee. That's right. He'd offered to make her a cup of coffee. Couldn't very well sit on a dock with her feet perched up, sipping a cold one. The dock was probably under thirty foot of ice and snow, and she'd have to use the geologists' laser to cut through it. Maybe she could use his fishing rod to cast for the elusive DHD. It was under the ice, somewhere, she was certain. She had to find it before it was too late.

The ice forest closed in around her, dark, warm - too warm, and she couldn't seem to get her breath in the thin air. The cabin was just around the next bend. They would all be right there, waiting for her. The Colonel, Daniel and Teal'c. She turned the comer, but the cabin was gone, they were all gone, engulfed by a lake of molten lava.

Stifling a gasp, Sam lifted her head from her arms, pushed the chair back and restlessly prowled around the lab. The lab, not her lab. Couldn't fall asleep again, had to keep moving. If she stopped for any length of time, everything inside of her would seize up until she could no longer function. And that wasn't her. She was made of stronger stuff than that. So said her father in the blur of days after her mother's death, when her world had been someplace else and she inhabited an other-dimensional existence of pain alternating with numbness. And there was no way back, no way home, now that she had been transferred to the Prometheus Project.

She picked up a box and began searching for something that did not belong to the Air Force. Machinery, computers, manuals, even the coffee cup; none of it was hers. She stared at the chipped mug. Someone would have to go up to the cabin, make sure it was carefully sanitized, just like everything else about his and Daniel's lives.

Daniel. More than anyone he had humanized them. How many times had Daniel's insight saved them when a dispassionate, tactically correct military decision would have destroyed them, and Earth? What would the SGC do with all of his amazing journals, the artifacts he'd collected from a hundred worlds?

Teal'c, well, he had left little behind. Just a few candles and six billion people, give or take, who owed their existence to his inviolable sense of honor.

Sam's fingers caressed the framed picture of the four of them. Teal'c with his crazy cowboy hat, Daniel looking like a startled chipmunk, and the Colonel with his quirky grin, in need of a haircut, or something.

Second hand memories they might have been, but her blending with Jolinar had taught Sam what it was like to be the recipient of a deep and abiding love. The blending had also given her an insight into emotions that she might otherwise never have understood, certainly not based on her limited romantic relationships. Narim and Orlan had not loved her; they had loved a concept embodied by her. And before them, Jonas had loved only what he could take from her.

The framed picture went in her box. Emotions were indeterminate traits, unfathomable and untamable. The shifting worlds of quantum mechanics were so much more comprehensible.

General George Hammond stood at the door, watching silently as Major Carter wandered aimlessly around her lab, oblivious to his presence. He'd known closely-knit teams in the past, but what SG-1 had been through together was unprecedented.

Back in 1969, as a young lieutenant, he'd followed his instincts and done something that might otherwise have been considered a traitorous act. Twenty-eight years later he'd met Jack O'Neill again - although for Jack it was, of course, their first meeting. A bluff called, dominance asserted, and an understanding that had developed into a friendship. No matter how bad things had gotten during those first eighteen months at the SGC, George Hammond had always rested a little easier knowing that the Stargate program would survive and SG-1 would prevail. Then, when SG-1 left for 1969, that time loop had closed, for he no longer had any assurances of a future. Now, only one thing was certain.

Carter looked up. "Sorry, sir. I didn't see you."

Hammond walked in and glanced at the contents of the box. A single framed photo. He picked it up and smiled fondly.

"I just wish I could shut it off, just for a little while," she said.

Placing the photograph back in the box, he looked kindly at her. "I can't say the pain goes away, Major, because it doesn't. But you learn to live with it."

"But not today." She folded her arms across her chest. It was a protective gesture, containing her fragility.

"No, not today," he replied. "But tomorrow will be a little better. And each day after that until one day you'll be able to remember them without grief"

"Yes, sir." She nodded and bit her lip, desperate to hold back the tears, although he suspected that she could see he was having his own problems in that regard. Looking around the lab, she added, "I really should leave all of this here. My replacement will need it."

"Major, in many ways your career, your life, is just beginning. The SGC was a stepping-stone to a much larger universe, one you're now going to explore through a technology that would never have existed without SG-1. For Jack O'Neill, being here was, in a way, a form of resolution, something he needed to come back and finish. I think I knew him well enough to say that he would have preferred this to being holed up in some nursing home, whining about the food and how his knees were giving him hell."

An unwilling smile materialized, and then just as abruptly vanished back into grief. "And Daniel and Teal'c?"

He inclined his head. "Each of them was searching for something. I believe each of them found a measure of peace and resolution in the knowledge that they've made a difference."

The sound of klaxons was followed by the familiar, "Unauthorized off-world activation."

She went to hurry out, but Hammond held up his hand and said, as gently as he could, "Time to let go, Major."

For a brief moment Carter looked as if he'd struck her. Her shoulders sagged and she nodded in resignation. "Yes, sir. I'll just go and say goodbye to White-owl, Two-water and Heart-eater. I'll report to your office before I leave."

Hammond had lost people before, and, although he dearly wished it otherwise, he would probably lose people again. Life, and the daily problems of the SGC would go on, and he would deal with them. But as he entered the control room he also knew that the time was fast approaching when he, too, would need to let it go.

CHAPTER TWENTY

One week earlier

he sky rained ash and scoria and the heat of a hundred blast furnaces singed his eyebrows. Jack stared in disbelief at the devastation. For a full ten seconds he tried to convince himself that it was a different valley, but self-deception had never been his strong point. It wasn't like a scene from Judgment Day, it was Judgment Day, and he had a ringside seat.

Below him was a river straight from Hell. Here and there darker scabs momentarily congealed into a black crust of rock before being churned under by the most relentless force in nature. The entire valley floor was awash with lava - there wasn't even a blip where the Stargate had once been. And beyond that, the mountains, the land itself was ruptured and torn and bleeding in a dozen places as magma forced its way to the surface through every fault and crack.

Edging further out onto the cliff-face, he looked down. The landscape danced and jiggled in the scorching heat. Sweat ploughed rivulets through the ash on his face then fell onto his feather cape like black tears. Two hundred feet below, just above the edge of the lava, he could see a purple light blinking frantically. It was the radio beacon he'd set up the second night, before taking the kids home to Xalo. The lava oozed up with obscene relentlessness, and swallowed it.

That's when he knew.

Jack sank to his knees. He thought he'd become desensitized to the bitter pain of loss. But the full realization of what had happened drove a shaft of agony through his self-control. No. Not again. He could not do this again!

Long buried images replayed in his mind. The sound of the gunshot from Charlie's room, the sick dread and the frantic run upstairs, his son's life already going from his eyes; the desperate, numbing ride to the hospital. Then shutting down, closing off that part of himself that persistently betrayed him - his emotions. How many times did he have to relive this singular horror? How many deaths did he have to witness until it was his turn? Was there a way to castrate his feelings? Take a knife and tear them out?

He sucked in a deep breath, almost scalding his lungs. Powerful hands pulled him back behind the relative cool of the ridge. Which was strange, because he shouldn't have been able to feel anything, certainly not the monstrous tangle of grief and loss that engulfed him. He didn't feel; that was the way things were, that was the only way you could go on.

"O'Neill!"

Teal'c's voice. Teal'c and Daniel, and the kids. Carter and Two-water and White-owl and most of their kids were gone, but he had to focus on the others, the ones Atlatl had sacrificed his family to save. Jack turned to Teal'c and saw the desolation reflected in his eyes. And something more, understanding. He ran a hand across his face, smearing the ash and sweat around. Survival now depended on one thing. "Back to plan A."

"Jack! What are you doing, why aren't you..." Daniel stopped in his tracks and stared at him. His low voice was filled with apprehension. "Why is it so hot up here?"

Dabruzzi ran past them without pausing. Jack coughed, then coughed again, clinging to the pain searing his throat, an anchor against a different pain, one he could never articulate.

Something wriggled inside his cape. He glanced down at the miniature dog, Spiffy. They hadn't been able to find the tunnel to the surface until it had jumped out of the cape and scampered up behind a rock fall. The animal had saved them, but it might have only delayed the inevitable. Jack reached in, unconsciously reassuring it with a gentle pat, feeling its warm life against his hand. "Our friendly neighborhood volcano decided to erupt all over the Stargate." He swallowed the grit in his mouth and stood.

Daniel's eyes opened wide in disbelief. "What about Sam and the other kids?"

"They're dead." His voice was as cracked and brittle as the cinders that covered the ground. "They're all dead." Jack pushed past him.

"What?" Daniel shook his head in desperate denial. "How can you be so sure, maybe she found a side tunnel, maybe - ?"

"Maybe she what?" Jack snarled. Daniel's eyes widened and he actually recoiled. "Built a raft and rode out of there like some latter-day Hardwigg? We damned near died in those tunnels after only three hours. What hasn't collapsed is flooded with magma!" He stood for long seconds, breathing hard, trying to regain a measure of self-control. Finally, he added in a flat, emotionless voice, "Go see for yourself. Our only way off this rock is to go back to the city, get the skulls Wodeski has and find ourselves a cave, a rotunda, something that'll work. And so help me, to whatever pernicious scum-sucking god is listening, I'll tear that son of a bitch's heart out myself if he even thinks about not giving `em to me."

Daniel stared at Jack's departing back, still not believing. But his face... Echoes of pain lingered when Jack talked about his son, but this was different. This was raw, immediate, and shockingly intimate.

His own loss of Sha're had come in pieces. That had made the burden no less agonizing, but he, at least, had had time to love Sha're, to see her once more and say goodbye, and to know that one day he would see her again. It wasn't something he could fully comprehend, much less explain, yet it allowed him to go on. But what he saw in Jack... beyond the pain was a dark and shattered emptiness.

Dabruzzi was crouched low behind the ridgeline. Daniel clambered up to him, and almost fell back as a ferocious blast of heat sucked the moisture from his eyes and lungs, crackling his skin and singeing his hair. Jack was right. He'd needed to see for himself. And when he did, a sense of profound horror welled inside of him. Sam, the kids, all of them would have been in the tun nel with magma behind them and lava in front, with absolutely no way out. There was little consolation in knowing they would probably have succumbed to the heat long before being burned alive. To be trapped like that, knowing what was coming...

The big volcanologist turned to him with an expression of awe, fear, and inevitability. "The view is to die for."

"You're sounding more and more like Jack." Sam is dead. It kept cycling in his mind. They had risked life and limb on a daily basis, but this time, Sam is dead!

Dabruzzi snorted and began to make himself comfortable.

"What are you doing?" Daniel demanded. "It's a three-hour trek back to the city; we have to leave now." Sam is dead!

"Why?" Dabruzzi batted at the ash accumulating in his beard.

"You can't just sit here and wait for the end, not while there's still a chance we can get off this planet." Sam is dead. There is no escape for her

"Moon."

"What?"

"It's a moon, not a planet. A planet orbits the sun, a moon orbits - "

"I don't care!" shouted Daniel, pulling the volcanologist to his feet. "We've gotten out of situations as bad as this before." Because we've always had Sam.

They puffed their way down the ridge, across a narrow cutting and up the next hill. "Worse than this, huh?" Dabruzzi said when they looked down into the caldera.

When they'd emerged from the tunnel into the hills, it had been to a scene of destruction. Everything, every one of the magnificent trees that once inhabited the slopes, was gone. One of the jaguar warriors with them had laughed a little manically. His brother, he'd said, had been executed for cutting down just one tree. Now the gods had slaughtered thousands.

With over a hundred children and as many adults - mostly warriors who believed Quetzalcoatl would lead them to Omeyocan through the Chappa'ai - they had made their way up through the lifeless hills of slag. Daniel hadn't wasted time looking back, but now he was beginning to wonder if there was any point at all in returning to the city.

The caldera was coming to life once more, bringing with it death. It looked like Netu on a bad day. Incandescent rock sprayed upwards from long cracks and vents. Everywhere Daniel looked, bright bloody entrails oozed across the surface. Lit by a roseate glow from below and an eerie green and violet lightning storm from above, there was no longer any doubt that the gods had grown angry and turned their backs on this world.

Surprisingly, the stone structures in Teotihuacan appeared relatively intact, although it was only a question of time until the rivers coalesced into lakes and a sea of lava flooded the ancient city.

When they reached Jack and Teal'c, Atlatl was explaining to the crowds that while Chalchiuhtlicue and the children were now safe, they had arrived too late for Quetzalcoatl to stop Mictlantecuhtli from devouring the Chappa'ai. Daniel deliberately composed his face. Propagating the fiction that the others were alive gave the refugees hope that Quetzalcoatl's ex cathedra status would yet save them. Revoke that belief, and most of them would sit down, here, now and wait for the end.

But not Jack; he would save these people through sheer force of will. Or die trying.

When Atlatl ordered his warriors to move out, Jack said, "Teal'c take point."

Around them, jaguar warriors began picking up the younger children and swinging them onto their shoulders. Dabruzzi shot Daniel a doubtful look.

He removed his glasses and used the apron of his maxtiati to rearrange the filth on the lenses. "We've gotten out of tighter spots." Really. Except that this time, Sam is dead.

Sometime during the walk, the sun must have set and Meztli risen, but only the blood of Xalotcan and the ceaseless lightning storms lit the violently tormented world. Still, they made good time. It was mostly downhill and, unlike the walk up, the ripping sounds that tore through the ground no longer resulted in people throwing themselves down and crying out in terror. They were becoming desensitized to the cataclysm.

The snowflake-sized ash fall was only mildly bothersome; the jaguar warriors took turns clearing a path so there was no need to plough through the stuff. Surprisingly, no rocks or lava bombs rained down on them, although Dabruzzi assured them that it would be inevitable. If they were lucky, poisonous gasses would kill them first. Daniel popped his remaining allergy tablet, figuring it would last just long enough until... whatever.

Other than muttering something about being sick and tired of deja vu, Jack remained as monosyllabic as Teal'c.

By the time they reached the outskirts of the city, thousands more refugees had joined them, blindly trusting in Quetzalcoatl to save them. Jack motioned for everyone to wait while he and Teal'c climbed to the top of the last ridge. A minute or so later, he signaled Daniel to join them.

"What is it?" Daniel coughed and spat out a mouthful of ash.

"You tell me." Jack handed him the binoculars.

Daniel focused the lenses and looked over the city. It was all but surrounded by rivers and fountains of lava. "The Pyramid of the Sun has gone." He panned the glasses to the Pyramid of the Moon. "No magma is coming out. The collapsed tunnels must be holding it back." A fire priest was dancing wildly on the apex. When he raised his arms, Daniel saw that an additional hand dangled from each wrist, while extra feet flopped beside his ankles. "Oh." Readjusting the focus to be certain, he marveled at his capacity to still feel shock and sick horror. As he watched, the priest wearing the human skin lifted a severed head to the sky in supplication. "Wodeski." Daniel dropped his forehead onto the ash-covered ground in defeat.

"That's what I thought." Jack's voice was flat.

Bringing the field glasses to his eyes again, Daniel croaked, "They sent him home."

"What?"

Handing the binoculars to Jack, Daniel rolled onto his back. He stared at the kaleidoscopic patterns behind his closed eyes, hoping they would blot out the memory of what he had just seen. He doubted it. "Wodeski played the human incarnation of Tzcatlipoca. They think that Quetzalcoatl defeated Tzcatlipoca because both of you were in human form. By killing Tzcatlipoca's mortal body, the fire priests believe they sent him back to Omeyocan so that he can return in spiritual form. That's why there are so many people on the pyramid. They're all but ripping their own hearts out in an effort to `feed' the divine form of Tzcatlipoca with sufficient life to defeat you."

"And postpone the end of the world, by, oh, say, an hour or so?"

"I believe it may be working," said Teal'c.

"What?" Daniel rolled over.

"Holy - " Jack's words were cut off as a bolt of energy shot from the sky and tore into the far side of the caldera.

Daniel tried to see through the savage, turbulent clouds to the source of the energy beam.

"That was not Goa'uld weaponry," declared Teal'c.

A second, then third bolt impacted the caldera in the same place, sending white-hot balls of molten earth into the twilight sky.

"Someone's attacking the capital, Xalo!" yelled Dabruzzi as he scrambled up the slope to join them.

Jack's eyes narrowed, and he brought the binoculars to his eyes. "Yeah, I think you're right. So who's doing the shooting?"

"The other guys," said Daniel looking up. More bolts, definitely Goa'uld weaponry this time, lanced towards the source of the energy weapons.

"Other guys?" cried Dabruzzi.

"Eh...maybe we need to rethink the Omeyocan thing," said Daniel. "Look up, to the south east."

A boiling white tumescence burst downward from the inky sky, surging across the heavens like a breaking wave seen from underwater. The whiteness blossomed towards them in a malig nant, ghostly storm. Terrified refugees began to scream. Seconds later, dozens of people scurried either side of them and over the ridge, racing ineffectually ahead of the advancing cloud. "Quet- zalcoati, Quetzalcoatl comes!" they shrieked.

The fact that Jack was currently lying right beside Daniel, covering his face against the tide of humanity now trying to trample them into the ground, was irrelevant. Jack was Quetzalcoatl manifested in human form. The god Quetzalcoatl was supposed to arrive in a great white `cloud ship' from the east. No mistake this time. And no mistaking the rage. Teal'c was right. If the Omeyocan weren't alive, they were sure acting like it.

And they were pissed.

The clouds broke off into humanoid forms and swirled around the valley, megalithic specters on a violent rampage. More energy beams ripped into the huge caldera. But why were the Omeyocans blowing up Xalo when the entire moon was selfdestructing? And who was in the Goa'uld ship attacking them? Tzcatlipoca or Tonatui?

"No relation to Casper, right?" cried Dabruzzi.

Coughing on the ash, Atlatl joined them. His eyes followed the movements of the enormous Omeyocans.

"You can see them?" Daniel yelled above the stupendous noise. Energy weapons tore across the sky and into the mountains, ripping away the crust and spilling the liquid heart of Xalotcan into the wrecked caldera.

Atlatl looked at Daniel like he was nuts, then he turned to Jack and said, "False gods they may be, but they do battle as legend says, and our world is ending. You said you could save my people. Tell me how!"

Most of those who had fled were men. Infused with terror, they now sought to reach Tzcatlipoca's temple, desperately hoping for entry to Omeyocan before the final world ended - except that the Pyramid of the Moon was also beginning to collapse. Daniel looked down at the remaining refugees, mostly women, children and the steadfast warriors under Atlatl's command.

"Look!" Dabruzzi leaped up and pointed to the receding lava rivers around the city. "By blowing holes in the thickest rock formations elsewhere in the caldera, the Omeyocans have reduced the pressure in the magma chamber beneath Teotihuacan."

Daniel grasped Jack by the arm and shouted, "Quetzalcoatl said that only those who renounced the Goa'uld could use the crystal skull network. And he told you to lead them!"

Now Jack looked at him like he was nuts. Where? He silently demanded.

"Through Quetzalcoatl's temple," Teal'c declared.

"Exactly!" Daniel yelled. "We arrived both times in the cave beneath the Pyramid of Quetzalcoatl. The fifth skull must be inside."

Atlatl stared at him curiously. "Only the secret Brotherhood of Quetzalcoatl knows of the existence of the fifth skull."

Brotherhood ...coatl meant snake - the Brotherhood of the Snake! Atlatl could know about the Brotherhood only if he was a member. Suddenly, like pieces of a gigantic jigsaw puzzle, everything fell neatly into place. Daniel opened his mouth to speak, but his words were drowned out by a stupendous roar overhead.

Jack's face screwed up. "Daniel, the cave we arrived in collapsed."

"We don't know that for sure!"

"Assuming it hasn't, and we can find the skull, what's the bet it leads to Tollan?" Dabruzzi said gloomily.

Jack stared at him. "Are you trying to out-pessimize me?"

"Pessimize isn't a real word," Dabruzzi countered.

"Is too."

"Jack!" yelled Daniel. While a part of him was glad that Jack was still, well, Jack, they didn't have time for this. He turned to Dabruzzi, and said, "The fire priest gave the skulls to Wodeski because they tried one and couldn't get it to work - it must have been the one to Tollan. Wodeski also had the rose skull, which means the fifth skull has to go to Earth, Yaxkin or Orban."

"So, Atlatl, you know where to find this skull?" said Jack.

Atlatl shook his head. "I know only that it was hidden in the heart of Quetzalcoatl's temple."

Jack wiped his face, and then looked at each of them.

"Jack?" Daniel demanded impatiently.

"I'm thinking about it! Alright." He pointed to the sensor in Dabruzzi's hands. "Can you use that thing to figure out the best way there?"

"You mean the least worst way?"

Jack scowled at him. "Yeah, that."

Dabruzzi waved his hand. "Let's go!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

eal'c was not oblivious to the pain he felt at the loss of Major Carter, nor was he unaware that the possibility of success was remote. However, Master Bra'tac had taught him to focus on the path directly before him, to dedicate his attention to now and not on the world disintegrating around him. He would grieve for Major Carter, a formidable warrior and a friend, when the time was right. And he would grieve with O'Neill, who would not grieve for himself.

The madness that had tried to capture his spirit from the time they had arrived on Xalotcan, a madness that Dr Dabruzzi said came from the movement of fluid rock within the moon, had vanished moments prior to the volcano erupting. A new form of madness now ravaged the once great city. With the collapse of all pyramids bar one, the people of Xalotcan could no longer gain entry into any level of Omeyocan.

As O'Neill led the refugees along the Avenue, they were obliged to fight off men marauding like jackals, and women screeching like shrill termagants. The inhabitants seemed determined to be killed on the broadswords of the jaguar warriors, or by his own equally deadly staff weapon.

"To be killed by a god is to go to Omeyocan," Daniel Jackson called out as he ran past them once more. "They'll throw themselves at you - you don't have any choice!"

O'Neill grabbed Daniel Jackson by the arm. "They have a choice, and we're going to give it to them. Tell them they won't be getting into any Heaven unless they calm down and follow me!"

Word spread quickly that the human embodiment of Quetzalcoatl was leading a procession along the Avenue of the Dead to his Temple, even while the spirit forms of Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue, and countless other apparitions, tore the heavens apart in the monumental battle of the gods at the End of Time. Despair and madness swiftly turned into hope. People flooded into the streets from unseen quarters, no longer huddling terrified in dark comers, until tens of thousands swelled their ranks.

"There's no magma directly beneath us," Dr Dabruzzi announced when they eventually stepped down into the Citadel. The swell of people surged around them. "The bedrock must be a solid plug of basalt, probably goes down hundreds, maybe even thousands of feet."

"And this helps us, how?" O'Neill demanded.

"It would explain why Quetzal's Pyramid is still standing. If the cave beneath it, the one we arrived in, hasn't collapsed, it won't be flooded with magma. We have to get everyone into the Citadel; it'll act like a cork bobbing on the lava. Give us extra time to find the skull."

Atlatl moved off to direct the jaguar warriors. The Citadel could easily contain a hundred thousand people.

"Quetzalcoatl must have known the Citadel and temple dedicated to him would act as an island," observed Daniel Jackson as another explosion echoed overhead. "I don't think he would have directed us here without knowing there was a way out."

A burst of light rent the sky. It was instantly followed by a second, much larger explosion. Before the sound had even reached them, the center of the Citadel illuminated and transport rings delivered three figures to the ground.

"Jaffa, Kree!" ordered the central figure imperiously. He was wearing a wing shaped cloak of eagle feathers, and a huge eagle's beak, open at the front, over his head. The thousands pouring into the Citadel fell to the ground in supplication.

"Okay, that's Tonatui," declared Daniel Jackson.

Teal'c looked overhead. "I believe his ship was destroyed." The swirling masses of Omeyocan quickly receded and the great white cloud contracted in upon itself, leaving behind darkness pierced by an impressive, but natural, lightning storm. The false gods and Omeyocan might have ceased battling, but Xalotcan continued in its death throes.

The two Jaffa with Tonatui, one with a gold sun tattooed on his head, lifted their staff weapons and began shooting randomly into the crowd.

"Whoa!" O'Neill cried.

Teal'c dispatched one of the Jaffa just as O'Neill took out the second. Then they both fired upon the Goa'uld, but Tonatui had already employed the defensive shield of his hand device. The cries of terror from the crowds abated until all that could be heard were the sounds of the rending ground and hiss of nearby lava fountains.

"Who is it that defies his god?" boomed Tonatui. His massive bronzed muscles bulged, and his eyes blazed with unfettered rage.

"Ah... so much for not being able to maintain the host's body," Daniel Jackson observed.

The crowds dared to look up - and stared at O'Neill. "Quetzalcoatl!" they replied.

Tonatui laughed manically. "I have just defeated Quetzalcoatl in battle, as I defeated my brother, Tzcatlipoca, for his betrayal."

"Oh yeah?" O'Neill called. "So if it wasn't your ship that just blew, what exactly are you doin' down here? Or haven't you noticed that old `Mick is rearranging the real estate?"

"You are not Quetzalcoatl!" Tonatui took a menacing step towards O'Neill. "You are but a human."

The crowds looked at O'Neill, uncertain.

"Who has killed many false gods, including Ra!" Teal'c replied.

Tonatui paused, momentarily nonplussed. "You lie!"

"You are not worthy to battle Quetzalcoatl," Teal'c declared contemptuously. "As First Prime, I will defeat you in his name!"

"No, Teal' c, hang on - "

"He's right, Jack," Daniel Jackson said. "Look at the guy, he's built like Teal'c! You might have been able to go one-on-one with him if he were human, but he's a Goa'uld."

"Might?" O'Neill glared at Daniel Jackson indignantly.

Teal'c could see the reluctance in his brother's eyes. "I will not fail you, O'Neill. And I have no doubt that you and Daniel Jackson will find the crystal skull."

With no need of an answer, he stepped into the arena and declared again, more loudly, "I am Teal'c, First Prime to Quetzalcoatl. I challenge the false god, Tonatui, in Quetzalcoatl's name."

"Then you will die screaming my name for mercy!" boomed Tonatui. He picked up the staff weapon dropped by his now dead First Prime and swung it in a practiced maneuver.

Teal'c had once read a book written by the Tauri warrior, Sun Tzu. Though the book was two and a half millennia old, its wisdom, like that which Master Bra'tac taught, was ageless. Tonatui's staff weapon arced towards his head, and the pace of time slowed into this one perfect moment of the battle. The teachings of Master Bra'tac and Sun Tzu flowed through his spirit, guiding him, schooling him with patience.

Observe his weakness as he dances; see how the dance becomes a routine. Practiced rigidity. Inflexible, predictable, for he relies on this movement too often. Watch how he overbalances at this point. Observe and wait; the opportunity will come.

Teal'c accepted the blows with equanimity. They served a purpose, for the Goa'uld's weakest point was its hubris. He set aside the pain, oblivious to all but that which mattered now. To choose the moment too soon would bring defeat. Left too late and his body would fail as the blows rained upon him. A Goa'uld cannot be defeated in hand-to-hand combat, because a Goa'uld cannot die.

But a Goa'uld could die, for a Goa'uld was not a god.

Jack was loath to leave, but Teal'c was buying them time, probably with his life, and he wasn't about to waste that sacrifice. With the help ofAtlatl's men, he and Daniel made their way through the crowds and into the Pyramid of Quetzalcoatl.

Once inside, Jack was surprised by the relative lack of damage. Although the passages were filled with bodies and debris, none of the walls had collapsed. The warriors set to work clearing a path for the hundreds that would soon crowd in, desperate to follow Quetzalcoatl. Jack estimated there were probably fifty thousand people outside now, and more than double that number scattered throughout what was left of the city. Of course before they could evacuate anyone, there was the little matter of finding the skull. He looked around forAtlatl. When he couldn't see him, he asked Daniel, "What's with this secret Brotherhood?"

"Also known as the Knights Templar, the Brotherhood of the Snake were sworn to protect the knowledge of the skulls from `evil alien reptiles'."

Daniel helped him move a heavy beam aside, then continued, "On Earth, four skulls were left at Teotihuacan. The fifth skull was spirited away, probably by the Brotherhood, centuries earlier. I think they're the ones who built the pyramid in Belize and became Mayan `priests'. The oath to protect the skulls passed down through the generations until the time of the Aztecs, who adopted an essentially Mayan belief structure - along with members of the Brotherhood. Some of the Brotherhood, including Atlatl's ancestors, obviously carried the tradition off world, keeping the secret, and their a priori allegiance to Quetzalcoatl, alive."

They entered a room with several passages. Jack turned to ask for directions but Atlatl moved past him, saying, "This way. As you say, the Brotherhood were sworn to protect the skulls. However, with Tzcatlipoca's purge and the death of my sons..." Atlatl's voice cracked when he added, "I am the last."

Jack faltered. But he could not allow Atlatl's pain to distract him. Once they found the skull, Daniel would use it to take Atlatl and the first group of kids to Yak Skin, or wherever. Dabruzzi and Teal'c - assuming he was alive - could go with the next groups. Meanwhile, Jack intended to go back outside the Temple and keep the lines moving. Carter would have told him that there was no way he could save everyone in what little time they had left. But Carter was dead, and he'd never been good with numbers, so it didn't much matter. He had no intention of leaving until every man, woman and child was safely off the planet.

Atlatl pushed aside some fallen masonry, and stepped into the cavern. Jack followed and looked around. The floor was littered with huge chunks from the cracked ceiling but otherwise was intact. Then the ground and the walls seemed to shift as one. Was he imagining it, or were they moving? "A little help here, Daniel! What are we looking for? Secret passages, rooms, what? ...Ali!"

The toy dog, Spiffy, leaped from his pocket and ran across to a solitary body, lying heaped against the far wall. A crushed green-feathered headdress lay nearby. The body was a couple of days old.

Glancing at the dog, Atlatl said, "It seeks its master."

"I thought it belonged to that little girl?" Daniel was staring in concentration at the glyphs on the wall.

"The dogs are guides. They lead to redemption and rebirth. Thus they belong to Quetzalcoatl's high priest, who was charged with providing one for each journey through the Roads of Mictlan."

"That makes sense," said Daniel.

"But it doesn't get us the hell out of here!" said Jack, exasperated.

Daniel ran his hands along the glyphs. "Did many Aztec warriors come here through the skull?"

Atlatl nodded. "Their reward for conquering this world was to become Jaffa."

"Having a snake shoved into your belly was a reward?" Jack stared at Spiffy; it was pawing at the dead priest and whimpering.

"For most, it was considered a great honor," Atlatl said. "Alas, for members of the Brotherhood, it was the ultimate betrayal of their birthright. Those who denied this `honor' were put to death. Some, including my ancestors, chose the burden of life so that we could protect the skulls." He pressed a hand to the pouch in his stomach. "And so it has been ever since, even amongst our priests."

The cave moved. Nope that definitely was not his imagination. The entire structure was lilting like a boat cast adrift from its moorings.

"The priests were also Jaffa?" Daniel grabbed the wall to steady himself. "I wondered why the Brotherhood hadn't informed Quetzalcoatl. They couldn't use the skulls!"

Atlatl turned to Jack. "This was the burden of slavery to false gods, who called the symbiotes our `second heart'. But we knew that when the world ended, you would return and set us free."

Second heart. Jack crouched by the dog. Nose twitching with distaste, he ignored the sickening, swaying motion of the cavern and rolled the body over.

Outside in the Citadel, Tonatui grew more confident, more predictable. Teal'c knew his moment was coming; he could smell it as he could smell the terror of those who looked on. Just a little longer.

A loud hissing noise followed a shudder and wrenching sound. Just beyond the Citadel, a shower of ruby and white burst up in a pyrotechnic fountain, and then cascaded down onto the crowd in deceptively slow motion, dropping people in their tracks. It was a shocking reminder of what would happen to all of them, sooner or later. But rather than screaming in terror and fleeing aimlessly, the crowd went quiet and still, for a glob of lava had landed directly behind Tonatui.

The Goa'uld lunged at Teal'c, grappled with him and forced him backwards. Teal'c felt the heat on his back, and realized that an equally fiery blob lay directly behind him.

"You see?" Tonatui yelled, his eyes blazing with triumph. "I now command the god of the Underworld!"

It was a deadly tug-of-war, one in which the outcome held greater significance than Teal'c's mere death. For if he perished in the small patch of lava, it would prove that Tonatui had indeed usurped Quetzalcoatl's power over Mictlantecuhtli. Even with the crystal skull in hand, few would follow O'Neill to Yaxkin.

Tonatui increased his force. It was the moment for which Teal'c had been waiting. He firmly grasped Tonatui by the arms, bent his knees, and fell backwards. As he hit the ground, he brought his feet up and thrust them into the belly of Tonatui. Unbalanced, the Goa'uld's forward momentum carried him over Teal'c's head.

Teal'c felt the sticky rock burning into his shoulder, but he maintained his grip until Tonatui's roar of agony abruptly ceased. Then he rolled away from the lava and staggered to his feet. The stench of burning flesh - his own and Tonatui's - filled his nostrils, but the pain was quenched by what he now saw. On the ground where Tonatui's head and torso had been was a bubbling mass of flesh and rock. Beside the twitching limbs lay a Goa'uld tail.

"Quetzalcoatl has commanded Mictlantecuhtli to destroy his enemy!" he shouted.

"Hey, big guy," said Dabruzzi, supporting Teal'c by his good arm.

"I am -

"Not so well!"

In the cavern, Jack pulled the priest's blood-encrusted cape aside. He was a Jaffa, all right, but with a dead symbiote clutched in his remaining hand. Jack looked up when Dabruzzi came into the temple, Teal'c's staggering beside him. The big Jaffa looked about as bad as Jack had ever seen him. He started to stand. "Teal'c?"

" Tonatui is dead, O'Neill, and my symbiote will heal me."

Behind them dozens of children began pouring into the cave. "The entire caldera is a sea of lava," called Dabruzzi. "We're floating on top. Ah...you know, as much as I'm enjoying this, have you found a way off this liquid rock? It's getting a little toasty outside."

"Working on it." Jack turned back to the corpse. In the flickering light of the torch he could see inside the pouch, flaccid now that the rigidity of death had passed. Gritting his teeth, he reached in - and pulled out a blood-encrusted crystal skull.

EPILOGUE

ergeant Harriman turned to General Hammond. "Sir, it's SGl's IDC!"

The surge of hope that swept through Hammond was like a rush of morphine. "What?" He looked over Harriman's shoulder. M4D376, otherwise known as Xalotcan, was a seething ball of hell. According to Jacob, even the atmosphere had burned off. Down into the `gate room, the squad of SFAs on permanent standby were already in position. "Open the iris!"

Grinning broadly, Harriman slapped his hand on the palm scanner. "Yes, sir!"

Hammond's unashamed delight at seeing Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson, Teal'c and Dr Robert Dabruzzi stroll through the liquid blue event horizon was tempered by the way Jack carried himself. It was exactly how Major Carter had been when she'd returned through the `gate a week earlier. He had a fair idea of what was going through the Colonel's mind. Hammond reached down to the microphone and called into the PA, "Major Carter to the `gate room, on the double!"

Jack's head shot up with whiplash speed. His eyes bored through the glass, demanding. Hammond smiled, and crossing his arms, nodded slowly. "Stand down," he ordered the SFAs.

By the time Hammond reached the `gate room, Major Carter was hugging Teal'c, whose smile had broadened markedly. Jack caught Hammond's eye, silently not asking permission for something he would never admit to. Hammond nodded once; the only acknowledgement he would ever give. O'Neill opened is arms and held Major Carter like a drowning man clinging to a life raft.

As he held her close, Sam felt something stir between them. She jerked in surprise. The Colonel looked at her with a crooked grin, reached into his pocket and pulled out the black Chihuahua, Xipe. It was the first time she'd seen the animal when it wasn't shivering.

"I was thinking of getting myself a dog, anyway," he said.

Sam heard the trace of mischief in his voice. She couldn't picture the Colonel as the Chihuahua type.

Daniel patted the animal's head. "He saved our lives."

"On two occasions," added Teal'c.

"Uhm... still," said the Colonel hopefully. "We could consider giving him up if - "

"There's a little girl in the infirmary who is going to be very happy to see him." Sam couldn't stop smiling, but she didn't much care. "And you, too, sir. All of you."

"So, Colonel," said General Hammond. "I can only assume that you found the professor and used a skull to reach Yaxkin?"

"Little more complicated than that, sir, but Yak Skin it was. Quetzal's pyramid collapsed after we transferred the first batch of kids out. Figured Dabruzzi was gonna get his wish for a front row seat at the end of the world, but then Daniel tried the skull in the center of the Citadel."

"Just like on Earth, the city is a scale model of the entire valley," explained Daniel. "The Citadel was in the exact center of Teotihuacan, and the caldera acted as a gigantic resonator."

"Worked just fine, sir," said O'Neill.

"Quetzalcoatl must have done something to facilitate the transfer," Daniel added. "From what we can tell, everyone left alive in Teotihuacan - over two hundred and fifty thousand people - arrived under that glass pyramid in one transfer. There are a lot of injured, but they'll be okay if we can organize relief supplies. We would have been back here sooner, General, but it took me a while to figure out the location of the `gate."

"And Yaxkin is suitable for the refugees?" asked Hammond.

"Certainly is," the Colonel replied. "Lots of trees. I even got a little fishing in."

"No volcanoes," griped Dabruzzi, staring at O'Neill oddly. "Fishing? I wondered where you'd disappeared to - "

"We found what we think was Coatlicue's lab," added Daniel quickly. "It was near the `gate."

"Was?" said Sam.

"Yeah, looks like Quetzy found it. Nothing much left." The Colonel looked around curiously. "Uhm...more importantly, did anyone save some Christmas cake?"

"Sir," Sam said to Hammond. "About my transfer - "

The General crossed his arms. "Don't worry about that, Major, I'll talk to General Vidrine. As for the rest ofyou, briefing room, one hour. I may even have some cake myself. And Colonel O'Neill?"

"Sir?"

"In uniform, please."

"And I was just getting used to it!" O'Neill pulled the singed and battered feather-cape around his shoulders in a flourish, and left.

CLASSIFIED

MISSION REPORT: M4D-376

AUTHOR: DR. DANIEL JACKSON

CLASSIFIED

Mission 5-12/01: M4D-376

Excerpts on Teotihuacan, the Aztecs, the Mayan Calendar and crystal skulls.

Teotihuacan

Teotihuacan was built by an unknown race of people in the early years of the first century BC. It was a thriving metropolis until 750AD, when the estimated 200,000 inhabitants mysteriously vanished, and the city was burned. The remaining stone structures were partially dismantled by the Mayans, Toltecs, Aztecs and Spanish, to furnish building materials for their own monumental structures. Despite this systematic plundering, it stands today as the single largest archeological site on Earth. One of the more compelling mysteries surrounding Teotihuacan is the complete absence of writing. It appears as if the inhabitants deliberately erased all evidence of where they came from, and where they went.

When considering Teotihuacan as an historical site, it is important to remember that what little information we have has been filtered through the cultural bias of the civilizations that followed, the Mayans and the Aztecs or Mexicatl. The Spanish then added their uniquely biased cultural interpretations. This has left modem scholars with a highly speculative collection of theories as to the origins, purpose and finally, the ultimate fate of this city and its inhabitants.

The first records of Teotihuacan come from the Aztecs, who, believing that mere humans could not have created such a place, declared that it must therefore have been built by the gods. hi Nahuatl, the Aztec language is still spoken by over a million and a half people today. Teotihuacan means the `place of teotl', or `the place where teotl comes'. The word teotl applies to the forces of nature: the weather, the rivers and oceans, plants and animals, and the heavens, celestial bodies, sun, moon, planets, and so on. A strongly animist culture, the Aztecs believed these forces were manifestations of the gods. Thus `teotl' is synonymous with both `god' and `natural force'. The `place of teotl' can equally be interpreted as the `place where powerful natural forces concentrate'. Given our understanding of the crystal skull transport system, this is perhaps a more accurate description of Teotihuacan - albeit the 'natural forces' are somewhat outside our current scientific understanding.

The Aztecs further believed that the gods came to Teotihuacan to create the current world of existence (see my notes on Mayan Calendar). This belief was not based solely on the city's size, ingenious town planning and architectural splendor, but on two unique features. First, and I should stress this is a feature seen in no other city, ancient or modem, on Earth, the permanent stone structures are an exact scale model of the Teotihuacan valley, with the pyramids representing the surrounding hills and mountains. Secondly, and perhaps more crucially from an Aztec point of view, the largest structure in the city, the Pyramid of the Sun, was built directly over a four-chambered lava-tube.

In a culture that worshipped death as a crucial part of the life cycle, caves were considered to be portals to the Underworld. A four-chambered cave was held as particularly sacred, for each of the caves' lobes was believed to represent the four parts of the cosmos, the very foundation of Mesoamerican existence.

We now know that the architects of Teotihuacan selected this location because of the natural resonance in the valley. The caves were convenient, but not crucial. There is evidence to suggest that they were enlarged to facilitate the functioning of the skull transport system. This then allowed the inhabitants to travel from the one convenient central location, the Pyramid of the Sun, to the four worlds of Tollan, Orban, Xalotcan and Yaxkin.

From descriptions in early Mayan codex, the Teotihuacan seen on Earth today is merely the skeletal remains of a once magnificent city that `shone like gold'. As Teal'c has pointed out, there were significant differences between the Teotihuacan of Xalotcan and that of Earth. The most obvious, of course, was that on Xalotcan it was a living city, with semi-permanent Aztec structures of clay and wood built on the original stone foundations. The other major difference was in the facades of the two largest pyramids, and the absence of the Adosada platform on the Pyramid of Quetzalcoatl. However, the ground plan and the number and configuration of pyramids and `temple' bases appeared, from what we could tell, to be identical (see the attached ground plan). The description that follows is therefore applicable to both cities.

Bisecting Teotihuacan in a north-south direction is the broad Avenue of the Dead. At its geographic heart, on the eastern side of the Avenue, is the Ciudadela, which could have comfortably accommodated over 100 000 people. [Note: Ciudadela is a Spanish word, on Xalotcan we referred to it as the `Citadel']. Within the Ciudadela sits the Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent, Quetzalcoatl. Although not as tall as the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon, it is one of the largest and most heavily decorated structures in the city.

At the northernmost end of the Avenue is the Pyramid of the Moon. The female goddess depicted throughout Teotihuacan in carvings, frescoes and pottery closely resembles the mountain looming directly to the north, the sacred peak of the Cerro Gordo ('fat hill'). The goddess' lower parts represent a cave from which the current `world' was bom. The Aztecs believed that it was from here that the hero god, Quetzalcoatl, emerged from the Underworld, Mictlan, with the bones of the inhabitants of the prior world, in order to create mankind. Thus, mountains and caves represent the promise of life within death, as well as being portals to other, metaphysical worlds.

Five hundred meters south of the Pyramid of the Moon, on the eastern flank of the Avenue, lies the biggest single structure in Teotihuacan, indeed, all of Mesoamerica, the Pyramid of the Sun. Larger at the base than the Khufu pyramid (or Cheops if you prefer the Greek name) at Giza, the Pyramid of the Sun is orientated towards where the sun sets on April 29 andAugust 12, and was built directly over the four chambered lava-tube.

In addition to the principal pyramids, several dozen smaller pyramids are positioned around the city. Some archeologists have opined that their configuration represents the Solar system's planets and moons. They further cite this as evidence that the Mayans built the city.

This attribution of mathematical genius to the Mayans is flawed for a number of reasons.

Firstly, most of the planets and their moons were not discovered until the invention of modem telescopes. Therefore the existence of so many celestial bodies could only have been derived mathematically - unless a more advanced race provided the Mayans with this information. We are therefore left with a circular argument. Who was this advanced race if not those who built Teotihuacan?

Which brings us to the second major flaw in the `Mayan' argument. The principle structures of Teotihuacan were completed by 200AD, one hundred years prior to the beginning of the Mayan Classic period, which itself lasted from 300-900AD. We know from Mayan texts that their cities maintained an extensive trading relationship with Teotihuacan, but it is evident that, like the Aztecs who came later, the Mayans emulated the pre-existent Teotihuacan architectural style.

Thirdly, Teotihuacan was a highly urbanized city, with complex town planning and distinct socio-economic residential districts. The Mayans were never a true `urban' culture. Their cities were almost entirely used as religious centers that supported, and in turn were supported by, a surrounding rural population.

Finally, the Orbanians, direct descendents of the Teotihuacanos, are a fair-skinned Nordic race. The Tollans were also Caucasian, whereas the Mayans were distinctively Mesoamerican. The Mayans certainly had some knowledge of the skull network and transport system, but I believe it was limited to their priesthood (see Crystal Skull in my attached notes).

The popular theory regarding the purpose of the pyramids at Teotihuacan derives from the Aztecs' use of them as temples and sacrificial alters. However, there is absolutely no physical evidence supporting this premise. Indeed, large quantities of mica - a shiny silica rock often used for electrical insulation - found on and around these pyramids offers tangible evidence that they were used for an entirely different purpose. Mayan texts describe the buildings as a collection of observatories and structures housing instruments to observe the cosmos. To be fair, some modem scholars have interpreted this literally. They assume the Teotihuacanos used simple but practical stone structures and instruments to mark the passage of the moon, sun, and Venus, in order to calculate the seasons.

The Goa'uld use the pyramid form as landing platforms and to channel power through their ships. The Omeyocan used the shape to channel power to transport systems. The Mayans copied the architectural style and worshipped it because they knew it had great power, but they did not understand it. The Aztecs adopted an essentially Mayan culture and, having been corrupted by the Goa'uld, used the pyramids as temples and sacrificial altars.

This is a prime example of how a religious belief structure evolved from real events and practical, scientific applications, the origins of which have been lost through time. Form does not necessarily equate with function, especially when one is dealing with different cultures and vastly different technological levels. The attribution of a function through the cultural bias of civilizations that followed is a common error. It has been, and continues to be, a major problem in archeology. Instead of taking a genuinely scientific approach, of formulating a theory based on hard physical evidence, most archeologists vigorously dismiss even the most compelling evidence when it does not fit accepted wisdom. Further, they attack the credibility of any who dare challenge their essentially unscientific stance. The crystal skull that Nick found, and the evidence I unearthed at Giza, being cases in point.

From the codex that Wodeski's team discovered in the tomb beneath the Pyramid of the Sun, we now know that the smaller pyramid structures held machines similar to the one in the map room on P7X-377. This explains how the Mayans acquired such an accurate calendar system, one that formed the cornerstone of their culture (see Mayan Calendar in my notes) and was later adopted by the Aztecs.

Further evidence suggests that the inhabitants of Teotihuacan took the machines with them when they evacuated the city . It now seems that members of the Brotherhood of the Snake (see crystal skull notes) remained behind and burned their city in order to destroy evidence of these machines' original function, thus preventing the Goa'uld from discovering their whereabouts. Today, on Earth, only the stone bases of these observation and map rooms remain. When the Aztecs invaded Xalotcan, the inhabitants there also destroyed their technology rather than allowing it to fall into Goa'uld hands. The invaders then used the pyramids for the same purpose as they had on Earth, as temples and sacrificial alters. One can only assume that the Xalotcan did not destroy the crystal skulls because the Aztecs had already used the skull transport system to locate them. That these skulls were later hidden is a testimony to the determination of the secret Brotherhood.

On the basis of this, I am somewhat reassured that the Tollan would have destroyed all of their technology rather than allow it to fall into Goa'uld hands. Sadly, with the Tollan now wiped out by the Goa'uld, it seems that the only survivors of this once great civilization are the Orbanians. They are deeply curious about their past, and even more curious as to why their recent ancestors chose to eradicate all memory of that past. Until they discover the answer we can only guess at where these people came from before they settled Teotihuacan. To that end, I believe we must look to the origins of the crystal skulls.

From a personal perspective, I should mention it was Teotihuacan that played a pivotal role in my decision to become an archeologist. After my parents were killed, and Nick chose not to adopt me, archeology didn't exactly top my list of career choices. When I graduated from high school, Nick, no doubt deciding that I was old enough not to be bothersome, invited me to visit him in Mexico. He was researching something in Museo del Templo Mayor at Teotihuacan at the time. I remember how he all but ignored me, and, bored, I walked up the Avenue of the Dead and climbed the Pyramid of the Moon. I was staring out at the city, more or less wondering what the hell I was doing there; when it suddenly struck me that the skyline of the city reflected the exact shape of the mountains behind. I raced back down the Pyramid, along the Avenue, then up the Pyramid of the Sun. Despite offering a completely different perspective, once again, I saw that the skyline of the city exactly followed the topography of the mountains. At that moment I knew that Teotihuacan was far more than a city; it was some sort of vast machine. The `gods' that the Aztecs believed had built Teotihuacan must therefore have been a technologically superior race of people, perhaps even more technologically advanced than modem man. It was a gut-wrenching epiphany.

Although I would not return to Teotihuacan for some years - something to do with avoiding Nick's `territory' and his by then debunked `alien' theories - it was there that my career, and a quest that would ultimately take me to other worlds, began.

While this quest has, naturally, evolved and expanded in the intervening years, discovering the truth about Teotihuacan has provided me with a certain sense of completion; of coming full circle.

The Aztecs

Given the religious basis of the Mayan cities, the decline of the Mayan Classic period after 900AD had little impact in real terms on the mostly agricultural population, which itself continued to thrive. It is now evident that the Goa'uld, Coatlicue, having lost almost everything in her battle with the Omeyocan, slipped into the residual Mayan culture and belief structure, adapted it to suit her needs, and, after the birth of her first offspring, established the Aztec empire.

It seems incredible to me now that I did not immediately see this connection between the Goa'uld and the Aztecs. When one considers the Aztecs within this context, it explains the speed with which their civilization evolved. They performed extraordinary, indeed what some have referred to as `impossible', feats of engineering and urban planning, epitomized by their incredible capital city Tenochtitlan, site of the modem day Mexico City. Here, through a complex system of dams and causeways, they built a thriving metropolis on a series of reclaimed and floating islands, to become the `Venice of Central America'.

Many scholars refute the more bloodthirsty aspects of the Aztec culture, particularly those involving cannibalism. These same scholars insist that only a handful of people were ever sacrificed during a set number of ceremonies each year. Some have gone so far as to suggest that the anecdotal evidence of cannibalism was mostly Spanish propaganda.

This denial is, I suspect, a result of these scholars' inability to reconcile what they see as a bizarre juxtaposition of sophistication and barbarity. In effect, they are unable to see past their own modem cultural prejudices and taboos.

The evidence of mass sacrifice exists on many levels. Even the nature of the Xochiyaoyotl or Flower Wars, resulted in the Aztecs developing a fighting style that was designed to capture, not kill enemy soldiers - a strategy that placed them at a severe disadvantage when facing Cortez's army.

How many people were actually sacrificed over the course of time is open to conjecture. While some Spaniards reported seeing, `tens of thousands' of skulls in the tzompantli, or skull racks, others claim that the racks weren't large enough to accommodate more than hundreds. When I discussed this with Jack, he pointed out that it depends on the configuration of the skull racks. The ones he saw, courtesy of the Khmer Rouge, contained several thousand.

The evidence of cannibalism by the Aztecs is equally fraught with inaccuracies, inference, and, I concede, quite possibly Spanish propaganda. Historians who support the conjecture that cannibalism was common have adopted what appear at first glance to be sound arguments for its economic basis. In order to maintain the world, ritual warfare was a way of acquiring victims necessary to `feed' the gods. After the sacrificial victims, the xochimiqui, had their hearts ripped out and burned in sacrifice, their bodies were cooked and eaten. This highly ritualized practice thus reduced the population in times of famine while simultaneously providing a reliable source of protein. The xochimiqui believed they would be greatly rewarded for fulfilling this vital role in maintaining their world of existence, which explains how large numbers of them could readily be controlled prior to and during the ceremonies.

Scholars who refute the economic basis of cannibalism point out, rightfully so, that the Aztec diet of maize and beans, supplemented by green algae, tadpoles, frogs, and insects, and occasionally, birds and fattened dogs, contains sufficient protein so that cannibalism was unnecessary. But if modem consumerism is any guide, necessity does not necessarily equate with desire. Numerous Aztec codices speak of bringing slaves along on military campaigns, to act as `walking meat'. At the end of a hard day's fighting, given a choice between a plate of green algae and grasshoppers, and a roast haunch of meat, it is not difficult to imagine the preferred cuisine.

Although I cannot say for certain to what degree ritual sacrifice and cannibalism occurred in Mexico, there is no doubt about what we witnessed on Xalotcan. Having also recently witnessed the Goa'uld, or more accurately, their hosts, eating mature symbiotes, I strongly suspect this predilection contributed to the ritualized nature of Aztec cannibalism.

Future scholars reading this journal might argue that we cannot infer Aztec behavior on Earth from what we witnessed of Aztec behavior on Xalotcan. I would suggest such an argument is specious. Despite a gap of four hundred years and several hundred light years, the fact remains that the Aztec empire of Earth grew under the tutelage of a Goa'uld, and then migrated off world in a series of military campaigns. While it's entirely possible that the Aztecs of Earth abandoned the worst excesses after the Goa'uld left, there is no doubt in my mind that ritual sacrifice and cannibalism played a significant, even defining role in their daily lives. What we witnessed on Xalotcan was irrefutable, and segues seamlessly with what we know of the Aztecs of Earth. The only significant difference was that the orbital eccentricity of Xalotcan around Meztlf almost certainly exacerbated the economic necessity of cannibalism.

Mayan Calendar

The Mayan religion was grounded solely in the belief that the universe functions in a logical, cyclical, and predictable way, and that humans could exploit this by accommodating themselves to these cycles. To this end, the Mayans, an agricultural society, became obsessed with the passage of time and the cycles of life. This in turn led to the creation of an exceptionally accurate set of calendars and celestial almanacs.

The Tzolkin, or sacred calendar worked on two cycles, one of thirteen numbered days and a second of twenty named days. These cycles repeated themselves every 260 days. The Tun, or ceremonial calendar was 360 days long plus five concluding, `unlucky' days. The Katun calendar had a cycle of 20 tuns. Both calendars ended after 18 980 days or fifty-two years, with six `unlucky' days left over, called Nemontemi. In addition, they maintained a half-year lunar calendar, a Venus calendar, and cycles of the sky gods. When used together, these calendars were accurate to one day in 6 000 years.

From a cultural point of view, the complexity of these calendars and almanacs resulted in a continuous cycle of rigidly controlled behaviors and religious ceremonies.

The Mayans also believed that there were four `suns', eras, or worlds of existence prior to the current one, which they named Xalotcan. These suns are the glyphs seen in the center section of the Mayan/Aztec stone calendar. Each of these worlds met a catastrophic end at the completion of each 6 000 year calendar cycle.

The Mayan calendar will reach the end of its current 6 000 year cycle in the Gregorian year 2012.

Crystal Skulls

Dozens of ancient skulls fashioned from blocks of stone, including a variety of clear and colored crystals, have been discovered on Earth. However it is the quartz crystals skulls, all of which have thus far been found in Central and South America that have inspired so much debate and, indeed, rancor among archeologists.

In 1970, the Hewlett-Packard Laboratories, who specialized in crystal oscillators, ran extensive tests on one of these skulls. HP declared that the skull `simply should not be'. In their very detailed analysis, they reported that the interior of the skull was made up of a complex system of lenses, prisms and channels that together created unusual optical effects. Any ray of light that strikes the eye sockets is reflected into a form of prism located within the bottom back of the skull. This `prism' is not a discrete section, but inherent within the structure of the skull.

This is only one of numerous puzzling attributes. The skull weighs 11.7 pounds, and is roughly 7 inches long, 5 inches wide and 5 inches high. Together with the hinged jaw, it was manufactured from a solid block of crystal, which itself seems to have been created from three or four separate joints that have been somehow fused together. HP further reported that the crystal has a hardness slightly lower than that of topaz, corundum and diamond. Thus, the skull could only have been cut with diamonds. However, there are no tool marks whatsoever, even at a microscopic level, anywhere on the skull. Additionally, and this is the perhaps the most astonishing aspect, the skull has been cut against the grain.

It should be stressed here that quartz crystal has a particular grain', an internal alignment of the crystalline structure. Even using modem lasers and other high-tech cutting tools, it is a physical impossibility to cut crystal of this type against the natural molecular symmetry, otherwise it shatters. Nevertheless, this `impossible' skull exists.

In conclusion, what we have is an artifact that appears to have been manufactured sometime prior to 200AD (current estimates place its manufacture between 6 000 and 36 000 years ago) by people who had an advanced understanding of crystallography and fiber optics. The manufacturer completely ignored the axis of symmetry, using tools that prevented the crystal from splitting during processing, and left no tool marks whatsoever.

Two further crystal skulls, a smoky clear one discovered in Mexico in 1979 by a Mayan priest, and an opaque amethyst skull, discovered by the same priest a few years later, were also tested by Hewlett-Packard. Both displayed similarly unusual, indeed, `impossible' properties. The location of these skulls is currently unknown.

In Nick's notes on skull lore, I found multiple references to Native American legend that tells of the existence of thirteen crystal skulls. It is said that they would only be found and brought together during a time of great crisis, wherein they would reveal information crucial to the survival of mankind

We now know that the skulls form part of an ancient transport system, one presided over by the Omeyocan. We also know that one skull led to P7X-377, while four skulls led to a network ofplan- ets settled by the descendants of Teotihuacan. If there is any basis in this legend, it means that eight skulls are yet to be found.

According to Nick, there are dozens of map rooms on P7X-377. It is entirely possible that many of these maps lead to non-human in addition to human civilizations that have remained free of the Goa'u1d. However, as the Omeyocan have not returned to P7X377, and we have no way of accessing these map rooms, we may never know.

Following events on M4D-37X, Nick pointed out that references to crystal skulls in other Earth mythologies claim them to have originated in Atlantis. Here they were supposedly used as repositories ofknowledge, and virtual `maps' of the cosmos. When Atlantis fell, thirteen skulls were rescued and given to a secret society, the Brotherhood of the Snake, who were charged to protect them throughout all time. Some of the descendents of this Brotherhood were said to have led their followers to a great land `in the west'. By all accounts, this is the city we now know as Teotihuacan.

Information gleaned from Atlatl, the leader of the Yaxkin settlers, and the codices discovered by my grandfather, Nicholas Ballard, and Stanislaw Wodeski, have together provided a cogent chain of events.

By 650AD, Teotihuacan had colonized four worlds: Tollan, Orban, Yaxkin and Xalotcan. The city was then abandoned because of a `star war' - presumably the great battle between the exiled Goa'uld and the Omeyocan. A handful of the Brotherhood remained behind to bum the city and hide the evidence of its true purpose. They buried four of the skulls beneath the Pyramid of the Sun and took the fifth `key' skull to Belize. There, they built what Jack aptly referred to as a skull network `substation', the Temple of Quetzalcoatl, and adopted the role of Mayan priests.

In the earliest codex, the priests shown using the skull are dressed in Mayan clothing befitting their rank. However, they were represented as a fair skinned, pale haired people with somewhat Roman noses. It is only in the more recent codex that the distinctive `Mayan' profile evolved. According to Atlatl, when Coatlicue failed to arrive on Earth in the years after Teotihuacan was deserted, the Brotherhood took Mayan wives and passed their legacy onto their olive-skinned children. Their descendants carried the secret down through the generations.

Almost five hundred years passed, during which time the Mayan empire collapsed. Coatlicue arrived to find Teotihuacan long abandoned. After seducing a Mayan priest who had heard stories of the four skulls at Teotihuacan, she founded the Aztec empire. Although Coatlicue eventually located four of the skulls, she never learned of the existence of a fifth skull. The Brotherhood ensured the protection of this skull by infiltrating the Aztecs and becoming high-ranking members of its society. They were among the first priests and warriors to be sent off world on the Goa'uld's campaign to conquer Xalotcan, Tollan, Orban and Yaxkin. Although we do not know what happened on Tollan and Orban, once on Xalotcan, the Brotherhood successfully hid four skulls until the `earthquake' triggered by Professor Stanislaw Wodeski revealed their location.

The mythologies of countless religions across many human cultures are connected by one common thread, the concept of good versus evil, with the snake or serpent as the most predominant thematic representation of evil. The origins of this are often considered metaphorical. However, the secret Brotherhood was so named because it swore to protect the knowledge of the skulls against evil alien `reptiles' that evolved in the Constellation of Orion.

The connection to Orion is interesting because the Pyramids at Giza are a representation of Orion's belt, and the shafts in the King and Queen's Chamber of the Khufu Pyramid point to Sirius and Orion. This was one of the pieces of evidence I used to postulate the theory that the pyramids had been built as landing platforms for alien ships. We now know that reptilian Goa'uld evolved on the planet P3X-888, which is in the constellation of Orion.

In the middle ages, those of the Brotherhood who lived in Europe, and who were by then known as the Knights Templar, were charged with blasphemy by Philip IV of France and Pope Clement V, for worshipping Baphomet, a name derived from a composition of abbreviations: `Temp. ohp. Ab.'from the Latin, `Templi omnium hominum pacis abbas,' which translates as `Abbot - or high priest - of the Temple of Peace for All Mankind'. By all accounts, Baphomet was a `supernatural' being of exceptional strength, longevity and self-healing abilities. He was generally portrayed with a caduceus (hence the use of the caduceus to signify healing) or snake in his belly, and a tattoo on his forehead. It now seems likely that Baphomet was a Jaffa who, like Teal'c, betrayed his Goa'uld master in order to help the Brotherhood protect mankind against the `reptilian' Goa'uld. By the time the Inquisition was finished with the Brotherhood, the image of Baphomet appeared as a `homed goat' and became synonymous with Satan. The Brotherhood's leader was burned at the stake and the order supposedly disbanded.

The story, however, does not end there. Some of the Brotherhood, having acquired a small navy with their accumulated wealth, used the symbol of the artifact they had originally been charged to protect, the skull, and sought revenge against the King and Pope by attacking their ships. It was only in later years that their symbol, a white skull on a black background, was adopted by adventurers and privateers.

Master Masons are believed to include the descendants of the original Brotherhood. Whether they have any knowledge of the remaining crystal skulls is open to conjecture.

Cheops Pyramid Razor Blade Sharpener

Registered by Karel Drbal in 1959 under the Czechoslovakian Republic Patent Number 91304. The factory began making razor blade sharpeners out of cardboard m the 1970s they switched to Styrofoam.

About the author

With a degree in geomorphology and anthropology, Sonny Whitelaw decided that a career in academia wouldn't be as much fun as running a dive charter yacht and adventure tourism business in the South Pacific. Photojournalism came as a natural extension to her travels, and Sonny's work has been featured in numerous international publications, including National Geographic.

Sonny is also the author of The Rhesus Factor, a contemporary eco-thriller, and Ark Ship, a sci-fi drama. She currently resides in Brisbane with her two children.

For more information, visit www.sonnywhitelaw.com

Original novels based on the hit TV shows, STARGATE SGI and STARGATE ATLANTIS

AVAILABLE NOW

For more information, visit www.stargatenoveIs.com

STARGATE SG-1 © 1997-2007 MGM Television Entertainment Inc. and MGM Global Holdings, Inc. STARGATE SG-1 is a trademark of Metro-GoldwynMayer Studios Inc. All Rights Reserved.

STARGATE: ATLANTIS © 2004-2007 MGM Global Holdings, Inc.

STARGATE: ATLANTIS is a trademark of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc. All Rights Reserved.

METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER T, & © 2007 Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc. All Rights Reserved.

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE