Sam is guessing that the natives of P2J-494 need her alive if they want to sacrifice her to their sun god. At least, that's what she's hoping when she makes her escape attempt, and her captors' efforts to contain her seem to bear the theory out: four of them throw their spears aside in favor of simply grappling with her and even the ones who hold on to their weapons only brandish the blunt ends at her. So that levels the playing field, somewhat. True, there are seven of them and only one of her, but they are not wearing steel-toed boots, nor are any of them (barring a serious departure from standard human physiology) suffering from an apocalyptic case of PMS.
The man directly to her right goes down with a broken nose, the one to her right falls and hits his head pretty soundly when she kicks him in the kneecap. They've already relieved her of her P-90, zat, and knife, but one member of the party is obliging enough to try swinging the butt end of his spear at her head. She ducks, catches the spear shaft, and channels its momentum back up and around into the face of another man. The spear's owner has enough presence of mind not to let go of it entirely, but Sam still manages to use her end of it to redirect the thrust of another spear-end into someone else's solar plexus instead of her own.
Someone grabs her right wrist with both hands, and it's such a textbook set-up that she gives a small, involuntary laugh before flipping him onto his back, never letting go of her end of the spear. The next attack comes from behind her, a spear shaft across her throat, pulling her back into someone's chest. She doesn't bother releasing the spear-end to reach behind her, just turns her head and bites down as hard as she can on the first thing that feels like flesh while stamping her boot down where she thinks a foot should be. She tastes blood and the pressure against her throat drops away. She hears her attacker hit the ground behind her and turns to face the last man left standing, still holding one end of his spear.
They stand there for a very long moment, the spear's length between them, and he blinks. Sam grins at him, tasting salt and iron on her teeth. Her opponent seems to decide that discretion is the better part of valor. At any rate, he drops his end of the spear and runs in the direction of the village where the rest of the team is probably still tied to a post. Watching him make good his retreat, Sam is struck by the most absurd urge to burst into tears, and she decides that there should really be a regulation against going off-world while hormonal.
She heads for the Gate to call for back-up, but just as she comes in sight of it, she hears the Colonel's voice behind her.
"Carter!"
She turns to find him jogging up to her, Daniel and Teal'c right behind him. "Sir?" She makes it a question, since they're free and armed, but do not appear to have fought their way out.
Daniel draws up at the sight of her and says "God, Sam, are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
Colonel O'Neill gestures to the corner of his mouth and then at her. "Any of that blood yours?"
"What?" Sam scrubs at her mouth with a sleeve and it comes away wet with blood. "Oh." No wonder that last guy ran when she smiled at him. "No, sir, I don't think so."
"It would seem that we owe our release to your efforts, Major Carter." Teal'c gives her the slight nod and slighter smile that always make her feel like a third-grader who's just been given a gold star.
"One of your honor guard came running back into the village shouting that they had angered one of the ancient spirits of battle." Daniel grins at her. "He ordered that we should be released at once before the spirit returned to free her...um...well, I think 'consorts' would be the closest--"
"Glad you're okay!" says the Colonel, a little more loudly than necessary.
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Hand-to-hand
by KalquessaStory Bemerkung:
Written for a cooperative ficlet cycle containing 26 Sam ficlets, each based on a letter of the alphabet. "H" is for "Hand-to-hand."Site Navigation
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