The puddle jumper flew over the vast expanses of crop fields and orderly forest plantations, although with the pilot being who she was, the flight was far from safe. The ship constantly tool wild turns seemingly against Vala's will, or at times suddenly nosedived; when it nearly blew off the top of a pine tree, Vala screamed and almost fell out of her seat, Cam and Daniel were thrown across the main hold, and only Teal'c, who providently fastened his seatbelt, continued looking through the windshield with little emotional reaction beyond raising an eyebrow.
"We're getting close," Mitchell announced, walking to Vala and pointing at the life signs detector he has been holding. "I get readings from that hill over there. I don't see much besides grass and rocks there, so the living things must be underground, whatever they are."
"Vala, please, just try not to —" began Daniel, just as the jumper came to a sudden stop in midair, thrusting everyone forward, and slowly, smoothly folded in its engines and landed on the ground. "...crash it," Jackson finished with relief.
Outside, a pair of arms threw off a cover disguised as a patch of dirt, revealing a sloppy makeshift passage that looked like it was going to cave in at any moment. A dozen men armed with crossbows (although two of them instead had rifles roughly of 1910s design) emerged out of the tunnel and surrounded the ship.
The ship's door opened, and the SG-1 members walked out, sticking close to each other. Mitchell held a P-90 ready, shifting his aim from one native to another, while the other three carried zats.
They stood like this for a few seconds; then, suddenly, Daniel lightened up and lowered his weapon. "Let me get this straight," he said, facing the guard who looked the toughest. "You drew out the Aschen with nothing but this?"
"Drew out the Aschen?" asked Mitchell.
"They are the Volians, natives of this planet. Simple farmers. Last time we met them, an Aschen harvester—"
"Doctor Jackson? Teal'c?" interrupted a voice coming from the entrance to the tunnel.
All four turned in the direction of the voice. Faxon himself stood there, smiling. He had changed quite a lot since SG-1 lost him on Volia seven years ago; along the most pronounced features he now sported were a scar on his face and uncombed hair, along with a moustache and beard more suitable for a village elder than a diplomatic emissary. His official suit and well-kept shoes were also gone, replaced with a crude military uniform and tattered high boots.
"Okay, this explains a lot," noted Daniel.
"Step away from them," Faxon ordered to the guards, meanwhile walking closer to SG-1. He looked at all four, and suddenly his face became concerned. "Where is Major Carter?"
"Colonel Carter is not here," said Mitchell, slightly annoyed. "More precisely, she's in a galaxy far, far away. I thought you'd be more concerned with other questions..."
"Like what? You and the woman, whom I never met? I just presume you wouldn't wear SG-1 badges if you weren't trustworthy. Oh, and Teal'c, nice hair! You and Doctor Jackson have become sort of, er, heroes among the Volians, after you found that underground city. They scavenged quite a lot of lost tech from there."
Vala, knocking on the jumper's hull out of boredom, tried to reproduce Teal'c's eyebrow raise, to an abysmal result. Fortunately, nobody looked at her.
"So this is how you drove out the Aschen?" asked Daniel.
"Well, not exactly..." the Ambassador stumbled. "And don't just stand here, come in!"
The explorers followed Faxon back to the tunnel entrance; Teal'c, however, first went back into the jumper, lifted a naquadah generator lying there, and then, carrying it, caught up with the others. As they went through the damp and dimly-lit passage, which suspiciously resembled a villager's cellar with its stench, Faxon continued.
"They just left. The news about the lost city and the Aschen's betrayal spread quickly, but nobody really thought of fighting them, that would be suicidal. Then they just pulled out in their ships, and we buried the Stargate, just in case."
"You buried it incorrectly," noted Teal'c.
"Yes, thanks, we figured. But that's not the end of the story. So, for about four years, we didn't know what happened to the Aschen, or to other planets in the Confederacy, or even Earth. And then an Aschen ship crash-landed around here. Not much left of it, but the crew survived, and they were not Aschen."
"How could you be sure?" asked Mitchell skeptically.
Just at that point, they walked into the command center — as much as it could be called that. Its furniture mostly consisted of wooden chairs and tables, the latter of which were covered with pieces of paper, including a map of the area covering the largest table in the middle. On The walls were stacked with crude shovels, crowbars and other tools; in the corner opposite to the one from which the travelers entered, two workers were digging a new corridor. The man who had informed Faxon about the approaching jumper was now sitting in front of a radio, which looked way too advanced for everything else in the room.
"Believe me, they're easy to tell apart," assured Joe. "The Aschen are, like... humans, but with everything human drained out of them. These were not Aschen. They said they were from the planet Comoefo... or, on second thought, their leader is right here, so he can put it better than I. And yes, I'm taking about you, Athe," he poked the radio operator, "stand up and greet my countrymen already! And tell them about how you stole that ship and got here."
"Excuse me," said Daniel. "Last time Teal'c and I were here, we found a newspaper in the city — that's how we learned what the Aschen did to the Volian civilization, in fact. Any chance I can have a look at it again?"
"Everything of interest we found in the city, we brought here," said Faxon. "Newspapers, too. The natives couldn't translate them, maybe you'll have better luck."
"Where are they?"
"Library room, third turn to the right back in the corridor we just passed."
Without any more words, Jackson headed out.
Straightening the paper, Daniel leant over it, trying to discern half-erased letters in a barely familiar script. In an attempt to grab the dim kerosene lamp standing on the table, which had just went even dimmer, he accidentally knocked it over and spilled the kerosene onto the moist floor; the lamp went out, and darkness encompassed the room.
And then, behind him, it lit up again — but with a different, white light.
It was just an excuse to be left alone, was it not?
Daniel stood up and turned around. It was the woman from his dream; as it was customary for ascended beings, her features were distorted in the surrounding light and the shape remained only vaguely humanoid, and even the face was hard to see.
"Uhm... Actually, no," said Daniel defensively, folding his arms and leaning a bit back. "I was just going to stick to my job and leave planning to— Who are you, anyway?"
I am Melia, one of those of the last Atlantean Council. I am here because I am one of the few among my people who did not grow too detached from the lower plane of existence. And you, whose name means "God is my judge," I was chosen as a messenger of the Others, to declare their judgment — on you and your kind.
"So you're an Ancient?"
I am a Lantean. Do you call Americans British?
"Uhm..." Daniel stuttered. "While I get your point, I didn't expect such a... er... departure from your holier-than-thou beginning."
Melia smiled enigmatically. I remember the first time I was touched by your manners — ten thousand years ago, when Elizabeth Weir walked the floors of Atlantis, being in her very essence so very different to what we were used to. And her words implanted in me, as they did in Moros, the one you know as Merlin. That was the first time we doubted the wisdom of our non-intervention — yet were afraid to act.
"And now you suddenly aren't?" Daniel asked spitefully. "That's what you came here for — to join us against the Aschen, to go to their world and unleash a virus on them or something?"
No. I have come to stop you.
"Or that. Could have seen it coming."
I have reasons to protect the existence of the Aschen — and if there were living Lanteans here beside us, they would wholly support me.
"What? How?!" Daniel exclaimed, taking a step back.