Embedded Files
The Sun On The Horizon
Chapter Seven
From Sunrise to Sunset
Morning.
Well, almost. A pre-dawn lightening of the horizon heralded another scorching day. The lights blazing around the clan’s caravans parked along the river bank cast long, eerie shadows before Daniel as he ambled through the tall palms and scattered clumps of thigh-high grasses. His path took him away from camp, along a dried-up creek running into the main river body.
Methodically, he picked his way through clear ground, avoiding tangled debris from long-past floods that lay in wait to snarl his feet. Weeks of practice had perfected his dot-and-carry motion with Putai’s elegantly carved wooden crutch, and it got him over most kinds of terrain. Haranith had presented him with a new, lighter cast for his ankle only a week ago. The heavy moulded cast that had been the bane of his life for the last seven weeks was thankfully a memory, and Daniel relished his new independence. No more piggy-back rides, thanks very much. Although he had the sneaking suspicion that Sabire enjoyed giving them more than he let on; his new friend’s kindness was matched only by his ability to show off.
The deep sands of the desert ahead were going to prove difficult. Daniel suspected he would be experiencing a lot of the Sendai desert from the stability of the rooftop garden on Sabire’s caravan.
With the bustle of the camp fading into the background, Daniel drifted to a halt at the edge of the oasis, his weight balanced between his right foot and the smooth, familiar plane of the crutch. A dry, gusty breeze lifted his hair, long strands playing in the air. He stared unseeing at the silvered edge of the horizon, mind empty for long unmeasured minutes.
A flash of movement caught his eye and he peered down to locate the source. There, emerging from the underside of a chinoso leaf, an insect unfurled from its nightly sleep. Brilliant red wings streaked with iridescent purple and green flashed at him as the first rays of the sun spread over the landscape.
Daniel blinked, transfixed by the little creature. It was startling, beautiful, and foreign. He’d never seen anything like it on earth. It was other-worldly. Other… world…. But, of course, he was not on… Earth.
Earth.
Dizzying vertigo hit him. The palm trees tilted, the ground slid away from his feet. Fiery dawn rays scoured his eyes, breath clotted in his mouth, ears filled with a deep thumping rush. He could not tear his eyes away from those alien wings as they rose up into the dawn sky.
Not Earth’s sky.
I’m not on Earth.
Images tangled and jostled in his mind, so many different planets, so alien in their similarities. Jack’s face swam through his memories, laughing and bitching about planets full of trees. Dear, dear Mri Sha’re was buried on another planet. He spent his life walking on other planets.
That’s not normal. It can’t be normal.
Unreality consumed him as the insect darted away into the air.
A sharp pain in his butt brought Daniel back to reality.
Sitting on another planet. Makes all the difference. He shook his head clear and groped around for the crutch, finding it half trapped under his body from his impromptu fall.
‘Daaniel!’ Heavy footsteps pounded towards him. ‘Daaniel?’
Daniel looked up and squinted at Sabire’s anxious face as he skidded to a halt, brilliant yellow wrap flapping around his long legs.
‘Are you well, Daaniel?’
‘Uhm, yeah. Think so.’ Daniel looked around, taking in the rocky ground he was sprawled on, the crowns of the palm trees now becoming discernable in the growing light, the vibrant streaks of purple-red light arching across the sky. Just another morning, like so many before. Sunrise on N’Has’y. There were worse places he could be.
Pushing aside the sharp, familiar pang of loss and separation, he smiled up at Sabire. ‘Just a bit dizzy,’ he muttered. He held out his hands and let Sabire hoist him to his one working foot.
Seeing Daniel settled on his support, Sabire drew himself up to his full seven foot, two inch height and appraised Daniel.
‘Gransire is wise to call a rest today. The journey ahead will be taxing for us all.’ A brilliant white smile split his ebony face. ‘Perhaps you should take an afternoon nap each day – with the other little ones.’
Daniel pretended offence but could not stop a grin slipping out. This gentle, generous man was a constant tease and a continual source of comfort and support. That even children in their early teens were taller than Daniel was a never-ending amusement to Sabire.
‘Just for that you can re-tank your own water next time.’ Daniel scowled at him, nonetheless accepting the rebuke for doing too much the previous day.
They strolled back toward the clan’s homes, scattered along the banks of the oasis. The caravans rested on their sturdy, well tended skids, solar sails furled like a colony of metallic flowers awaiting the sun’s blessing. The frenetic activity of the previous day had been so satisfying. Finally he was able to take an active part in the life of the clan: replenishing vital stores, repairing the beautiful vans and preparing for the long desert journey ahead, Daniel felt he had been able to repay a small piece of his debt to Sabire and the clan at large. So good to not be a burden to care for, to feed, to hide.
‘I have to admit, I’m really looking forward to seeing the desert, Sabire.’
‘You must tell us how it is different from your Abydos and Earth, my friend,’ Sabire replied.
‘Well, it’s a different colour to begin with.’ Daniel gazed past Sabire at the first dunes on the far side of the river, their deep, burnt orange ochre becoming more apparent in the brightening dawn.
They wandered into the communal eating area, accepting and tossing back greetings. Daniel found his hands full of a steaming bowl of vegetables and spicy grains, Ayshal’s face peering into his.
‘Eat while this is hot Daaniel, then you will have another serving. When you have eaten that you can have some of Jinya’s stewed peecin fruit. Put some colour in your face,’ she declared.
Daniel grinned at her. ‘You know, I’m not going to get much more colour in me than I already have, Aysh. No matter how much I eat.’
Ayshal hooted with laughter, her beautiful face crinkling in delight. Without looking behind her she snaked an arm out and slapped Sabire’s hand, which was edging toward her bubbling stew pot. ‘You, you wastrel, may go find your own food.’
Daniel subsided onto ‘his’ seat, which was set in the honour place of the eating circle, crutch balanced by the chair’s arm, his face wreathed in the aromatic spicy scents of his breakfast. Sabire’s wheedling and Aysh’s giggling denials wrapped around him, settling his mind with comforting familiarity and dispelling the remnants of his pre-dawn dislocation.
Most of the clan were now at breakfast, a chattering, laughing jumble of people. Small children ran amongst the elders clustered around a table spread with maps, nodding gravely as they double-checked routes soon to be taken across the desert. Unavoidable security checks on the planet’s air transport ruled out the quickest way to Kemyt City. Instead, they had embarked upon a journey that could take more than four months. Already twenty-nine days along, they were heading into an area little traversed, and far from the regular migration routes.
They were a generous group of people who were disrupting their daily lives in an effort to find a way home for him, and Daniel once again marvelled at his fortune to have literally fallen amongst them.
The group around the table dispersed, discussing last minute repairs and arrangements. Gransire strode back to his seat near Daniel. From a box by the side of the seat he produced a large copper bell and rang it loudly to capture everyone’s attention.
Beaming at the sea of expectant faces, he cleared his throat. ‘Our journey to Kemyt City across the Sendai Desert will be a long and trying one. Everybody has worked hard to prepare and we are very proud of you all. We leave at dawn tomorrow. Young ones—’ He glared at a group of shuffling five and six year olds. ‘Take heed of your parents. Do not wander away from the caravan or you will be swallowed up by the sands, never to be found again.’
As Gransire said this he let his gaze roam over all those assembled and included a good hard stare at Daniel.
Daniel batted his eyelashes back at Gransire in one of his better sweet and innocent looks.
Gransire looked away, fighting to hide a grin on his weathered face. ‘As a reward, I think today we can indulge in a round of Ketet,’ he concluded.
Cheering erupted all through those present and suddenly people were on the move, stuffing down their food, clearing away pots and dishes and chairs with astonishing speed.
Daniel found himself suddenly besieged by most of the children, all clamouring for his attention.
‘Daaniel, Daaniel, will you be on our team?’
‘Daaniel, be with us, play with us….’
Ayshal pushed through the milling, bleating children, pulling them away before they set Daniel in the dirt.
‘Away with you all. Silly ones. How do you expect Daaniel to run when he can hardly walk yet? Away with you!’
She deftly exchanged Daniel’s empty bowl for one brimming with stewed fruits.
‘What exactly is Ketet, Aysh?’ he asked, quite bemused at the sight of everyone vanishing into their caravans and emerging scant moments later, their voluminous bright clothing replaced by sleek and equally bright body-hugging shorts and tops.
‘It is wonderful fun. Everyone plays who can stand on two legs.’ With a crash, she tossed the last of her pots into her nearby van and threw herself after them. Still talking, her voice floated out to him. ‘There are two teams, one ball. The teams chase the ball towards the goal, one team tries to stop the ball from reaching the goal, and the other team tries to stop them stopping the ball. If a goal is scored everyone turns around and goes for the other goal.’
Ayshal emerged from her caravan, her elegant towering frame moulded into bright green shorts and what looked to Daniel like one of Sam’s sports bras. Not that Sam had fluorescent green bras – did she?
‘I’m a bit past being the ball these days, but Ketet is such fun. It keeps the body zinging for days after.’
‘Being the ball?’ Daniel slurped up the remains of his fruit and watched the bowl vanish into the depths of her van.
‘Usually that is for the younger ones,’ she replied. ‘Oh, dear. That man….’ She broke off in amused astonishment as Sabire dashed from his van toward them, resplendent in a hot pink and purple polka dot ensemble. He slid to a halt in front of Daniel and held out his arms, proudly displaying his attire.
‘Do I not hold you in awe with my stunning choice in clothing?’ Sabire demanded.
Daniel ruthlessly squashed a sudden longing for chocolate pudding and strawberry sauce. ‘Something like that,’ he laughed.
‘I have a wonderful idea – Daaniel, you can be one of the goals!’ Sabire helped Daniel to his feet then proceeded to drape him in a brilliant blue robe. ‘This is so you will be seen.’
‘Sabire, I’m the only white person on this planet. I’m not too hard to spot, you know.’ Daniel stared down at the electric blue folds floating around his body. ‘And what exactly does being a goal entail?’
Sabire flashed his beautiful white smile.
Daniel fought down a surge of trepidation and tried to look taller than he felt.
Half an hour later, Daniel reflected that being a goal was not such a trying thing. He was comfortably ensconced in a chair under a sun awning, drinks and food chilling in a cooler, with eleven-year-old Teni, who was recovering from a bout illness – too many of Jinya’s sweetened nut bars – at his side.
A huge flat area on the far side of the river had been designated the playing field; Daniel at one end, the opposite goal almost a kilometre and a half away. In the centre the two teams jostled. How anyone knew which team they were on was quite beyond his comprehension. Every single member of the clan was out there, apart from a small group of injured or infirm that was seated up on the caravan roofs, doing double duty as lookouts for trouble and minders of the youngest.
A great cheer rose from the players and they were off, surging in a brilliantly hued pack after the ‘ball’ – twenty year old Chanla. Daniel could just make him out, sprinting ahead of the pack as one team attempted to bring him down and were tackled by the other team.
Bodies tangled and thumped into the ground: male, female, young, old. No quarter was given or expected. They ran all out in the rising heat of the day, crunching into each other and the earth with delighted abandon, springing up and pelting on again.
After half an hour the melee had reached the other goal. Daniel watched, wincing as the ‘ball’ threw himself at Safia who was the goal, flattening them both in a cloud of dust. Chanla leapt up, crowing in delight and mirroring the celebration by both teams around him.
‘That’s how they score a goal?’ Daniel started eyeing the distance to the vans, wondering if he could make sanctuary in time as the players began to surge back in their direction.
‘Don’t worry, Daaniel. Haranith said she would personally vivisect anyone who does more than touch your hand. And I’ll protect you.’ Teni beamed at him, her skinny adolescent body already nearly the same height as he.
Daniel reached over and patted her hand. ‘Thank you, Teni. That makes me feel much better,’ he said. I think.
The pack of players was scrumming closer, the ‘ball’ darting ahead, the rules still no clearer to Daniel – if they existed at all. He could make out Sabire in his polka-dotted glory launch a flying tackle at Ayshal, both of them disappearing in a cloud of dust. He memorised the details, such as they were, to pass on to Jack and Teal’c when he got home. Jack loved any kind of game and Daniel had a feeling he would throw himself headfirst into this one. Teal’c too would find it appealing, and if Daniel could organise a small group from the SGC teams he had a feeling his reserved friend would revel in it.
Picturing Teal’c taking Jack down in a bone-crunching tackle brought a huge smile to his face.
It took another thirty minutes for the game to make its thumping, thudding and crunching way near to Daniel’s goal. With some thought of preserving his little oasis, he pushed himself to his feet and walked a few metres out to meet the onslaught. Chanla-The-Ball suddenly shot out of the pack and sprinted toward him, several bodies being tackled out of his path. It was impossible to tell who was who now; faces were caked in a sweaty, dusty ochre.
Daniel surreptitiously changed his grip on his walking stick - just in case anyone got too carried away.
Haranith’s voice rose above the grunting, gasping calls of the players.
‘Remember, if anyone harms Daaniel I will have your guts on my wall!’
Daniel’s too frequent visits to the healer’s van had him believing the threat.
A last minute charge by three teenagers and staid old Trettish the gardener left the way open for Chanla to pick up speed and hurtle straight at Daniel. At the last second he braked and skidded to a halt two inches in front of Daniel’s nose. With gentle reverence Chanla took Daniel’s hand and squeezed it lightly, his powering lungs blowing gusts of warm air in Daniel’s face.
‘Ketet!’ The triumphant team took up the shout and swept Chanla up in a victory dance. Someone yelled out and they were off once more.
Daniel sank back into his chair, oddly exhausted by everyone else’s activity. They were all streaming toward the far goal again, seemingly unaffected by the now-baking heat or the odd injury gained along the way.
Teni grinned at him. ‘They keep going till they drop, Daaniel. We have a few more hours yet.’ She gazed calculatingly at the pack. ‘I think I’ll go see if Jinya’s tea cakes are ready.’ With the boundless energy of youth, she leapt onto their little skid bike and sped off to the vans.
Silence settled in Daniel’s little part of the world, the muffled cries of the game overlaid by the chirping of a hidden insect nearby. He soon found himself drowsing in the comforting morning heat. He thought about writing in his journal, but it was much more pleasurable to drift for awhile, for once free of his demons: his near constant worry about finding a Stargate, about returning home, about Ba’al and his troops tracking down this planet and plundering these gentle, defenceless people in their search for him.
Time drifted along slowly until he was brought awake by a huge roar from the far end of the field. He peered through Sabire’s spyglass. Another goal to whichever team it was. He was beginning to think the players were swapping teams. To one side of the celebrating players another scrum was developing into a laughing free-for-all. As he watched, Sabire’s polka-dotted backside disappeared under Gramire’s athletic charge. Age certainly had fewer limits on N’Has’y. He chuckled to himself; there was at least a week’s worth of teasing in store for Sabire – letting himself be downed by an eighty-year-old.
Daniel looked over to those on the vans, noting Teni had climbed up to get a better view of the fun. Suddenly, he turned his head to the left, to the first dunes of the desert rising some fifty metres away. Something had caught his eye: a glint of sun reflecting off… what? He shoved himself to his feet to gain a better view. There shouldn’t be anything out there; the desert was uninhabited by all but the smallest hardy rodents. People very rarely traversed it, unless, like themselves, they did not want to be found or noticed.
He peered intently at the spot, almost convinced he was imagining things when the top of the dune seemed to explode. Sand showered out in all directions as a powerful one-person pedder shot out of its cover and was gunned down the side of the dune. Daniel froze in surprise, watching as, one by one, four more solar-powered desert racers crested the dune and sped down. Having been thoroughly indoctrinated by the young people of the clan in all manner of pedders, skids and every other version of desert sail boat, Daniel realised these souped-up machines were more than likely belonging to Skanders: desert pirates who preyed on lone travellers and small groups, stripping everything of value and leaving the people for dead.
But why would they dare attack such a large caravan as this?
They must have something specific in mind….
‘Oh, crap.’
He was out here alone, defenceless, unable to run. Teni had the skid. The Skanders were headed right for him.
Word must have spread in the last town after they reprovisioned. The clan was headed into the desert and no-one did that unless they had something to hide.
And here he was, a white skinned person on a planet of ebony. So obviously out of place, and therefore valuable.
Desperately, Daniel looked around. The scrum finally over, the game was lurching back in his direction, but they were still a kilometre away. The lookouts on the vans had been distracted by the fight and had not yet noticed the intruders.
Daniel limped out from under the awning’s shade, yelling and waving hand and crutch at the vans, all too aware it made him more of a target, but he was going to need help quickly. The roar of the pedders’ engines grew louder in his ears with every second.
There – finally someone on the vans had turned toward him. He watched as heads turned, arms pointed and within seconds the alarm bell was ringing out, loudly calling everyone to come. As those on the vans began to leap down and search for weapons and skids – all neatly packed away for the journey – Daniel turned and saw his adopted people abandoning the game, stretching out into a dead run to get to him.
They had to be exhausted and were so far away. Daniel knew who would win this race.
He ducked back under the awning, folded his precious glasses and tucked them into the cooler for safekeeping. He looked around. He had a chair, a cooler, a crutch and a stretch of canvas.
‘Where’s McGuyver when I need him?’ he muttered.
He tucked the crutch up under his left armpit and grasped the folding wooden chair with both hands. He knelt his injured left leg on the cooler, braced himself with the right leg, sucked in a deep breath and looked up to meet the enemy.
The first Skander in the line shooting toward him was a vicious-looking individual, wearing some sort of home-made metal armour. Mere feet away now, Daniel saw the man’s shock as he took in the colour of Daniel’s skin, confirming what they had seen from a distance. Daniel took advantage of the momentary distraction and swung the chair into the man’s face with all his might. He was rewarded with a loud squawk from the man as he followed the chair over his handlebars and landed in a rolling heap in the dirt. The pedder spun away, out of control and too far off for Daniel to grab it.
Hastily, Daniel snagged up his crutch in a solid two-handed batter’s grip, swung and connected with the upraised arm of the second Skander – a grim, gap-toothed woman. The unmistakable crack of bone breaking was followed by a hoarse cry, the woman’s pedder lurched wide and away, collected one of the awning poles and ripped it free.
Daniel barely had time to straighten and catch his balance before attempting a wild back-handed swing at another attacker. The man ducked, snatched at the crutch and pulled, the motion of his pedder enough to overbalance Daniel and pull him face-first into the sandy dust.
He had been months away from the SGC but the instinct came as naturally as breathing: twist, hit the ground with his shoulder and roll up to meet the next attack, suck in a breath and try to rise above the stab of pain as his cast thumped into the ground.
The fourth pedder was too close, right on top of him as he rose up on knees tangled in Sabire’s ridiculous beacon of a robe. The pedder swerved slightly, and hit Daniel’s right shoulder with numbing force. He was spun back into the dirt, and before he could move a pair of knees landed squarely on his back, driving out the air in his lungs in a horrible, gagging ‘Ooof’.
Rough hands wrenched his scrabbling arms behind his back, elbows and wrists were swiftly tied with thin cords. Through the clouds of dust, Daniel could see a couple of the Skanders’ pedders flash past his line of sight. The roar of their engines drowned out any sounds from beyond; help was undoubtedly on the way but there was no way to know how long before it arrived.
Another vehicle stopped in front of him, hands latched on to his arms and robe and he was hauled up and thrown over the knees of the rider.
Daniel grimaced as something on the vehicle drove into his stomach, depriving him of another precious breath. A huge hand clamped down on his neck, holding him in place as the pedder began to pick up speed.
Desperation hit him now, mixed with a good dose of anger. He’d had his fill of being treated like a piece of baggage on Ba’al’s Tsydon, and he’d be damned if he let a pack of unwashed louts do the same here.
With a wriggle and a shimmy of his hips, Daniel slid forward a few inches, then a few more as his captor endeavoured to hold him and manoeuvre the vehicle at the same time. Another shimmy, and his shoulders were well over the man’s legs. He gave a mighty heave, arched his back and brought his legs up. Gravity did the rest: his cast impacted agonisingly with the man’s head and Daniel found himself face first in the sand again.
He half-rolled to one side as two more pedders swept past him, grasping hands narrowly missed him.
A piercing falsetto war cry split the air nearby. Daniel barely had time to look up before flattening his face into the ground once more, the spectacle of young Teni launching from her speeding skid to wrap herself around one of the dismounted Skanders imprinted on his retinas. Her skid ploughed through the chaos and ran straight over him before taking out another of the awning poles, and brought the canvas fluttering down over his body.
Silence descended momentarily. Away to one side, one of the Skanders cried out in pain. Further away, two of the pedders sped off into the dunes – and there, in the distance, the sound of many, very angry people approaching rapidly.
Daniel coughed out a lungful of dust and tried to move, appalled that he was lying there while a child battled his attackers.
The noise outside his canvas cocoon rose and suddenly the awning was thrown back. Daniel looked up through blinding shafts of sunlight at the sea of dusty black legs and brilliantly coloured shorts that surged around him. Everyone was talking at once, calling his name, yelling at each other not to move him, for Haranith to come quickly, for someone to get a knife to these cords – quickly for pity’s sake. The bonds were cut and Daniel sagged onto the ground, a moan of relief slipping through parched lips.
‘Daaniel? Can you speak? Are you in pain?’ Haranith was there, speaking gently to him over the whirr and beep of her med-scanner.
‘You tell me, ‘Ranith,’ he croaked.
‘Nothing broken, thank the gods. However, you will be one big bruise tomorrow.’ Her hands gently traced the path of Teni’s skid runner down his back.
Daniel jerked up, wildly peering through legs. ‘Oh, jeez. Teni, where is she? Is she alright?’
Those around him took up the call and seconds later Teni flopped in the sand by his side, a big grin on her face.
‘Teni, sweetie, thank you. Are you okay?’ Daniel reached out and gently took her hand, barely registering Haranith shooting his butt full of painkillers.
‘I’m fine Daaniel. It was great! Did you see me? I got ahead of everyone and I crashed the skid into the Skanders and I leaped on that really ugly one and I bit him and he tasted really, really bad, like he hadn’t had a bath in months, and then the others caught up and chased them away and they’re gone now but I hate them ‘cause they hurt you and tried to take you away, and do you think they’ll come back again?’ The last question came out in a hopeful sounding gasp.
Daniel smiled at her, patting her hand. ‘I hope they don’t come back, sweetie. But you saved me and I’m so grateful.’
Teni looked ready to burst with pride.
Gentle hands rolled Daniel over onto a stretcher, and he gazed blearily up at Sabire’s concerned face.
‘Hi.’
‘Hello, Daaniel.’
‘Did’ja get the bad guys?’
‘They have all fled like the rodents they are. They will not return,’ Sabire added fiercely.
‘Ah. S’good. Didn’t we do this already?’ Echoes of their first meeting floated through Daniel’s mind as he was carefully lifted and moved toward the caravan.
‘Rest, Daaniel. You are safe now.’ Sabire’s large warm hand cradled Daniel’s face.
Daniel smiled sleepily and touched Sabire’s hand. ‘I always am with you, my friend.’
Sunset came early to this part of the land. Vibrant golden beams streaked the sky, gilding the tops of the sand dunes beyond the oasis. A gentle hum of powerful engines filled the evening, combined with the song of small grass birds flittering around the skids of the caravans.
Everything was packed and ready to go. Little trace remained of their stay here and what there was would soon be covered by the blowing sand.
After the attack on Daniel, the clan’s smaller vehicles had been unpacked and the People had roamed out in all directions, hunting the Skanders who had dared try to take their guest from them. Nothing remained to be found. Like the rodents they took their name from, the pirates had disappeared into their holes. All that was left for the clan was to be vigilant and to slide away into the darkness tonight, hoping the increasing winds would hide their trail.
Inside Sabire’s caravan, Daniel drowsed on the bed, mulling over the recent visit from Gransire, Gramire and the other elders. They had offered sincere apologies for leaving him exposed to danger. Daniel had accepted the apologies, fully aware that a denial of fault would be an even greater insult to the clan’s integrity.
The van rose with a small jolt up on its air-cushions and began to glide off in formation with the rest of the caravan. They were headed into a dangerous, secluded land and Daniel could only hope that no-one else was put at risk for his sake.
At the end of this journey lay the golden city of Kemyt. There hopefully too, was his Stargate, not only a way home but also the way to the stars for his saviours.
The caravan glided up over the first sand dune and vanished into the depths of the night.
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