Stargate SG1 - Roswell (41 page)

The lack of shielding was something Sam had never been able to understand, although the Tokra and Lucien alliance had rectified the problem in the years after she'd first encountered the ships. And while the 'cobras and 'comets' cannons weren't great in aerial combat, it was all they had.

“How do we know this isn't a trick?” Cancer Man squawked.

Ignoring him, Sam continued, “If there are any Navy ships in the area, some well-placed rounds from their 16-inch guns will do the job nicely.”

Another round of explosions, this time from the lower end of
Manhattan,
was followed by the more shattering glass and screams
from outside, then distant sirens. Sam stood and worked her way across the room to Commander Bennett, who was
gripping the phone, white-knuckled but with determination written all over his face.

“Who
are
you?” demanded the young sergeant. “How come you know about this? Hell, they're not even planes! They don't have
wings and they... they're using some sort of Martian death
ray!”

“It's not a death ray. It's a...” Sam stopped and shook her head—instantly regretting that action because it reminded her she'd been knocked out cold twice within the last few hours. From the perspective of this era, it
was
a death ray. Through the
still
intact glass-dividing panel, she could see that the few people remaining in the bullpen were also picking themselves up off the floor. “I told you the truth.” She turned to the others in
the
room. “My name is Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter, United States Air Force, and I'm from... I'm from the future.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The Asgard scanner provided only a marginal overview of the terrain but, after a moment, Daniel identified the location. “West side of Central Park, East of the river.”

Jack's tone was clipped when he said, “What do we need to make this thing weapons' capable?”

“If you are referring to this vessel, considerably more naquadah than is available in your Zat'nikit'els,” An replied.

“But we could use naquadah, right?”

“What are you planning?” Daniel could hear the intent in Jack's voice. The professionalism was still there, but it was now edged with a different kind of determination.

The jumper slipped under an intact section of Tappen Zee causeway, and then Jack angled left to fly close to the east bank of the Hudson. Thousands of refugees along the shoreline were making their way north on foot, by bicycle and on horseback. Too many were burdened with boxes and bags, or pushed carts overloaded with furniture, grimly clutching possessions of little or no value to their survival, doubtless unprovisioned and unprepared for the coming days. Wealthy and poor alike, it made no difference now. All were embarked on a mass exodus from a terror they had yet to fully comprehend.

“Decloaking,” Jack announced seconds after they just missed being clipped by the fall of what looked to be the cockpit of a fighter. “Shield's enabled.”

While there was no visible difference to the jumper from where Daniel was sitting, he suddenly felt exposed. The chances were slim they'd draw attention from a death glider. Or even an Al'Kesh. But an alert Jaffa monitoring the situation from an orbiting Ha'tak just might notice that the fast moving object skimming along the banks of the Hudson
toward
downtown New York was not made of aluminum and steel, but a unique, composite material not indigenous to this planet.

Ahead
of them, three more Al'Kesh appeared from within the palls of the smoke, one using its cannons to hammer away at
something
at the lower end of Manhattan while a second was focused on the Caven Point Army Terminal. Two huge black smoke fireballs erupted moments later from the Terminal. Daniel could only assume it had been from an oil storage container.

Not a sound penetrated the jumper, and the shields had dampened any buffeting, but that in no way lessened the impact of what they were seeing. Each shock from the explosions rippled through the smoke at the speed of sound, sending a
visible
wave through it, and in its path, buildings crumpled and boats were tossed around like corks in a bathtub.

The third Al'Kesh glided down over lower east Manhattan. “Looks like it's landing in Central Park,” Jack said as they sped under Washington Bridge.

This time, Daniel heard the tension in his voice. “Jack?”

“Later. Let's get Carter, first.”

Through the orange tinged smoke haze Daniel could just make out more Al'Kesh converging on Central Park. Something from the direction of the harbor fired at the Goa'uld ships. Although he couldn't see from this angle, he figured it was most likely a couple of Navy ships trying to defend the few civilian vessels that had not yet been blown out of
the
water. One of them scored a direct hit, and the Al'Kesh exploded
in a fiery mess that rained down upon the city.

More energy weapons impacted the area around Con Ed
and LaGuardia. Several massive fireballs erupted. The Goa'uld were targeting transport, power and communications networks. Recalling the earlier destruction of West Point, Daniel glanced at Teal'c. A tiny movement in the Jaffa's left cheek was the only sign of tension. None of them needed to say it. The Goa'uld had never previously demonstrated this level of strategic thinking, and only someone intimately familiar with Earth would have known precisely what to target.

The Al'Kesh now landing in Central Park would be filled to the brim with Jaffa warriors whose primary job would be to secure the Stargate and immediate area. Getting Sam out was now a race against time. Daniel's focus shifted rapidly between the Asgard transport monitor and the scene outside. They had reached Riverside Park and were closing in on her beacon.

“Where is she, Daniel?”

The monitor wasn't that detailed, but he knew New York. “West 86th Street, right on the Park.”

At this height, coming in from the northwest, the buildings in this section of the city appeared largely intact, with most of Central Park and nearby structures damaged but standing. Nevertheless the scene was chaotic. Vehicles were piled up on every corner, some under chunks of masonry and shattered glass. Sections of the roads had been torn up, street lamps and traffic lights smashed into the ground, and two fire hydrants were spewing out massive gouts of water.

Bodies were scattered everywhere. The few people showing any signs of life were either injured or immobilized by sheer terror. Daniel fought back the instinct to yell at Jack to stop and help survivors. Then he noticed two Al'Kesh were creeping across the tops of buildings between Park and 5th Avenue, randomly shooting energy weapons at anything and anyone.

“Two blocks,” Daniel reported as the jumper eased along 86th low enough for him to see terrified faces peering at them through shattered windows. He turned his attention to the monitor, consciously trying not to grip the armrests of his seat. An made some infinitesimal adjustment to the settings and the signal jumped slightly. Damn. It looked as if Sam was moving.

“Which building?” Jack asked.

Learning forward, Daniel pointed. “On your right. Close to the tenth floor window. She's moving up, looks like she might be headed to the roof.” He hoped that was a good sign, that she'd maybe seen them.

A
shadow
passed overhead. He dismissed it as one of the rolling
plumes of oily smoke enveloping the city until something
hit the jumper and knocked it sideways. Daniel looked up
and
out—and saw the Al'Kesh fire on them a second time. The
impact slammed them into the stone wall of the building.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Sounds of disbelief followed Sam's declaration, and Cancer Man openly scoffed. “Lady, who do you take us for?” Commander Bennett's eyes narrowed and he stared at her. “I met an aviation engineer at the Naval Air Experimental Station in Philadelphia, Lieutenant Heinlein. He used to talk about stuff like that.”

If Robert Heinlein had been at Philadelphia... Taking a guess, she said, “Nikola Tesla also worked there.” The recognition in the commander's eyes was enough for her to add, “Tesla didn't quite get it right, which is why he had problems with the USS
Eldridge,
but that ring, the Stargate sitting inside the Met—” she pointed through the window across Central Park—”uses the same principle to travel through space
and
time.”

Stating it used the same principles that Tesla had been experimenting with was a considerable stretch of the truth, but this wasn't the time or place to be discussing the finer nuances of wormhole physics. “This invasion isn't from Mars, but it
is
from another planet. It's a dual attack, via the 'gate and also from space. We fought these aliens for nine years,” she continued. “And we won, so they
can
be defeated, but you have to do
exactly
as I tell you.”

“You're not buying into this science fiction crap,” Cancer Man started, but the commander's steely gaze shut him up.

“I've lost the connection,” Bennett told Sam, hanging up
  
the telephone. He grabbed his cap from the desk and made for the door. “I want you to come with me. There's a radio transmitter on the tenth floor and we need to get this information to General Royall.”

Behind her, Cancer Man was still spluttering when another series of explosions erupted in the area of LaGuardia Airport. Then
the power went out.

“What
about power to the radio?” Sam called after Bennett, surprised
that the power had lasted as long as it had and aware that
half a
dozen people were right behind her.

The
Naval officer cursed roundly and stopped at the entrance
to the stairwell.

“I
can
rig up a couple of car or truck batteries,” Sam offered.

The
young staff sergeant beside her was quick off the mark. “Sir,
me
and Abrahms can pull them from the staff cars.”

“Don't
touch mine, ya hear?” Cancer Man growled around a
newly
lit cigarette.

“What, planning on making a run for it?” Commander Bennett
turned to the sergeant. “Okay, Walker, take Harrison and
Bakersfield
with you and double time it.”

“Yes,
sir!”

Four
of them, including young Sergeant Walker, vanished down the stairwell, with Cancer Man looking on nervously.

“Where's
Agent Peterson?” Bennett asked him.

Sam
assumed he was referring to Brylcreem because a startled
expression appeared in Cancer Man's face, and, throwing the
cigarette aside, he took off down the stairwell as another, distant explosion rumbled through the building.

The commander gave a sound of disgust and then took the stairs
up two at a time. Sam ignored the pounding in her head and followed him up three flights to emerge in a corridor lined with offices. The decor was considerably less shabby, but the level of undisguised panic was, if anything, heightened in the handful
of people they encountered during their run to the radio room.