Team Ryan: If You Love Something, Let it Go [2/6]
Cradle of Civilization





"If anyone has anything to say," Colonel Walker said briskly, his tone even as he walked back and forth in front of the line of straight-backed, heavily armed marines. And Ryan, of course. The Gate was being opened in the inner silo, only a few hundred feet away, and the young scientist had been dressed in military clothes for practicality or something. He didn't really understand what was wrong with jeans and a hoodie, but he'd kept his mouth shut and done as told. His preferred clothes weren't worth losing this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to.

No one spoke, and in the inner silo they could hear the roar as the Gate opened once more. One of the doors slid open ahead of them, and they all set off in a straight row towards the silvery membrane of the Gate. In front of them, just before the Gate, was a wagon with cases and rucksacks - all the equipment and supplies they were to bring even on a reconnaissance mission planned to be as short and uneventful as this one.

A remote control sent the cart rolling off in front of them, slowly vanishing into the membrane, and Ryan, despite his excitement, couldn't help a nervous glance over his shoulder towards the observation deck where he recognized a few faces but couldn't muster a parting smile. In front of him the cart disappeared into the bright light the Gate emitted, and the soldiers were moving much closer. Ryan found himself fearfully wondering, even if for just a moment, whether the thing was made for humans, whether they could even survive the journey. The universe, after all, was damn big, and the other end of it... humans couldn't be meant to travel distances as far as that, could they?

Walker reached the Gate, and after only a few seconds' hesitation he stepped through, steps long and sure. Ryan saw the other marines cast each other nervous, scared glances, but then, one after another, they followed. And then Ryan was alone on the ramp, staring at the light ahead even as he cast another glance back at the desolate silo. Then, slowly, he stuck his hands out, letting the tips of his fingers penetrate the surface. He couldn't see anything beyond the membrane, and he couldn't feel anything except maybe a slight tingling, like static electricity. After a few moments he pulled his hands back, glancing down, and reassured himself the fingers were still there, that nothing had actually happened. As he breathed a small sigh of relief the excitement returned tenfold and a look of childish glee settled on his face, the corners of his mouth drawing almost involuntarily into a broad smile. Then he closed his eyes and took the step.

Ryan knew enough quantum physics to know that he had to have gone through some kind of molecular deconstruction, and as such he didn't really have eyes to see. But he sensed time and space stretching out to accommodate him, sensed a whole universe and greater distances than he could even begin to imagine passing. Not that he should be able to sense either, but he did, saw everything stretching out, going flat and taking shape again, forming a tunnel of white light. There didn't seem to be a single sound in the universe, and he felt more alone than he ever had. It was over before he had time to even think about feeling lonely, though, and he found himself whole again, lying on his back on solid ground. His head was swimming and his body parts didn't seem to know how to respond to commands properly.

"Ross, it's all right," someone reassured, and Ryan recognized Walker's voice. "It's over," the colonel added, and when Ryan squinted through the darkness of the room he could see the man turning to one of the soldiers. "Stay with him," he ordered before moving back himself.

"Keep moving," the man, Afro-American and around Ryan's age, instructed, glancing over his shoulder with a nervous look on his face. "Wears off in a minute."

"What a rush," he heard Marlowe mutter from somewhere a bit farther off, awe in the slightly older officer's voice.

Flashlights were blinking all over the place, making Ryan's eyes hurt, but they moved too quickly for his unpracticed senses to pick up on anything about the surroundings other than darkness and stone. Walker ordered the men to prepare to move out and the movements only seemed to get more frantic. Ryan stumbled to his feet, reaching up a hand to wipe his forehead only to find it oddly dry. He was sure he'd sweated a gallon.

"It's right there," one of the men breathed, pointing a shaky finger, made to seem even more unstable in the flickering lights, towards the other source of light that Ryan had only now discovered. The membrane of the Stargate was vibrating and sending off the exact same light it had on the other side, making just enough noise to be gently heard over the soldiers. Then, with a small roar, it went out.

The soldiers, without any comment, lit their electrical torches and a more stable, yet much more eerie, light fell over the place. Ryan could see the Gate now, and pillars, but other than that his first impression hadn't changed much. "Three teams," Walker ordered. "Let's go." The men immediately set off at a jogging pace, two and two, passing each other, seeking cover and covering one another. Ryan had no idea what it was called, or even how they knew who to team up with, but he wasn't about to ask. He jogged after them, donning the army green baseball hat he'd been supplied with as he went, looking briefly to the sides every once in a while. It didn't change much before they reached what looked like another tunnel, complete with a soft light in the end, which seemed to grow stronger the closer they got.

After another few hundred yards, the light had grown so much that it seemed to come in from strategically placed holes or windows in the ceiling, flooding the whole place with golden sunshine. The soldiers were still being careful, never more than two of them moving at the same time, guns carefully held up in front of them. Ryan didn't have the same fears they seemed to. All that he really felt was an enormous, straining ball of excitement on the verge of exploding in the pit of his stomach. He passed by the marines without even stopping to think, walking towards the opening until Walker's hand shot out in front of his chest to keep him back. "Wait," the slightly older man muttered.

"One-two ratio stable," the man who'd stayed with Ryan when he'd just come through, apparently an intel or communications officer, read from the small, hand-held analysis device in his hand. "Conditions are similar to inside," he informed a moment later.

And that seemed to be the good-to-go signal everyone had been waiting for. The groups started moving more quickly until the first two had run out of the building's opening, looking quickly to every side for only a few seconds before crouching down on their knees on the ramp-like structure they had come out of, ducking low behind the solid stone railings to keep in the clear. The next two followed and it kept going like that until, finally, Ryan and Walker reached the large gap and went through.

Brighter, sharper, sunshine than any Ryan had ever encountered shone right in his eyes and would've blinded him in no time if he hadn't picked up his sunglasses from a pocket and donned them. He took another few steps, looking around at the unending-seeming stretches of sand dunes ahead of him. A moment or two later he turned around, stretching his head far back to look up at the tall, magnificent stone building they had just exited. It was simple, no intricacies, but the stones were perfectly carved, straight, enormous boulders, the cream color sandstone usually has, and there was a slight overhang over the door. After three more steps he could see that was because the entrance stood out from the rest of the building, stretching out maybe five or ten yards more than the ruler-straight façade of the rest of what he could see of the building.

"Ross, come along," Walker ordered, walking ahead of the other marines. Ryan started and ran a few paces before falling into step next to the officer even as he still glanced around curiously. They descended the solid stone ramp, heat hitting Ryan like a lazy blanket and a punch in the face at the same time, and Ryan looked up to see two tall pedestals ending the railings as they reached ground level. The same color and structure as the building had been.

Finally, when Ryan and Walker had walked several hundred feet into the desert, the soldiers still behind them, the colonel turned around, and Ryan heard a sharp intake of breath. He immediately turned around himself, more than a little curious as to what had captured the seemingly emotionless officer's attention. And he gave another start, even larger than the last one, at the sight that greeted him.

Behind the building they had come from, which now turned out to be almost the shape of two large squares with the slightly lower entrance area separating them, and the ramp leading straight into nothing but desert, a shocking and absolutely amazing sight revealed itself. The triangular building was surrounded by three full moons, one high in the sky, one a bit lower and one appearing to be rising. And not only that, but the pyramid itself had to be larger than any ever found on Earth. It was breathtaking.

Ryan raised a hand to shield against the burning sun, eyes still fixed on the gigantic structure in front of them. "I knew it," he finally whispered, voice coming out breathy and triumphant and excited all at once.



About an hour later Ryan was walking along the terrace-like flat, narrow structure that surrounded the smaller building they'd come out of, looking up at the alignments of the stones, reaching out to touch, to feel, to know that this was real and that he wasn't just having some intricate dream after falling asleep trying to decipher those cartouches. In the dunes, beneath him, the marines were setting up a sort of temporary base, but Ryan wasn't exactly paying attention. The antics of professional troopers weren’t anywhere near as exciting as the structure, and the basic discovery of this whole thing. Another world, undeniably connected with Ancient Egypt. It was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing. You could always just watch soldiers speak stiffly and walk around with million-dollar equipment on TV or something.

"Ross!" Walker shouted, calling him out of his musings and observations. Ryan reluctantly drew himself away and started down the ramp towards the others once more. "Ross," the colonel said again when the young scientist had come closer. "Start working on the Stargate. I want everyone back on Earth within the hour."

Ryan could feel his stomach tensing, his fingers growing clammy. He wasn't done looking! He hadn't explored, was sure he hadn't found out even a bit of what this whole world was all about. He couldn't leave yet! And then of course there was that other unfortunate fact. "I'm going to need more time," he stated, shrugging sheepishly. "There's bound to be other structures, or some traces of civilization."

"No sight-seeing on this trip," Walker stated in a voice that didn't exactly invite arguments. "Just get back in there and re-establish contact."

Ryan drew in a nervous breath. "It's not that easy," he finally admitted. "This –" He pointed back towards the larger of the two structures. "This is a replica of the Great Pyramid of Giza. "We're not going to find any carved hieroglyphic inscriptions or carved relief. We really need to look around more."

"Your job here," the colonel said, sounding more than just a little bored. "Is to re-align the Stargate. Can you do that or not?" His tone suggested that he was speaking to a particularly bothersome child.

Biting his lip, Ryan looking off to the side of the marine's face, feeling more than just a little chastened. "I can't," he finally admitted, gesturing helplessly.

Walker took a step closer to him, seeming to loom threateningly. "You can't or you won't?" he asked, his voice seeming to come out in small, sharp snaps now, somewhat like the cracks of a whip.

"I can decipher the symbols, but I need an order of alignment," Ryan explained, trying to keep his voice calm. He remembered, just a few minutes ago, being ecstatic and oh so excited about everything this place was, all the secrets it held. Now he felt a looming sense of panic in the pit of his stomach. No matter how exciting, Ryan didn't want to be caught on Planet X more than the next guy. "The coordinates were on stone tablets back on Earth. I just need to... find something like that here." He shrugged again, grimacing slightly.

The colonel rolled his eyes, sighing as he turned around and took a few steps away from Ryan. Marlowe stepped forward to take his place. "You didn't say anything about finding anything," he grumbled, voice much more threatening now than it had been annoying back in the silo.

"Well, I assumed the tablets would be here. I mean right here," Ryan started to defend himself, but the harsh looks from the marines cut him off.

"You assumed?" Walker asked incredulously, staring the other way as though he couldn't stand to even look at Ryan. Ryan didn't answer, could only shrug once again.

"You're a lying son of a bitch!" Marlowe screamed, running forward and shoving his strong hands hard against Ryan's skinny chest, pushing hard enough that Ryan fell flat on his ass in the soft sand, looking up with wide eyes. "You never said a word about finding anything!"

Walker took another deep breath, and Ryan could almost imagine another eye-roll as the man stepped in front of him, effectively shielding him from further attack. "Set up a camp down here," he ordered briskly. "Organize our supplies. Larsson and Milovitz, you go back to the Gate and get ready to greet the extra supplies and troops."

Ryan remembered the safety clause. Marsden had pulled him aside and told him that if he couldn't do the job immediately – although Ryan was quite sure that 'not immediately' meant a day or two rather than an hour or two – more personnel and supplies would be sent through so that they could carry out a more full-scale reconnaissance than was possible with eight people and supplies to last a day. At least that was probably going to come in handy now.

"Sir," Marlowe grumbled, moving restlessly from one foot to the other.

"You're got your orders," Walker gritted out, and with a scowl, the subordinate turned on his heel and walked back towards the other men.



Ryan, who, like everyone else, had been back by the Gate for his own stuff, was walking back out towards the designated camp, quite a bit later than the others. After all, he wasn't as used to dragging heavy bags around, and of course there were all those exciting and distracting things to get caught up in inside those ancient-seeming buildings. He could hear the marines speaking amongst themselves as he drew closer, but never loud enough for him to hear. And instead of focusing on the men, he looked over the impromptu campsite. "This is a nice tent," he stated once he was in hearing range and nearly under the shared side-less canvas roof that stood in front of the actual tents. "Oh, we each get a tent," he added distractedly once he picked up on the detail of the smaller, actual tents behind the sun-roof. "That's nice," he said again, more than just a little distracted. His mind, really, was back in those buildings, exploring to his heart's extent.

"What the hell is that?" he muttered ten minutes later once he'd realized that there was no way in hell he was going to be able to properly set up his tent on his own. And he wasn't exactly likely to get any help from the soldiers at the moment. And so he'd decided to settle on the next best thing. He threw away that unnamed little knick-knack he'd found in the breast pocket of his military jacket. "A thermal blanket." He rolled his eyes. "Don't need that." And with that he threw the blanket over his shoulder as well, still rummaging through pockets and his small belt bags. "Cold laundry detergent? What the hell?" He groaned, throwing another few items away as well. "I've got everything here but sun block."

Sensing the presence of someone behind him, Ryan slowly turned around, peering through the tinted glass of his sunshades. "What?" he asked curiously when one of the soldiers, Spungen he thought, whom he'd seen around Marlowe a bit, standing right there.

"Shouldn't you be doing something now?" the young marine asked, an ugly look on his face, and Ryan recognized his book bag in the other man's arms, his body immediately twitching involuntarily like it always did when he thought about being parted from his books. "Like getting us the hell out of here!" The last bit was screamed just as the bag was tossed straight towards Ryan's head, and if he'd ducked just half a second later, he'd have had a concussion to deal with as well.

Muted chuckles sounded from the other soldiers and Ryan narrowly refrained from rolling his eyes, merely got up from his suitcase while he still rummaged through his pockets. "Talcum foot powder, great," he muttered as he made his way towards the bag that had fallen open, books lying scattered around it. At least none of them looked like their spine had cracked or pages fallen out.

They were still waiting on the newcomers and extra things, the colonel oddly absent, when Ryan finally found something worthwhile in the upper, inner right pocket of his vest. Energy bars. He'd always been under the assumption that the military would have them taste of shit, but this was actually nice. Very chocolaty. There was a lot of energy in chocolate, though, so he supposed it made sense.

And that was when he noticed something that hadn't registered to him earlier. There was some kind of tracks in the sand. A single set, though he couldn't tell if it were from two or four feet. Curiously, the young scientist got back on his feet and followed the slight indentations in the ground with his gaze. It disappeared behind the next dune over, and Ryan's curiosity gave him no choice but to follow, so he quickly pulled his cap further down to shadow him from the sun and set out at a light jog, keeping just by the odd trail. And then he caught sight of the thing. It looked somewhat like a large, very hairy and ugly ox, and the small sound it made moments later definitely sounded a little like a cow too. But it wasn't horned and its ears were small, and its face was bald and seemed leathery and almost intelligent. It was eating from a few dry-looking, desolate plants that were more brown and green, but the relaxed stance of the animal and the pleasured-sounding moohs made it look as though it was the best thing it had had in a long time.

Slowly, Ryan walked closer, taking absentminded note on the harness the animal wore, which only spurred his curiosity more. Who owned it? Who was the intelligent life-form here? And immediately that trail of thought would have him in anthropologist mode, which was always something that excited him. "It's okay," he murmured in his most soothing voice when the creature made a startled noise and looked at him with shocked eyes. "Shh... Don't worry, it's all right," he continued. "I'm not going to hurt you." He kept walking, and the animal let him, finally relaxing a little and ceding its slow retreat. It gave a sound, which might have been curious or might just have been Ryan's imagination, and Ryan held out a hand towards it, which got a roar out of the thing, but at least he was starting to believe that it was probably friendly and probably didn't eat humans anyway. It wasn't exactly a cow as it was much bigger than any cow he'd ever seen, but it still was probably about as harmless.

The beast seemed to calm a little, and Ryan managed a small pat on the tangled fur before its mouth was just by the hand that was still clutching the chocolaty energy bar. The scientist smiled and held it out, peeling off the wrapper. "Want some of this?" he asked in the cooing voice one might use on a dog. Its huge, slobbery tongue reached out and snatched the bar from Ryan's hand and Ryan couldn't resist making a slight grimace at the feeling.

"I wouldn't feed that thing!"

Ryan turned around to find himself looking at, once again, Colonel Walker and the communications officers who'd helped him when he'd first gotten through the Gate. Both of the men had their guns pointed straight at the animal, and Ryan felt a flame of indignity lighting up in him. "Don't hurt it!" he shouted. "It's got a harness, it's domesticated!" He reached out to pet the animal's side, but suddenly the beast started and reared up. Ryan held his hands up as protection, backing away, but he wasn't quick enough. A moment later the thing started running, practically galloping away, and Ryan realized too late that his foot had been tangled in the harness and he was hopelessly stuck. Before he had time to do anything about it, his feet were swept away from under him and he was being dragged unceremoniously through the desert on his back, bump after painful bump going through his body.

"Let go of it!" someone, probably the communications officer judging by his voice, shouted behind him, but Ryan didn't exactly have the breath to answer, and a moment later he promptly passed out.



Something warm and wet and slobbery was the first impressions Ryan got when he woke back up, and when he opened his eyes it was to stare right into the face of the animal from before. He let out a small scream, crabbing away as quickly as he could, an overly musky smell assaulting his nostrils.

"You okay, Ross?" someone asked, and Ryan looked up and recognized the communications officer from earlier. He really needed to become better at names.

Ryan groaned, struggling to his feet as he looked around him. Other than the communications officer and Walker, two other men had joined them. He recognized one as one of the soldiers who'd come through the Stargate same time as him and the team, but the other one, one with a slightly chubby face, dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, was completely new to him.

Walker had moved away from the small group a little, his attention seeming to have been caught by something else. "Spungen, Donnell," he called over his shoulder. "Smith, check Ross over." The two soldiers Ryan had recognized quickly ran to the colonel's side, dropping to their knees as they quickly got up the weapons.

The new one, Smith, walked over and without ceremony held Ryan's eyes wide open to look into them. "A few bruises," he finally stated. "No concussion. I'm Spencer Smith."

"Ryan Ross," Ryan answered, reaching out to shake the other man's hand and again making sure that he kept his grip tight enough. The creature nudged his shoulder, and the young scientist couldn't help but to make a face. "Ugh, get away from me," he groaned, stepping away again. Then he finally fully noticed how far Walker and the two others had moved away from them and set off at a slow jog to catch up, Smith hot on his heels.

Moments later they reached the others, but Ryan didn't even really register that fact. What he saw in front of him was so much more exciting. In the sand below them was what looked like some major mining operation. More people than Ryan bothered to count were working down there, looking like giant ants on their primitive ladders, climbing and mining what looked like gigantic stone pillars and moving large baskets around on the sand below. Ragged coverings were set up as shading for the harsh sun, and Ryan had subconsciously started moving closer, the others right behind him.

One of the workers looked up, eyes widening. He loudly exclaimed something that sounded like, "Chien pe-ow. Mieu!"

A young boy came running, one hand shading his eyes from the sun. His long hair was dark and matted almost all the way into dreadlocks and pulled mostly away from his face by a leather band. His clothes were earthy, roughly weaved browns and leathers, adding to the primitive feel that came off the whole group. "Chien pe-ow. Mieu. Mieu. Mieu, shien mow," he said, voice sounding excited.

Ryan's group kept walking closer, the animal seeming to have decided to follow, and they met with the boy just in front of the mining operation. Everyone had stopped work on the rocks and most people were clambering down their ladders to get closer to the commotion. "All right, Ross. You're on," Walker said, sounding amused and wary all at once.

"Me?" Ryan asked incredulously, sparing the colonel a glance before going back to observing the scene in front of them. He had never seen anything like this before.

"You're the linguist," Walker said with a shrug. "Try talking to them."

Ryan bit his lip before walking slowly another few steps forward, waving. He was at pretty much a complete loss of what to do. "Hi?"

One of the nearby workers seemed to focus his eyes on a point on Ryan's chest, and his eyes suddenly widened. Ryan looked down and noticed that the pendant Barbara had given him had come out from under his shirt during his drag through the desert, and he looked back at the man in confusion only to see him get to his knees before bending over until his forehead was touching the ground in front of him. "Na tu de-why-ya. Na tu de-why-ya!" the man managed to shout even from his prostrated position. All the other miners seemed to take that as their cue and moments later everyone was bowing deep towards the ground, Ryan's confusion building with each man and boy who dropped to his knees.

Walker took a few steps until he was standing right next to Ryan, cocking an eyebrow. "What the hell did you say to him?" he asked incredulously, his voice still gruff.

"Nothing at all," Ryan answered, confusion shining through his voice. "Absolutely nothing. He just..." He shrugged and grimaced slightly.

The colonel nodded, sighing slightly as he walked closer to the large group of bowing males. When he noticed the boy from before looking up, he approached slowly, looking right back with a scrutinizing gaze, as though trying to figure it all out. "Hey, it's okay," he said, trying with what appeared to be some difficulty to keep his voice soft and gentle. He even tried for a little smile as he gestured for the boy to rise. The teen stood slowly, confusion masking his every feature and seeming to grow as he looked the newcomers over, taking in clothes and stances and everything. Ryan would've sworn the kid was trembling in fear. "Hey, look, it's okay," Walker continued, reaching out slowly and taking the boy's hand in his own. "It's okay, see? Huh?" he asked as he slowly, exaggeratedly, shook the teen's hand.

The boy seemed to panic, his big, dark eyes growing even wider. He dropped Walker's hand as though burned and turned on his heel, starting to run through the throng of people. "Si misoy!" he cried, the fear making his voice rise nearly an octave. "Si misoy! Kasuf! Kasuf!"

Ryan looked at Walker with confusion still in his eyes before glancing towards the other miners, somehow scared that if he moved or breathed wrong the rest of these delightfully unexplored people would get up and start running away as well. That would turn the anthropologist dream he seemed to be living into an anthropologist nightmare.

Donnell, the communications officer, had taken out some kind of a handheld device and was waving it over one of the baskets of ore stones. A red beam shot out, appearing to be scanning the stones. "Quartz primary element," the device informed in its electronic voice.

Ryan kept looking at the people, wincing slightly. Their position couldn't really be comfortable at all for this long. "Uhm, rise," he muttered, gesticulating the motion with his hands. No one responded, and he gave a sigh, plopping down on the ground with a sigh. He'd really like to take some notes, but he had the feeling that now probably wasn't the best time.

Someone sat down next to him, and Ryan glanced over to see Smith sending him a small smile. "So... linguist, anthropologist and Egyptologist, huh? You must be in Heaven."

The young scientist gave a small laugh, looking the other man over. His own age, Ryan gauged, maybe a little younger. "Yeah, something like that," he responded. "I get the feeling this isn't how they usually are, though, so it doesn't help much in the way of anthropology."

Smith chuckled, nodding. "I guess you're right about that," he stated. "Well, as you know I'm Spencer Smith," he continued. "I'm a marine medic." He grimaced slightly. "Field surgeon, really. Finished pre-med in college and didn't have the money for medical school, so I joined the Navy to have my education paid for later, and now they seem a little reluctant to let me go. Figures, huh?"

Ryan smiled awkwardly, not really knowing how to respond to getting that amount of personal information thrown on his head. "At least I'm not the only academic then," he muttered.

"I've worked with Colonel Walker before," Smith in formed. "And he might as well be. But he knocked his girlfriend up in high school and got thrown out, and suddenly he was eighteen years old and had a wife and a baby to support all on his own. College doesn't exactly help you afford that, so he joined the Navy instead, worked very hard because the higher rank, the bigger the pay check, right? He's only twenty-four, but he's one of the best."

"Oh," Ryan muttered, feeling a little confused. It wasn't that Walker looked old per se, his age looked a little indefinable, really, but he acted so much more than just two years older than Ryan, and some of the men he commanded had to be nearly ten years older.

"Everyone here is one of the best," Smith continued. "I'm pretty talented, see? And while you have this weirdo reputation, there aren't a lot of people better and smarter in any of your fields. Walker is only being held back because of his age, or he might have made admiral already. FBI continually tries to snatch Donnell and everyone else is elite troops. So we're going to be fine, and we'll be home in no time."

So apparently Smith was one of those always-optimistic people and now he was trying to pass it onto Ryan. Oh, well, it wasn't like he was depressed or anything, so what did it matter? He smiled slightly before returning his gaze to the miners. "Yeah," he agreed softly, trying not to think about 'home', where he was homeless, had shoddy job prospects and wasn't respected at all. He didn't want to go home before he had concrete evidence to shove up the world's collective ass. He was just about done being laughed at.

Both young men sat in silence for an indeterminable amount of time, listening with half an ear as Walker discussed this and that with Spungen and Donnell. The sun felt like a regular sledgehammer, and Ryan could feel sweat dribbling down his forehead and the back of his neck. "Of all the places the Gate could lead to it just had to be a fucking oven, didn't it?" he grumbled.

Smith didn't have time to answer because a moment later the boy returned over a dune, pointing at their group while apparently speaking to someone behind him. Another boy was right next to him, and while they didn't look exactly the same, the resemblance was stunning enough that they clearly had to be quite closely related. Moments later a larger group appeared, leading another one of those creatures, a larger one, and on its back someone seemed to be riding, hidden behind colorful curtains.

"Na-hey," a man's voice said from that hidden position, and next thing Ryan knew an elderly man in faded scarlet robes was being helped down to the ground. Someone handed him a wooden staff, polished enough that it reflected the glow of the sun, and he started walking towards him as Walker, Spungen and Donnell returned to Ryan and Smith. The two boys walked up to the man, the one who'd first run to apparently get the others speaking in hushed tones to the man as they finally reached Ryan's group. The man babbled a bit in the foreign tongue again, 'Kasuf' being the only word Ryan managed to make out. The old man pointed his staff out horizontally in what the young scientist guessed was probably some kind of a peaceful gesture. Then he bowed his head respectfully.

Ryan cleared his throat, glancing at Walker. "I can't make it out," he informed. "It sounds familiar, a bit like Berber. Maybe Chadic or Omotic."

The old man glanced back and forth between them rapidly, a nervous look seeming to form in his eyes. Then he turned briefly to his people and called out, and moments later they were all - finally - back on their feet. Ryan didn't want to even begin to contemplate just how much their legs must've cramped up. Then the man himself bowed from his waist, awkwardly and uncomfortably, which definitely established the fact that he must be a leader of some kind. He gave another order, at least that's what Ryan guessed the words were, and five women stepped forth, holding clay bowls of water. They each went to one of the men in Ryan's group, and as Ryan took a deep swallow he immediately felt as though some of the dust and sweat and the heat of the sun was just a bit lighter to bear.

"Thanks," he murmured, sending the girl a smile before he took another mouthful of water in, nearly moaning around the swallow. He couldn't remember ever having water taste so good before.

The women bowed and stepped back, and the leader walked closer to them again, bowing once more. Ryan, frowning in concentration, bowed back. "Oh, here," he said on a sudden hunch, reaching into his pocket to pull up another one of the surprisingly well-tasting chocolate energy bars. He smiled slightly at the elderly man's confused face, unwrapping the bar and demonstrably sniffing it, motioning eating before holding it out. "Mmm," he said, hoping he'd explained his point well enough.

"Ya rab-id yu?" the man asked, miming eating. Ryan gave a quick nod and mimed taking a bite, pushing the bar into the leader's hand. The elderly man took it and sniffed it experimentally before taking a cautious bite. He chewed slowly, and then his eyes widened. "Bunni, bunni-wae!" he exclaimed, a smile spreading over his sun-bronzed, wrinkled face.

"Bunni-wae?" Ryan muttered experimentally, trying to get a feel of the word. Where on Earth had he seen this language before?

"Bunni-wae!" the elderly man agreed, turning around to give his people a great smile, dark eyes twinkling merrily.

"Bunni-wae," Ryan said slowly, brows wrinkled in confusion and concentration.

"What's that mean?" Spungen asked, nudging Ryan's shoulder lightly. Apparently he had decided to stop being an asshole, which, really, was just as well.

"I have no idea," the scientist answered, shaking his head. "Absolutely none. I don't recognize it. I can hear similarities to something, but for the life of me I can't place it."

"Si pleu?" the old man asked, bowing slightly once more and gesturing for them to follow.

"He's inviting us to go with him," Ryan stated with a small grin, getting more and more excited all over again.

"How can you be so sure?" Spungen asked, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

"Because he's –" Ryan started, mimicking the old leader's movements exaggeratedly. "– asking us to come with him." He turned to look at Walker, raising an eyebrow. "I was looking for signs of civilization. Obviously, we found it. You want me to get us back home, this is our best shot."

"Colonel, he's right," Donnell interjected. "I took some readings of what they're mining back there. It's the same material as the Stargate."

Walker sighed, giving another small eye-roll. "Radio basecamp," he ordered. "Tell them to keep that area secure until we can get back."

"Yes sir," Donnell responded, nodding slightly as he set to it.



Everyone was walking in a long line, practically forming a sort of caravan through the desert. Ryan and the marines were walking with the leader and the two boys, quite close to the beginning of the long line. The old man suddenly pointed ahead of them, a smile on his wizened face. "Yu-yu!" he gushed brightly.

Ryan followed the elderly man's gaze, and his eyes fell on an expansive stone city that lay ahead, just visible now that they had crossed to the top of another dune.

"Yu liik. Yu-yu," the one of the boys who looked oldest, the one they had met first, exclaimed, grinning, starting to walk again. Ryan immediately followed, noting that Donnell was snapping pictures eagerly behind him, while Walker was expressionless, Spungen scowled and Smith looked nearly as amazed as Ryan felt.

Feeling like the amount of sweat pouring off him was starting to really become disgusting, Ryan grabbed a handkerchief from one of his pockets and dabbed at his face, immediately starting to feel slightly better. He stuck it haphazardly back in his pocket, never changing his pace.

"Snoph-ai," the boy said a moment later, and suddenly Ryan was presented with his own handkerchief, noting that the younger of the two boys had a slightly guilty, but at the same time amused and a little put-upon look on his face. Ryan merely rolled his eyes, smiling slightly as he handed the simple piece of cloth to the youngest boy.



It was close to nightfall when they entered the city, and when they did Ryan couldn't stop looking around, his eyes darting frantically back and forth in an effort to pick up everything and anything he possibly could about it, jittery and excited like a young girl on prom night. He absentmindedly noticed that the tribe leader was apparently barking out orders, gesturing back and forth. Several people came close and took hold of some ropes Ryan only now noticed, pulling a piece of fabric away from something that hung over what appeared to be the main street, suspended between two buildings. What was revealed made Ryan gasp in awe. A gigantic gold disc, nearly identical to the one he wore, depicting the eye of Ra, was glinting in the setting sun. The tribe leader prostrated himself on the ground and all his people quickly followed his example.

"The eye of Ra," Ryan murmured, glancing over at the rest of Walker's team. "The Egyptian sun god. They think he sent us here."

"Wonder what gave them that idea," the colonel muttered dryly, sending a lingering glance to the pendant hanging against Ryan's chest.

Ryan blushed slightly and tucked the pendant back under his shirt, laughing a little with a slightly incredulous sound. "Ra," he said, meeting the gaze of the elderly tribe leader as he pointed up at the symbol. "Ra."

Before the old man had time to answer a horn was blown in the distance, and people got back to their feet, starting to move about hurriedly.

"Where are they all going?" Spungen asked in confusion, eyes darting after the departing locals.

Ryan shrugged, bewildered, but simply moved after the tribe, noting out of his peripheral notice that Donnell and Walker were bent over a radio, appearing to have a brisk conversation with what he guessed was the other part of their team.

They were back at the tall city walls before he knew it, and the tribe leader was clapping his hands with a loud, snapping sound, and men, most of them amongst the miners they had seen earlier, were pulling the heavy gates shut. "All right," Walker called to the team. "That's it, we're going back right now! Let's go!"

Biting his lip with regret and nerves, Ryan set out to follow, hurrying after the colonel towards the still closing gates. He heard a voice calling out from behind and instinctively knew it was addressing him, and he looked over his shoulder to see the tribe leader speaking animatedly, his hands doing at least half the talking, and while Ryan couldn't make out the words, he could definitely see the concern in the old man's eyes. "Wait!" he called to Walker. "Wait, damnit!"

Walker didn't seem to hear him, but Smith did, stopping in the middle of his walking and making his way back towards Ryan, a torn look in his eyes. Walker, Donnell and Spungen pushed their way through the crowd, and Ryan soon saw them reach the gates. He couldn't make out what was being said, but he could see Spungen and Donnell pushing people roughly aside while Walker made straight for the latch. The locals tried to stop him from undoing it, but he fought them off with hardly any trouble and the loud snap when one man's arm was broken could be heard over the roar of the crowd, making Ryan cringe. Next thing he knew Donnell and Spungen had taken hostages, were holding them tightly and in a way that looked more than just a little painful, guns pressed against their temples. Walker raised his own gun and fired it warningly in front of the local's feet, making the crowd back off, some with terrified screams, all wide-eyed and frightened-looking, and Ryan's heart was in his throat. This wasn't good.

"Na-ney!" the leader shouted, rushing up towards the soldiers with his empty hands held out in a non-threatening manner. Ryan raced behind him, Smith hot on his heels, and when he looked around a little, he saw that the two boys were also approaching, the younger one latching a hand onto the old man's robes as soon as he got the chance. Once the leader had reached the front of the crowd, he turned around and motioned for his people to back off, and was immediately obeyed.

"Smith! Ross! Get over here!" Walker shouted, and both men immediately complied, rushing to the sides of their countrymen. To Ryan's surprise, though, the eldest of the two boys had followed as well, and both his father's and brother's eyes widened nearly comically, fear evident on their features. The boy, however, went right up and stood before Walker, starting to speak calmly in that unknown language, his tone friendly and non-threatening, and Ryan was definitely beginning to see that this boy had been raised to take over leadership of the tribe some day.

"Na-ney. Na-ney," the boy said softly, pointing upwards, towards the outside of the gate. "Yu yu. Yu yu." He gestured for the colonel to follow him to a look-out point on the top of the wall while the locals looked on in wonder and admiration. After a moment's consideration, Walker nodded and followed the maybe fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy, starting up the ladder. Ryan took a step, starting to follow, but Smith's hand on his arm held him back. He kept watching instead, and saw them reach the top of the wall and go to the edge of the look-out, saw Walker holding up a hand to shade his eyes from the sun, strong even now when it was only twilight. The boy seemed to still be speaking illegibly, and after another few moments Ryan saw Walker nod his head in understanding or agreement.

"What is it, colonel?" Smith yelled, his hand still gripping Ryan's arm maybe a tad too tightly.

"It's a sandstorm," Walker called back, turning around to look at them. "And it's coming this way."

Both of the two other marines released their hostages, Donnell's unceremoniously running away at what seemed to be his fastest possible pace while Spungen's collapsed on the ground, crying in relief. Both the soldiers were breathing heavily, looking more than a little relieved themselves.

"Well," Ryan muttered. "That would've been an excellent reason to shoot anyone."

"We'll stay until it's over," Walker declared when he reached the ground, the boy following him and walking past until he reached his father and brother again, giving the old man a wide grin.

Ryan then followed the boy and tapped the old tribe leader on the shoulder, brow furrowed in concentration. "Sh-shun?" he tried, making a slight face. He was absolutely convinced he had pronounced that all wrong.

The old man, though, started nodding vigorously, grinning as he apparently started to explain something in the local tongue that Ryan still couldn't make out, once again gesturing broadly. Ryan, still deep in concentration, soundlessly imitated the words he could make out from the others, tasting them on his tongue as he did his best to get a feel of the language. The old man nodded, almost proudly, before making a whirring noise and gesturing to the storm over their heads. Ryan wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but he nodded back and walked off, back to his team mates.

Spungen and Donnell, however, had made their way over, both stuttering out apologies before bowing their heads. The tribe leader bowed back, apparently accepting the apologies for what they were, and Spungen grimaced and shrugged at the misunderstanding.



In the very distance Ryan could hear the storm roar outside the city walls, but sheltered as they were inside, barely a wind seemed to move, although he could hear faint whistling from some of the outermost houses. Darkness had fallen completely and the stars and three moons were shining brightly overhead, competing with the flickering light of fires seen through the glass-less windows of the stone houses around them.

The atmosphere was jubilant. Every man and boy and child – Ryan couldn't recall having seen women since the ones who gave them water in the desert except the ones who were now serving the food - was gathered around what he guessed was their equivalent of a town square. There was music and laughter and people were speaking exuberantly to one another. The food was surprisingly plentiful for it being the desert, but Ryan guessed that this probably wasn't the norm.

The team had places of honor, at the very center of things, seated on the ground like everyone else, across from the leader and his two sons as well as other elderly men who seemed to carry high positions in the tribe as well. And as the food was being packed up in front of him, Ryan felt his stomach prepare to rumble. Besides, manners and all. He picked up a piece of bread and nibbled at it experimentally before giving a slight sigh at relief when he realized that although the texture was a little more rough than he was used to, it still tasted good. Spicy, for a bread, but good.

"Hey, Ross," Smith addressed him, making a slight face. "I don't think we should eat any food here. We don't know the health risks at all."

Ryan shrugged and took another bite. "I dunno," he said once he'd finished chewing. "They might consider that an insult."

Another platter was sat down and Ryan had to keep himself firmly in check to keep from making a double-take at the look of the food on it. It looked more than anything like a strange cross between an armadillo and a gigantic bug, and Ryan swallowed nervously. Spungen was laughing from a few seats away, and Donnell joined in when the tribe leader held out his hand, gesturing that Ryan had the dubious honor of taking the first bite. And Ryan just couldn't stop looking, jaw dropped, at the creature. Couldn't they at least have taken its natural armor off and chopped it into unrecognizable pieces first?

"Well, we don't want to offend them now, Ryan, do we?" Spungen asked in between bursts of laughter, pulling his jacket closer around his body in the cool evening air.

Ryan, nervously, continued to chew slowly on his bread as he reached a hand out to cautiously pull a chunk off the meat off the center of the animal where the armor had been cut open. He stared at it for a moment before sniffing it and taking a slow bite, chewing carefully, noticing out of his peripheral vision that the tribe leader was watching him anxiously. Ryan then breathed a sigh of relief, a smile spreading over his face. "Tastes like chicken," he stated. "Tastes like chicken, it's good." He gave a small laugh, relieved that he wouldn't have to fight his way through something virtually inedible.

The tribe leader gave a cautious smile, his relief seeming to be as large as Ryan's. And then he turned to the boy next to him, starting a low conversation. The only words Ryan could make out of it were 'Skaara', which he was starting to suspect was probably the boy's name, and 'Baraka', and 'hi'. The last word sounded very familiar, as though it was part of a language he should know, but he still couldn't place it.

Ryan gave another small laugh although he was feeling confused again. All the conversations he didn't understand were having that effect on him. The boy, Skaara, scampered off, pulling the younger boy up and dragging him along as they wound through the throng of people, towards one of the larger houses. The tribe leader turned back to Ryan and smiled widely in return.

Walker shook his head from his seat a few places down, sighing slightly. He looked a little bored and seemed more than just a little impatient to be getting on with what they had come there for. "Ross," he said. "You said that was an Egyptian symbol." He pointed up at the large medallion hanging across the street some fifty yards away.

Ryan followed his gaze and nodded slowly. "Yeah," he concurred. "The eye of Ra."

"Would it stand to reason, then," the colonel continued, rolling his eyes a little. "That if they know one Egyptian symbol..."

It took a moment for Ryan to follow the train of thought, but when he did, his eyes lit up and he grinned. "Yes!" he answered enthusiastically. He got to his feet and walked around the low table until he was right next to the tribe leader. The old man held out his bowl of food, a slightly bewildered look on his face, but Ryan gently pushed his hand back and crouched down. "No, no," he muttered, brushing a stray lock of brown out of his eyes, momentarily annoyed that he hadn't thought to get it cut before leaving Earth - sure, it would've just been his usual bowl cut, but hey, those were really practical, except not so much when they grew out. He reached into his shirt and pulled out the pendant, showing it to the old man, who immediately started bowing almost frantically. Ryan, biting his lip, grasped the man's jaw carefully and turned his face up to look at Ryan. Then he shook his head. "No-no," he murmured. He then pointed at Barbara's pendant again and began to draw in the sand.

The tribe leader gave a loud gasp, and quickly knocked Ryan's hand out of the way in his haste to obliterate the writing. "Na-ney, na-ney," he exclaimed, voice sounding beyond frightened. He kept speaking, but too quickly for Ryan to make anything out.

"No, no," Ryan muttered again, biting his lip. He'd really hoped this might work, but it didn't seem so. The old man had stood up again and was speaking to the crowd, his voice loud and panicked.

"What the hell's going on here?" Donnell asked confusedly, dark eyes widening in his brown face.

Ryan shrugged, keeping his eyes on the old tribe leader who had taken to using every universal gesture for stop he could apparently come up with while speaking softly, beseechingly to the young man. "Apparently writing is forbidden," he stated a moment later.

Walker nodded slowly, seeming to be thinking about some way to work around that, and the leader had turned towards his people once more, gesturing and speaking again, and this time whatever he said seemed to be bringing the jubilant atmosphere back as people cheered and clapped around them, speaking excitedly amongst themselves.

Suddenly Ryan caught sight of a group of elderly women hurrying through the crowd, and then they reached their group, heading straight for the scientist while they blabbered excitedly with each other. One went ahead of the others, holding a large, thin piece of cloth, which he was suddenly wrapped in before he could do anything to escape. And then they were pulling and pushing gently, herding him away from the group, and Ryan felt the first flash of fear he had in the last couple of hours. "What?" he asked, voice rising a pitch. "What? Uhm..." He managed to turn around in the women's grip and face his team mates. "I think they want me to go with them? Should I go with them?" He took a deep breath, looking at the faces spanning from worried (Smith) to highly amused (Spungen). "I'll go with them," he stated, well aware that he was rambling but quite unsure of how to stop. "I'll go. I'll be fine." He forced a small smile before letting himself be turned around and herded onwards.

A few minutes later Ryan found himself being pushed down to sit on a cot in a small room, sand covering the floor in a thick layer and sparse light coming from the window and a fire on the other side of the room. He couldn't hold back a giggle when his socks and boots were pulled off and his feet being scrubbed. But damn, he was ticklish! Others set about combing his messy hair, using primitive bone combs, and yet others had grabbed his fingers and were scrubbing and trimming his nails. He grimaced, wrinkling his nose slightly. This was making him feel beyond uncomfortable, but he didn't want to offend them by pushing them away. "Okay. That's good," he muttered, making another grimace before attempting to cover it up with a smile when a stern, old face scowled at him. "All right. What is that smell? Oh it's... okay. That's good. Okay. That's good. I think that's good. My hands are pretty clean. Thank you. Thank you very, very much." He breathed a sigh of relief, getting to his feet when they finally seemed content with their ministrations and started to file out. "Thank you. That was very nice. Thank you. That was great. I smell much better," he informed with a smile as he watched the last of them exit. He exhaled again, deeply relieved to have that, whatever it was all about, over with. Then he sat down on the blankets and looked around for a moment before bending slightly to sniff at himself. "Oh, Christ, I smell like a yak," he exclaimed with a groan. He rolled his eyes and bent down to start pulling his socks back on. It really wasn't warm enough at night not to be wearing them.

Suddenly the piece of fabric working as a door was pushed aside, and Ryan waved distractedly. "No, no. No more, please. Ugh... damn." He let out another groan at the thought of going through the grooming again. The bare feet in the edge of his vision kept coming nearer, though. "Please, no more, I'm fine, I'm clean, just..." He finally looked up and his voice trailed off as the person standing in front of him dropped the scarlet veil that had been covering face and hair. His first thought had been that the boy was Skaara, but a closer look placed him as a little bit older albeit roughly the same height. His hair, though, was longer, and although it was wavy and wild and a little tangled, it wasn't matted into dreads the way his brother's was, for it definitely had to be another brother. They looked too much alike for anything else to be possible. The same eyes, the same shape of face, although this boy's lips were fuller and his lashes longer and his skin a few shades fairer. And rather than the skin-tight mostly leather clothes Skaara wore, this boy was clad in a loose, light brown robe. And where Skaara's face and body bore the evidence that he would one day grow up to be very handsome, this boy was already stunning. "Oh, uhm..." he let out nervously, giving a short, shrill laugh. "I thought you were one of those cleaning..."

The boy didn't pay any attention to his words, which Ryan thought was probably logical enough, what with the whole language barrier and everything. Instead he reached for the shoulder straps of his rope and pulled them over his shoulders and off his arms, and then the whole garment fell down to pool around his feet, revealing the bare body beneath.

Ryan had known he much preferred boys to girls since forever, so it came as no surprise that the sight of a flat, only slightly muscled stomach, hips that were rounded without becoming too feminine, soft-looking thighs, a well-formed, if flaccid, cock and expanses of pale, soft-looking skin had him distracted for several long moments. Then he realized what was going on and blushed deeply while his eyes widened further. "No! No-no-no-no-no. You don't have to do that. Please?" he got out, voice a little panicky and not made any better by the fact that his nether regions were starting to act up already. He quickly reached out and picked up the robe, awkwardly trying to put it back on the boy, ignoring the startled gasp as he covered him up. "Maybe you should go," he muttered. "Okay?"

The boy's eyes widened impossibly further, his teeth coming out to worry his plump lip. His head was downcast and the corners of his mouth seemed to be pulling down as shame started to practically radiate from him, making Ryan feel even more awkward.

"It's okay," he repeated. "Maybe you should go." He felt something in him clench when the boy's shame-filled eyes grew teary. "No-no. It's okay, it's okay. It's all right. We're... here." He picked up the veil and pushed it into the boy's hand, gently herding him towards the entrance of the room. He pulled back the flap covering the door and looked out, only to realize they were far from alone. Milling about outside was the tribe leader and the other elders, and moments later the leader – the boy's father, Ryan was quite sure – saw them in the door opening and froze, staring at them in horror for a moment before he paled, deep embarrassment settling in his eyes as well.

The old man said something, the tone indicating that it was a question, in the native tongue, looking sharply at the boy who shrunk back a little and shook his head negatively. Immediately the tribe leader rushed forward and bowed deeply, prostrating himself on the ground, and the tone of his voice when he started to speak told Ryan as clearly as words would've that the man was begging.

Ryan felt confused for a moment, looking back and forth between father and son before he realized that maybe this was some kind of strange custom. And again he didn't want to offend, even though he was kind of bewildered about how the old man had known he preferred boys. Perhaps people here were born with a flawless gaydar. He plastered a bright grin on his face. "No. No, no, no. Nothing's wrong, it's just me... I wanted to thank you." He bowed his head slightly, hoping it could be read as gratefulness. "I just wanted to... I'm happy." He gave another wide smile. "Very happy." With that he wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulder and pulled him close. "See?"

The tribe leader looked more than just a little confused, his heavy brow scrunching up. "Eh?"

Ryan simply nodded. "Thank you," he repeated, steering the boy back inside and letting the flap drop behind them, quickly letting go of the boy who crossed the room and sat down on the cot, his abnormally small hands playing with a loose string on the blanket, his eyes shyly averted. Ryan took a deep breath and stepped cautiously closer, crouching down to be better able to look the boy in the eye. "Uh... Ryan," he stated, pointing at himself.

The boy imitated him, pointing at himself. "Ryan," he repeated.

"No," Ryan said with a small laugh, pointing at himself again "Uh, I am Ryan." He gave another short chuckle. "I'm Ryan." He pointed towards his own chest again with both hands.

The boy's eyes lit up in sudden understanding, and he pointed at himself again. "Baraka," he stated.

"Baraka," Ryan repeated with a small smile. "Well, uh, we came..." He bent down a little further and started drawing a pyramid in the sand. The boy, Baraka, glanced at what he was doing but quickly averted his gaze, a scared, uncertain look flitting over his face. "Pyramid," Ryan continued. "See, we came from a pyramid." He continued, drawing the ramp from the pyramid and using his fingers to imitate the team leaving the structure and walking down the ramp. Only then did he look up and realize just how uncomfortable and scared the boy looked. "Never mind," he muttered with a sigh. "Never mind, it's okay."

Baraka looked up and met his eyes under slightly lowered lids, and Ryan gave him a small smile and stood, feeling more than just a little disappointed. With no way to communicate, how was he supposed to learn anything? Much less get the team home. He paced the room for a bit, going to the door and peeking out. With another sigh he turned back, his eyes widening when he realized the boy had erased the ramp and was instead using the pyramid as a base for another picture, which was completed with merely a circle on top of the triangle.

Ryan gasped slightly when he recognized the symbol. "Earth," he murmured. Baraka looked up, an uncertain look in his nearly overly expressive eyes. "You know this symbol?" he asked. "You've seen this symbol?" He pointed at his eye, and then let his finger move slowly to the drawing.

The boy looked up, comprehension dawning in his eyes as he pointed at the symbol, then his eye and nodded his head.

"Show me," Ryan requested, eyes bright and voice eager. He reached out, offering the boy his hand. "You show me."

After a moment's hesitation Baraka took the scientist's hand and let himself be pulled up, leading the way outside.

Part Three