by Stargate
"You know Damaris set us up, don't you?" the Colonel called to Kenna's retreating back. "She told you to let us escape that night. Right?"
The Commander faltered, coming to a slow stop. "I have done what I can."
"They're going to kill us." O'Neill said the words softly, as quiet and certain as a knife at an unsuspecting throat. "You can help us."
Kenna looked away, his face fracturing with a sudden, brief repugnance. "I have done what I can," he insisted. "You carry your own fate, Colonel O'Neill."
"And who carries yours, Commander?"
This time there was no answer. After a moment the soldiers were gone, and they were alone in the silent courtyard.
The Colonel turned, rubbing at his chafed wrists. He looked as grave as Sam had ever seen him. "So...here we are again."
Sam nodded. "Sir? What the hell's going on?"
A summer breeze blew across the side of the mountain, cooled by the night and carrying with it the scent of pine as Daniel hiked toward the access hatch hidden amid the brush. He'd pulled off the road and hoped the car wouldn't be spotted until daylight. If all went according to plan, he'd be off-world long before then.
Hampered by his fragile shoulder, Daniel twisted the lock and heaved open the massive iron hatch with a grunt. The muscles in his one usable arm burned with the effort. Beneath him the ladder fell away into darkness. Sixteen levels to climb down. Not easy at the best of times, but with his shoulder still healing it would be tough. If the joint dislocated again... He dismissed the thought and flicked on his wrist-light. Climbing over the lip of the hatch his boots hit the ladder, sending a dull chime down the long shaft beneath. Daniel winced; it sounded loud enough to alert the entire base. But no one came running.
With a deep breath, he reached over to pull the hatch shut on top of him. The angle and gravity weren't on his side and it barely moved, his shoulder screaming in perfect harmony with his back as he stretched to reach the cover. Daniel growled a curse and tried again, pulling with all he had, willing the hatch to move. Slowly it did, lifting up towards its apex. For an instant it balanced precariously and then plummeted down like a falling rock. Heedless of the wrenching in his shoulder, Daniel slithered down the ladder as the hatch slammed just inches above his head. Any closer and his skull would have cracked like an egg.
Clinging to the rungs, Daniel gasped for breath until the pain receded along with the echoes reverberating through the access shaft. Eventually, all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, fast and ragged. All he could see was the little pool of yellow cast by his wrist-light, dimly illuminating the ladder's rungs and the concrete walls beyond.
"Okay," he whispered. "Time to go." Like Orpheus, descending into the Underworld, he began to climb down through the bones of the mountain in search of his lost friends. He just had to remember not to look back. Or down, come to that.
They'd moved inside once the sun had set, the Kinahhi night air cooler than Sam remembered from their previous visit. Five months later, she guessed; it had to be a different season. Kenna had been true to his word and sent a meal, which they'd both made a half-hearted attempt at eating. Neither were hungry.
They're going to kill us.
The Colonel's words floated silently between them, a mute acknowledgement of what the dawn would bring. It was nothing they would ever discuss aloud, of course. Admitting defeat wasn't something they did, not ever.
"So you think Damaris knew Quadesh stole the plans all along?" Sam asked, from where she sat on the end of the room's narrow bed, legs crossed beneath her. It was as good a subject as any.
Colonel O'Neill nodded. He was propped against the wall, taking up the other end of the cot and toying with a piece of spiced bread. His face was sickly beneath the bloody gash over his eye. The headache had to be brutal, and they had no meds with them. They had nothing but the clothes on their backs. "It's Daniel's theory, and it fits," he said quietly. Then he looked up, intense in the gloom. "There's something else too."
Not that it really mattered now. "What's that?"
"Crawford said something." The Colonel's lips tightened angrily. "He said we weren't meant to come back."
For a moment, she was confused. "From here?"
"No. When we went after Boyd."
The truth hit her like a truck. "Oh my God, they designed the device to fail."
With a heavy sigh, the Colonel rose and walked over to the small window. In the moonlight Sam could see his face, taut from more than pain. He blamed himself. "Crawford told Damaris why I was after their technology, and she gave me exactly what I wanted."
"But with a fatal flaw," Sam added quietly. He flinched, and she added, "You couldn't have known, sir."
"Couldn't I?" He turned back to her. "Even Daniel was suspicious. But I-" He cut himself off, fingers clenching with the effort of restraint.
"We all wanted to believe it would work, sir. And it did. We saved SG-10." All but Reed. An incongruous, shameful bubble of relief abruptly burst on the surface of her mind. The device had been designed to fail; Reed's death wasn't her fault. "We did it, sir. Against the odds, as it turns out."
"It was always against the odds, Carter."
"So was escaping the consequences," she reminded him. "And we all knew that too."
"But not this!" Aflash of anger sent him pacing. "A reprimand for you, maybe. A court martial for me. But this?" He reached the far wall and gave it a desultory kick. "This is exactly what Kinsey wants. Crawford, that rat-bastard..."
Rising slowly, Sam took a cautious step closer. "It's not your fault, sir."
He gave a harsh laugh. "Oh, yes it is, Carter. It's all my damn fault. I should've known better, I should never have taken those stupid plans. Or gotten the rest of you involved. Or-"
"Or saved Henry Boyd?"
"Damn straight," he snarled. "It's not worth the price."
"No. You're wrong."
Breathing heavily, he glared at her. "What?"
"You're wrong. Because if you hadn't taken those plans, if you hadn't done everything you could to bring SG-10 home, then-" She stopped herself, habitual restraint holding her back. Damn it, just say it.
"Then what?" Beneath the angry rasp there was a plea, a need to hear some vindication after all. It was enough to keep her talking.
"Then you wouldn't be the man I thought you were. Sir."
He shook his head. "Carter, I'm not-"
"Yes," she insisted quietly. "You are."
He stared at her, a silent interrogation, digging for a truth she couldn't admit. Not even to herself. Sam held her ground and at last he moved away, back to the window and stared out into the moonlit plaza beyond. He looked pensive, but something in his eyes hardened. Resolve; the indomitable tenacity that had always been the bedrock of SG-1. "Daniel and Teal'c will come after us." He said it softly, like an article of faith.
"Yes, sir." If there was anything left of them to rescue. Dawn was only a few hours away, and then... Her mouth felt dry, heart laboring painfully.
"Come on." He turned away from the window and raked a hand through his hair. "Let's get some rest."
It made sense, though Sam didn't hold out much hope of sleeping. Despondently, she turned toward the door and her own room - cell - but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "No, stay. I'll take first watch."
She almost smiled at the guarded look in his eyes. "Yes, sir." Close, but not too close; it epitomized so much about their complex friendship. As the Colonel settled himself against the wall, watching the door, Sam curled up on the bed and closed her eyes. She could hear his breathing, slow and steady as the-
Clutching white fingers in the dark, coming out of nowhere...
Her eyes flashed open. It was going to be a long night.
The cell was small and poorly lit, but as he sat cross-legged upon the bed, Teal'c encouraged the room to expand within his mind. He allowed the walls to retreat, the ceiling to rise and the floor to fall until he was suspended in a vast, white space.
It was empty now; no other consciousness shared this place. And for half a heartbeat he felt loneliness. How perverse, to miss the mind of the demon that he had borne for so long. It was an insidious reminder of the peculiar nature of Jaffa slavery; their masters were without and within. The battle must be won on many fronts before the Jaffa people could ever be truly free. But it was not-
A metallic clunk shattered his sanctuary, collapsing it in a flare of claustrophobia. Heart racing, Teal'c rose to his feet. The walls of the cell pressed in around him as he watched the door open. Instinctively he readied himself, weight moving forward onto the balls of his feet, fingers flexing in search of a weapon that was absent.
Two men in uniform entered, but they did not bear a meal. Nor did they summon him. Instead, the door was carefully closed before either man spoke. As the lock clicked, one of the two men turned around and pushed the cap back from his face. "Hello, Teal'c."
Elation surged. "Daniel Jackson!" He could not prevent a smile from reaching his lips. "It is good to see you."
His friend grinned. "You too." He indicated his companion. "We're getting outta here."
Glancing at the other man, Teal'c recognized him immediately. "Major Boyd."
"Teal'c," the young man nodded, nervously eyeing the door. "We should hurry."
Perhaps. But the man was ill at ease, and Teal'c could not trust him as implicitly as he did O'Neill. "Where are we going?" He directed the question to Daniel.
"Back to P3X-500. And from there to Kinahhi, to find Jack and Sam."
Teal'c inclined his head. "I assume this mission has not been approved by General Woodburn?"
His friend's eyebrows rose. "Ah... Not exactly."
"Then you intend to take the control room by force?"
From behind his back, Daniel Jackson pulled a zat'ni'katel and offered it to Teal'c. "It's the night shift," he said, consulting his wristwatch, "for the next half hour. That's only three people on duty."
Teal'c did not take the weapon. "If I am seen armed in the corridors, we will not reach the control room, Daniel Jackson."
"Then how-?"
Teal'c held out his arms, wrists together. "Bind me."
There was a moment of confusion as Boyd and Daniel exchanged a look. Then Daniel returned the zat'ni'katel to the waistband of his pants and pulled a flex-cuff from a pocket in his vest. "Subterfuge," he said, looping the cuffs over Teal'c's wrists and pulling them tight. "I like it."
"When we reach the entrance to the control room," said Teal'c, "release me."
"Oh you bet," Daniel nodded, pulling his cap down low. He turned to Major Boyd. "You're going to have to do the talking. I'll keep my head down. If anyone asks we'll say Teal'c's being transferred to Area 51."
"A believable story," Teal'c agreed. Then he addressed Major Boyd. "You will need to disable the guard outside the door. He will not release me without orders to do so."
A curt nod was Boyd's only reply, but a tightness about the eyes told Teal'c that the thought of firing on his comrades in arms - even with a zat'ni'katel - did not sit easily with the Major. For that, he had Teal'c's admiration. Without further conversation they took their places, Major Boyd in the lead, Teal'c behind and Daniel at the rear. As Boyd opened the door, Teal'c suppressed his instinct to fight or to run, and attempted to adopt the demeanor of a prisoner.
"Hey!" came the protest from outside the cell. "What're you doing? You can't take-"
The blue fire of a zat'ni'katel at close range danced across the limbs of the guard as he fell to the floor. Major Boyd winced, but said nothing and Daniel Jackson dragged the airman into the cell. "He's fine," he assured them, his fingers resting lightly on the fallen man's carotid artery. It was characteristic of his friend, Teal'c observed, that he would not only notice Major Boyd's unease but take it upon himself to assuage it.
Standing, Daniel Jackson tugged his cap lower. "Come on," he said. "Let's get outta here." In the blink of an eye he had switched from compassion to pragmatism. The former was innate, the latter learned. It had been a necessary evolution, Teal'c thought as they headed down the corridor, and yet he regretted the passing of the youthful innocence he had once known in his friend. But while men such as Ambassador Crawford were alive in the world, such innocence could not long survive. It was another charge to lay at the door of the man and his political master. And Teal'c intended to ensure that their day of reckoning would come. And come soon.
The Kinahhi dawn was cast in hues of tangerine and apricot as the planet's huge sun crested the horizon. From where he lay on the cell's narrow bed, Jack watched the light brighten the courtyard, giving its austere white an unaccustomed warmth. Shame it didn't have the same effect on the Kinahhi people.
He sighed, and rolled onto his back. He'd given up chasing sleep hours ago - the prospect of imminent death did that to a guy - and contented himself with savoring the silence. There wasn't enough silence in his life. Always racing, always rushing to stay one step ahead of the bad guys. Never time to simply be. Except when he was fishing. Now that was silence...
Sitting on the floor, back against the wall, Carter was equally riveted by the dawn. She looked tired, and he doubted she'd slept. How could she? Fear crawled beneath her stoic facade, like woodworm eating at her from within. And not just her. He felt it too, the sly paralyzing panic. It could cripple you faster than a gunshot, and he should know. How long had he hidden in the cold, damp darkness of Baal's palace instead of going after her? Too long. If he'd gotten there sooner...
He dismissed the memory with a shake of his head. It didn't matter now. Hanging in there, that's what mattered. He returned his attention to Carter. Bleak as stone, she stared, unseeing, into the sunlight.
This wasn't the first time they'd faced certain death, but usually they had a fighting chance. Time for Carter to deploy that vast brain of hers and figure out a solution. But this time there was no miracle waiting to happen. They were locked up, unarmed, on an alien world with no way home. Hammond wouldn't be sending backup, and despite the unbending faith he had in his team, the odds of Kinsey letting Daniel or Teal'c within a mile of the Stargate were slim to none. And time wasn't on their side; Carter knew that as well as he did.
It was as close to hopeless as it got, and that was the problem. Without hope, you gave up. You sat braced against the wall, staring at the rising sun and waiting for them to come and take you away. Staring at the opposite wall of the topsy-turvy cell, waiting for the sound of their boots as they came to take you back there, over and over and over... Yeah, he knew what it was to despair. And he wouldn't let it happen again. Not to himself, and not to Carter.
"I've been thinking." His words sounded loud in the dawn silence, even though he'd kept his voice low.
Carter turned her lifeless eyes on him. "Sir?"
"Those creatures that attacked us on Tsapan?"
She shivered slightly, grimacing. "What about them?"
"I think maybe they escaped from... whatever is on Tsapan."
Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and propped up her chin. Something flickered in her eyes, a spark not quite extinguished. "Meaning we could escape too?"
Exactly. A little positive thinking, Major. "We've gotten out of tight spots before." He paused. "Just last week, actually. Collapsing building, black holes..."
A faint smile touched her lips. "Is this a pep talk, sir?"
"Maybe." He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Are you feeling peppy?"
A soft chuckle escaped, and she was about to answer when the sound of booted footsteps rang across the courtyard. Carter was on her feet in an instant, skittery as a cat.
"Easy," he said, also rising. She was breathing hard, fear creeping in. He could feel it too, fluttering at the edges of his mind. This was it. They were coming for them. Gut and legs liquid with terror he let them haul him through the doors, and out into the bright corridor beyond...
"Sir, we can't just let them kill us."
Hell
no!
Clutching white fingers at his throat...
Panic rippled through his mind in purple waves, stifling breath and suffocating reason.
Don't let them take you alive! His finger squeezed the trigger and he saw the man fall. He saw Teal'c fall...
Get a grip. The fear was irrelevant; action was everything. He pushed past the memories and the stifling band of pressure around his chest. "Carter, we have no weapons, no-"
"So?" She paced to the door and back, glancing out of the window. "We take theirs. Fight. At least go out fighting instead of... of..."
"Of what?" Through the window he saw half a dozen Kinahhi standing at attention in the middle of the courtyard. A single set of footsteps was approaching the door, but he couldn't see their owner. It didn't matter anyway. "Carter, we don't know what they're going to do to us there."
"They're going to kill us!" she protested. "You said it yourself"
So he had, testing the Kinahhi Commander. Kenna hadn't given much away, but he hadn't denied it either. "People try to kill us all the time, Carter."
She shook her head, anger rising and control slipping. "I can't believe you're just going to let them-"
"Hey!" He snapped a note of command into his voice. End of the line or not, discipline was paramount. And he knew exactly where panic got you. "I'm not giving up here. We have to wait for better odds."
Pissed, Carter subsided, but the protest didn't leave her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak again, just as someone knocked sharply on the door.
They knocked? You are cordially invited to your own execution. "No one's home!"
Carter snorted. Dark and dry, but it was a laugh nonetheless. Better. Clearing his throat, Jack whispered, "You know what they say: it's not over till the fat lady sings."
"The fat lady, sir?"
He shrugged. "Or in this case, until Crawfish screams like a cheerleader."
A bleak smile twisted her lips, and then the door swung open. Jack held her gaze for a beat longer, watching her fear knot itself into courage. There is no courage without fear Teal'c had never spoken a truer word. Carter gave him a slight nod, and on that unspoken signal they turned together to face the man who entered.