The Cost of Honor

by Stargate

  "Come," Commander Kenna said calmly. "It is time."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  he corridors of the SGC felt alien and unfamiliar as Daniel trailed Teal'c toward the elevator that would take them down to the gate-room. Without his glasses his vision was blurred, although with his head down he couldn't see anything more than his boots tramping on the gray concrete. Tramp, tramp, tramp.

  As they passed a cluster of people - he didn't look, couldn't see faces - he heard someone mutter Teal'c in a tone of disbelief There was tension in the air, like the oppressive heat of a summer thunderstorm. Heavy and brooding. No one would take kindly to Hammond's removal, nor to the fate of SG-1. But if they did nothing else, these men and women would follow orders. He knew that much about them. For better or worse, they did what they were told. It was their strength, but at times like this Daniel considered it a weakness too.

  At last Boyd stopped, and Daniel glanced up to see him hitting the elevator call button. Edging closer, keeping his head ducked, he murmured, "So far so good."

  Teal'c nodded, and there was a spark in his eyes that looked like humor. Daniel raised an eyebrow in a silent question, but the Jaffa simply shook his head. Behind them, footsteps echoed.

  "Crap!" Boyd whispered. "It's Crawford."

  Daniel's hand strayed toward the zat hidden under his vest. But this far from the gate-room, the odds were impossible. He could hear the muted drone of the Ambassador's voice now, too far away to make out words. Daniel's gaze darted back down the corridor, but without his glasses everything was blurred. There had to be somewhere to hide. Somewhere to-

  Ping! The elevator doors slid open and, mercifully, the car was empty. Not daring to breathe, Daniel stepped inside with Teal'c all but diving in after him. Boyd slammed a hand on the controls just as Crawford's words began to coalesce into meaning.

  "...test subjects seem to be having some trouble in-"

  The doors slid shut, cutting him off. "Thank God." As the car trundled into motion, Daniel blew out a nervous breath and looked over at Teal'c. He stood before the doors, wrists still bound, with that hint of a smile playing across his face again. Jaffa humor... "Teal'c?"

  He turned, eyebrow cocked.

  "What's so funny?"

  Henry Boyd glanced between them. "Something's funny?"

  "Apparently."

  "It is nothing you would find amusing, Daniel Jackson."

  With Jack and Sam in the hands of the Kinahhi, Hammond out of the SGC and Kinsey after their blood, Daniel could readily believe it. "Try me."

  Teal'c shrugged and raised his wrists. "Chewbacca."

  Daniel blinked. "What?"

  "You've seen Star Wars?" Boyd asked, incredulous.

  "Many times," Teal'c assured him. "Our current situation is not dissimilar."

  There was a long silence as the elevator continued its rapid descent. Daniel cast a glance at Boyd, who simply shrugged in disbelief. Aliens were one thing, Daniel supposed, sci-fi fans were something else entirely. One and the same, Jack would have said. Would say, he corrected himself. No past tense.

  Boyd shifted nervously, fingers flexing around his holstered weapon. "Hey, they were talking about doing a new movie, weren't they?" His eyes flitted between Teal'c and the floors counting down as they dropped further beneath the mountain. "Whatever happened with that?"

  Teal'c redirected his attention to the elevator doors, face settling into its customary deadpan. "Let us not speak of it, Major Boyd."

  Swallowing a smile, Daniel moved to stand at his friend's side. Level 26 morphed into Level 27. "It should be pretty quiet down here this time of night."

  Teal'c agreed with a slight bob of his head.

  "We'll take out the control room staff, then I'll dial while you two secure the gate-room," Daniel said. "With luck, it'll be empty." He fished his glasses out of a pocket, and slipped them back on - at this point, vision was more important than anonymity.

  The elevator stopped. Level 28. "Good luck," Boyd said softly.

  "You too. And thanks. Thanks for doing this."

  Boyd dismissed it with a shrug. "You guys came after my team when no one else did, Dr. Jackson. We owe you one."

  "Yeah, well, we appreciate it." Given all that Boyd had been through, this went above and beyond. It reminded him painfully of Jack. No one gets left behind.

  The slight judder of the doors opening cut into his thoughts and- A babble of noise rushed into the elevator... the corridor beyond was teeming with people! "Uh-oh."

  So much for empty.

  Boyd's hand jabbed at the close button, but Teal'c stopped the doors. "This is our only chance."

  He was right. Their escape would soon be detected, and they wouldn't get a second chance. "Come on," Daniel urged, leading them out into the busy hallway. "Let's go."

  Doing his best to avoid eye contact, Daniel led Teal'c and Boyd through the corridor. Although a couple of curious looks slid their way, no one spoke or interfered. But then a flurry of activity approached from the direction of the gate-room. Above the clipped military voices drifted a Kinahhi lilt, which explained the late-night activity; someone had come through the gate.

  Teal'c heard it too. "Daniel Jackson..."

  "I know." He cast around the narrow corridor, spotting a door a couple of yards up to his left. Storeroom? Backdoor to the armory? He had no idea. Seven years, and he'd never been in the damn room. But there was no time to hesitate. Seizing the handle, he twisted and pushed at the door. Out of the frying pan... He ducked into darkness and was hit by the distinctive aroma of antiseptic. Medical store! Made sense for Dr. Fraiser to keep a few supplies close to the gate-room, and he sent her a silent thank you. Teal'c and Boyd swiftly followed him inside. In the hall the Kinahhi voices grew louder, accompanied by the familiar drawl of Senator Kinsey. Despite the risk, Daniel couldn't resist leaving the door ajar as the party drew close.

  "I am personally overseeing the deportation program, Councilor Athtar," Kinsey was saying. "But it will take some time to convince..."

  Daniel stopped listening, his jaw dropping open in shock. There was a ghost walking at the Senator's side. Athtar, Kinsey had called him, but Daniel knew him by a different name. Quadesh. The man who'd given Jack the Kinahhi plans; the man who'd apparently blown himself and the Security Council to smithereens.

  Turning away from the door, Daniel blinked in the shadowy room. His mind was reeling. Quadesh had told Jack he was a dissident, opposed to the Kinahhi security state. They'd assumed he'd been killed for his beliefs, yet here he was haunting the corridors of the SGC as a representative of the government. What the hell was going on? "I, ah," he rasped, "I think things just got worse."

  "How so, Daniel Jackson?"

  He paused, trying to work through all the ramifications. There were too many and they were too wide-reaching, but one thing was certain. "I think the Kinahhi have a sarcophagus."

  What exactly that meant, he had no idea. Yet.

  Commander Ebrum Kenna did not look back as he led the prisoners toward the shuttle that would take them to Tsapan, but he could feel the eyes of the man - O'Neill - stabbing like daggers into his back.

  You can save us. If that was truly what the Tauri thought, then he was a fool. He could no more save them than walk on the surface of the sun; to try would mean death. And not only his own. He had a son to consider. A father's disgrace would condemn Esaum.

  Yet he saw in O'Neill's face something of his own. The man was a leader, his features marked by responsibility and loss. And Kenna saw no deception there, no threat to Kinahhi, whatever the Security Council might say.

  Kenna had lived with politicians his whole life, he knew expediency when he saw it. If O'Neill and the woman, Carter, posed a threat it was to the Tauri, and therefore not his concern. He pitied them their lot, and doubted they deserved it - but he could not help them. As he had told O'Neill, they carried their own fate.

  In the courtyard beyond Plaza 323 the transport was already waiting, its doors
gaping and lined by a short rank of his own men. They didn't move as he approached, already at perfect attention. He expected nothing less. With a nod to his second, Chief Saulum, he turned and faced the prisoners. Their hands had been tied once more, but both stood with straight shoulders and raised chins. He admired that; neither would meet their end in supplication.

  "It would help," O'Neill said in a quiet voice that somehow sounded as hard as iron, "if we knew what was going to happen."

  There was dignity in the request, and Kenna found it impossible to resist. "I believe it is not painful," he assured them. O'Neill didn't react, but the woman's eyes narrowed as she processed the information. "You will be joined with the sheh jet."

  "Which means...?"

  Of course. They knew little of Kinahhi ways - an ignorance he was sure Damaris wished to preserve in her allies. A flutter of disquiet accompanied the thought, and he shook the feeling away. Such sentiments were dangerous. "Your minds will be absorbed by the sheh fet."

  "If that translates as `sucked out with a straw'," O'Neill replied, squinting through the morning sunlight, "you should know that there's no way in hell we're gonna let that happen."

  The idiom was lost on Kenna, but the defiance was clear to all. He could not let it pass unanswered. "You have no choice, O'Neill. You have been judged guilty-"

  "There was a trial?"

  11 -and sentence has been passed." He paused, his discomfort rising and threatening to become conscious thought. "I am sorry," he said, in an attempt to defuse his internal conflict. "But there is nothing I can do."

  O'Neill met and held his gaze. "Yeah. Right. Just following orders, huh?"

  "I am doing my duty."

  "Are you?"

  "You committed a crime-"

  "To save four of my people!" O'Neill snapped. "And Damaris knew all about it. She set us up, and you know it." That much was true. It had been necessary, Damaris insisted, for the sake of the treaty - for the sake of Kinahhi. And he had believed her. To do otherwise was impossible.

  O'Neill stepped closer, his dark, alien eyes seeming to see right through the Commander. "What are you afraid off'

  He could not answer and hurriedly schooled his mind and face to vacuity lest it betray him. "I serve Kinahhi."

  "My country right or wrong?" O'Neill shook his head, a meager gesture, tight with anger. "That's bull."

  "The sheh fet," the woman said abruptly, thoughts racing through her eyes. Despite their more normal color, Kenna was shocked by their flagrant openness; had she stood before him naked he would have felt more comfortable in her presence. Suspicion, fear, sudden comprehension; all were blatantly on display. "Quadesh said Tsapan is where they send the dissidents." She turned her disturbing gaze on him. "If you question your leaders, that's where you go. Right? To the sheh fet."

  A void. A blank white space in his mind. "Enough," he said abruptly, turning away. "Saulum, escort the prisoners. I shall pilot myself today."

  His chief stepped forward. "Yes sir." He didn't question Kenna's decision to pilot, and the Commander gave no explanation. If it served to remove him from the presence of the troubling prisoners, then so be it. Determinedly, he thought no more about them and fixed his inner eye on Esaum and home.

  I serve Kinahhi. And while Kinahhi was safe, so was his son.

  The corridor beyond the storeroom where they were hiding had been silent for at least five minutes. Daniel peeled the cover back from his watch, the Velcro rasping loudly and making him wince. "Fifteen minutes till the morning shift. It's now or never."

  "Now gets my vote," whispered Boyd.

  "Indeed." Teal'c flexed his arms, clearly pleased to be free of the cuffs.

  Pulling the spare zat from his belt, Daniel handed it to his friend. "Control room, then gate-room."

  There was nothing else to say, and silently Daniel led them out into the hall. Weapon raised, he crept along close to the wall until he reached C corridor. He listened, heard nothing, and slipped around the corner. All was quiet and he broke into a swift jog, keeping his footing light. By the time he reached the base of the narrow steps leading up into the control room his heart was racing - and not with the effort of running. This was it. If they failed, it was all over. For them, Jack, Sam and - if Kinsey and the Kinahhi had their way - the SGC. Maybe even the world.

  Hugging the wall, Teal'c took the other side of the stairs and paused. Without Jack to give the signal, it fell to Teal'c. Three, two, one- Go.

  Teal'c went first, barreling into the control room like a soundless whirlwind, Daniel on his heels. In two shots, half the people in the room were down.

  Daniel fired at Sergeant Harriman, grimacing as the man fell spasming in a shimmer of electrostatic. Boyd took out a young woman Daniel didn't recognize.

  "Sorry." Daniel winced guiltily as he stepped over Harriman's prone body to reach the gate controls. Why did it have to be Harriman? Was he on duty 24/7? "Go!" he hissed at Teal'c and Boyd. "I'm dialing."

  "Daniel Jackson...?" The query in Teal'c's voice drew his gaze from the computer.

  "What?"

  Teal'c indicated Boyd, who stood tautly watching the door, and raised an eyebrow. Daniel understood. Boyd had done enough. He'd just lost five years of his life, no need to risk spending the rest in jail. Or worse. With a scant nod, he turned back to the controls.

  "Dr. Jackson?" Boyd hit the floor with a dull thud, convulsing with the aftereffects of Teal'c's zat blast.

  "Get down to the gate-room and-" Sirens started to blare. "Damn it!" Daniel slammed in the final coordinates and backed away, needing to see the gate start moving before he dared leave. "Teal'c, go!" After an eternity, the Stargate began to spin and Daniel took the stairs two at a time, barely ahead of the thundering footsteps coming down the corridor. The defense team deploying.

  "Close the doors!" he yelled at Teal'c, who'd taken up position next to the blast doors. Daniel skidded in just as the room was sealed, but outside he could hear shouting. It wouldn't take them long to get through. Together, he and Teal'c raced to the foot of the ramp, attention split between the blast doors and the slowly spinning Stargate. Did it always move so damn slowly? Four chevrons locked. Three to go.

  "Someone is in the control room."

  Daniel's eyes snapped up. He recognized Colonel Dixon and the rest of SG-13. Damn it, what were they doing there? They'd abort the dialing sequence; they'd have no choice.

  Behind him, another chevron locked - the fifth? - and Dave Dixon looked down, right at Daniel. He didn't say anything, just watched. Then his lips moved and two of his team peeled off and disappeared. The gate kept turning.

  After a moment, the blast doors opened and two members of SG-13 stalked into the room. Beyond them, Daniel could see Major Lee holding a group of confused looking airmen at bay, but he paid them little attention; his eyes were locked on the two soldiers walking slowly toward him, P90s raised and aimed, coming to a halt at the foot of the ramp. He knew them both: Captain Richard Bosworth and Senior Airman Simon Wells. Behind him, the sixth chevron locked.

  "What's going on?" Bosworth asked.

  The zat in Daniel's hand felt heavy, and his wounded shoulder throbbed like hell. Could he raise the weapon and fire before Bosworth pulled the trigger? Would Bosworth shoot at all? SG-1 had pulled his team out of the fire more than once.

  "Don't screw around, Jackson," Bosworth barked, urgent now. "What's going on?"

  Daniel glanced at Teal'c. His zat was already raised. Possibly they could do it and escape with their lives. Or possibly not. He took a deep breath and said, "We're going after Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter." Sometimes, the truth was the most effective weapon of all.

  Bosworth didn't seem surprised. "With two zats?"

  "If we have to." He glanced down at the weapon. "We didn't have time to stop by the armory."

  Without lowering his gun, Bosworth looked briefly back at Dixon. The Colonel nodded, and Bosworth turned back to face Daniel. "Our P90s are loaded and there's extra ammo i
n our vests. But you'll have to shoot us to get them."

  Daniel blinked. "What?"

  His voice was drowned by the sudden whoosh of the Stargate engaging. Its light flickered over the faces of Bosworth and Wells, reflecting on the heavy glass that shielded the control room. Through it, Daniel could see Dave Dixon watching them without expression.

  "You've got about sixty seconds before Woodburn gets here," said Bosworth. "And the video surveillance cameras are rolling, so you'd better make it look good."

  For once in his life, Daniel found himself speechless. He hadn't expected this, not from the rule-bound military. He knew the risk they were running - if the truth ever got out, their careers would end in disgrace and prison-time. "Thank you." It was all he could muster, all his dumbfounded astonishment would permit. Then he ducked and fired, praying it looked like the act of a desperate man. It wasn't far from the truth.

  Bosworth fell, Wells collapsing at his side in an arc of blue fire. Daniel jumped off the end of the ramp, unclipped Bosworth's P90 and snatched his ammo and a Beretta for good measure. Teal'c did the same to Wells. Shouts came from outside the door as Daniel stumbled toward the gate, clutching the weapons to his chest. At the top of the ramp he turned and saw Dave Dixon lift his hand in a brief farewell. And then Daniel flung himself into the wormhole and let it shred him to pieces.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  he Kinahhi transport skimmed across the ocean, the bright glitter of sunshine on the waves as hard and uncompromising as diamonds. Sam knew it should have looked beautiful, but she was seeing it through a shroud. Her own shroud.

  They're going to kill me. The truth was sickening and inevitable.

  Teeth clenched, she forced herself to concentrate, to take in her surroundings. They were inside a Kinahhi transport ship, identical to the one they'd `borrowed' for their first trip to Tsapan. Three guards stood watching them, weapons slung across their chests. They didn't seem to be expecting trouble; it would take them a good fifteen seconds to fire by Sam's reckoning. You could do a lot in fifteen seconds.