by Stargate
His strapped shoulder threw his balance off, but Daniel refused to let it hold him back. Drawing his zat, he moved to crouch behind Teal'c. Below them gaped a door, the faint sunlight drifting from the room beyond illuminating the dark stairs.
"Tie him," a voice snapped.
"Open your eyes, Kenna!" It was Jack, spitting tacks. "You know what's going on. That... that thing! That's how you protect your people? You're worse than those bastards planting the goddamn bombs! You're-"
The soft thud of fist-on-flesh cut off his words. "Silence."
What thing? Jack's voice had dripped with disgust, horror even. What had he seen?
"Tie him." Again, the same order. There was a scuffle; Jack had to be putting up a fight. The soldiers were distracted...
Teal'c pounced, fast and silent. In two steps he was down the stairs, hiding on one side of the door. Daniel was on the other, heart racing, and struggling for breath against the pain in his shoulder. But he gave Teal'c a swift nod - I'm okay. In reply, his friend's fingers started the count down. Three, two, one.
Go!
As one, they burst into the room. Teal'c's P90 dropped three men, two more fell to Daniel's zat. "Jack!" he yelled. "Get down!"
Teal'c opened fire on the remaining three soldiers. One of them managed to raise his weapon, its energy bolt searing past Daniel's face and blasting a hole in the wall behind them before Teal'c took the man down. Only one Kinahhi was left: the Commander. His weapon was raised, attempting to cover both Daniel and Teal'c. He looked pissed. "Stay back!" he snarled. "Or your friend will die."
"You will die first." Teal'c stalked closer, gun aimed at the Kinahhi officer.
Kenna mirrored the gesture, hard eyes meeting hard eyes. "I am prepared for my death. Are you, alien?"
Oh please. Sometimes there was only so much macho posturing Daniel could handle. He raised his zat and fired. Kenna crumpled in a spasm of blue light, and lay still. Teal'c cast him a thwarted look, lifting an eyebrow.
Daniel shrugged. "What? I thought we were in a hurry."
A low laugh suddenly filled the room. Jack was pushing himself to his feet, staring at his friends with astonishment and a rare, broad smile on his face. "Guys..." He took a quick look at Kenna's inert body and carefully stepped over it, shaking his head and still grinning. "Guys!" And suddenly, Daniel found himself wrapped in a firm - and quite painful - hug, being thumped repeatedly on the back. "How the hell did you get here?"
"Ah!" Daniel winced. "Ow! Shoulder."
Abruptly, Jack let go and took a hasty step back. He cleared his throat and turned to Teal'c. A slight twitch of an eyebrow warned him not to repeat the enthusiastic welcome. Jack contented himself with a manly pat on the shoulder. "Damn, I knew you'd come after us. Carter said you would. She-" And suddenly his grin dissolved.
Daniel frantically scanned the room. "Where is she? Where's Sam?"
"She's-" A shadow darkened his bruised features. "She's inside the sheh fet."
Inside? "What do you mean?"
Jack just shook his head, yanking free the boots that dangled from his belt. "It's a machine. It's-" He cut himself off, meeting Daniel's gaze with a desperate look. "It's killing her, Daniel. And I don't know how to get her out."
CHAPTER TWENTY
eorge Hammond had been surprised by the request - that was how it had been phrased - from General Woodburn to stay on base during the investigation of the escape of SG-1. Hammond knew the man had no power to order him to remain, short of having him arrested for his part in the affair. But there had been something in Woodburn's eye - almost a knowing look - when he'd made the request that had instantly piqued Hammond's curiosity.
His curiosity, however, was not answered until the small hours of the following morning. At 0300 hours precisely, a swift rap on the door of the guest-quarters woke him. Groggy, he crawled out of bed and dragged on some clothes. If there was trouble afoot, he at least wanted to face it with his pants on. "Come in."
The door opened to reveal General Woodburn, who smoothly slipped into the room. His gruff face was guarded and lined with uncertainty. "I apologize for waking you," he said in a low voice. "But, as you suggested, I've been doing some digging."
The news hit like a splash of cold water and woke Hammond fully. "What did you find?"
"You're right, there's something going on here." Woodburn sighed, walking further into the room. "Over thirty prisoners have been transferred to the base, under no authority I recognize. And Senator Kinsey has barred all access to Level 17."
"That's where he's testing the Kinahhi sheh fet technology."
"Alien technology?"
Hammond grabbed his shirt from the chair. "According to SG1, it allows the government of Kinahhi to read the minds - the intentions - of its citizens. They use it as a kind of-"
"Thought police?"
Hammond raised an eyebrow. "That's the implication. Kinsey's keeping the details to himself"
"And you believe this is a threat to Earth?"
"Look, we don't know what the Kinahhi want," Hammond admitted. "For all we know, this is how they take over a world. It might not be fast, but we've dealt with patient races before." He paused, and when Woodburn didn't answer, added, "Would you want to live in a world where the Joint Chiefs can read your mind?"
"No." It was a firm, swift answer. After moment, Woodburn continued in a lower voice. "I haven't been able to access Level 17. Truth is, I don't know who to trust on this base."
He was astute, Hammond conceded that much. Over the years, he'd come to pride himself on his ability to judge the measure of a man. His gut told him that General Woodburn was sound. "You can trust me."
With a slow nod, Woodburn appeared to come to a decision. "I want to take a look in that room, General. I have no one to send in my place, and you know this base as well as anyone."
If he was suggesting what Hammond thought he was suggesting... "Do you think a couple of old desk-jockeys are up to the job?"
A brief smile answered him. "Who's old, General?"
Hammond snorted a quiet laugh and held out his hand. "I like your style," he said. "And call me George."
"George." Woodburn clasped his hand in a strong grip. "Shaun."
So much for Kinsey's attempt to circumvent the integrity of the Air Force. When it came down to the wire, there was a thin blue line standing between Earth and those that would threaten its survival. A line that men like Kinsey, behind their safe Washington desks, couldn't hope to comprehend. Usually it was defended by the men and women of the SGC's field units, but today it was Hammond's turn to step up to the plate. He hoped he could do his people justice.
With a nod to Woodburn, he headed for the door. "Let's get to work."
Is this an out-of-body experience? The question filled her mind as she drifted somewhere outside herself, and yet within at the same time. Half in, half out. There was pain too, but distant now. The fire that had burned her mind was far away, like a river on the horizon. She could feel its heat, knew it was scalding her body, but didn't feel the pain. Am I dying?
She didn't want to die. There were so many things she hadn't done, so many lives she hadn't led. No one dies and wishes they'd spent more time at the office. Who'd said that? Her Dad? Daniel? She couldn't remember.
"The tendrils are damaged." The voice came from far away too, unfamiliar and harsh. "Someone pulled them free."
"The woman?"
"No, impossible. See? Her arms are bound."
"Then the man tried to free her."
The man tried to free her. What did they mean? The Colonel, perhaps. But he was trapped in this horror too.
"Will they re-implant?"
"No." The harsh voice spoke again. "See? They are already being absorbed. But," something touched her face. She knew it, yet could hardly feel it. Almost as if she were watching, while her eyes remained shut. "On the left, they are intact. She is still connected."
"Is that enough?"
A pause. Uncertain. "I do not
know. For now, we will leave her. When the Kaw'ree arrive, they will know."
The presence moved away, the voices becoming more indistinct. "The Commander thinks the man will make another attempt to free her."
"If he does, he's a fool." The harsh voice was angry now. Angry and triumphant. "He won't escape a second time."
Escape? Could it be the Colonel? A beat of hope floated into her dislocated mind, drifting on memory. What was it he always said?
No one gets left behind.
Running footsteps and a barked order echoed through the empty tower as distant flashlights pierced the darkness with bright, white blades. The chase was on.
"In here," Jack hissed, ducking through a doorway into a room crisscrossed with light seeping through its boarded up windows. "Get down."
Daniel and Teal'c followed, crouching behind him. All eyes were on the door, all weapons raised. All ears on the alert for pur suit. No one spoke, and in the darkness the only sound Jack could hear was Daniel's labored breathing; a nasty mixture of pain and exhaustion. Your fault, a small voice reminded him. He wouldn't be here if you hadn't got your hands dirty. None of them would.
He shifted and smothered the guilt. There was a time and a place for wallowing, and this wasn't it. "They're moving away," he breathed, focusing on the noises drifting through the abandoned building.
"They are moving downward," Teal'c added, lowering his weapon and relaxing a fraction. But his eyes fixed on Jack's with a knowing look.
Kenna was a smart guy, he wouldn't waste his resources on a search when he knew exactly what Jack would do next. "They're falling back to the sheh fet."
With a stifled groan, Daniel turned until his back was against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. Eyes closed, he looked like he could sleep where he sat. He was probably already dozing; Daniel had long ago learned the knack of catnapping. Jack saw the same exhaustion in Teal'c, if better masked, and made a decision. "We'll rest for ten." Easing himself to the floor next to Daniel, he sank into a moment of deep fatigue. But he didn't close his eyes. He knew exactly what was facing him if he dared to drift toward sleep - tortured, cadaverous faces, stretched into silent, animal screams. The sound of Carter's inhuman howl, the pain contorting her face. And the stench of that place, the degradation and cruelty. He'd seen a hell of a lot of distasteful things in his time, but that-
"Jack?"
He almost jumped at the sound of Daniel's voice. "What?" Damn it, focus O'Neill.
"How did you get out?"
"Huh?"
Daniel was watching him with those shrewd eyes of his. "How did you get out of the sheh fet?"
It wasn't a question Jack had considered, although he probably should have. He frowned and shrugged. "It just let me go."
Daniel's eyebrows lifted skeptically. "It let you go?"
"I didn't do anything," Jack assured him. "They strapped me in. And then-" He recoiled from the memory of that tidal wave of pain, refusing to examine it too closely. "It hurt. A lot. And then it didn't. Next thing I know, I'm wide awake and the damn thing just drops me."
He dragged one of the Kinahhi weapons onto his lap and began to examine it. Keeping his mind busy helped. No dwelling. If he could just get the stench of that place out of his nostrils...
"I knew you would fight it, O'Neill." Teal'c sounded satisfied, as if some kind of point had been proven. "Most likely your resistance to the device is what set you free."
Jack didn't reply and noted that Daniel's gaze darted away from him. He tried not to imagine what Daniel was thinking, although he had a good idea. Daniel knew the truth, better than anybody. Everyone broke in the end. And this time there'd been no resistance at all, just an overwhelming inferno of pain blasting through his mind like a blowtorch. If it hadn't simply stopped... Clearing his throat, Jack resumed his study of the Kinahhi weapon. "I don't think so, Teal'c." He ran his fingers along the firing mechanism, getting to know its shape and form. "Carter's still in there." Screaming, burning, dying. Don't think about it. His voice thickened. "She'd fight as hard as anyone."
There was a moment's silence, then Daniel spoke. "Maybe..." He paused, frowned, and rubbed at his injured shoulder. "Maybe there was something about you that it didn't like?"
There, a pressure point on the gun. Carefully Jack raised it, aiming away from Daniel and Teal'c. "Maybe I'm too dumb for it?" His forefinger tightened on the trigger. "Or maybe-" A short, red bolt of energy spat from the muzzle, blasting a neat hole in the wall. He winced at the noise and lowered the weapon. "Maybe it didn't like my sense of humor."
Teal'c gave an unimpressed lift of an eyebrow; it was clear he didn't approve of the impromptu weapons test.
Jack shrugged. "I found the trigger."
"That is fortunate," Teal'c replied dryly. "For now we shall require its use."
Ha-ha.
Jack stood, his feet sore from the climb. Not as sore as his dry throat, however. "Either of you guys got some water?"
Daniel shook his head. "We, ah, kinda left in a hurry," he explained. Then, indicating the P90 at Jack's side, added, "We only got the weapons courtesy of SG-13."
"Dixon?" That was unexpected.
"Long story," Daniel sighed, pushing himself awkwardly to his feet.
He grimaced as he moved, and Jack guessed his shoulder was a hell of a lot more painful than he was letting on. If it came to a fight... A creeping sense of dread ran icy fingers over his skin. "No Tylenol either, huh?"
Daniel just shrugged one shoulder, and tried to look like it didn't matter.
"Let's get this straight," Jack said, slinging the Kinahhi weapon over his shoulder, and stooping to pick up the P90. God, it felt sweet in his hands. But his disquiet didn't abate. "We've got no water, no food, a junker of a ship and only a couple of rounds of ammo?"
"And no backup," Daniel helpfully added. "And unless we get back to the tel'tak in about half an hour-"
"Twenty-seven minutes," Teal'c corrected, consulting his watch.
"Right. Twenty-seven minutes, then we'll have no way off the planet other than through the Stargate, which is in the center of the Kinahhi military compound and-"
"Ah!" Jack silenced him with a swift lift of his hand. "I get the picture." And it was a bad picture. Extremely bad. Worse than he'd realized, worse than he'd let himself believe. He suddenly found his chest tight, breathing short and painful. The walls of the small room seemed to crowd him, overwhelmingly claustrophobic.
Jack flexed his fingers around the P90, trying to draw comfort from its familiar weight. But there was none to be had. Truth was, going back for Carter would be insane. Kenna was no fool, he'd have the sheh fet crawling with men. It was the perfect, irresistible trap. He'd be waiting for them, a spider in the web. And Carter was the bait.
"Damn it," he muttered, drawing a curious look from Daniel. He'd be a goddamn fool to walk into that ambush. And he'd be worse than a fool to lead an injured, insufficiently armed team into it.
No one gets left behind.
Bull. They had no supplies, no backup, no ammo. No water. Daniel was injured, they were all exhausted. The whole damn Kinahhi military were after them and in less than half an hour they'd have no way off the goddamn planet. Retreat and regroup. It was the only strategy that made sense.
But it s Carter.
Undead faces in living cadavers, rotting where they lay trapped, seeped like sin from his memory. To leave her there to die like that, to rot and- No, never. But-
I was sick to my stomach when I found out you were still alive.
The voice from the past was loud, and poignant as hell. Frank Cromwell. The man who'd left him behind, the man who'd left him to rot in a stinking Iraqi prison.
Someone dropped a dime on the incursion. You got hit, you went down.
The man he'd hated for a decade.
I made a judgment call to save the rest of the team.
To save the rest of the team. When it came to bitter, goddamn ironies... I can't make that call, he protested t
o a heedless universe. Give me another option!
But there was no answer.
"Jack?" Daniel's voice sounded troubled, as if he could see the path of Jack's thoughts. Knowing Daniel, he probably could.
Turning away, Jack edged closer to the door. "Get your stuff," he growled. "We're moving out."
Councilor Damaris gazed from the window of the shuttle as it circled once around the ornate onion dome that crowned the tallest tower on Tsapan. It was the only place in the city where she customarily set foot, and it was always with trepidation. But under the circumstances, she had little choice.
With practiced ease the pilot guided the ship into the small landing bay within the tower, and after taking a moment to collect herself, Damaris rose and stepped out. Around the courtyard's three walls ran a cloister, overshadowed by stooping arches that kept their secrets to themselves. Thus she was greeted only by silence. None of the denizens would appear, she knew, until the shuttle had left. Without looking back she listened to the quiet hum of the engines and sensed the emptiness behind her as the ship retreated. Sunlight filled the void, designed only to deepen the shadows within the cloistered walls.
A slight breeze caught her white gown, and she smoothed the fabric with both hands as she waited. Before long her escort revealed himself, emerging from the arcades as though he were a shadow himself. He was one of the Mib'khaur, selected to serve the Kaw'ree; a slight man, draped in dark velvet. His sunken eyes and hairless head gave him a skeletal appearance, and Damaris repressed a shiver as he bowed slightly before her. "Councilor Damaris," he murmured, "the Kaw'ree have been expecting you."
Of course. "Under the circumstances it could hardly be otherwise."