by Karen Miller
“Cool!” said O’Neill, with spurious enthusiasm. “Let’s go.”
Hammond had called it, all right. The SGC was a rabbit warren, all narrow corridors, abrupt ninety-degree turns, unexpected doors and functional laboratories crammed full of equipment and scientists. It never ceased to amaze him, the sheer number of people required to support the Stargate program.
I don’t want to think about how much this place costs.
They reached the armory eventually, where he was greeted by an impressive array of weaponry and a few bits and pieces he’d never met before.
“Staff weapons,” said O’Neill, pointing, “and zat’ni’katels. Zats. I guess you’ve read about them.”
Dixon looked at the stockpile. “Once or twice. Doesn’t look like you’ll be running out of inventory any time soon.”
O’Neill smiled, briefly. “We tend to pick ’em up off-world where and when we can. The staff weapon’s whacky glowy green power supply’s got some interesting applications and then, of course, there’s Teal’c. He keeps losing his. So careless. As for the zats, well, they’re handy in a tight spot. Grab one of each and we’ll take ’em for a spin on the firing range. Never too soon to learn how to handle these babies.”
Dixon grabbed a staff weapon and a zat and followed his fellow colonel into the adjacent firing range, where somebody with a sense of humor had dressed the various target dummies as Jaffa in drag.
“So, first the zat,” said O’Neill. “Pressing this glyph here opens it for business — ” He demonstrated with a flick of his forefinger. The alien technology made a whirring sound and sprang open.
Dixon stared. “You know, now I look at the thing a bit closer it kind of reminds me of — ”
“Yeah,” said O’Neill. “We don’t talk about that. So. Once you’ve opened it, you hit the same button again and — ”
A surge of blue electrical-type energy burst from the zat and hit Dixon square in the chest. He crashed to the floor before he even realized he was falling. It was like being tasered, only twenty times worse. Scarlet pain danced through his body, his nervous system going up like a roman candle. Blue lights exploded in front of his eyes. His limbs spasmed, his teeth chattered, he could breathe… but only just.
Eventually the zat-induced seizure passed, leaving him limp and disoriented. He stared up at O’Neill, gasping.
The thing about Jack, Frank had also told him, is he never does anything without a reason. Even when he’s being a bastard, when he’s completely outrageous, there’s always a reason. After a while you just start to trust that.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” O’Neill said cheerfully. “Hurts like a bitch. But the thing is, if you have to you can work through it. And sometimes you have to. Believe it or not after the first few times you can even sort of get used to it.” He held out his arm. “Upsadaisy.”
Dixon grasped O’Neill’s arm and let himself be hauled to his feet. Random nerve-endings were still firing, still lighting him up with squibs of pain. “How many times have you taken a zat hit?”
O’Neill shrugged. “God knows. I’ve lost count. All that matters is not getting hit twice within fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah. Two strikes and you’re dead. I know. How’d you come up with the fifteen minute window?”
This time O’Neill’s brief smile was bleak. “We… experimented.”
“Ah.” Not quite sure what he thought about that, or what he was feeling aside from the lingering pain, he looked O’Neill up and down. “You know, you could’ve given me a heads-up.”
O’Neill rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Sure. ’Cause the Goa’uld do that a lot.”
Fair point. He bared his teeth in what might be interpreted as a smile. “Do I get to shoot my zat gun now?”
“Sure,” said O’Neill.
“Can I practice it on you?”
O’Neill snorted. “You can practice on your team when they get here. They need to know for real what they’re up against, Dixon, just like you. I mean, I hate to be the one to burst your bubble but this isn’t a Boy’s Own Adventure come to life.”
Man, oh man, the guy was a piece of work. Snide, condescending… How the hell did you put up with him, Frank?
O’Neill picked up his staff weapon and with arrogant ease kicked it into life. “So. Lesson two. This is what’s known as a Jaffa’s best friend…”
“Oh, my God, Daniel,” said Sam, looking up from the report she’d been checking. “You didn’t.”
Daniel had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Yeah. I did.”
“But what were you thinking? What did you imagine the colonel was going to say? ‘Why yes, Daniel, I am completely stressed out by the thought of Frank Cromwell’s former wingman joining the SGC for an extended secondment. Step a little closer so I can weep on your shoulder!’ I’m surprised he didn’t knock you on your butt!”
“Well…” Ruefully, Daniel rubbed his nose. “I think the thought crossed his mind.”
“I’ll bet it did! Twice!”
As Daniel pretended to be fascinated by a pencil she shook her head, torn between amusement and frustration.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. I don’t know why I bothered trying to warn him.
They were in her lab, where she was working and he was interrupting. The bench was piled high with MALP recordings, UAV telemetry and other paraphernalia connected to the preliminary survey of PX3-844, SG-7’s next scheduled mission destination. Of course the information was also downloaded into her computer, but she was just old-fashioned enough to like being able to shuffle the stats on paper. Neil Brompton, one of the SGC’s other pre-mission specialists, had already gone through the material once but Hammond preferred the security of things being checked twice.
It was late, almost 2200, but neither she nor Daniel wanted to go home to their empty apartments. Not that they’d admitted as much out loud… but the truth lay beneath their conversation, jagged as broken glass.
If we’re going to be sad about Jake, it’s better to be sad together than alone.
Daniel discarded the pencil. “So, have you thought any more about Dixon joining the team?”
She shuffled some papers. “No.”
“Oh, come on, Sam. What if he starts asking questions about how Colonel Cromwell died?”
So much for getting this telemetry double-checked.
“Why would he? He knows what happened.” Frank Cromwell died and it tore the colonel apart in his typically understated, uncommunicative, don’t-even-think about-raising-the-subject kind of way. She felt her pulse skip, remembering. “Daniel, it was over a year ago. It’s old news.”
Daniel was staring at her. “I can’t believe you don’t think this could be a problem.”
“And I can’t believe you’re determined to spin trouble out of thin air!”
Mutually aggravated, they swapped heated glares.
“Major Carter. Daniel Jackson. Is something the matter?”
Thank God. A distraction. Sam shifted her relieved gaze to Teal’c, entering the lab with his hands characteristically clasped behind his back. “Hey, Teal’c. No. Everything’s hunky dory.”
Daniel swung around, scowling. “Like hell it is. Teal’c, Sam’s refusing to admit we could have a problem with Colonel Dixon joining the team.”
“A problem?” Teal’c halted by the crowded lab bench and favored them both with a long and unnervingly inscrutable stare. At length his eyebrow lifted. “Why would there be a problem, Daniel Jackson? Colonel Dixon’s arrival, and that of his men, will be of great help to the SGC.”
Sam slapped her hand to the bench top. “Thank you, Teal’c. It’s nice to know you haven’t lost your perspective.”
“I haven’t lost perspective!” Daniel protested. “I’m the only one who’s kept perspective. God. Don’t you two get it? Dixon and Cromwell were close friends. Jack was with Cromwell when he died. Dixon is going to want to hear about it first-hand.”
“Why, Daniel?” she demanded. “Why
would he want to go stirring up bad memories? Unless Dixon’s some kind of masochist, I’m betting he won’t say a word.” She looked at Teal’c. “Don’t you agree, Teal’c?”
“It seems the more plausible scenario,” said Teal’c.
“No, okay,” said Daniel, hands raised. “Maybe he won’t. Maybe for him reading the reports is enough. But what if it’s not? What if this Dave Dixon is the kind of guy who can’t get closure unless he talks about it?”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “Your kind of guy, you mean?”
Scowling, Daniel shoved his glasses back up his nose. “Yeah. Okay. Cheap shot, but I’ll wear it. My kind of guy. Sam, what if this Colonel Dixon starts pushing Jack to talk about Frank Cromwell’s death. You don’t think Jack’s going to go up like C4?”
She could say no, but that’d be a lie. And Daniel would know she was lying, and that would be bad. She sighed, and dragged her fingers through her hair. “Yes. I think that’s probably what he’d do.”
“Exactly,” said Daniel. “And you know why? Because Jack’s as haunted by Cromwell as he is by Charlie.”
“Whoah, Daniel,” she said, and picked up a pen to hide her sudden agitation. “That’s going a bit far.”
“Is it?” said Daniel. His eyes were bright and intent. “I don’t think so. Because it’s not just Cromwell, is it? It’s Iraq, and what happened to him there. It’s — ”
“Adjo,” said Teal’c.
She looked at him. “What?”
Teal’c was looking at her computer, which she’d linked into the cartouche database. The monitor showed the six glyphs representing PX3-844. “This Stargate address. It leads to a planet known to the system lords as Adjo.”
“Really? The computer’s designated it PX — ”
Teal’c’s stare was flint-hard, his mouth tight with anger. “From where was this gate address obtained?”
She checked. “It’s one of the addresses Colonel O’Neill downloaded from the Ancient repository.”
“I see. And has this planet been added to the mission roster?”
“It’s about to be, yes,” she said, surprised by his tone. “For SG-7. It was supposed to be SG-9 but they’re still — ”
“Why was I not given the opportunity to review this destination before a team was assigned to its exploration?” he demanded. “It is understood that I review all off-world destinations before a team embarks.”
Okay, this was really weird. Teal’c was the closest to agitated she’d ever seen since they’d met. “Ah… I don’t know. You’d have to ask General Hammond. But I was going to make sure you’d seen the telemetry before — ”
“I must see General Hammond at once,” said Teal’c.
“He’s gone home,” said Daniel, just as baffled. “A couple of hours ago, I saw him leav—“
Teal’c’s expression was implacable. “Then he must return to the base at once.”
“I’m sorry,” said Daniel, as they watched the Jaffa stride from the lab with the kind of urgency he usually saved for attacking Goa’uld and an unseen episode of Star Trek. “What am I missing?”
“Don’t know,” she said faintly. “But we should call the colonel.”
“I’ll do that,” said Daniel, reaching for the phone. “You get your telemetry together. Looks like we’ve got an unscheduled briefing to prepare for.”
“Adjo,” said Teal’c, “is a planet with a terrible past. Its name means ‘treasure trove’ but its greatest bounty is death.”
“Hey, getting a bit melodramatic there aren’t you, Teal’c?” said O’Neill, seated beside him, as General Hammond and the rest of SG-1 stared at Apophis’s former First Prime.
“No,” said Teal’c. “It is impossible to overstate the dangers associated with this planet.”
Dixon smothered a yawn. According to his body clock it was just gone 0100 and he was in crying need of some sleep. Instead, Teal’c had dragged them all here for this dog and pony show. Eyes gritty, he let his gaze slide from face to face around the briefing table.
Hammond, hands folded neatly before him on the table, looked noncommital. O’Neill’s expression mixed curiosity with skepticism. Carter and Jackson seemed… perturbed.
I think I’m perturbed too. Even I know that when the big guy says ‘run’ the correct response is ‘how fast’?
“Please elaborate, Teal’c,” said Hammond, his tone still conversational, still resonating with Southern courtesy. It’d be interesting to see him slough off that veneer. Lieutenants didn’t grow into two-star generals if they lacked the ability and willingness to bite. “According to Doctor Brompton and Major Carter, the preliminary survey is benign. The MALP’s air samples tested negative for pathogens and radioactivity and the UAV picked up no sign of Goa’uld or human activity round the gate. In fact, the place looked deserted.”
Teal’c considered him, almost impatient. “When Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter came through the Antarctic Stargate they believed they were stranded on an ice planet. Sweeping assumptions are often proven to be wrong.”
Dixon watched Hammond’s lips tighten. “Point taken,” the general conceded. “Continue.”
Teal’c nodded as though he was granting Hammond an audience. “Long ago, Adjo was situated in a disputed area of Goa’uld-controlled space. Many battles were fought over its possession due to its abundance of naquadah, gold, silver, precious and semi-precious jewels and other valuable elements. It is whispered among the Jaffa even today that tens of thousands of warriors lost their lives in the — ”
“Sorry — wait a moment,” said Jackson, holding up a hand. “When you say ‘long ago’, how long exactly are we talking about? Which system lords were fighting for control of Adjo?”
“Ra and Setesh. Both claimed Adjo lay within their domains.”
“Ra and Setesh?” echoed O’Neill. He sounded disbelieving. “The very same Seth we took out of the picture last year?”
Teal’c nodded. “That is correct, O’Neill.”
“So in other words we’re taking ancient ancient Goa’uld history, right? I mean, Seth hid himself here on Earth for — what was it, three thousand years, give or take? — and Ra bugged out when Tutankhamen was in diapers. Don’t you — ”
“Actually,” said Jackson, “Ra left — ”
“What I’m saying,” said O’Neill, flattening the archeologist with a look, “is that time has marched on, Teal’c. It’s marched down the road, over the bridge and waaaaaay over the horizon. How can you be so damned sure this Adjo’s a death trap?”
“The MALP’s video didn’t show any sign of one those — those warning post things,” added Carter. “Wouldn’t there be one if Adjo is so dangerous?”
“The korosh’nai device is a relatively recent invention,” said Teal’c. “The dispute over Adjo happened long, long ago.”
“Yes. In fact I think it’d be fair to say it’s passed into Jaffa legend,” said Jackson. “And while you all know how I feel about the importance of legends, maybe this time we shouldn’t be too hasty in equating legend with scientific certainty.” When everyone stared at him open-mouthed, even Hammond, he added, “What? I’m not capable of acknowledging my biases and adjusting my position accordingly?”
“Perhaps you are correct, Daniel Jackson,” said Teal’c, breaking the stunned silence. “But it is certain that the planet Adjo is off-limits to all Goa’uld and Jaffa even today. Shortly before Setesh — Seth’s — disappearance he and Ra met in one final battle for control of the planet. I do not know the precise outcome of that conflict. No Jaffa knows. I suspect there are even Goa’uld system lords who do not know. But this much I do know: following that final encounter between Seth and Ra the planet Adjo was declared rek’ash’navai — what you would call anathema — and no Goa’uld or Jaffa has visited there since.”
“Yes, but why?” said Carter. “What happened in that final battle to make the place such an object of fear thousands of years later?”
“Maybe the Tok’ra k
now,” said O’Neill. “We should ask them.”
“We can try,” said Hammond, his tone reserved. “But I’m not keen on getting into that habit. Their opinion of the Tauri is low enough already without us giving them the impression we can’t step through the gate without their advice.”
“Dad doesn’t think that,” said Carter. Not disrespectful, not exactly. But Dixon caught a hint of hurt defensiveness. He saw O’Neill glance at her as though he’d heard it too.
“Jacob isn’t the Tok’ra,” replied Hammond flatly. “Teal’c, you mentioned Adjo was renowned for its mineral wealth. In your estimation would that still be the case? Seth and Ra fought over it, but in between fighting did they manage to get any mining done?”
“I cannot say for certain but I believe… some,” said Teal’c. “Enough for them to ascertain the quality of the resources and oversee the slaughter of countless Jaffa in their quest to retain control of the planet.”
“We already know the Goa’uld use human slaves for their mining operations,” said Jackson. “That means there must have been humans on Adjo. Teal’c, what happened to them when the smoke cleared after Seth and Ra’s final confrontation? Were they all killed? Were they taken off the planet? Were they left behind? What?”
“I do not know,” said Teal’c. “What I know, I have told you.”
“And what you’ve told us,” said Hammond heavily, “changes things considerably.”
Chapter Five
“Does that mean you’re scrubbing the mission, sir?” said O’Neill.
Hammond shook his head. “On the contrary. I’m reclassifying its status. PX3-844 is now a Class 1 exploratory target and I’m transferring its preliminary survey to your team, Colonel O’Neill.”
Dixon swallowed a smile. Cool. A real mission.
“Ah… should we be doing that, General?” said Jackson. “Teal’c doesn’t give this kind of warning on a whim.”
O’Neill snorted. “So much for adjusting your position.” He glanced at his watch. “That refreshing burst of commonsense lasted… oooh, a whole three minutes.”