Alliances

by Karen Miller

  “Why do you wish to know? Knowing will not return your friend to life.”

  “Of course it won’t!” said Dixon. “You think I don’t know that? I want to know because knowledge is better than ignorance.”

  Teal’c looked at him. “Not always.”

  “See, it’s like you said,” Dixon replied, one hand resting ready on the butt of his sidearm. Even at this moment, ready to react should danger strike. The hallmark of a seasoned warrior. “The bonds of brotherhood and all that stuff. Me and Frank were tight. I wasn’t there when the black hole mission went down, I wasn’t there to back him up. I should’ve been, but I wasn’t.”

  “And so you blame yourself for his death,” he said quietly. “Or you blame O’Neill.” As O’Neill blamed himself. So much blame. So much guilt. And none of it to any purpose.

  I am the only one here who truly understands the need for guilt.

  “No,” said Dixon, with an effort. “I don’t blame O’Neill. I read the reports, I attended the inquest. O’Neill didn’t kill Frank. But he did hurt him, Teal’c. He spent years hurting him and I want to know why. Frank never deserved it. And he never got over it. O’Neill owes him an apology for that. For Frank’s sake, for his memory, I want to hear one.”

  “How are you so certain it is your right to demand it?”

  Dixon’s eyes and face were fierce. “Because I’m the one who got drunk with Frank and listened to him talk about how he put O’Neill in that Iraqi prison. I’m the one who poured him into bed more times than I can count and watched him shed tears for something he couldn’t undo or forget or forgive himself for no matter how much booze he drank or how hard he partied or how many black ops missions he volunteered for! That man saved so many lives, Teal’c. He risked himself over and over, saving civilians, saving his team, doing crazy things to bring people home alive… and every single life he saved was the same life. It was Jack O’Neill’s life. He stopped bullets with his body saving that one life over and over and over again. And it was never enough. Do you understand what I’m saying? He could’ve saved thousands and it wouldn’t have been enough! He was a good man, Teal’c. Hell, he was a great man. A great man, a great leader, one hell of a friend. And I’ll be damned if I don’t hear Jack O’Neill admit that — and say he’s sorry for the pain he caused.”

  Dixon’s voice had risen. Not enough to alert O’Neill… but Major Carter, walking directly in front of them, had heard him. Her head was turned, ever so slightly. She was listening. Dixon wasn’t aware, he was caught up in a barbed wire tangle of memory.

  Teal’c walked in silence for a time, considering his options, as Dixon steadied his breathing and wrestled his emotions under control.

  This man has come to us for answers. I have none for him, but perhaps I am able to show him where and how to find them. And in helping him, perhaps I might help O’Neill… who is suffering too, though he will never admit it.

  “Colonel Dixon,” he said, “I admire your loyalty. O’Neill is a man who admires loyalty. But he is also a man who will not succumb to force. In that prison you speak of he was terribly tortured. He did not break for his captors. He will not break for you. What O’Neill gives, he gives freely. He has a generous heart. Show him you are worthy of his trust and his loyalty and then, only then, perhaps, you will gain what you desire.”

  Before Dixon could reply, O’Neill raised his clenched fist. “Hold up!” he called. “Gather round, campers. Time to put on our party faces.”

  So engrossed had he been in his conversation with Dixon, Teal’c realized he’d not been paying sufficient attention to their journey. They’d reached the floor of the valley. The light surrounding them was dimmer now, thanks to the gently rising slopes around them. The straggling woodland had come to end and the somnolent hush was colored by the sound of rushing water.

  And there, in the distance, gilded in the sun, stood the girl Lotar’s village, woken and bustling.

  For good or ill, they had arrived.

  In the distance the people of Lotar’s village went about their unsuspecting business. A handful of adults, men and women, could be seen moving in and around the scatter of rustic houses. There were coracles on the wide, meandering river, with young boys fishing over their sides. The sound of bleating goats floated on the warm breeze, and the laughter of excited toddlers playing with a ball on the grassy banks by the water. A group of older children worked nearby. It was hard to be sure, but Daniel thought they were winding skeins of thread onto spindles. Flax, probably, for the weaving of linen. Further distant again, more villagers worked with onagers and crude wooden plows in the cultivated fields on either side of the river. It seemed the valley soil was particularly fertile, if the extent of the crops was any indication.

  “So,” Daniel said, tearing his gaze from the bucolic scenery and looking at Jack. “Are you going to let me take point on this one?”

  Jack shrugged. “Actually, I was thinking I might just lay down some suppression fire, take the village leaders hostage and demand they hand over their keys to the mine before I start shooting the women and children.”

  Oh, for crying out loud. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “Ya think?”

  “I think your sense of humor is lacking before you’ve had at least four cups of coffee,” he retorted. “Or maybe that’s before I’ve had four cups of coffee. Sometimes it’s really hard to tell. Jack — ”

  “Yes, Daniel,” said Jack, with a long-suffering sigh. “You can take point on this one.”

  “Good. Thank you.”

  “On one condition,” Jack added, because he was addicted to having the last word.

  “And what’s that?”

  “We keep the kumbayahing welcome ceremonies to an absolute minimum. In case you’ve forgotten we’re on the clock with this one.”

  Pretty hard to forget it when Jack reminded him every second conversation. “No. I haven’t forgotten,” he replied, letting his voice sharpen.

  Jack’s raised eyebrows said he wasn’t impressed with the tone. “Good. Make sure you don’t.”

  Acutely aware of Dixon’s silent, sponge-like presence, sucking up every last nuance and unspoken syllable — it’s like being audited by the IRS, only more unnerving — Daniel turned to Lotar. The Adjoan girl had gone very quiet, all the chattering enthusiasm she’d shown on the walk here suffocated beneath a veneer of unease.

  “Lotar,” he said, making her jump. “Is there anything else we need to know before we reveal our presence to your people?”

  The girl chewed her lip, fingers twisted together in a nervous tangle. “No, Daniel. I have told you the names of our Elders. I have told you how often we visit with the next village. I have told you of Bhuiku and my friends Banafrit and Habibah. I have told you how our days are spent. I do not know what else I can tell you.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder. She was trembling. “You have been a good friend to us, Lotar. We are lucky to have found you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. Her voice was so small. “I am pleased I have pleased you, Daniel.”

  Except that was a lie. “Lotar,” he said gently, taking her other shoulder in his grasp. “What’s wrong? You can tell me. I want to be a good friend to you, too. Maybe I can help.”

  Her dark eyes filled with tears. “I think I was wrong to leave the shrine and come with you. I fear the Elders and the senior women will be angry that I left the gods’ place before my passing time was over. When Bhuiku’s mother Odjit learns what I have done she will say I am wicked and I cannot marry her son.” The tears spilled, splashing her cheeks.

  Damn. He should’ve seen this coming. But he’d let himself get carried away, again. Perhaps even let himself think she was in all ways another Sha’re. “No, Lotar. Don’t be afraid. It’ll be all right. Once we’ve explained — ”

  “Daniel…”

  Sam. He looked at her. “I’m sure they’ll understand, Sam, I’m sure — ”

  “How can you be?”
she said, frowning. “You don’t know her people. You don’t know how they’re likely to react. But Lotar does. She knows what’s expected of her and what happens to rule breakers. And if she’s changed her mind, well, that’s her right. Lotar, you don’t need to come any further. If being seen helping us will get you in trouble, go back to the shrine. We’ll manage on our own.”

  “Excuse me, Major?” said Jack. His tone had Lotar flinching.

  Sam turned on him. For all she was military through and through she never hesitated to stand up to Jack when she thought opposition was warranted. The fact she didn’t do it often just lent more weight to her disagreements when she did decide to dig in her heels.

  “Sir, she’s in love with this boy Bhuiku. She’s about to get married. We can’t put her future at risk. She’s helped us this far, we can take it from here. If Lotar accompanies us into the village and they decide to make an example of her for not staying at the shrine the full ten days, not only will the Elders be distracted they might even blame us for corrupting one of their own. And that could jeopardize the entire mission.”

  Jack drummed his fingers on the butt of his MP5-K. “Daniel?”

  “Sorry, Jack,” he said, shrugging. “Sam’s right.” He smiled at Lotar. “The last thing we need is to get off on the wrong foot with these people.”

  “And this didn’t occur to you earlier?”

  Well, that wasn’t fair. Jack had stomped him with both feet for daring to question the need for Lotar’s presence. But this wasn’t the time to mention that. This was the time to take one for the team.

  “No. It should have, but I got sidetracked. Mea culpa.”

  “Yeah. That’s a big help,” Jack retorted, insufficiently appeased. “Now we’re standing on their doorstep.” He blew out a frustrated breath of air. “Okay. Say we do let the girl return to the gate, how do we explain what we know about her village? If we waltz in there with the Elders’ names at our fingertips they’re going to think we got a little divine help, aren’t they? How does that fit in with the Daniel Jackson version of the Prime Directive?”

  He’d learned long ago when to let Jack’s sarcasm wash over him like so much sea foam. “Lotar,” he said, “will you get into trouble if we tell the Elders that we met you at the shrine and you told us about your people and how to find the village, and then we left you there to finish your passing time?”

  Lotar thought for a moment, the tears drying on her cheeks. Then she shook her head. “No. I do not think so. I do not think they will be angry that I spoke to strangers who came through the chappa’ai. No-one has ever come through the chappa’ai before. I think even the Elders would speak if that happened.”

  He tightened his fingers on her shoulders, then released her. “I think they would, too. Will you be all right getting back to the shrine on your own?”

  She made a scornful sound, her confidence returned. “Of course.”

  Yes. Of course. Stupid question. “Then you should go. Finish your passing time, and when it’s done come home so you can marry Bhuiku.”

  She looked at him intently then shifted her gaze to Sam, then Teal’c, to Dixon and finally Jack. “And you will keep my secret? You will not tell the Elders or Bhuiku’s mother Odjit that I left my passing time to bring you here?”

  Jack sighed. “No, Lotar. We won’t tell them. Friends don’t tell each other’s secrets.”

  “You are a stern man,” she said. “You are like the village Elders. I did not think you and I were friends.”

  And that flicked Jack on the raw, Daniel could see. “Lotar,” said Jack, taking her hand in his. “If I gave you that impression I’m truly sorry. Of course we’re friends. Your secret’s safe with me, I promise.”

  “Lotar,” said Sam, and fished underneath her black tee shirt. “Here. For the shrine. To help you in your passing time and your life with Bhuiku.” With a tug she pulled her dog-tags over her head and held them out. “To say thank you.”

  Lotar took the dog-tags, her eyes wide. “A great gift,” she breathed. “It will bring my marriage much blessing. Thank you, Sam.”

  And with a lightning-swift smile, the girl ran back the way they’d come.

  “Thought you didn’t approve of girls Lotar’s age getting married,” said Jack, as they watched the girl disappear among the trees.

  “I don’t,” said Sam. “But this is her world, not mine. I don’t get to say what’s right for her. And she took a big risk for us. Sir.”

  Daniel watched Jack shake his head at her. “You realize that’s the fourth pair of dog-tags you’ve lost in the last sixteen months? Uncle Sam’s going to start sending you invoices.”

  Sam shrugged. “I can live with that, Colonel.”

  They exchanged complicated looks, then Jack visibly shifted mental gears. “Okay. So we’ve lost our native guide and we have to start off our relationship with these villagers by telling them a big fat bunch of lies. Daniel, I’d prefer we not make it a habit. Can you manage that, do you think?”

  It would be easy to take the question as an insult, as an implied suggestion Jack lacked faith in him. But he knew that wasn’t the case. Right now Jack had the entire weight of Washington and the Pentagon sitting on his shoulders. He wouldn’t be Jack if that didn’t make him just a little bit snarky.

  “I can and I will,” he said. “Jack, you did the right thing. If you think it’s bad starting off with a lie, then how much worse could we have made things if — ”

  “I know,” said Jack impatiently. “I agreed with Carter, didn’t I? Come on. Time’s a-wasting.”

  Still acutely aware of Dixon’s silent appraisal, Daniel forbore further comment and followed Jack out of the fringing woodland into the sunshine. The others fell into step behind them.

  The back of Jack’s head looked… short-tempered.

  Oh, well. He’ll get over it. He’s just pissed because I didn’t anticipate Lotar getting cold feet. Can’t say I blame him. I’m a little bit pissed myself.

  He couldn’t help wondering what Dixon made of the exchanges between the three of them. Wished he could just come straight out and ask the man: How many different reasons do you have for being here? What is it exactly you’re hoping to achieve? Is this about Cromwell or is it about something else? And sure, he could do it… if he wanted to launch Jack into incendiary orbit.

  He’d always regretted being off-world during the black hole crisis. Had always felt he’d somehow let his team down by being absent from the fray. Stupid. He knew that. But he felt what he felt.

  If I’d been here, if I’d seen Jack and Frank Cromwell together, I might have an idea of what to tell Dixon so he’d go away happy and leave Jack alone.

  They might just get through this mission unscathed if Dixon left Jack alone.

  But something tells me that’s not going to happen.

  Twitchy, despondent, he thrust the alarming thought aside and instead focused on everything Lotar had told him of her village and its Elders, so he didn’t make a bad mistake and derail the mission before it had even properly started.

  The children on the river bank were the first to see them approaching.

  With shrieks and shouts of piping alarm the little ones abandoned their ball and ran towards the nearest cottages. The older children, all girls around Lotar’s age from what he could see, set aside their flax spindles, got to their feet and waited for them.

  “They’ve got guts,” said Sam. She sounded approving.

  “Or else they don’t know any better,” Dixon replied. “If they’ve never seen guns before, why would they be afraid?”

  “Quiet in the peanut gallery,” said Jack, over his shoulder. “Daniel? You’re on.”

  As Jack fell back, letting him take the lead, Daniel passed his MP5-K to Sam then lengthened his strides so he reached the waiting girls first.

  “Hello,” he said. “My name is Daniel. Please don’t be afraid. We’re not here to hurt you.”

  There were five of them, around the same heig
ht and build as Lotar. Long dark hair caught back in tails and braids. Olive skinned, dark eyed. Pure ancient Egyptian. Three of the girls had deeply scarred faces, their cheeks and foreheads pitted as though they’d once suffered chickenpox. One had a withered left hand. The fifth, he realized with a gut-twisting shock, was blind. This close he could see the milky film across her eyes.

  The girl with the withered hand took a step forward. “I am Nebti,” she said, haughtily aloof. Clearly she didn’t share Lotar’s maidenly modesty. “You are strangers to our valley. What village are you from? Abusir? Maidum? Dahshur? Or have you come from beyond the divide?”

  “No,” he said. “We come from a village unknown to your people. We wish to speak with Khenti, your senior village Elder. Can you take us to him?”

  The sighted girls exchanged swift glances. “I can take you to Sebak,” said Nebti. “He is the only Elder in the village now. Khenti and the others are in the sacred place. They ready us for the season of rebirth.”

  Rebirth again. Not a festival he was familiar with. Like Lotar’s passing time it must be a product of Adjo’s unique environment. Cool. He smiled. “I see. Well then, Nebti, will you take us to Sebak?”

  “Stay here,” Nebti told her companions. “The spinning must be finished before the sun sets.”

  The girls nodded, obedient, and returned to their spindles. Nebti, with all the poise and self-possession of a young Cleopatra, pointed to the village. “Come. Sebak is there.”

  Daniel fell into step beside her and together they led the others towards the sprawling straggle of mud brick thatched buildings that made up Lotar’s village.

  Chapter Eleven

  The shrieking little ones had raised the alarm. Some fifty or sixty men and women were now standing on the edges of the hard-packed dirt road that encircled the village, marking its boundary. They stood shoulder to shoulder, hands shading their eyes. The children had been hustled out of sight. The villagers were mostly silent, intently watchful. A little whispering, a few pointing fingers. Then came a disturbance at the back of the crowd. The villagers parted and a lone male figure was revealed. Short, like his fellow villagers, he was on the far side of middle age, a little bent, a little shrunken. He wore a simple robe dyed a clumsy crimson, not tunics and trousers like the other men.