STARGATE SG-1 STARGATE ATLANTIS: Points of Origin - Volume Two of the Travelers' Tales (SGX-03) (STARGATE EXTRA (SGX-03))

by Karen Miller

“Well?”

  “To condense their tale, they accompanied Osiris from his ha’tak to this world, in a tel’tak. Osiris left them on the ship with orders to remain until his return.”

  “So why are they here?”

  “They have not yet reached that part of their tale, O’Neill.”

  “Well hurry it up. Just translate what they’re saying. I’m getting piles sitting here.”

  Daniel couldn’t help a chuckle, but that brought the Jaffa’s attention on to him, and he could see realization hit that he was why they were here in the first place. He ducked his head. Another wave of fatigue hit him. He sucked in a deep breath, valiantly trying to stay awake.

  Teal’c’s questions started a discussion between the two Jaffa. Over them, Teal’c offered his rendition for Jack’s benefit.

  “This one says: ‘Dude, I told you we should have followed orders.’”

  “The other replies: ‘Dude, we had to beam down. We were running out of air.’”

  “Dude?” Jack queried.

  “I am paraphrasing their words into colloquialisms more familiar to humans of this region.”

  Daniel could feel Jack trying to twist far enough around to glare at him, also reminded of his recent penchant for paraphrasing Jaffa dialects on their mission to rescue Ry’ac and Bra’tac.

  “Ah hem.” Daniel glanced everywhere but over his shoulder. “Don’t blame me,” he muttered. “I’m not the one who insisted on Point Break for the last movie night.”

  “Hey, nothing wrong with that movie.”

  “Did you see the ending? No way that was filmed in Australia —”

  “If I may resume?” Teal’c’s stony tone cut across what could have been a great argument.

  “Sure, go ahead.” Jack settled back against Daniel and resumed fumbling at the ties that bound them.

  “These two have been awaiting the return of their lord for some time,” Teal’c rumbled.

  Two weeks, four days, in fact since Osiris last appeared in his bedroom and set in motion the events that finally released Sarah from her captor. Osiris, the once mighty System Lord was last seen exiting the SGC’s Stargate in the company of the Tok’ra — in a bucket.

  Daniel pulled his attention back to the lengthy tale the two Jaffa were spinning, so intent on getting their story across that their weapons were wavering and pointing floor-wards. Though he could well understand them, he waited for the translation provided for Jack.

  Several minutes later, Teal’c seized a break in the flow of information and turned to Jack.

  “They said, ‘Our supplies were depleted some days ago, power on the ship begins to fail. We are hungry and cold. We seek our lord.’”

  “Five minutes of rambling and all you got was that?” Jack grunted.

  “Would you prefer a verbatim account, O’Neill?”

  “Heck, no.”

  The Jaffa’s attention ping-ponged between them and they launched into another long dialog of failed systems, lost navigational data and ended with an all too understandable, but somewhat plaintive, plea to go home.

  “Well?” Jack demanded.

  Teal’c arched an eyebrow at them. “He said, ‘Dude, where’s my spaceship?’”

  Daniel couldn’t help a snort of amusement, which was interrupted by a knock on the back door.

  Jack had his mouth open to deliver a smart response to Teal’c when heads all over the kitchen turned to the back door. Silhouetted by the setting sun, Carter and Pete Shanahan were set to barge in. In the corner of his eye he saw the two zat guns swing up, one trying to cover Teal’c, Daniel and himself, the other turned toward the new arrivals.

  “Hello, Daniel, we’re here —”

  “Carter, duck!” Jack bellowed over her voice.

  “Sam, look out!” Daniel yelled with him.

  There was a blur of motion behind them, a zat charge went off, a body thudded to the floor. A large body by the sound of it. Jack planted his heels on the tiles and tried to scoot himself and Daniel into the path of Larry. A hard, armored boot caught him the thigh. Larry tripped over him, and, points awarded to his reflexes, managed to get off a shot as he landed on top of Jack and Daniel. Framed in the opened door, Carter caught the full charge of the zat gun and collapsed where she stood. With the reactions of a true civilian, Pete froze, a large, stuffed giraffe hugged close to his chest, and gaped from downed girlfriend to the chaos in the kitchen.

  Jack, once again underneath the wriggling body of a Jaffa, banged his forehead on the tiles and mumbled, “Go, team.”

  At Larry’s direction, Pete gently hauled Carter inside and propped her back to back with Teal’c — the unconscious recipient of Curly’s well-placed shot. Curly ripped down another curtain cord and proceeded to tie up the rest of SG-1.

  “Do you mind not completely destroying my house?” Daniel demanded.

  “Daniel, focus a little?” Jack nudged him with an elbow.

  The nylon cord binding the two of them had pulled even tighter in the scuffle. Jack resolutely set to work again on the knots. Teal’c was still out, but Carter was moaning her way back to consciousness. Shanahan stood by the kitchen windows, still hanging on to his giraffe. Larry and Curly retreated to the furthest corner of the room, looking even less certain of themselves now as they engaged in frantic whispers. Daniel sagged against Jack’s back, once again succumbing to the sleeping condition plaguing him.

  “So. Pete. How was the trip to the zoo?”

  “Huh?”

  “Zoo. You. Carter. How’d you manage to drag her there, anyway? She has this horror of cages, y’know.”

  “Uh…” Pete darted a distracted look at Jack before returning his stare to the Jaffa. “We kept to the large animal enclosures. She liked the giraffes. Who are they?”

  “The giraffes?” Jack couldn’t help the facetious comment. Damn, these knots were never going to loosen with Daniel’s dead weight pulling on them.

  “Them.” Pete indicated the two intruders with the giraffe’s head. “Should I call someone?”

  “Who you gonna call?”

  “The cops. Your people, surely?”

  “Let’s not make a big incident, here.” Last thing Daniel’s neighbors needed was another military operation followed by the inevitable clean up with security teams, non-disclosure forms, et-boring-cetera.

  “But they shot Sam.”

  “She’s okay. Coming around already. Now, Teal’c: he’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.”

  Shanahan twitched uncomfortably. The Jaffa kept a zat on him, despite their intense consultations.

  “Giraffes, you say.” Jack pulled Pete’s attention back to him before the Jaffa took a dislike to his staring at them.

  “Yeah… We got to feed them. She really liked that.”

  “Nice. Don’t have a weapon on you, by any chance?” Jack added quietly.

  “No.” Pete could see the knives scattered on the floor from Jack’s earlier attempt, but he was on the other side of the kitchen island and any leap to grab one would be rewarded with a zat blast. “Why doesn’t she like cages?”

  “Been locked up in too many of them, I guess.”

  “Oh. Really? Wow. Real cages?”

  “Oh yeah, we’ve been locked up in some of the Goa’uld’s finest. Broke out of them too, so there’s that for an upside.”

  Pete blinked at him, disbelief slowly turned to understanding. He darted a glance at Sam, then at the rest of the team.

  Daniel started awake with a flinch. He groaned. “Thought this was all a dream.”

  “If only,” Jack replied. “Ease up on the cord, will you?”

  “Trying to.” Daniel shifted against him. “Hey, Pete. Have a nice day out?”

  “Yeah, thanks, Daniel. It’s a fant
astic zoo — Oh, Sam!” Pete made an abortive move to reach her as her head rose out of its slump.

  “Damn, I hate that,” Sam grumbled. She shook her head carefully and managed to focus on the scene around her. “What on Earth? Pete, you okay?”

  “Fine, honey.”

  “Honey?” Jack mimicked softly to a shushing noise from Daniel. He’d never heard anyone refer to Carter like that before.

  “Sir? What gives?” Carter was quickly back on track, eyeing up their captors with an assessing glance. Behind her, Teal’c growled his way back to consciousness.

  “Just a couple of lost travelers, Carter, looking for their, er, former cross-dressing lord.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “Yup. Any idea where Janet and you-know-who are?”

  “Shopping for clothes. She said they’d be here by 1800.”

  Jack craned around to see the clock over the kitchen window: 1810. Any minute now these two idiots’ lost lord was going to waltz into the house, and yeah, were they in for a surprise. No way was he going to allow Sarah Gardner to be taken by the Goa’uld again, with or without her now fortunately missing pal.

  “Jack,” Daniel’s urgent voice sounded in his ear.

  “I know. Just keep quiet.”

  Interested by their conversation, Larry and Curly stepped closer. They zeroed in on Daniel. Curly leaned over him.

  “Daaneel?”

  “Um, guess that’s been established, then.”

  “Hey — Larry, Curly, over here!” Jack barked. They both ignored him.

  Teal’c took up the diversionary tactic. “Jaffa, kree tol mek!”

  Having apparently settled on a course of action the two Jaffa set about untying Daniel from Jack. They hauled Daniel upright, to a string of protests.

  “Are we going somewhere? I have to tell you, I’m not dressed for traveling,” he chattered. “Can we just take a moment for me to change? My room’s just down the hall here…” Daniel gestured extravagantly, arm flying outward into Curly’s face.

  Jack, watching for just such a move, slithered to one side out of Larry’s grip. He twisted, tried to bring his legs around to sweep Larry off his feet. Larry might not be the brightest bulb in the Jaffa firmament but he had good reflexes. He leapt nimbly over Jack’s legs. The wasted momentum sent Jack face down on the floor. He scrabbled on the slippery tiles for purchase with knees and elbows. From behind, there came an ear-cringing war whoop. He managed to turn over just as something bright yellow and brown flew past overhead. Curly caught a face full of stuffed giraffe, and went down, tackled to the floor by Pete Shanahan. Jack allowed a second to appreciate the move, and swung a double booted kick into the melee. Beyond, he could see Teal’c and Carter struggling to get to their feet, but he’d lost track of Daniel and Larry.

  For a moment it appeared they would get the upper hand. Shanahan wrestled Curly for control of his zat gun, with the odd shot escaping to further slag Daniel’s ruined cook wear.

  “Kree!” The shout echoed around the kitchen.

  Jack grimaced. He was really coming to hate that word. He cranked his head around to see Larry, one arm wrapped around Daniel’s neck, holding one of the carving knives that had been Jack’s original intended weapon against Daniel’s carotid artery. Both men were disheveled, breathing hard and sporting some impressive soon-to-be bruises. The melee in the kitchen paused.

  “Okay,” Jack said, his tone placating and soothing. “Let’s not do anything that’s gonna make a mess.”

  “Thanks, Jack.” Daniel ground the words out past the pressure on his throat, his body bent uncomfortably to one side by Larry’s shorter stature.

  Curly wriggled out from under Shanahan and got to his feet. He looked quite rumpled from the tussle but triumphantly held the zat.

  “Pete, nice move,” Carter called. Jack almost did a double-take. She did not bat her eyes at Shanahan, did she?

  “These guys are strong,” Pete complained. Under the aim of Curly’s zat he shuffled across the floor to her and Teal’c.

  “I shall give you some instruction in more effective methods of combat when this situation has been resolved,” Teal’c offered.

  “Hey, that’d be great, Teal’c, thanks.”

  “Um, a little help here?” Daniel broke in. Larry’s grip around his throat had not lessened.

  Curly sidestepped Jack and lined up with Larry on Daniel’s other side. They inched backward, dragging Daniel toward the back door. Clearly, if their god was a no-show, they were content to take what, or rather who, they could get and bug out of here. They paused in the doorway to negotiate the logistics of getting three bodies through one door while keeping their prisoners on the floor covered. Jack cursed under his breath. No way were they going to make off with Daniel, not after they’d just got him back from his hiatus, but any move he made would be met by a zat blast before he even got to his knees. He’d be no use to anyone unconscious. He needed a plan…

  It was then that the front door chime rang out into the warm evening air.

  Sarah Gardner, laughing at Janet’s latest retelling of one of SG-1’s more outlandish missions, walked with her new friend up the sidewalk toward Daniel’s house. Janet had taken her shopping to restock her wardrobe. Fashions had changed in the four years she’d been gone from Earth. The mall had been overwhelmingly strange when they first entered: her senses bombarded by strangely familiar sounds that were too loud, smells she had not experienced in years, glaringly bright lights so different from the muted corridors of Goa’uld vessels to which she’d become accustomed. But with enthusiastic encouragement from Janet, she’d begun to acclimate and they were soon diving into every boutique the mall offered. Janet, with her quick wit and compassionate insight, found a way past her defenses that even Daniel had not yet managed. By lunchtime they were becoming firm friends.

  At Daniel’s door, she juggled the carry bags in her hands and looked back, down, at Janet. “The Asgard really made a clone of the colonel?”

  “They certainly did. Now that he’s completely recovered he’s even enrolled in high school.”

  They shared a slightly horrified look.

  “Jack O’Neill in high school?” they both said at the same time, and burst out laughing again.

  “Doesn’t bear thinking about, honey,” Janet drawled. “Push that door bell. I need to get out of these heels.”

  Sarah straightened her dress with one hand and pushed the bell. She’d bought as many flowery and frilly clothes as she could, determined to get as far as possible from the overly ornate black and gold ‘god’ clothes Osiris had reveled in during her captivity, and the associated memories they brought to her. Music resonated inside the house. Classical. Familiar. She thought hard for a moment. Beethoven? Yes. A smile rose inside her; another piece of normal life returned to her. One down, umpteen hundreds to go.

  They waited. No one came to the door.

  Impatient, Janet leaned into the doorway and called, “Yoohoo! Daniel, we’re here.”

  They waited some more. Janet tutted under her breath.

  “Daniel’s probably asleep and the rest of them are most likely on the back porch.” She tried the door handle, which obligingly turned. “Here we go. Colonel, you’d better have that wine open!”

  Janet pushed the door open and led the way. Sarah hesitated. The neat hallway before her, with its white painted walls and wooden floor, suddenly assailed her with memories: more than the attempts to steal Daniel’s memories or attack him and the colonel and Teal’c with the hand device, there was a strong sense of guilt at allowing Osiris to return to Earth and bring harm to someone she had — and still did — care for. She shook her head. It’s over, he’s gone for good, everyone is okay. Small steps forward. She repeated Janet’s mantra and followed her down the hall, taking care not to knock Daniel’s ar
tworks with her carry bags.

  Sarah poked her head into Daniel’s bedroom — not there. Good, he was awake. She really wanted to show him some of the outfits she’d bought. She’d never been the type of girl to be obsessed with clothes, but holding these new things, somehow she was starting to have a sense of belonging once again to the people of this planet. Daniel would understand. She walked down the hall, turned the corner, into the kitchen. Janet was standing just inside the entry, oddly, hands full of shopping bags held awkwardly out from her sides. Sarah peeped over her shoulder, a cheery smile on her lips.

  “Daniel?”

  A tableau of faces looked back at her, most of them from the direction of the floor. Teal’c and Sam Carter were sitting back to back on the kitchen tiles, Sam’s boyfriend Pete next to them. They didn’t look all that pleased to see her. Beyond them, Jack O’Neill was also on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him, a resigned scowl on his face. And beyond him… frozen in the open back door stood Daniel, bare-footed, half-dressed, with an apologetic grimace on his face and a knife at his throat. A knife held by a young man, dressed in metallic armor. Jaffa. There was a matching one on Daniel’s other side.

  Within her mind, a small door opened and memories flooded through in a blast of clarity. Golden, flame-lit halls; her strides echoed with commanding presence; slaves bowed to hide their fear; Jaffa scurried ahead, arrogant with the purpose of executing her orders; a dark cloaked figure, malevolence swirling about it like a tangible thing; boarding the cramped tel’tak, its meager facilities unsuitable for one of her rank but she would follow the dark one’s orders until such time as she held the secrets he desired, then he would fall and she would rise and be exalted above all Goa’uld…

  Sarah came back to herself, a shiver crawled down her spine. The Jaffa, Ja’dok and Bikram, were the two who had accompanied Osiris on his mission. She — rather, he — had ordered them to remain in the tel’tak until his return, and apparently so they had, wiped from her memory by the removal of Osiris. Until now. More memories threatened to return from hiding. She pushed them back through that small door and closed it. She would deal with them later. Much later.