by Jamie Duncan
Check. But even a crappy Goa’uld was still a Goa’uld. And Jaffa by any other name would still shoot on command. Most of the time. He exchanged a glance with Teal’c and got a raised eyebrow in reply.
Down below, lights were coming on here and there, winking tentatively as the sun blinked, clouds closing the valley in, and the world got a little darker and suddenly colder. Jack zipped his jacket up to his chin and coughed out a plume of breath.
“Atropos. Greek,” Daniel recited to no one in particular. “Along with Clothos and Lachesis, one of the Fates who spin, measure, and cut a human being’s thread of life.”
“Short thread, I’m guessing,” Jack added.
Aris scowled. “That’s what the Goa’uld call it. We have another name.”
“Of course,” Daniel said, looking interested. “What is it?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s not ours anymore.”
Daniel’s expression bordered on sympathetic. Jack kicked him in the ankle.
It was clear what the Goa’uld saw in the place. In the flank of the mountain on the opposite side of the valley gaped the entrance to the mine, dark, toothless, drooling a steady stream of workers and wagons heaped with black rock. On the next plateau down, the refinery groaned and belched fire, and the steady thumping of the crushers stomped through Jack’s chest and made his heart stumble. How long, he wondered, would it take for that sound to grind a guy’s bones to dust? If he were lucky, he reasoned, the stench would kill him first.
“Nice,” Jack said sourly. The air was acrid and tasted a lot like rotten eggs, if the eggs had been soaked in gasoline. The back of Jack’s throat was worn raw after only a few breaths.
Beside him, Carter had a hand over her mouth and nose. “Is that sulphur?”
“It is not,” Teal’c answered. “But it is a by-product of the smelting. Extremely toxic with long exposure.” His scowl was eloquent. “I have seen many naquadah operations, but none on this scale,” he went on, his eyes roaming the valley. “The devastation is extensive.”
“Your capacity for understatement never ceases to amaze,” Jack said and turned to Aris. “Tell me again why you want to save this place?”
Aris said nothing, but as he turned to look at the city, his controlled expression opened for a second, long enough to bring that sympathetic look back to Daniel’s face. This time, though, Daniel had moved out of kicking range.
“It’s not the place that matters,” Aris answered finally. Jack waited for the zinger, but it never came. Instead, Aris waved his weapon toward the mine. “That way.”
“Great. Another mine,” Jack said. He glanced in Daniel’s direction, but Daniel was busily looking elsewhere. Jack turned his attention Carter’s way. “You ever get the feeling we’ve really done it all?”
“So much talking,” Aris said. “And yet, there’s nothing I want to hear you say.” The tip of his blaster against Jack’s ribs underlined his point. It took all Jack had not to turn around and try to rip the thing out of Aris’ hand. Instead he set his jaw and started moving.
None of the people would meet Daniel’s eyes.
This was the first thing he noticed; the second was the fact that all of them looked hungry. Not starved, but not well-fed. As he made his way down through the dark mine shaft beside Teal’c, pebbles slipped out from beneath their feet like a rolling carpet, making each step uncertain. He stuck his arms out for balance, but didn’t take his eyes off the endless stream of workers filing out of the mine.
“Teal’c,” he said, under his breath. Teal’c turned his head slightly, but didn’t speak. “Are they all slaves?”
“It would appear so,” Teal’c answered. He watched the parade of men, women, and children in threadbare clothes for a moment, then said, “It is clear the Goa’uld do not care if these people die in the mines. They do not intend to take them as hosts.”
Daniel skidded to a stop; Sam crashed into him, nearly knocking him headlong down the hill. Teal’c’s hand on his arm steadied him. He looked back at Aris. “You said it isn’t the place that matters. You mean it’s the people that matter, don’t you? It’s not about profit.”
“Still talking,” Aris said.
“I stop when I hear answers,” Daniel said.
“You’ll stop when I say stop.”
“Good luck with that,” Jack said to Aris. “Threatening to shoot him doesn’t work, either.”
“Nice,” Daniel said. Jack ignored him. Daniel directed another question to Aris. “But what do you need us for? We can’t do anything for you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Aris took a long, appraising look at Daniel. “You and Major Carter over there have what I need.”
Daniel glanced back at Jack, whose face was closed, his lips pressed hard together. “Care to elaborate?” Daniel asked. Jack moved a little closer, and Aris twisted sideways so Jack was in front of him rather than behind.
“You’re a linguist, Doctor. A translator. Major Carter here knows math. But none of this will be of any use to you if I have to kill you for not shutting up. Now move.”
“You won’t kill us if you need us,” Daniel began, but as soon as he said it, he realized his mistake.
Aris pointed the gun at Jack, then at Teal’c. Eyes on Daniel, he agreed, “True.”
“Right.” Daniel nodded slowly and turned back toward the path down into the mountain. He didn’t look at Jack, but said in a low voice, “Maybe Sebek was exiled here. That would explain why Yu was so quiet about it.” Ahead, a bedraggled woman raised her eyes to his, and curiosity compelled him to hold her gaze until she looked away.
“Perhaps Yu considered death too good for his enemies,” Teal’c said. “It is not unusual for a minor Goa’uld to be sent to a world of living death for punishment.”
“Indentured and sent off to a crappy planet,” Jack said. “Sounds about right.”
“Crappy planet” was really a bit of an understatement, Daniel decided. “Hellhole” was maybe more accurate. They left the main tunnel for a narrower branch that angled, if anything, even more steeply downward, then another and another, until Daniel could feel the whole weight of the mountain on his head. The acrid air inside the mine was thick and heavy with dust that dimmed the lanterns and coated all exposed surfaces. The workers who labored upward past them were shadowed with it, their eyes dull white and the round circles of panting mouths shockingly pink in dust-dark faces. It was even colder in there than it was outside, as though all the winters since the mine was opened had settled into the stone. Bones would feel like stone before long in there. A mind could die before a body did, with nothing to stare at but black stone and dust, or the back of the person ahead, or one’s own feet pacing the same path over and over.
A contingent of six Jaffa came up behind Daniel and the team, and the straggle of slaves shrank back against the wall, all eyes averted. After they’d passed, Daniel caught one or two of the slaves making a sharp, snapping gesture with their fingers, but seeing him, they dropped their hands and their expressions of hatred fell away, replaced by that blank dullness, empty despair. Somehow, he was encouraged. A glance over his shoulder showed him that Aris kept his own eyes straight ahead or on his own prisoners as if the slaves weren’t there, three feet away from him. He paid no attention when one bowed old woman trailed her fingers across his armored thigh as he passed.
They trudged on. And on. After a few more turnings, there were no more slaves. The air was a bit clearer here, but the darkness between the light sconces seemed more oppressive. Daniel shortened his pace a little to come closer to Jack.
Finally, Aris stopped before a poorly lit chamber. “In here.”
Daniel ducked his head and moved down a short ramp into the large open room. Three walls were the same dark rock as the rest of the mine, but directly ahead, a single slab of metal rose from the floor of the cave to the ceiling. Man-made, definitely, and covered with symbols—simple glyphs. In spite of himself, a thrill of anticipation rose in his gut. Some
thing new, something he hadn’t seen before, or looked for; something he hadn’t known existed. He stared, fascinated, at the tiny symbols.
“Do you know what it is?” Aris asked him.
Daniel could feel the others moving closer behind him, but he had eyes only for the glyphs. “I have no idea,” he said and smiled a little. It was another way of saying that he’d know soon enough. All translations were puzzles, made just for him. Jack’s hand on his shoulder interrupted that thought, and he turned away, reluctantly. “It’s… obscure,” he said, in response to Jack’s telegraphed warning. Of course he wasn’t going to give anything away. “I don’t recognize it.”
“That’s too bad, because the price of your freedom is an open door.” Aris settled himself on a rock beside the door, one hand resting casually on his weapon. At his feet were signs of excavation, like someone had been digging around and later refilled the hole.
“Why is it so important?” Sam asked.
Aris leaned back, opened his mouth to answer. Then, as if he thought better of it, he paused. He glanced up at the door, and his expression changed subtly before he said, “If you can’t open that door, my people are going to die. All of them.”
“Why?” Daniel asked softly.
“Sebek wants whatever is in there. But,” Aris indicated the door with the muzzle of his blaster, “he can’t get to it.”
“And he’s taking it out on your people,” Jack said sourly.
“Yes.” There were shadows in Aris’ eyes, and for a brief moment Daniel felt sorry for him.
Aris took a breath, then reached to his belt for a tiny packet of blue roshna. He emptied it into his canteen. “Major Carter, I don’t suppose you found a way to break the cycle with this. Did you?”
Sam’s face was pale. “We worked on the sample you gave me but didn’t have much luck.”
With a shrug, Aris said. “Fair enough. At least you tried.” Still, in spite of his response, his eyes were shrewd when he shifted them to Daniel.
Daniel knew he didn’t have to point out that their focus had not been on helping Aris but on figuring out if the roshna he and his people were addicted to also was responsible for their resistance to Goa’uld implantation. Thinking about it gave him a vaguely bitter taste in the back of his mouth. One more compromise they’d made over the years, one more opportunity they’d seized.
Aris upended the canteen and downed the contents, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sebek doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way. It’s making him crazy.”
“How can you tell?” Jack said. “Is it the bombastic ranting or the penchant for gold loincloths?”
“None of his scientists could break into it, so he had them all killed. Ripped their hearts out, right here on the floor.”
Daniel glanced down. Nothing under his feet but black rock. “That’s… not comforting,” he said.
With the canteen, Aris tapped the metal door, producing a hollow ring that echoed through the chamber. “Either you’ll get into this thing for me, or I’ll find another use for you.”
The symmetrical patterns seemed vaguely familiar to Daniel—matched figures stretching the length of the door, slightly off-center—but he couldn’t make a connection. “There are still some gaps in my memory. Without my translation tools, I may not be able to help.”
“Oh, you’ll be of use to me.” Aris leaned forward, his brown-golden eyes black in the dimness. “You’ll open the door, or I’ll trade you for roshna. Either way, you’ll serve a purpose.”
Daniel nodded, but he looked to Jack, who was the final decision-maker in this arena, no matter whose gun was on them or what options Daniel might think they needed to pursue. They couldn’t speak freely, at this point, and he had no alternatives in mind. Jack might, but he’d have to wait for his opportunity to arise. Jack was staring at Aris with a thinly veiled hatred, bold enough to make Daniel clear his throat for attention. Even with that unspoken signal, it took several more seconds for Jack to shift his gaze to Daniel. “I might be able to help,” Daniel offered, not at all certain it was true.
Without a word, Jack gestured up at the door with one hand, then dropped his arm to his side in disgust. Tacit permission to proceed.
All the way across the door, lines of glyphs repeated, dancing and taunting Daniel. He traced them with his fingertips, waiting for them to tell him what he needed to know to identify them. Deep imprints, stamped into metal, uniform and strong. It was a bold language. He followed the line of symbols to the right, letting touch lead him.
“There’s a mechanism here,” Sam said. She was scouting around on the right edge of the door. “Maybe some way to open the door, with this.”
“We’ve tried that,” Aris said. “If it ever worked, it doesn’t now.”
Daniel’s fingers ran off the edge of his canvas and into something more familiar. He pointed at the inscription in front of his face. “I don’t know what the rest of this is, but that’s Ancient.”
“Great,” Jack muttered.
“Are you able to translate this, Daniel Jackson?” Teal’c asked.
“More or less.” Daniel turned to them. “It says, ‘He who is locked in here shall die’.”
“I’m guessing that means ‘do not open’,” Jack said.
When Daniel met Jack’s eyes, he read the change of plan clearly: No more. Shut up.
Apparently Aris saw it too, because he growled, “I don’t need a genius linguist to tell me that a locked door means ‘keep out’.” In one fluid movement he rose and grabbed Jack by the wrist. The gun to the side of Jack’s head, he twisted Jack’s arm behind him, straight out, and bent Jack’s wrist with his thumb in the middle of his hand so that Jack’s fingers splayed and he sank to his knees. Dexterously shifting his grip, he pinned a little finger and started to bend it back. Jack winced once before his expression went stony.
Daniel made his face settle into a determined but reasonable cast. “I’m telling you what I see, that’s all.”
“You have to see more than the obvious. Maybe the concept of the death of thousands is too abstract for you. Maybe I need to put this in concrete terms.” Aris pressed harder on Jack’s finger. “For instance, this finger is the morning shift in the mine.” Jack’s expression didn’t change, but he hunched forward a little more.
Holding out a placating hand, Daniel licked his lips. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sam and Teal’c were poised in a way that suggested they were already plotting their moves. “I get it,” Daniel told Aris levelly. “I get the concept, believe me. I don’t need any demonstrations.” The concept was all too clear, embodied by an empty planet that had once been his home, and a people who no longer existed.
“Daniel,” Jack warned through gritted teeth.
“Jack.” He waved behind him at the door. “The Ancients, Jack.”
“The Goa’uld, Daniel.” Jack clamped his teeth shut when Aris twisted a little harder.
“Start reading,” Aris ordered.
“Don’t,” Jack said.
“Start reading,” Aris repeated.
“Jack-—”
Aris twisted again, and even from where he stood Daniel could hear the pop of Jack’s finger breaking. Opening his mouth wide, Jack let out a gasp that didn’t become a shout. Then he locked his jaws again.
Under Daniel’s feet, the floor lurched. He was aware of Sam yelling something, of Teal’c pulling her back with a hand on her arm, but it suddenly seemed like they were on television, separate, flattened, unreal. His ears started ringing. He leaned his back heavily against the door and, spreading a hand out beside his waist, let his fingers fall into the lines and angles of the strange script. He could feel the meaning in them vibrating through his fingertips. A memory stirred—a silver-backed fish darting under black water—and faded. He let go of the wall and rubbed his temple with his knuckles. He’d seen this script before. Behind his eyes, he could feel the pressure of wind blowing up from an ocean, the smell of salt, warm gra
ss. The Ancient words seemed to bruise his backbone and the pain anchored him. His fingers found their way back to the alien script. Still on his knees in Aris’ grip, Jack glared into the space in front of him, breathing hard.
“Easter,” Daniel whispered. He rolled onto his shoulder and pushed himself away from the door with one hand. He let his head fall back, and his eyes trailed the script from right to left, from left to right, drifting downward until they fell on the familiar shapes of the Ancient letters. They were layered on top of the original incised writing, as incongruous as graffiti on the Parthenon.
Behind him, Jack grunted and there was a muffled thud as he fell forward onto the stone floor. Outside the crushers on the plateau pounded their unrelenting rhythm and sent their vibrations deep into the mountain, through bedrock, into Daniel’s bones, a shuddering like music you can’t dance to. The Ancient letters seemed to float in front of the cryptic text, fuzzed around the edges as they jittered a little in front of Daniel’s eyes, keeping time with the pounding in the mountain or maybe the pounding of his heart—he couldn’t tell. He heard a gust of breath as Jack sat up and cradled his hand against his chest. Aris’ boots scraped the floor. The sounds were too bright, and in Daniel’s mind’s eye there was a transitory gleam offish scattering, memory dispersing, coming together—the smell of ocean, warm grass bending away from a salt-wind. Beneath the rumble and the shiver of the mountain, beyond his breathing, beyond the blocky, interlocking segments of the Ancient warning, he could see blank-eyed faces turned away from the sea.
“Easter,” Daniel said again, more firmly, nodding.
“Easter,” Jack repeated, his voice thin and breathy with not shouting. “As in bunny?”
Daniel turned to him, smiling, but the smile faded when he saw Jack’s face. The hiss of wind in grass was lost to the grinding of the mine, the mass of the planet bearing down on them. Daniel leaned against the door again, let it take his weight. “As in Island,” he said.