Alliances

by Stargate

  “Really.”

  “Do you know what about?”

  “I can guess.”

  “Well? Is she right? Is there something you wanted to say to me? About the Eurondan mission?”

  Daniel shrugged. “Not really.”

  O’Neill’s guts tightened further. Daniel had learned to mask his feelings from some people, yes, but not him. “Which means yes, but you don’t think there’s any point.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to,” he retorted. “Reading you is about as hard as getting through ‘See Spot Run.’”

  “Jack…” With a sigh, Daniel stopped stuffing pens back into their case. “Not now, okay? Let’s just focus on this mission for now. We’re making excellent progress, some really good things could come out of this. Let’s not spoil it. At least not yet.”

  Spoil it? “Daniel, what the hell do you want from me? I apologized, didn’t I? I admitted you were right and I was wrong and I made sure nobody like Kinsey could get their hands on Alar and start making deals that you couldn’t live with. What else—”

  Daniel started as though he’d been shot. “What? Are you saying you killed him for me?”

  “No! I’m saying—hell, Daniel, I don’t know what I’m saying!” O’Neill retorted, unnerved by the dreadful look in Daniel’s eyes. “I just—”

  Daniel shoved his chair backwards, and stood. “Jack, I don’t want to do this. Euronda is done with. Nothing you or I say about it now can change what happened and frankly, I’m sick of thinking about it. We’re here on Vorash to do some good. Let’s talk about that, instead. Okay? Do you think we can do that?”

  Searing, white-hot silence. Beyond the rec hall’s open doorway a steady increase in foot-traffic, as off-duty Tok’ra operatives made their way to the mess hall, and dinner. Their passing conversations were jumbled, indistinct, but they sounded cheerful.

  Subdued, stunned by a self-discovery he hadn’t been expecting, O’Neill nodded. “Sure, Daniel. We can do that.”

  “Okay. Good.” The relief in Daniel’s voice was overwhelming. “I’ve got to go stow these notes. I’ll see you in the mess hall, okay?”

  “Yeah. Whatever.”

  Daniel departed. O’Neill stood alone in the Tok’ra recreation hall, lacking the will to move.

  You killed him?

  It was the first time Daniel had admitted he thought Alar had been killed on purpose. Not by accident, or through ignorance. On purpose. By him.

  For me?

  Oh, crap.

  He’d lost his appetite but he went to dinner anyway. Carter was waxing rhapsodical about her day, and how much she’d gained from talking to some of the base’s human operatives.

  “Dad was right,” she said. “About what I know from Jolinar, without realizing that I know it. When I was talking to them I could—I don’t know—feel things about them. Tell which ones would make good hosts, and which ones wouldn’t.”

  “How?” said Daniel. Inevitably, he looked fascinated.

  “Beats me,” said Carter, shrugging. “But I tested myself on a group of humans who’ve already been assessed as potential hosts. I was one hundred percent accurate. When the mission’s a go and we’re on the slave farm, I’ll definitely be able to choose the best candidates for recruitment.”

  Even though it was good news, O’Neill frowned. It was galling to discover that Jacob was right. “You’ve changed your tune, haven’t you?”

  Surprised, she looked at him. “Sir?”

  “Last time I looked you weren’t too thrilled about having a snake in your head.”

  She flushed. “Jolinar was a long time ago. Since then I’ve got to know Martouf a lot better. And of course there’s my dad. Besides, sir, it turns out I owe Jolinar a thing or two. Without her I wouldn’t have saved Dad from Sokar… and I couldn’t participate in this mission.”

  Yeah. Right. Let’s hear it for Jolinar. “Okay,” he said.

  With a last concerned glance, she turned to Teal’c. “What about you? How was your day?”

  “Successful,” said Teal’c. “I spent it describing the life of a typical Jaffa warrior to a group of Tok’ra operatives. Both Martouf and Aldwyn said afterwards they had gained much insight from my revelations.” His eyes glimmered with dry amusement. “The Tok’ra are more used to killing Jaffa or giving them orders when they pretend to be Goa’ulds, than seeing us as potential allies.”

  “And they’re treating you okay?” said Daniel. “I mean, nobody’s giving you a hard time because you were Apophis’s First Prime?”

  For a moment Teal’c didn’t answer. Then he released an almost imperceptible sigh. “There have been no active demonstrations of hostility, Daniel Jackson. Nevertheless I did sense, in some of the Tok’ra present, an air of tension. It is only to be expected. The Jaffa are sworn enemies of the Tok’ra, and have slaughtered thousands of them over the centuries. Trust between us can be built. It must be built, if we are to unite and defeat the Goa’uld. But trust is not built overnight. We must be patient. All of us.”

  O’Neill pulled a little face; that commentary had been directed right at him. “I’m beat,” he said, standing. “I think I’ll turn in.”

  They bade him goodnight, and he headed for his quarters with a detour via the communications room so he could give Hammond an update.

  “Jack, I was wondering when I’d hear from you,” said the general through the audio-uplink to home. He wasn’t even trying to hide his relief. “Is everything okay?”

  “If you mean have I single-handedly dismantled the base and the cordial relations between the Tok’ra and the SGC, the answer’s no, sir. Everything’s fine.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” said Hammond, reproving.

  It was ridiculous, how cheered he felt just by hearing that brusque, familiar voice. “Yes, sir. Everything’s fine, sir. How’s life at your end?”

  “The same as you left it,” said Hammond. “Busy. When do you head out on Jacob’s mission?”

  “Don’t know yet. Apparently there’s still some political in-fighting to sort out. But soon, I hope. The scenery here is kind of boring. Not enough green.”

  “Hang in there, Colonel.”

  “Yes, sir.” He took a deep, uncomfortable breath. “Sir—are there any developments with the Kinsey situation?”

  “Yes, as it happens.” It sounded like Hammond was smiling. “Senator Kinsey has a great deal more to worry about than you at the moment, Jack. Seems one of his trusted personal aides has been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. The press is having a field day.”

  “Gosh, sir. How sad for him.”

  “Yes, I thought you’d be heartbroken,” said Hammond, dryly. “Colonel, I have to go. Is there anything you need?”

  “More food, sir,” he said promptly. “Or Julia Childs, whichever is easier.”

  “I take it Tok’ra cuisine isn’t to your taste?”

  “They have cuisine?” He smiled. “We’re fine, sir. Tell the President Daniel’s got a good head start on the treaty.”

  “He’ll be pleased to hear it. Keep me apprised of your status, Colonel. Hammond out.”

  O’Neill disconnected the communications uplink and wandered the drearily all-alike corridors back to his quarters. There he sprawled on his bed and made notes in his own incomprehensible shorthand about intelligence sharing issues that Daniel needed to include in his preliminary treaty outlines.

  They were good notes. Sharp observations. Relevant enquiries. Like a bear emerging from hibernation his command instincts were coming back to life. For the first time since Euronda he was feeling like a Special Ops expert again. Like himself again.

  It was only just starting to dawn on him, how much Euronda had knocked the confidence that these days he took for granted. But now the fog was lifting.

  It was about damn time.

  Are you saying you killed him for me?

  “Shut up, Daniel!” he said to the crystal walls. �
�Can’t you see I’m working, here?”

  Refusing to be sidetracked, he focused again on his notes.

  Chapter Nine

  Jacob called the mission briefing for an hour before lunch the following day. Now that the last minute political wranglings were over and the moment of truth was upon them, he could admit to a certain level of trepidation. He wasn’t just risking his own life with this plan, he was risking Sam’s and her team’s, too. And Martouf’s. Of course he’d spent a large chunk of his Air Force career risking other people’s lives for the greater good… but he’d never liked doing it. That was just one advantage about being Tok’ra: he risked his own life, and Selmak’s, and hardly ever anyone else’s. He didn’t relish this return to the good old days.

  Your daughter chose this life, Selmak reminded him. As did her companions, and Martouf. They are seasoned warriors. Focus your energy on success, Jacob, not on failure.

  I know, he replied. I will.

  “Good afternoon,” he greeted his team as they took their seats around the briefing table. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? The breeding farm Martouf and I have selected as our target is one of the hundreds operated by the Goa’uld System Lord Yu, whom I believe SG-1 has already met. This particular farm is located on Panotek, a habitable moon orbiting a gas giant on the outskirts of Yu’s territory.”

  He flipped a switch, activating a holographic projector. With a low-pitched hum a slowly rotating three-dimensional representation of the planet and its three moons appeared above the briefing table.

  “The first thing to note is there’s no ’gate access to this facility, which means we’ll have to go in by ship.

  “No Stargate?” said Daniel, frowning at the hologram. “Is that safe?”

  “It’s not unsafe,” Jacob said. “And the target is our best bet strategically. Panotek is located a long way from Yu’s central administration centre. Goa’uld traffic is light.”

  “You mean he doesn’t drop by once a week to visit and gloat?” said Jack.

  “He doesn’t drop by, period. Over the centuries Yu has conquered a vast area. Because of his empire’s size, and since he frequently skirmishes with other system lords, he doesn’t have time to administer it all himself. He’s got a whole cadre of minor Goa’uld lordlings who take care of the day-to-day housekeeping chores.”

  “Like breeding humans,” murmured Daniel. His face was screwed up in disgust.

  Jacob nodded. “Exactly. And the lordling in charge of this sector is so busy trying to scheme his way into a position of real influence he doesn’t have time to pay close attention to a single human slave farm.”

  Frowning, Jack said, “Okay. Sounds promising. What about the farm’s security?”

  “It’s minimal. In fact, the lack of Stargate access is the security, pretty much. There’s a small garrison of Jaffa stationed there, with a cargo ship and four gliders, and that’s all.”

  “So how will you get us in?” said Sam. “They won’t be expecting us. You don’t think it’ll make the Jaffa suspicious, us turning up on their doorstep out of the blue?”

  “They’re not paid to be suspicious. Or to question the orders of a Goa’uld. That’s who I’ll be impersonating when I deliver you into their tender care. Just another of Yu’s lordlings doing his master’s bidding.”

  “Deliver us as what?”

  “Fresh blood, to prevent inbreeding.”

  “Actually, Jacob,” said Jack, “it’s not the getting in part I’m worried about. It’s the getting out again. Especially if we’re leaving with some new friends.”

  “That is true,” said Martouf. “A successful withdrawal is likely to be challenging.”

  Jack turned to Teal’c. “He’s got a lovely turn of phrase, hasn’t he? ‘Likely to be challenging’. I wonder what that means, exactly?”

  “It means,” said Jacob, before Jack could really warm to his theme, “that to a certain extent we’re going to have to play it by ear.”

  “But if we just vanish into thin air,” said Sam, “with or without other slaves, won’t that create a huge panic?”

  “It might,” said Martouf, “in a sector controlled by a different lordling. We chose this particular farm in part because the lordling who rules it has in the past allowed ambition to override his feudal obligations.”

  “Four years ago,” Jacob added, “a plague broke out on the farm. Choulai covered it up rather than admit to Yu he let over thirty slaves die needlessly.”

  Daniel cleared his throat. “And you know this how?”

  “We have excellent intelligence.”

  “So, Jacob, you’re sending us into a plague zone?” said Jack.

  “Of course not,” he snapped. “The disease has long since been eradicated.”

  Jack’s expression was skeptical. “According to your excellent intelligence.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you’re banking this Choulai character will just fiddle the books so Yu never knows he’s got cattle rustlers?”

  “Actually, sir,” said Sam, “it’s not an unreasonable assumption. Not if he’s determined to keep a clean record and provided we’re only talking about a handful of individuals. Covering up the loss of a few slaves wouldn’t be too hard. I’m betting that humans die all the time on these farms. Accidents. Childbirth. Illness.”

  “It is even possible that the Jaffa in charge might lie to save themselves from retribution for incompetence,” added Teal’c. “It would not be the first time.”

  Jack turned to Teal’c. “Really?”

  Teal’c nodded. “Yes.”

  “Cool. Nice to know that ‘covering your ass’ is a universal constant.”

  “So Jacob,” said Daniel. “These breeding farms. How are they set up, exactly?”

  “For the most part as regular farms, actually,” he said. “They’re almost completely self-sustaining. The humans raise a variety of crops and livestock, to feed themselves and other parts of Yu’s empire—”

  “And in their spare time they raise little babies,” said Daniel, fingers tight around his unused pen, “which grow up to become slaves. Great. Am I the only one here who feels like puking?”

  “No, Daniel, you’re not,” said Jack, forestalling other comments. “But before you start getting any radical ideas, here’s the deal. No matter what we find when we get onto this moon, no matter how offended your sensibilities are by this whole slave farm thing, we do not rock the boat. This is not a rescue mission. We are not going there to free the slaves. We have a single objective: to recruit hosts and spies for the Tok’ra. That’s it. Are you reading me, Kunta Kinte?”

  Daniel blinked. “Jack?”

  Jacob exchanged a look with Martouf, then considered the others. As usual, Teal’c’s expression was inscrutable. Sam was frowning, her gaze lowered, the muscles in her jaw tense. Jack leaned forward across the table, pointed finger jabbing.

  “You know what I’m talking about, Daniel. Once we’re in place there will be no arguing. There will be no passionate speeches about the rights of man. There will be no heated debate on the ethics of leaving tiny babies to grow up as Goa’uld slaves. This time we’re going in with our eyes open. This time we know exactly what we’re letting ourselves in for. This time if you cross me it will be for the last time. Do you get it now? Or do I have to draw you a map?”

  Electric silence. Then Daniel shook his head. “No. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear.”

  Jack sat back. “Good.”

  Jacob cleared his throat. “Okay,” he continued, because they still had stuff to get through, “what we don’t want to do is hang around longer than absolutely necessary. Once you’re part of the slave population you’ll mingle, you’ll chat, you’ll identify the people most open to questioning the Goa’uld and taking direct action against them, so that Sam can assess their suitability for recruitment.”

  “What’s our operational timeframe?” said Sam.

  “A week, max. First time out I want to
play things safe. At the end of seven days, or sooner if you get lucky, Martouf and I will pull you and any volunteers out of there.”

  “But we must make one thing clear,” Martouf added. “Only those slaves willing to risk their lives for the Tok’ra will be taken off Panotek. And you cannot promise them freedom as an incentive to gain their co-operation. They must first prove their worthiness by expressing a desire to fight the Goa’uld.”

  “And what will you two be doing while we’re fomenting rebellion?” said Jack.

  “Martouf and I will be standing by ready to scoop and run at the first sign of trouble,” Jacob replied. “Either in cloaked orbit, or somewhere safe on the ground. You’ll all have Tok’ra communicators. We’ll never be out of touch.”

  Teal’c frowned. “I wish to once again state my objection to not being included on this mission.”

  “Sorry, Teal’c,” said Jacob. “I’ve weighed the pros and cons a dozen times, but I think it’s just too risky. If the worst happened and we fell into enemy hands we could bluff our way out, but you’d be recognized as the First Prime who defied Apophis. That nifty gold brand of yours is as good as your name in flashing neon lights and it doesn’t rub off.”

  “See?” Jack murmured. “That’ll teach you to be famous.” Then he sighed. “I hate to say it, but Jacob’s right. This is one time your defiance of Apophis won’t be a rallying cry to the troops. You need to sit this one out, Teal’c.”

  After a moment, Teal’c nodded. “Very well. I will not speak of this again.”

  “And that about wraps it up,” Jacob said. “Anyone have a que—”

  “I do,” said Daniel, raising a finger. “The slaves we—” He pulled a face. “Recruit. They’ll be given Tok’ra symbiotes and sent back in to spy on Yu or some other Goa’uld, yes?”

  “Some will become Tok’ra,” said Martouf. “Others will remain human and be placed on another slave farm to recruit among the humans there.”

  “Go back to being slaves, in other words.”

  “Yes. But it will be their choice, Daniel,” Martouf said solemnly.