by Stargate
“And what happens if it turns out they aren’t suitable as hosts and don’t want to be spy slaves? Or they are suitable hosts but don’t want a symbiote. What happens to them then?”
Jacob swallowed a sigh. He was starting to see where Jack was coming from. “Daniel, don’t worry. We’ve got a range of options we’re considering. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?”
“Yeah,” said Daniel. He didn’t sound convinced. Just temporarily silenced. “Okay.”
“Good. So now we can move onto the next phase of the mission.”
“Next phase?” said Jack delicately, after a pause. “Jacob, all the hairs just stood up on the back of my neck.”
He pulled a face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think there was any point getting into the fine print before I had to. We’ve got some costuming issues to sort out—Yu’s slaves don’t generally wear combat fatigues—and then there’s the matter of the brands.”
Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “Brands?”
“All of Yu’s human slaves are branded shortly after birth,” Martouf explained. “It is a common Goa’uld practice. You will all be branded with his device, painlessly, so as not to arouse suspicions. Once the mission is complete we will reverse the procedure.”
Jack slapped the table. “Hey, Marty! D’you happen to remember what I said to you that time back in the SGC? You know? About surprises?”
“Blame me, Jack,” said Jacob. “I wanted to keep this low key till I was sure it’d happen.”
Jack turned to Teal’c. “I’m assuming that as a former First Prime you knew about this? Why didn’t you say something?”
Teal’c shrugged. “I thought you knew, O’Neill. At least your procedure will be painless. It was not so for me, or for the human slaves you will encounter.”
“Gee,” said Sam, no happier than Jack. “That’s comforting. Where are we supposed to be getting this little souvenir, anyway? ‘Cause if we’re talking anywhere below the belt you can—”
“The back of the shoulder is a common location,” said Martouf. “I am sorry, Samantha. I truthfully had no idea this would be a matter of concern for you.”
“Hey, no, don’t give it another thought,” said Jack. “We love to mutilate ourselves in the name of duty.”
Jacob looked at his daughter. “Sam…”
She glared. “Don’t you ‘Sam’ me, Dad. You should’ve told us.”
“I did. Just now, when it became germane to the mission. Hey, kiddo,” he added, as she continued to glare. “You say you want me to treat you like just another warrior? Okay. Fine. This is me, treating you like just another warrior.”
She subsided, very close to pouting, just as she’d pouted as a teenager. He could’ve hugged her.
“Carter?” said Jack. Clearly inviting her opinion. Her refusal.
She drummed her fingers on the briefing table. “You’re absolutely sure it’s non-permanent, Dad?”
He crossed his heart. “I swear.”
She let out a gusty sigh, rolling her eyes, then looked at Jack. “Hey, it can’t be as bad as wearing that stupid head-dress for the Shavedai.”
They exchanged swift, private smiles. Jack looked at Daniel. “How about you?”
Daniel shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Daniel—”
“What? There’s no need to bite my head off, Jack. Jacob says we need a brand then fine. We need a brand.”
Jack hesitated, thought about saying something else, then changed his mind. “So, Jacob, is that it? Is that the only surprise you’ve got in store?”
“The only surprise I know about? Yes, Jack. But I can’t guarantee there won’t be more down the track.”
“Of course you can’t. Where’s the fun in that?” Jack retorted. He let his head drop, then looked up. “So… is that it? We get branded, we get costumed, we head out?”
“Yeah. That’s pretty much it. So if there aren’t any more questions I suggest we break for lunch and meet up at the infirmary in an hour’s time. We’ll get the medical stuff taken care of, find you some appropriate clothing and then take off. The cargo ship is prepped and waiting.”
“Medical stuff,” said Jack, still unimpressed. “Gotta love those Tok’ra euphemisms.”
Just as George had told him, the best way to handle Jack O’Neill in this mood was to develop sudden deafness. “Are there any other questions?”
Sam shook her head. “Not from me.”
“Daniel?”
Another headshake. “No.”
Jacob switched off the hologram. “Okay then. See you in an hour.”
Without another word Daniel shoved his chair back and left the room. Sam and Jack stared after him. “Dammit,” Jack muttered, and pushed to his feet.
“You did bite him pretty hard, sir,” said Sam.
Jack turned on her. “Because I’m not interested in a repeat of our last mission, Carter. I want to make sure we’re all on the same page this time. Do you have a problem with that?”
She sighed. “No, sir.”
“Pleased to hear it.”
“Maybe I should go talk to him, sir.”
“Carter—”
“Please.”
For a long moment Jack looked at her, his expression cold and set. Then it thawed a little, and he nodded. “Fine.”
“Thank you,” she said, and went after Daniel.
Jacob looked at Jack. “Is this going to be a problem, Colonel?”
“No,” Jack said. “No problem at all.”
“Are you sure? Because once you and your team are in place the margin for error will be practically non-existent. If Daniel isn’t totally on board then—”
“He’s on board, Jacob.”
“Perhaps you should speak to Daniel Jackson yourself, O’Neill,” Teal’c said reluctantly. “If he should once more allow his heart to rule his head, even with good cause…”
“The consequences could be fatal,” said Martouf. “For the Earth-Tok’ra alliance, as well as us.”
“Sorry, Jack. I’m with Teal’c on this,” said Jacob. “You’re Daniel’s team leader. I’d feel a lot more relaxed if you made absolutely certain he knows what he’s getting himself into with this mission, and that none of us can afford him losing sight of the big picture.”
For a long time Jack stared at the floor. Then he nodded. “Sure,” he said, looking up. “No sweat. I’ll sort it out.”
Sam just missed stopping Daniel from ringing to Vorash’s surface. Dancing with impatience she waited for the device to return, then followed him up.
The wind was busy again, gusting sand-laden across the barren landscape. Running to catch him, wincing as her exposed face was scoured with grit, she shouted, “Daniel! Daniel, wait!”
For a moment she thought he was going to ignore her. Then he slowed, stopped and turned. Behind his glasses his eyes were hurt. Angry. “If you’ve come out here to defend him, Sam, don’t bother. I don’t want to hear it.”
She stepped back, stung, all her good intentions, her sympathy for his inevitable misgivings, evaporating in the face of his intransigence. “What do you want to hear, then? That he’s wrong because he’s Jack O’Neill? Is that your default position now, Daniel?”
“No!
“Then what?”
“Sam…” His clenched fists lifted. “I’m not a military robot, okay? I never have been, and if Jack thinks he can turn me into one he’s deluding himself.”
“Nobody’s asking you to be a robot, Daniel!” she snapped, and wrapped her arms around her ribs. She should’ve grabbed a jacket. “But we’re not a symposium of random academics debating the latest theory! We’re SG-1, a team, and as a team we need to follow the same game plan. We need to know we’ve got each other’s backs!”
His head came up as though she’d struck him. “When have I ever not had your back?”
She looked at him steadily. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Oh here we go,” he said, and turned away. “You�
�ll never let me forget it, will you? How many more times do I have to apologize for Shyla, Sam? Put my life on the line for you before you let that one go?”
“That’s not fair, Daniel,” she said. “I have never thrown Shyla in your face. Not once. None of us have, and you know it. But since you bring it up—admit it. Sometimes you let your heart rule your head and sometimes that’s been a problem for the rest of us.”
“And sometimes it’s been the only thing that’s saved us,” he retorted. “You admit that.”
“I do! God, Daniel, how many times have I gone to bat for you with the colonel?”
“Then why won’t you take my side this time?”
“Because this time your side is the wrong side!” she shouted. “It’s his job to make sure you understand the ground rules, Daniel.”
“Fine! But that doesn’t mean he has to jump down my throat, does it?”
“Maybe! You do have a habit of marching to your own drum, you know! And you made it pretty clear back there you aren’t happy about the idea of Goa’uld slave breeding farms.”
He turned on her. “Are you?”
“Of course not! But that isn’t the point,” she said, and on a deep breath made an effort to moderate her tone. “Daniel, what the hell is going on? You’ve known from the start what this mission’s aims are: infiltration and recruitment. It was never about liberating the slaves.”
He shrugged. “I know,” he said, his voice unsteady. “I guess it’s just… until now there was a chance the mission wouldn’t happen. Until now, I could push the cold hard facts to the back of my mind. Focus on other things, like drafting this Earth-Tok’ra treaty. But now we have a go and I can’t pretend any more. I can’t —“ He stopped. Frowned. “Oh, God. I can’t do this, either.”
She turned. It was the colonel, jacket collar turned up, trudging through the whipping wind towards them. He looked… resigned. All his anger dissolved, or at least safely leashed. Somehow, between the briefing room and the surface, he’d found his way to understanding. Solid and imposing by his side, seemingly oblivious to the flying sand, Teal’c.
“It’s okay, Carter,” the colonel said, joining them. “I’ve got it.”
With an anguished glance at Teal’c, she stepped back.
All of the colonel’s focus was on Daniel. “You didn’t think it through, did you,” he said quietly. His voice was remarkably… kind.
Daniel opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head. “No.”
“That was stupid.”
“Yes, I guess it was.”
The colonel’s eyebrows lifted. “You guess?”
Daniel held up his hands. “All right. Yes. It was stupid.”
She flicked another glance at Teal’c, who returned it without revealing a thing, then looked at Daniel and the colonel as they looked at each other in frustrated, baffled silence.
They’d never had an easy relationship. Probably they never would. But something tied them, some weird chemistry she’d never understand. She doubted they understood it, either. But it glued them together, kept them in mutual orbit when so often, too often, they opposed each other like boxers in the ring.
The colonel sighed. “Do you understand my position, Daniel?”
“Yes,” said Daniel. “Always. But do you understand mine?”
“Yeah. For once, I do. Trust me, I’m not looking forward to infiltrating a Goa’uld slave farm any more than you are. I think the whole idea sucks.”
“Then why agree to do it?”
“Because, you idiot,” the colonel said, with his typical tact, “it might just be the first step along the road to destroying all Goa’uld slave farms. Not just one of Yu’s hundreds. Do you get that, Daniel? Do you get it’s not about winning one battle, it’s about winning the whole damned war?”
Daniel’s arms moved in a gesture that mirrored his strangled feelings. “Yes, Jack. I get that. I just…”
The colonel stepped forward, and briefly rested a hand on Daniel’s tense shoulder. “I know. Daniel, I know. And I’m sorry. I wish there was another way. And I wish I could say it was okay for you to sit this one out, no harm, no foul. But the truth is we’re going to need you. It kills me to say it, but I think we’ll fail without you.”
This time when Sam glanced at Teal’c, he nodded. So she risked adding her two cents’ worth. “He’s right, Daniel. You have a gift for inspiring trust. The colonel and I, we might be able to protect them. But you’re the one who can reach them.”
“If your positions were reversed, Daniel Jackson,” said Teal’c. “If you were a slave on a Goa’uld breeding farm. Would you not wish for someone who could give you a chance to strike back at your oppressors?”
Reluctantly, Daniel nodded. “I guess.”
“Every time I engage in battle with the Goa’uld,” said Teal’c, his voice heavy with regret, “I kill my brother Jaffa. Jaffa I do not know, who might well burn for freedom as I burned whilst still a slave to Apophis. Every time, I wish that I could save them. Offer them the freedom the Tauri have given me. I cannot. So I must hope—I must believe—that my actions will one day lead to freedom for all my people. For the sons and daughters of the Jaffa I have fought, and killed, never knowing if they would have joined me had I been able to ask.”
The colonel said, “Daniel. I won’t lie. This mission’s going to be rough. Not just on you, on all of us. You think Carter doesn’t want to save those people? You think I don’t? Of course we do. And leaving them behind will be hell. But it’ll be worth it in the long run.”
“You’re certain of that?”
“Yes. Daniel, I want you with us. But only if you can promise me you’ll stay focused on the objective, no matter what. Because I meant what I said before. If you change your tune half-way through it really will be over.”
“If I say no,” said Daniel, after a long silence. “If I say I can’t trust myself not to… you know. What happens then?”
The colonel shrugged. “Carter and I’ll go anyway. There’s a lot at stake.”
“You’ll go. Even though you think you’ll fail without me?”
The merest hint of a smile touched the colonel’s lips. “I may have been exaggerating. A bit. You know me, always running my mouth.”
Daniel’s smile was equally ghostlike. “Yeah. It’s what I’ve always admired about you, Jack. Your loquacity.”
“Are you saying you can’t trust yourself?”
“I’m saying…” Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m saying this sucks, all right? I’m saying it’s not fair, nobody should be bred into slavery, there should be a way to save them all. Even though… I know… there isn’t.”
The colonel nodded. “Amen. Which means we do what we can, where and when we can, and we pray that in the long run it’ll be enough. So, Daniel. Are you in, or are you out?”
Sam held her breath. This was it. This was the moment. If Daniel agreed to come they’d muddle through their differences somehow, just like they always did. But if he said no…
“Fine. I’m in,” said Daniel. “And I’ll do my absolute level best to be a good little soldier. But I’m not wearing pink, okay?” He folded his arms to underscore the point. “Pink is not my color. And I’m not keen on the idea of prancing around half-naked, either. I mean, I’ve seen how the Goa’uld dress their slaves, you know? I’m an archaeologist, not an escapee from Chippendales. No pink, and no skimpy bolero-type tops. Are we clear?”
The colonel came as close to grinning as he ever did. “As crystal. Don’t worry, Daniel. Carter can wear the skimpy bolero. In fact I think she’d look totally fetching in a skimpy bolero. Don’t you?”
They all looked at her: the colonel, Daniel, Teal’c. The guys. Waiting, just waiting, for an outraged feminist response. She shrugged.
“Not fetching. Hot. I would look hot in a skimpy bolero. And for your information? I was born to wear pink.”
Smothering a wide smile, she turned and headed for the transport ring platform, leaving t
hem speechless in her wake.
Chapter Ten
“Papa! Papa, come quick! Jaffa!” Boaz dropped his hoe amongst the corn rows, guts clenching with sudden fear. Jaffa? Why? The next culling was months away. None of the women were due to give birth this week. Nobody was sick, or injured beyond healing, so there was no need for a killing. Why else would Hol’c and his underlings leave the comfort of their palace and come down to the village in the hot sun? What could they want?
Wiping a sleeve across his face he stepped out of the cornfield and waited for his son Mikah to reach him. Tall and beautiful and still only nine, five years before he’d be culled, the thought of his boy’s taking like the sharpest knife buried in his bowels.
“Hol’c sends for you, Papa,” Mikah panted, his bare chest sticky with dirt and sweat. Like some of the other grown children he’d been at work in the shucking house. “A Goa’uld is here, with strangers.”
It frightened Boaz, putting Mikah to work with the long-bladed shucking knives, but he couldn’t play favorites. Every child took its turn in the shucking house; it was the rule. But there were no cuts on Mikah’s bare arms, so he was safe. Relief flooded him: blemished slaves were unacceptable to the god, and met no happy end.
“Goa’uld?” he said, letting Mikah take his callused hand and tug him along the rutted path between the cornfields, back to the village. “What Goa’uld? Not Lord Choulai, you mean?” Curious faces peered as they hurried by, but nobody stopped working. Nobody was so foolish.
“No, a different one. Hol’c is afraid of him,” Mikah whispered.
Hol’c? Afraid? “And who are the strangers?”
“Humans. New slaves.”
“Ah.” Boaz felt his twisting guts relax. So this was nothing more dangerous than fresh blood. A nuisance, to be sure. Fresh blood always upset the community’s balance. Sometimes Lord Choulai decreed a man should leave his woman and mate with someone new. Or a woman bear the children of a new man. Nobody protested, at least not out loud, when such decrees were made. Protesters were punished. But still there were tears and sometimes raised fists, in private, where the Jaffa would not see.
But in the end, they did as they were told. How could they do otherwise? Disobedience was death.