by Stargate
“Positive. We’ll be fine,” he said, and slapped her lightly on the butt. “Now scoot.”
He’d dismissed her like that her whole life. Once upon a time it had angered her. Diminished her. Made her feel unwanted, unwelcome. Now, equally affectionate, she just smacked the back of his head and did as she was told.
But in the cargo hold’s entrance she paused, uncertain. Teal’c sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, head and spine in perfect alignment. His hands rested on his knees and his massive shoulders rose and fell, rose and fell, in time with his deep, silent breathing.
As she took a step backwards he said, “You may enter, Major Carter. I am awake.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling a little silly. “Sorry. It’s just—I thought you were in kel’noreem.”
His eyes opened. Warm, tranquil, welcoming. “No. I completed my required meditation while you and Martouf were adjusting the tel’tac’s hyperdrive system.”
She joined him on the cargo hold floor. “So this is—”
“Master Bra’tac calls it jal’ka’rovan. I believe on Earth it is known as Neuro-Linguistic programming. I was imagining our forthcoming attack on Elekba. Seeing it with my mind’s eye as I wish it to unfold in reality.”
“Rehearsing it, you mean?” she said, fascinated. “You know, I’ve heard of this. There was a POW in Vietnam, the Viet Cong hung him up for months in a bamboo cage barely big enough to stand or turn around in. He stopped himself going insane by playing rounds of golf in his head. He claimed that before he went to Vietnam his handicap was thirty-four. When he got home and played his first round of real golf in three years, it was twelve.”
Sagely, Teal’c nodded. “Indeed. In skilled hands, jal’ka’rovan is a formidable weapon.”
“And I’m guessing your hands are pretty skilled.”
A small, self-deprecating shrug. “Master Bra’tac says I did not disappoint.”
Sam punched his knee lightly with her fist. “You never do, Teal’c. You never do.”
He inclined his head graciously, acknowledging the compliment. Looking, as he so often looked, like some exotic foreign plenipotentiary. Then he said, almost hesitantly, “I sense you are apprehensive about this mission, Major Carter. Did you wish to discuss your reservations?”
Looking like an exotic plenipotentiary, and talking like an Oxford don. He was the most extraordinary person. “I’m okay,” she said. “A little nervous, I guess. But I’m always a little nervous before an important mission. And they don’t come much more important than this one.”
His hand, large and warm, came to rest on her shoulder. “You have devised an excellent plan, Major,” he said quietly. “O’Neill will be impressed and proud.”
Okay. If she wasn’t careful this could get embarrassing. Breathing carefully, subduing treacherous emotion, she brought all her focus to bear on her interlaced fingers. “Thanks, Teal’c. That means something, coming from you.”
“I am sorry,” he said, and withdrew his hand. “It was not my intention to distress you.”
“You didn’t!” she insisted. “God, no. I’m grateful. I really needed to hear that. I’m an astrophysicist at heart, Teal’c, not a military tactical genius. When I was a kid I wanted to be Matt Mason, not—not Rambo Barbie. These last four years—they’ve been fantastic, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade them for anything, but I never realized there’d be so much fighting. So much bloodshed. I’m okay with it,” she added, as Teal’c’s expression deepened into concern. “Now. I’m okay with it now. It took me a while, though. And if I’m being honest I have to admit there are still days I wonder what the hell I’m doing in a frontline combat team. But I’m fine. I am.”
Teal’c smiled one of his rare, sweet smiles. “You are more than fine, Major Carter. After O’Neill there is no warrior of the Tauri I would rather have by my side.”
“Yeah, okay,” she said tremulously. “Now you’re trying to make me cry.” She pressed her hands flat to her face. “Oh, God. I just want them to be okay, you know? I don’t want them to be hurt. Or—or tortured. The colonel’s had enough of that for one lifetime. For ten. And Daniel? God, what Daniel’s been through. He’s been hurt enough too. I just want them to be all right, Teal’c. I need them to be all right.”
Slowly, she lowered her hands to her lap and looked at him, feeling small and helpless. Feeling desolate.
“I too am concerned for O’Neill and Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c said gently. “But I find that performing jal’ka’rovan helps to allay my apprehensions. If you would like, I could teach you its rudiments as we travel to Elekba.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I would like that, Teal’c. I’d like it very much. Thank you.”
He nodded back, gravely pleased. “Very well. To achieve jal’ka’rovan you must sit like this…”
Hours later she woke to a hand gently shaking her shoulder. She sat up. “What?”
It was her father. “Okay, Sam. Time to lock and load. We’re coming up on Elekba.”
“Yeah. Right.” She shook her head hard to clear the fog, then looked around. “Where’s Teal’c?”
“Spelling me and Martouf on the flight deck.”
“What’s our status?”
Her father grinned. “Our status is the hyperdrive is on its last legs, but we’re here in one piece. We’ve all had some sleep. We know what we’re doing. In short, we’re good to go. Get yourself together and come join us up front.”
She nodded, and patted his hand. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll be right with you.”
He returned to the flight deck, and she made use of the head. Took a moment to breath and stretch the kinks out and replay, briefly, the mind games Teal’c had put her through before the need for sleep had claimed her.
Apparently they’d worked. She felt calm. Focused. Confident. Piranha fear, ripping and tearing and shredding her composure, was banished to the depths.
“Right,” she said, under her breath. “Let’s do it.”
Up on the flight deck Teal’c had surrendered his seat to Martouf. As she took her place beside her father, Martouf dropped the tel’tac out of hyperspace. Directly ahead was the small planet Elekba, one vast green ocean with a single brown continent floating on its surface.
“We are assuming orbit,” Martouf announced. “Prepare to send the scrambled signal to the SGC.”
Jacob slid into co-pilot’s seat and jabbed at the comm-console, coding the message and setting it to stand-by. He looked at Martouf. “Say the word.”
Martouf eased the tel’tac into synchronous orbit directly above Elekba’s lone landmass. Checked to make sure the ship’s cloak was functioning, and nodded. “Send the message.”
“Bombs away,” said her father, and pressed the last button. With an electronic gurgle, the coded subspace message was sent.
“I estimate fifteen minutes tops before we hear from Zammit,” said Sam. “Are the rings programmed, Dad?”
“Programming them… now.”
She left him to it and ducked back to the cargo hold to retrieve her P90, and zat-guns for her and Teal’c, as well as his staff weapon. Her sidearm and commando knife were already in place. These days she felt naked without them.
What was I saying about Rambo Barbie?
“Thank you,” said Teal’c as she handed him his weapons.
She managed a tight little smile. “You’re welcome. Martouf, if you’re sure the cloak’s still holding let’s take the ship down closer to the fortress. Every second is going to count…”
Delicately, the tel’tac descended until through the view screen window she could see tiny buildings and tinier trees and what may have been, might have been, a sliver of dark grey Stargate.
“We should go no lower than this,” Martouf advised. “If the cloak fails…”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. Good thinking. Are we okay for auto-pilot?”
“Auto-pilot is… engaged,” said Martouf. “We should position ourselves on the ring platform.”
“Took the words
right out of my mouth,” she told him, and flicked her vest radio onto ‘receive’.
Her father was the last to join them, tossing Martouf a modified TER, holding his own weapon in confident, capable hands. On his left wrist, the remote ring control.
She glanced at Teal’c and his staff weapon, solid, silent and sentinel beside her. Took a deep breath, eased it out, and lifted her watch in front of her eyes.
Five minutes. Eight minutes. Eleven minutes. God—
“Major Carter! Major Carter! This is Zammit! You have a go!” Behind his bold voice the sounds of warfare. Guns. Mortars. Staff weapons. Grenades.
She hit the send switch. “Major Zammit, your message received. Keep ‘em busy, we’re on our way!”
No need for words now, no time for quips or questions. Her father remote-activated the rings. Blinding light, a heartbeat of nothingness, and they were standing in the fortress courtyard. It was still early, the sun wasn’t high. Her brain took a snapshot: encircling red stone wall, flowering trees, blue gravel underfoot. No Jaffa. A flaming fireball rising into the sky. One of the al’kesh? Probably. Now she could hear things. Excited shouting. Running feet. Explosions coming from the direction of the ’gate. Rapid weapons fire.
“With me!” said Selmak, pointing. “The prison cells are down there!”
They sprinted behind him, towards large iron gates set into the fortress’s ground floor. The gates were locked. Teal’c blasted them open with his staff weapon.
Torchlight inside, gusty and guttering. Wide stone stairs leading into the unknown. They ran in silence, taking treads four at a time. Heading for the human voices that were howling in fear.
Six armed Jaffa running to meet them. Six dead bodies, tumbling down the stairs. Leap. Land. Make sure to keep running. God, don’t fall over. Broken bones will be fatal.
At last no more stairs. Safe footing to run on. Run faster. Sprint. The screaming louder now, filled with words. No time to listen. No time for compassion. Five large cages, three of them occupied. Reaching arms, waving hands. Desperate faces, pressed to the bars. Some looked familiar… but they weren’t who Sam wanted.
“Colonel!” she shouted. “Colonel O’Neill! Daniel!”
“Major Carter, look out!”
She whirled as Teal’c shouted, weapon lifting, to see a Jaffa rushing at her. Her finger tightened on the trigger—
—and Teal’c crashed into him, knees driving hard into his solar plexus, smashing the Jaffa to the flagstone floor. One hand’s fingers were wrapped around the enemy throat, throttling, the other full of knife and sliding inside unresisting Jaffa armor.
Behind her, Selmak and Martouf still searched for her team mates. “Colonel! Daniel! Are you in here! Where are you!”
Teal’c’s ferocity was oddly calm. “Are there more prisoners?” he asked the captured Jaffa. “Human, or Tok’ra? Where will we find them? Speak, and you live.”
The Jaffa’s distant ancestors had been Caucasian, but now his white skin was shading to dusky crimson. His eyes bulged, bloodshot and furious. He was trying to buck Teal’c off him and having no luck.
“Answer me!” said Teal’c, in a voice like a dagger. “Or I will cut your symbiote to pieces in its pouch. Can you feel my knife there? Do you doubt I will do it?”
The Jaffa squealed through purpling lips.
Sam touched Teal’c’s shoulder. “Let go of his throat, Teal’c, he’s going to suffocate.”
Teal’c loosened his grasp. “I will count to five,” he promised the Jaffa. “One—two—three—”
“Up the stairs!” croaked the Jaffa. “In a cell up the stairs!”
Sam spun around. “Look for stairs! They’re in a cell up the stairs!” She turned back—to see Teal’c draw his mucous-slimed knife across the Jaffa’s throat. Blood sprayed in a pumping arc. She fell backwards to avoid it. Scrambled to her feet and pulled Teal’c to his.
“Here!” called her father. “There’s a stone staircase here!” He and Martouf charged upwards and disappeared from sight.
Leaving the Jaffa and the still-screaming humans, Sam and Teal’c raced to the end of the prison block. As they reached the bottom of the narrow staircase they heard shouts of fury. Weapons discharging. The thudding of bodies hitting the floor.
The cell had been guarded. Of course, of course…
“Dad! Dad!”
Her father’s grim face appeared at the top of the staircase. “Get Teal’c up here. We can’t open the door.”
Sam flattened herself against the wall so Teal’c could push past her, running easily, four treads at a time. She reached the top stair just as his staff weapon blew a hole in the cell door.
They all fell through it: Teal’c, her father, Martouf and herself.
And there was Daniel. And there was the colonel. Jack looked like a scarecrow. He was burned and bloody. Relief in his eyes, and a comical outrage.
“Well, Hallelujah! It’s about damned time!”
Chapter Twenty
“Sam!” shouted Daniel, and clambered to his feet. His infected hand hurt like hell, pushing against the wall, but he didn’t care. It was like sunrise to see her, after a cold dark night. Sam, Teal’c, Jacob, and Martouf: his own private personal cavalry. His and Jack’s.
Sam flashed him a taut smile, looking like an Amazon, and dropped to a crouch beside Jack. Her narrowed eyes swept over him, noting every singe, every blood smear, the way his gaze seemed blurred. Unfocused. “Sir, what’s your status? Are you mobile?”
“Not so much,” he said, with a twisted smile. “I’ve been moonlighting as barbecue.”
“Yes, sir, I can see that. Teal’c?”
As Teal’c crossed the small cell Jacob said, “Daniel. Our operative, do you—”
He pulled a face. “I’m sorry, Jacob. Leith’s dead.”
“Damn,” said Jacob, his expression tight with pain. “Damn, she—”
“Hey, here’s a plan,” said Jack, teeth gritted as Teal’c helped him to his feet. “Escape now. Chit-chat later.”
Jacob gave him a look, then nodded. “We’ll make sure the coast’s clear. Don’t hang around once we give you the signal.”
“But the room’s paid up till the end of the week!”
“Sir—” Sam let out a harsh breath, and touched Jack lightly on the arm. “Teal’c, can you manage him on your own?”
“I can,” said Teal’c. “If he does not cease talking I will club him unconscious and carry him to the Stargate.”
Daniel took Sam by the arm and shuffled her a couple of paces sideways. Lowered his voice. “He’s running a fever. I think he’s delirious.”
She rolled her eyes. “How can you tell?”
“Sam—”
“Save it, Daniel.” She gave him her sidearm and a spare ammo clip. “Let’s get out of here.”
She led the way, he followed, and Teal’c brought up the rear supporting Jack, who muttered complaints and imprecations in an unsteady monotone. He really was running a fever. Hanging onto lucidity by his fingernails.
Whatever you do, Jack, don’t let go.
Jacob and Martouf were guarding the bottom of the staircase. They moved into the prison proper as the rest of the team came down the stairs. Now Daniel could dimly hear the sounds of distant battle, gunfire and explosions and staff weapons, blasting. In the cages, the people were screaming. He heard a piping voice cry, “David! David!”
It was Sallah. She sounded terrified. Daniel stumbled as a fierce pain went through him, as though grief were a spear and had pierced his racing heart.
Jacob said, “We’re clear. The rest of Anatapas’s Jaffa must be taking on the strike team. Let’s go—and keep your eyes peeled. We’ve got Goa’uld on the loose around here somewhere.”
Daniel steadied himself against the nearest bit of wall. To hell with what he’d agreed to back on Vorash. Leaving Sallah and her people behind was wrong.
Sorry, Jack. You can kick my butt later.
“We can’t go,” he said. �
�Not without the—”
Jacob turned on him, his expression ferocious. “Daniel, remember the mission briefing!”
“But Dad—” said Sam. She was staring at all the desperate faces in the cages.
“Sam—”
“They’re right, Jacob,” said Jack, swaying drunkenly, still on his feet only because Teal’c was holding him upright. “We can’t just leave them.”
Daniel nearly swallowed his tongue. “Jack?”
“I know how you feel, Jack, I feel the same way,” Jacob said urgently, “but you and Daniel are our top priority. We don’t have time for anyone else. We have to get to the Stargate now. If we get caught this mission will have been for nothing.”
Jack glowered at him. “We’ll have plenty of time if you stop arguing.”
“It’s too big a risk! Jack, for God’s sake—”
With a swallowed grunt of discomfort Jack pushed away from Teal’c and made himself stand unaided. Fixing Jacob with a baleful glare he said, almost snarling, “You want hosts? You want spies? Save these people and they’ll owe the Tok’ra big time. We got into this mess to find you recruits, Jacob. And now you want to turn down hundreds of them?” His wildly swinging arm took in the packed cages. The weeping, anguished faces. The people with no futures… unless a future was given to them.
Martouf stepped forward. “Colonel O’Neill, we—”
“Shut up, Martouf! I may be out of uniform but I’m still the ranking officer and this is an SGC operation. Right?”
A frozen moment, as Martouf, Jacob and Jack glared at each other. Then Sam toggled her vest radio. “Zammit? Carter. What’s your status?”
A crackle of static, then Zammit’s reply. “The ’gate’s secure but we’re still taking fire. What’s your ETA?”
“Unknown. We’ve got a complication. Hold the fort and don’t dial home till you see us coming.”
“Roger that. But get a move on, we ain’t got all day.”
Sam turned to her father. “You and Martouf go. Take Teal’c and the colonel. Cover them and help clear the way for us. Daniel and I’ll be right behind you, bringing your recruits.” When Jacob hesitated, she shook his arm. “Go on, Dad. Go!”