SG1-16 Four Dragons

by Botsford, Diana

  Daniel’s neck stiffened.

  “Stand up straight, shoulders back.”

  A hand slid down to the trigger.

  Time to push harder. “Stop being a pansy. Shoot to win, damn it.”

  Zing. The target flapped back and came to a rest. “Satisfied?”

  “Not bad,” Jack answered. Picking up the target, he moved it back another twenty feet and then returned to his pack behind Daniel. He pretended not to notice the red-faced glare saved for him and him alone.

  “Again,” he said.

  “Not till you tell me what this is about.”

  Jack stabbed a finger at the target. “Just shoot the damn thing.”

  “If I understood what — ”

  “Listen, knowledge-boy, you don’t need to understand everything.”

  Daniel dropped the weapon to his side again. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  “What?” Jack asked, getting up in Daniel’s face. “You think it’s more important to know everything than be able to protect yourself? When there’s twenty Jaffa on our tails, the only knowledge I need is that you can take up that weapon and shoot the shit out of it like there’s no tomorrow.”

  His point made, Jack snapped his mouth shut and stormed back to his original position behind Daniel. He about-faced and met Daniel’s eyes as casually as he could.

  Daniel stared at him as if he’d just lost his mind.

  Maybe he had. That wasn’t the point. Yanking his ball cap down low, Jack jerked his chin toward the armored disk. “Shoot the target.”

  Thankfully, Daniel did as he was told without another word. He raised the P90 and shot once more. A perfect hit. The target flopped back with another zing and then settled back down.

  Jack scooped up the rolled up bandage. Clearly, it was time for step two.

  * * *

  A shot rang out, echoing across the dusty basin of the ruins. From her position at the far end of the dig, Sam saw a few archaeologists pop their heads up, like groundhogs in the spring, but then bent back to the task at hand.

  With Teal’c at her side, they continued their scout of the perimeter. Sam knew Daniel would far rather be digging in the dirt, pouring over broken bits of Chinese artifacts, than proving to the colonel that his shooting skills were up to par.

  Which they were. Sam had made that clear to the colonel. In fact, she would even have said that Daniel handled a rifle better since his return than ever before.

  Another shot.

  Teal’c ignored the sound, keeping his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. More scientists peered up from behind their glasses. Halfway around the elliptical road surrounding the ruins, SG-13’s Balinsky and Wells laughed nervously. Colonel Dixon shouted something unintelligible and they both stopped and went back to work, helping Dr. Lee pack up some pieces in a container.

  Before any feeling of embarrassment for Daniel could raise its ugly head, Sam shoved it down. Boxed it up and didn’t look back. A silent nod from Teal’c, her own dismay echoed in his eyes, and the two resumed their sweep of the area.

  Everyone had known to expect gunfire. Heck, she’d been the one to warn SG-13 and the scientists. She understood what Colonel O’Neill was trying to drive home to Daniel, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

  With a hand over her eyes to block out the late afternoon sun, she looked up at the nearby hill as the colonel stormed past that odd-looking statue.

  “Is it not an Earth saying that practice makes perfect?” asked Teal’c.

  “Of course it is,” Sam replied with a shrug. “I go to the firing range whenever we’re on Earth.” Sam was one of the first women in the military allowed sharpshooter status and she had every intention of keeping her ranking. Still, she was Air Force. Daniel wasn’t.

  “Perhaps O’Neill believes Daniel Jackson would benefit from the same discipline.”

  “Except we’re not on Earth. Besides, you know Daniel can hold his own. How many times has he covered your back?”

  “And yet, O’Neill remains skeptical.”

  “Well, the colonel sort of mastered the art.”

  Teal’c raised an eyebrow.

  Sam translated. “Of being skeptical, I mean.”

  “Indeed.”

  The two fell into companionable silence, the crunch of dirt under their boots the only sound other than the murmur of activity around the dig. Sam glanced up the hill when she realized the shots had stopped. Hopefully, ‘target practice’ had finished.

  Teal’c followed her line of sight. “There are times O’Neill uses odd ways to ensure team improvement.”

  Sam chuckled. “Besides pizza and forced Simpson marathons?”

  “For one, this Morse code he advised for study.”

  “It does have its uses.”

  “Such as?”

  She stopped walking. The fact that they’d ended up right below where the colonel and Daniel were positioned had nothing to do with it. She wasn’t a mother hen… She just felt like one sometimes.

  Pulling out her radio, Sam motioned for Teal’c to do the same. “Switch over to channel three. Don’t worry, it’s empty.”

  In Teal’c’s large hands, the radio looked like a toy. He turned the knob on the top of the casing and nodded.

  Sam thumbed the push-to-talk button and clicked out three short bursts, three long ones, and then three short bursts again.

  Teal’c cocked his head. “Do these sounds have meaning?”

  “In a way, yes.” She knelt down and poked three dots into the sand. “Each group represents a letter. In this case, the three short bursts represent three dots which in turn represent the letter S.”

  Sam then drew three long dashes across. “Those longer bursts represent dashes. Three of them stand for an O.” She finished her Morse code drawing with three additional dots.

  “SOS?”

  “That’s right. It’s an abbreviated way of saying help. Some people think it means Save Our Ship or Save our Soul though it’s really just easier to remember a simple pattern like this.”

  Teal’c raised an eyebrow. “Would it not be even easier to use HELP? It has only one additional letter and its purpose is — ”

  Another shot rang out.

  “What the hell!”

  That was Daniel. Sam closed her eyes, waiting for what she knew would be the colonel’s equally loud response.

  “Oh, for crying out loud. It’s just a damned bandage. I didn’t hit you that hard.”

  Without even thinking, Sam bolted up from her crouched position, switched her radio back to channel five and stuffed it in her vest. She headed toward the hill.

  And was stopped by Teal’c’s hand on her arm. “Major Carter, should we not ‘stay out of it’ as we were specifically requested to do by Colonel O’Neill?”

  Sam took a long breath. Teal’c was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. She told him as much. “I know Daniel’s barely back. I understand the colonel’s concerns, but we were… We are a team. Shouldn’t that count for something?”

  Teal’c bowed his head. “Then I suggest we allow O’Neill and Daniel Jackson to sort this out for themselves.”

  * * *

  Daniel dropped the rifle to his side in disbelief. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you’re trying to kill me.”

  “With a roll of gauze?” Jack moved the target another ten yards out. He stomped past Daniel, his head down as if he refused to look Daniel in the eye. “Again.”

  “You want to tell me what this is about?”

  “Not really. Just shoot the damn thing.”

  Daniel half lifted the rifle and then stopped. “Don’t throw any more bandages.”

  “No problem.”

  Daniel raised the rifle, squared off the target and —

  Got hit in the back by something heavy and plastic wrapped. Unbelievable. Jack had thrown an MRE at him.

  “Shoot the target.”

  “No.”

  “Can’t take a little distraction? Get
used to it. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re facing an enemy who’ll use distraction, surprise, misdirection… Anything to throw us off guard. It’s one of the first principles in war, whether you like it or not.”

  Daniel couldn’t believe his ears. “What… Are you quoting the Air Force manual at me now?”

  “Trust me, the concept’s been around a lot longer than the Air Force.” Jack threw another MRE. It fell to the ground at Daniel’s feet. “Now shoot the god damned target.”

  “No!” Daniel exploded. Resisting the urge to throw his rifle to the ground, he laid it down and stepped away. “Why…? Explain to me… Why do you think throwing things will make a difference?”

  Jack strode toward him and faced him down. “Pick it up.” He scooped up the rifle and shoved it at Daniel.

  Who refused to take it.

  “Jack…”

  “No, Daniel. I’m not playing touchy feely with you today. You’re going to learn — ”

  “Learn what? To shoot while you’re throwing things at me?”

  “To stay focused. To shoot first. To goddamned do whatever it takes to stay alive. Survival comes first. Whether it’s from a gun, or — ”

  “All these years… you don’t think I’ve being doing that already?”

  “No. No, I don’t. That latest near fiasco rescuing Teal’c and his kid made it very clear. You wanted to go in, guns a blazing, with no thought to whether or not you’d survive.”

  Daniel winced at the reminder of having to stand by and listen while Teal’c and Rak’nor were nearly whipped to death. He’d hated every moment of it.

  “Look at what happened on Kelowna.” Jack raised a finger. “First, you jump into a radioactive mess without even thinking and get yourself killed. You should’ve learned your lesson there, but no…” A second finger shot up. “Now you’ve come back, all nice and clean, alive and whole, and what to do you do? The second we get back on that planet, you do it again. You don’t watch your own six because a freaking crystal means more than your own life. If it wasn’t for Jonas blocking that Jaffa’s blast — ”

  Daniel sputtered. “How was that my fault?”

  “Because you didn’t think first!”

  His glasses slipped down his sweaty nose. He pushed them back up. “And I supposed you would have done it differently?”

  “Hell, yes.” Jack thrust the rifle at him again.

  Daniel had no choice except to take it. “And throwing things at me… That’s supposed to teach me to think first?”

  “Something better.”

  He watched Jack storm off toward the pile of objects he’d been lobbing at him. “Stop trying to make me more like you.”

  “And that would be bad, how?”

  “You could have said something. Told me how you felt.”

  “No feelings.” Jack pointed at the target. “Just shoot.”

  Even from this distance, he could see Jack clench his teeth.

  “So help me God, Daniel.”

  If taking a few MREs thrown at him would prove himself to Jack O’Neill, then fine. He’d do it.

  With a shake of his head, Daniel raised his rifle. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jack grab another MRE.

  He focused on the target. Finger on the trigger.

  Pop. A bullseye on the target and a slam against the head. His hat and the MRE dropped in unison to the ground.

  “Again.”

  With a sigh, Daniel aimed once more. “I thought we were friends.”

  “Friends grab a drink. Friends play poker,” Jack said. “Shoot it again.”

  Daniel knew better, but held back a response. He squeezed the trigger.

  “Friends don’t skip out on the next Oma Express.”

  Hardened clay splattered on the dirt. Daniel’s shot had gone wild, hitting the Zhenmushou’s front paws.

  A sick feeling hit his stomach.

  “Nice shooting there, Ace.”

  Daniel threw down the P90, no longer caring. Not about Jack. Not about proving himself. He’d just done the unspeakable, damaging a critical artifact.

  Grabbing his hat off the ground, Daniel headed down the hill and as far away from Jack O’Neill as he could get.

  * * *

  Daniel slid between two perpendicular walls at the far end of the ruins. Hopefully, the six-foot high crumbling facades would provide enough cover so he could hide for a while. The last thing he wanted was to talk. Not to Sam, not to Teal’c, not even to his old room mate who had stared at him with raised eyebrows as he’d stormed by.

  He especially didn’t want to talk to Jack, though he doubted the man would be aware enough to know just how offensive he’d been.

  Daniel drew a ragged breath and coughed. Waving at the dust he’d kicked up, he looked around. No tools, no bailing twine, no flags. Either S.G.C. personnel hadn’t made it this far, or they’d been and gone.

  Moving further into the secluded area, Daniel tried to think through why Jack had pushed him so hard. He thought back on their earlier conversation in the mess, when Jack had said something about coming back wrong. That had to have been a joke, right? More now than ever before, Daniel was sure he was doing what he supposed to be doing. Fighting the good fight. Pushing back against the Goa’uld. In the process, he was learning more about humanity than anyone could ever dream to accomplish in one life time.

  Make that two.

  Daniel shoved aside the stray bit of gallows humor and walked over to the far wall. At least fifteen feet in height, the intricately carved stone surface was covered in Chinese pictograms, Xia dynasty. Just like the cup Kevin had found. So little was known of the language, but Daniel remembered enough from his former roommate’s work that he could pick out a few symbols. His fingers traced across a circle with a dash in the middle. That represented the sun. Beside it, a half circle with a vertical line meant the moon. Then, three crowded together upside down apexes—like a series of mountains.

  Pulling his glasses off, Daniel studied the drawings again. If he was right, the inscription implied that these ruins — this planet — was China’s legendary paradise, Kunlun. Daniel’s mind raced as he tried to remember what Kevin had once told him about the myth.

  That’s when it hit him. Kunlun was supposedly built by the real Emperor Yu Huang Shang-Ti. Was it possible that the System Lord Yu had something to do with this place? Impossible. P3Y-702 wasn’t on the Abydos Cartouche. The gate address came from Jack’s short-lived bout dealing with the Ancient depository in his head. Daniel stuck his glasses back on to examine more of the wall.

  Correction, doors. A crack ran down the middle, but when he tried pushing on either side, the doors wouldn’t give. He took a step back and looked left, then right. The doors led into what appeared to be a sizeable chamber of sorts. At least a couple of hundred square feet.

  Daniel looked up toward the top of the doors and saw additional writing that wasn’t Chinese. It was Ancient. He stepped back further. Somehow, he needed to get up there so he could translate the meaning. It made no sense. Chinese and Ancient all in one place.

  Curious, he stepped forward yet again only to be caught in a surge of heat. A recognizable thrum filled the air. He threw up his arms, knocking his hat off, but he remained still, knowing he’d be cut in half if he ran.

  The transportation rings activated, swallowing him in a stream of light.

  * * *

  “Gliders, sir. At least two dozen and coming in fast.”

  All thoughts of what a jackass he’d been to Daniel flew out the proverbial window as Jack looked due west. Two dozen winged bastards, no more than five klicks away and headed directly toward base camp. The trick now would be getting back to the gate which was over a mile away.

  Jack thumbed his radio. “Roger that, Major. Teal’c, dial the gate. Daniel, get with SG-13. Dixon, you’ve got to push those eggheads through. Now. Confirm.”

  He snatched up the P90 and raced down the hillside, ignoring any complaint his knees gave. Teal’c radioed in,
as did Carter. As Jack jumped the last few yards off the hill, he reached for his radio again. Daniel still hadn’t made contact.

  “Sierra Golf One-Niner, this is Sierra Golf Thirteen-Niner.”

  Dixon. Jack stopped. He took in the utter chaos of the archaeologists grabbing crates, taking last second photos, acting like idiots. Meanwhile, the gliders took their sweet time coming in, barely pushing their engines. Like vultures swooping over a prey before going in for the kill.

  “Tell those eggheads to drop their goodies,” Jack radioed Dixon. “Get Daniel. They’ll listen to him.”

  “Jackson’s not around, Jack. What do you want me to do?”

  Jack glanced toward the ruins and then back at the insanity. At the far end of the dig, SG-13 hustled folks out. Just in time, too. The gliders were only a klick away. They’d started a firing run, blasting everything in their path.

  Like we needed a reminder.

  Trees blazed. The ground along the western edge burned. The winds had kicked up, filling the air with smoke.

  It was time to get the hell out.

  “Bug ‘em out,” Jack told Dixon on the radio.

  A few yards away, Daniel’s old roommate — Haskins or Hotkins, whatever — shoved people toward the path leading to the gate. Smart man. Jack stuck that bit of information aside and ran toward the man. “Have you seen Daniel?”

  Coughing, Hopkins pointed back toward the ruins at the north end. A few crumbling walls, but no Daniel.

  “Get your people out of here, Doctor. That’s an order.”

  Still coughing against the acrid smoke, Hopkins took off with his crew. The gliders changed formation, lining up into two wings with one leader at the head.

  “Colonel O’Neill!”

  Jack whipped back around. Running up to him was Airman Wells. Still wet behind the ears, but in the name of all that was holy, he had a grenade launcher in his mitts. It couldn’t take out twelve gliders though it might buy them some time.

  “Get everyone out of here,” Jack shouted above the fire bursts coming from the gliders. “That includes yourself.”

  Wells hesitated. Not a good sign. “But, sir!”

  Jack jumped into the nearest dig hole. “Follow my orders, Airman. Tell Carter to keep the door open, I’ll be through as soon as I find Daniel.”