The Drift

by Diane Dru Botsford

  “Jack, don’t you see?” Daniel held out his hands toward the landing ships. “Somehow this all has to do with Lord Yu and the Ancients, which means the Ascended — ”

  “Daniel, you were ascended once, remember?”

  “Yeah, but — ”

  “Ah!” Jack raised a finger. “You told us on Abydos, when you were all nice and glowy, that Ascended folks don’t interfere. So what do you call this?”

  “I don’t remember saying that, but if Yu — ”

  “The last time I checked, Yu isn’t an Ancient. He’s a Goa’uld.” Jack turned back toward the trio of Al’kesh now parked in the middle of the valley. “And I should’ve killed his slimy, snakeheaded butt when I had the chance.”

  Daniel hated the Goa’uld as much as anyone, but during his imprisonment with Lord Yu, he’d discovered the System Lord still had emotional ties to his ancient reign on Earth, or more specifically to China. “Yu’s not like the other Goa’uld.”

  “A Goa’uld is a Goa’uld. Carter, stay with…” Jack jerked his head toward Weiyan. “Daniel, Teal’c, you’re with me. Let’s go find out what this dog-and-pony show is all about.”

  Along with Jack and Teal’c, Daniel headed toward the closest Al’kesh. As they neared, people began to unload. Some dressed in blues, other in greens, reds and grays. Pretty much every one of them was dressed the same — all in ancient Chinese-style robes bound at the waist with swathes of darker cloth.

  Civilians, he mused, until a giant of a Jaffa escorted a group of three women close enough for him to see the fear on their faces. And the white bandages on their feet. Their feet had been broken and bound in the ancient Chinese style meant to keep women from running away.

  A style not used in China for quite some time. Daniel thought back on his time as Yu’s captive a year ago and couldn’t remember seeing any of the women’s feet bound in that way.

  Not that he’d seen more than two or three and only during his time in the lower levels of the fortress. No woman ever made an appearance in Yu’s throne room. He wasn’t even sure Yu had a Goa’uld queen. His Dragon Guard certainly didn’t need them, being cloned by Ancient technology.

  “Yu’s slaves?” Jack asked.

  “They can’t see you,” Daniel said. To prove his point, he walked right through the Jaffa guard. “This is… Odd.”

  “Odd doesn’t quite sum it up.” Jack waved an arm through one of the women.

  Teal’c raised a hand, fingers spread wide, and swept it through the Jaffa guard. “If these are holographic projections, should there not be some visual — ”

  “After effect?” Jack headed toward the Al’kesh’s ramp.

  “Like a light trail or something?” asked Daniel.

  “Or something is right. “ Jack peered up the gantry. “Teal’c, come on.”

  As Teal’c turned to follow, Daniel noticed him grimace as if he was in pain. Then he shook his head slightly, put back his shoulders, and strode toward the ramp.

  “You’re wasting your time!”

  “Since when has that stopped me?” He approached the ramp, stepped up —

  And fell flat on his face.

  Biting his tongue, Daniel turned away.

  “Go ahead, say it,” Jack grumbled. “Say ‘I told you so.’”

  “Those weren’t exactly the words I had in mind.”

  “Head’s up,” Jack warned as a single cargo ship flew across the small valley and headed toward the grass-covered hill.

  “What’s going on there?”

  Daniel pointed toward the large mass of people heading toward the hill. “Maybe if we get closer. Where’s — ?”

  “I am here.” Teal’c walked closer. Actually, stumbled was more like it.

  Daniel took a worried glanced at Teal’c and the sweat beading on his forehead. His skin had turned a gray brown.

  Jack shook his head, a silent command to stay silent. There were times to listen to Jack and there were times to ignore him. Daniel chose the latter.

  “Teal’c, are you feeling all right?”

  Teal’c proudly lifted his chin. “I am well, Daniel Jackson.”

  “Back at ya,” Jack said with a smirk. His way of saying, score one — tied on the ‘I told you so’ front.

  Daniel ignored him. “You don’t look so good. Maybe you should rest, head back to Sam and Weiyan.”

  “I will rest when we are free of this dilemma.”

  Another warning glare from Jack, and Daniel let it go. But not without promising himself to keep an eye on Teal’c.

  The cargo ship set down on the hilltop. As its bay doors open, the crowd of soldiers and civilians dropped to their knees in prostration.

  “How come they’re not making more noise?” Jack asked.

  “Perhaps they are, O’Neill, and we simply cannot hear them.”

  A figure emerged, but the hill was too far off to see anything other than a blur. Daniel assumed it was Lord Yu. As if on cue, the crowd rose, turned around, and headed back to their ships.

  A rippling wave streaked across the valley and the ships disappeared. As did the people.

  “What the hell?” Jack whirled around. He pointed toward the building that continued to exist through every vision.

  Or nightmare.

  A solitary Jaffa strode toward them. He didn’t slow down as he neared, obviously unaware of their presence. He was Asian, young, and shorter than Yu’s other Jaffa—no more than five-foot-nine. There was a quiet confidence about him as he walked. An inner strength.

  An all too familiar strength. As the Jaffa drew closer, Daniel was unsurprised by his gray woolen cloak, cinched off to the side with a jade broach. Cropped black hair, green-flecked black eyes, and a square jaw. The sun glinted off the gold tattoo on his high forehead.

  Jack jerked a thumb toward the Jaffa as he walked past, unaware of his audience. “Isn’t that…?”

  “Oshu,” Teal’c stated flatly. “Lord Yu’s current First Prime and lead Dragon Guard. He is not Jaffa. None of Yu’s Dragon Guard carries symbiotes. They are clones.”

  “Sonuvabitch.” Jack face darkened with rage as he watched Oshu draw closer. “Hallucination, ghost or whatever, that bastard’s grand-clone gave us enough trouble last year that I’d like to ring all their necks.”

  “You mean Ambassador Huang,” Daniel said. “Didn’t the Chinese — ”

  The First Prime stopped beside them, seemingly unaware of their presence. He stared off toward the mysterious building.

  “Guys, I’m not sure that’s Oshu.” Daniel approached the Dragon Guard for a better look. “He looks like him, but — ”

  “And again, I ask… There’s a but?”

  Ignoring Jack, Daniel stepped up to the Dragon Guard. A jagged white scar stretched across the man’s chin. “Whoever this is, it isn’t Oshu. That scar’s old.”

  The air rippled again and the First Prime disappeared.

  “And I repeat,” Jack glowered, “what the hell?”

  Before Daniel could answer, a multi-color wash of light rippled across the valley like a shockwave. It crashed against the cliff at the far end, surged up the craggy, exposed rock, and then dissipated as it breached the summit.

  A Stargate materialized on the cliff-top.

  Jack took a few steps toward the cliff and then stopped. He turned back toward Daniel. “Too good to be true, I assume.” A kawoosh erupted from the gate. As its event horizon settled down into a reflective puddle, more Jaffa exited, carrying large cargo containers. They descended the hillside.

  Another wave of light streaked across the valley.

  “Is this making anyone else dizzy?” Jack asked.

  “It is disorientating, O’Neill.” Teal’c took a step forward, or rather, he tried. Halfway through his stride, he stumbled backwards. “Something prevents my forward movement.”

  Jack stretched out his palm. It flattened against the air, as if he was miming touching a wall. “Well, that’s… Cute.”
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  As Daniel raised his hand to try the same thing, high-curved stone walls sprung up around them. Walls that he could see right through. Phantom carpenter-slaves joined a roof to the sides. He turned back toward the ever-present building. On top a newly built addition to its left, two Jaffa spread copper sheets over a turret-shaped frame.

  “They’re building Lord Yu a fortress,” he whispered in awe.

  “That’s nice, Daniel,” said Jack, “but we’ve been on Yu’s home world, and this ain’t it. No trees, no mountains, no snow.”

  “I don’t know,” Daniel admitted. “Clearly, this is — ”

  A warm breeze blew across the back of his head. “Did anyone else feel that?”

  “You felt it, too?” Jack raised a hand to his neck.

  “As did I,” Teal’c said. “Though why is unclear.”

  Because it is so clear it takes a long time to realize it.

  Daniel shivered, remembering Oma Desala’s words. “Guys, I’m pretty convinced there’s an ascended being here, somewhere.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “They’re responsible for all this?”

  “I don’t know, Jack. None of this is making any sense.”

  Teal’c gestured toward the translucent building’s interior. “Yu’s Dragon Guard.”

  Four men strode down a perpendicular hallway lined with Jaffa. The guards dressed in Jaffa armor, but their cloaks were different colors. The First Prime still wore his gray one, while another wore a red, another blue, and the fourth wore green.

  Daniel could see enough of their faces through the transparent walls to recognize the similarities to the four men he’d met last year. The guard with the red cloak had longer hair and the green-cloaked guard didn’t have a beard, but otherwise, they were identical.

  As they turned right and headed toward the end of the complex, time-lapsed images unveiled the completion of Yu’s fortress. Tapestries and scrolls appeared on the walls. Furniture materialized. Lit braziers erupted to life. The Dragon Guards stopped at the hall’s far end. Though it had to be at least fifty yards away, Daniel made out the high stone doors leading into the old building. They pushed on the doors, but nothing happened. They began to pound on the doors.

  Daniel watched them, feeling as if Oma was in turn watching him. Why? To see what he’d do? There was something iconic about the images. Four Dragons. The Ancient building.

  The four men broke into two groups, each pulling at a door. The doors started to crack open, slowly. As if they hadn’t been used for centuries. Perhaps even millennia.

  Lord Yu’s words crashed down on Daniel. He remembered. He remembered it all. How the Goa’uld’s original Dragon Guards died, and more importantly, where they’d died.

  Blue light streamed out of the doors’ ever-widening gap.

  “My God, Jack. This is Kunlun. Pedion Elysium is Kunlun!”

  “Kun who?”

  “The planet Yu lived on before moving to his current planet. This is P3Y-702. The same place Yu captured me from last year!”

  Daniel surged forward, pounding the invisible wall with his fists. He knew what would happen. He knew how this would end… And it would end badly. “We have to stop them!”

  Jack pulled him back. “Daniel, you’re the one who pointed out that none of this is real, remember?”

  Daniel wrenched himself free. “Then why show this to us? Why would Oma do that?”

  “You really believe this is Oma?”

  “Who else could it be, Jack? Maybe she thinks we can help change the past somehow, maybe — ”

  With a thunderous boom, a brilliant light blasted from the doors. An eerie glow radiated outward, swathing the Dragon Guards in its blue pall.

  “We’re too late.” Daniel forced himself to keep watching, even though he knew what would happen next.

  Within moments, the four guards collapsed.

  “Are they…?”

  “Yes, Jack.” Daniel turned away, sickened. “They’re dead.”

  “Were dead. This happened a long time ago.”

  “Yeah.” Daniel sighed. “I guess I finally understand firsthand what Oma meant.” He glanced at Teal’c. “You tried to tell me, too.”

  Teal’c raised an eyebrow. “To what do you refer?”

  “You mean her whole candlelight-is-fire bit?” Jack asked.

  “No.” Daniel rubbed his eyes. “More like, no matter what I do — whether it’s Tegalus, or here, or anywhere — I can’t fix others’ mistakes.”

  “Welcome to the club.” Jack squeezed his shoulder. “I’d offer you a t-shirt, but we’re fresh out.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BEIJING, CHINA

  2003 JULY 1, 6:30 AM

  “I will be no more than an hour,” Huang said as he climbed out of the escort car. Buttoning his black wool blazer, he peered through the restaurant window. Very few patrons were inside which suited him perfectly. Next door, the far more crowded American fast food establishment brimmed with Chinese citizens. This breakfast meeting was too important for grease and gummy pancakes. Authentic cuisine was needed.

  It would be as much a parting meal for him as for his expected company.

  He was greeted within the restaurant by a stooped old man dressed in the appropriate blue workman’s shirt and pants. Selecting a rear table, Huang sat down facing the window so he might see his guest upon arrival. The server offered him a menu, but Huang waved him off.

  “Your traditional breakfast,” Huang ordered.

  “Will your guest want cornflakes?”

  He scrutinized the server. Surely, the man was old enough to know better. “When did cornflakes become a tradition in China?”

  With a bob of his head, the server shuffled off into the kitchen. Huang checked his watch. In ninety minutes, his flight would leave for Colorado Springs in the United States. The benefits of being a diplomat meant he had no need to wait amongst the unruly people with whom he must share the flight.

  The old man returned with a tray of covered ceramic dishes and wooden bowls. As he placed them neatly in the middle of the table, Huang reviewed his plans.

  Thanks to one special capsule in Ambassador Chen’s evening tea, Huang was now lead ambassador to Beijing’s UN diplomatic corp. That capsule had waited long to serve its purpose. Chen had shared a new update from the Security Council’s report of the latest goings-on of Stargate Command. One of SG-1’s team members had been apprehended by Lord Yu only hours ago. A Dr. Daniel Jackson — the man who had unlocked the Chappa’ai’s mysteries.

  Lord Yu had told him to look for a sign to commence his plan. Now, everything would progress as planned.

  The US President had notified the Security Council of his intent to send in a rescue team. Huang had brought the news to Chen with his morning coffee. Chen had laughed off Lord Yu’s facade, scoffing at the Goa’uld’s efforts to pretend to be Chinese. That is, until Chen downed his cup and complained of chest pains. The embassy doctor had determined Chen suffered a heart attack. Who was Huang to disagree?

  Upon Chen’s hospitalization, Huang had called the US President, demanding SG-1 place their plans on hold until he could confer with them face-to-face. Hence his reason for flying to their base of operations. The President had drawled so heavily on the phone that Huang could barely understand half the US leader’s apologies and assurances. All that mattered was that the SG-1 would wait until his arrival.

  Hungry, and admittedly anxious, he reached out to uncover one of the small dishes. The right side of his blazer banged against the table. Quickly sticking a hand inside his pocket, he assured himself that the small lead box containing the two communications devices recovered from the Pacific Ocean were intact. They would serve as his bait and his means to an end. Huang would finally go home.

  All he had to do was deliver SG-1 into Yu’s hands.

  A chime on the restaurant’s doors sounded. Huang glanced up in time to see a young teenage girl close the door behind her. Her long black hair covered ha
lf of her face, but he still could see the resemblance to both her mother…

  And himself.

  “Weiyan!” He waved his daughter over.

  As she neared, he thanked his inner courage for this meeting. Though Lord Yu would consider his offspring bù zhǔn xǔ — forbidden — Huang could not deny her existence in his heart.

  “Father.” Weiyan sat down across from him. “I am honored.”

  “Are you hungry?” He gestured toward the many dishes ordered. “Even a young woman like yourself must eat when opportunity arises.”

  “I will try, Father.”

  “One must simply do what needs to be done, child. Eat.”

  She laid a napkin in her lap. “This seems more like a vast dinner than a simple breakfast.”

  “A traditional Chinese breakfast can keep the body strong throughout the day.” His eyes moistened with joy at her demure nature. Quing had done well in raising their child.

  “Mother has never served such a meal. We usually eat cornflakes or boiled eggs.”

  He uncovered the dishes, naming each as they were unveiled. “First, a bowl of congee. It is a rice porridge.”

  He offered her a small plate of pickles. “Those can be added if you prefer.” Next, he removed the lid to a broad ceramic bowl. “This is yóutiáo steamed in soya.” Swimming in the milky liquid were deep fried sticks of dough. Finally, he removed a plate cover where beneath were puffy sheets of steamed bread accompanied by another small bowl of milky soy in which to dip the bread. He took up one of the bread strips and dunked it in the soya. “Like so, yes?”

  Though she remained silent, her green-flecked eyes widened upon gazing at their meal.

  “Is it too much?”

  “No. No, Father.” She took up a spoon and dipped it in the yóutiáo. “It’s only… After so many years, I don’t understand why you have contacted me.”

  Huang put down his half-eaten bread. “I am sorry for not contacting you earlier though my reasons were just.”

  “I shamed you,” she whispered. “If I’d been born a male — ”

  “No.” He grabbed her hand. “Never. The shame belongs to me, but please, do not ask for an explanation. I cannot give you my reasons. They must be held within me to protect you as well as your mother.”