by Karen Miller
“It’s called iodine,” said Dixon, picking up the packet of unused wipes and showing him. “It kills germs.” He put the packet down again and rummaged in the medkit. “And so does this — ” He held up a tube of antiseptic cream.
“Germs?” said Khenti, frowning. “What is germs?”
Daniel abandoned his filming and stepped forward, joining the conversation. “They’re a kind of — of evil spirit,” he said. “They make people sick. The iodine, and that tube of cream, they keep the evil spirits away.”
Abruptly a hush fell over the villagers. Khenti and his fellow Elders stared at each other. Then, as the crowd surged forward, gabbling, they raised their hands sharply.
“Peace!” cried Khenti. “This is a matter for the Elders!”
Like well-trained sheep, the villagers of Mennufer stopped and stepped back.
Elder Sebak’s eyes were very wide. “You have power over evil spirits?”
“Well no,” said Daniel. “At least, not exactly. When I say evil spirits, really I mean — ” He stopped, momentarily stymied. “Yeah. Okay. We can banish evil spirits. At least the ones our people call germs.”
As Khenti, Sebak and Madu stared at each other, Panahasi clasped his hands and bowed. “This is a power we have never possessed.”
“Truly, you are wondrous,” added Madu.
O’Neill cleared his throat, distracting them before there was any more inappropriate kneeling. “Yeah, okay, I admit it seems impressive. But where we come from it’s really no big thing. Even little kids know how to put on a Band-Aid. Are you saying you really don’t know anything about medicine?”
“Medicine,” said Khenti, blankly. “What is medicine?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Daniel muttered. “They don’t have a clue.”
Ignoring Daniel, he gestured at Carter and her iodine-stained wounds. “This, Khenti. This, what we’re doing, this is medicine. Healing.” Baffled, he stared at them. “Khenti, if you don’t know this stuff how do you stop infections? How do you treat people if they get sick, or hurt themselves?”
Khenti and his council of Elders exchanged inscrutable looks. Then Khenti sighed. “We pray.”
“Which is, of course, one way of handling the situation,” said Daniel quickly. “Where we come from people used to do the same thing, until a very clever man called Hippocrates discovered a new way of aiding the sick and injured. It’s knowledge we’d like to share with you, Khenti. Isn’t that right, Jack?”
He wasn’t really listening. “Really no medicine?” he said, still staring at Khenti. Fraiser’s going to flip. She’s going to blow a gasket. Hammond’s going to have to lock her in the infirmary to keep her away. “Not even a little bit of hocus pocus, cross your fingers and sprinkle on a few dried leaves?”
Daniel groaned. “Jack…”
Elder Panahasi glanced at Khenti, then shook his head. “We are strong in Mennufer. They are strong in Adjo’s other villages. The strong live. The weak die. That is the rule of life.”
He shook his head. “Yeah? Well, I think it sucks.”
“This medicine,” said Khenti. His voice was low, threaded through with intensity. “You would share it with us? Teach us its uses? You would show us how to banish the evil spirits?”
“Of course, Khenti,” said Daniel. “We — ”
“Would love to help you,” O’Neill said, and silenced Daniel with one scorching look. “If we can. It’s something you and I will speak of, I promise.”
“I look forward to that, Jack,” said Khenti, with another bow. “It is the way of friendship, that friends help each other.”
He wasn’t going near that one with a forty-foot staff weapon. Instead he shifted his gaze to Carter, who was paper pale beneath the blood and grime. She’d had enough. Time to put a halt to this Florence Nightingale performance. He turned back to the Elders.
“Khenti, like I said, we can talk more about this later. But right now Major Carter needs some peace and quiet.”
Khenti nodded. “Of course, Jack.”
“Okay,” he said to Dixon. “We’re done here. You can finish the ministering angel routine in the — ” He was ambushed by another sneeze. Feeling Dixon and Carter’s startled stares, feeling again that prickle on his skin, he blew his nose on a tissue, shoved it in his pocket, and scowled. “Just get her out of here. Now.”
“Okay,” said Dixon genially. “We’re going. We’re gone.”
As he helped Carter to her feet and Daniel started packing up the medkit, O’Neill looked at Khenti and the other Elders. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think we’ll keep ourselves to ourselves tonight, Khenti. We can talk more in the morning.”
Khenti glanced at his fellow Elders, then bowed. “Jack, you and your friends are our guests in Mennufer. You must spend your time here as best rewards you. We will see food and drink are brought to you. Also fresh lamp oil. Should you desire our company after all you have only to ask for it, once we have returned from the shrine of rebirthing.”
Again with the shrine. Yeah, well, whatever. “Thank you, Khenti. Thank you, Elders. We are friends still. Don’t doubt that.”
Khenti’s smile was strained. A little strange. “We do not doubt it, Jack. We are more grateful than ever that you and your people have come to us from so far away, to be our friends.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly, as relief and satisfaction combined to wash away his worry for Carter. “We’ve got a lot to share with each other, Khenti. A lot of trading to do.”
Medicine for naquadah. The deal’s as good as sealed. By George, George, I think we’ve done it.
Dixon and Carter were already halfway back to quarters. Finishing up with the medkit, Daniel clipped home its fasteners with a loud snap. “Jack — ”
He sounded… snippy. Oh crap, what now? “Yes?”
Daniel took a breath, changed his mind. “Nothing. I’ll see you at the retreat.”
As he stomped away with his digicam and the medkit, Elder Madu stepped closer. “Jack, you are certain Sam will not perish?”
“Perish?” He stared. “No. Of course she won’t. She’s just a bit banged up. She’s had worse, believe me.”
“She is a special woman,” Madu said earnestly. “She has golden hair. It would be a terrible blight upon us if she should perish.”
“I can promise you, Madu. Carter’s not in any danger.”
“We are pleased to hear you say so,” said Khenti. “But if she were in danger, Jack, you would act to protect her? With your medicine?”
What the hell? “Yes. Of course I would. I’d act to protect any one of my team. As their Elder, it’s my job.”
Khenti nodded. “Of course. Thank you, Jack.”
“You’re welcome,” he said and left the Elders and their villagers to stroll back up the sloping road to the retreat. He could’ve jogged, caught up to Daniel, but from behind Daniel looked unhappy. If they were going to have words, which seemed likely, best they had them in private.
Dammit, Daniel. Why do you always have to look the gift horse in the mouth?
“Okay,” he said, closing the retreat door behind him. “Who wants to — ”
“Me first,” said Daniel, his eyes alight with temper. “What the hell was that stunt you pulled back there? We’d love to help you if we can? We’ve got a lot of trading to do? Are you seriously suggesting we should barter humanitarian aid for access to the naquadah and whatever else we find on this planet?”
He wasn’t in the mood for this. Not with Dixon’s big ears flapping to catch every last juicy word. He put some bite in his voice. “Daniel, I’m seriously suggesting it’s one option you can bet the Pentagon and Washington are going to explore. And if that didn’t occur to you while we were still on Earth then you’re a whole lot stupider than I gave you credit for.”
“Jack — ”
“I don’t want to hear it,” he said. “I’m too damned tired.”
“And I don’t care!” retorted Daniel. “Okay, for
get the ethical implications, for now, and focus on this. There’s something not right here. These people should have some kind of rudimentary medicine, Jack. It’s — it’s not normal that they don’t. Not when they obviously suffer from disease on Adjo. I’m telling you, this means something. Something important.”
O’Neill considered him, frowning. He really was upset… and when Daniel got upset, it was smart to pay attention. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” said Daniel, after a moment. “Yet. But I think it’d be a good idea if we found out.”
“He’s right, sir,” said Carter, slumped on a palliasse while Dixon wrapped gauze bandage round her right forearm.
“I concur, O’Neill,” said Teal’c. He was standing in one corner, relaxed but alert. No outward sign of imminent collapse. “It would be unwise to allow Washington’s agenda to force us into hasty action.”
He frowned at Teal’c. Et tu, Jaffa? Then he sighed. Glanced at Dixon. He couldn’t not ask the guy. “What do you think?”
“Me?” Surprise flickered across Dixon’s face, and he took a moment to tape Carter’s bandage in place. “I agree with Jackson. When they worked out what medicine was, those villagers looked like a bunch of starving refugees showed a pot of cooked rice.” He shrugged. “Not what I’d call a pretty sight.”
There was more, he could tell. Dixon was holding back. “And?”
Dixon met his challenging stare. “And it’s not just about what Washington wants to hear. What they need to hear is more important.”
He was right. Crap. I’m letting Hammond’s problems get to me. “Yeah. Okay.” Time to change the subject now. He turned. “So Teal’c, you get through your kel’noreem all right?”
Teal’c wasn’t fooled by the friendly manner, he could hear the criticism beneath the innocent question. “I was in no danger, O’Neill.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll be the judge of that,” he retorted. “Keep on top of it. That’s an order.” Ignoring the sardonic gleam in Teal’c’s eye, he turned to Carter. “And how are you, Major?”
“I’ve felt better,” she admitted.
“Trust me, you’ve looked better. If it wasn’t so damned far to the gate I’d send you straight home to the infirmary.”
“I’m not that bad,” she protested. “Honestly. You’ve had worse and barely missed a beat. Sir — ”
He knew that tone. He didn’t like that tone. “What?”
“You were sneezing.”
“Yeah? So?”
“You’re not usually a sneezer.”
“And you are? Carter, it’s spring. There’s probably a high pollen count. Even my cast-iron sinuses can get whacked by alien pollen.”’
Suffering a concussion she could still pull rank with a look. “Sir, Daniel’s not sneezing.”
He glanced at Daniel, who’d dropped onto his sleeping bag and was futzing with his camera. Still pissed off. Okay. Fine. I deserve it. “So Daniel’s loaded to the eyeballs with hayfever meds.”
She was frowning, and not just because she obviously had a killer headache. “Yeah. I guess. Sir, are you feeling all right otherwise?”
Was this the time to mention the sore throat, the scratchy eyes? No, it isn’t. One problem at a time. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Carter — ”
“Here,” said Dixon, and held up a bottle of pills. “Have some Tylenol, Major. You look like your head’s about to explode.”
Distracted, she smiled at him. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks, sir.”
Dixon tipped the grunt candy into her palm and waited for her to chew it and swallow. Once she’d done grimacing at the foul taste, he helped her stand and make it to her sleeping bag. He was gentle. Solicitous. A good team leader taking care of his own.
Bastard.
“O’Neill,” said Teal’c. “Have you been informed we found a naquadah mine?”
Another timely change of subject. “Yeah. Good work.”
“It’s got skeletons in it,” added Dixon, with relish, leaning his shoulders against a handy bit of wall. “Human and Goa’uld. Oh, and naquadah.” He nodded to the lumpy-looking spare pack on the floor. “Brought some back for you, if you’re interested.”
No, Dixon. I wish you hadn’t bothered.
“There’s so much more up there, sir,” said Carter, from the depths of her sleeping bag. “It’s incredible. And we brought one of the Goa’uld skeletons back but — ” She yawned. “I kind of smooshed it when I fell.”
“You didn’t smoosh it,” said Daniel, morose. “You pulverized it.”
“I told you, there’s another one,” she replied. “No need to panic.”
“Forget the old Goa’uld bones,” O’Neill said impatiently. “Teal’c? How do you rate the naquadah?”
In the gentle lamplight the brand on Teal’c’s forehead shimmered liquid gold. “It is the best example of the raw mineral I have ever encountered, O’Neill.”
“Really?”
Teal’c nodded. “Really.”
He’d spent a lot of years training himself to stay cool under pressure. Not to show his feelings. Not to get… carried away. But it was hard this time not to dance a little victory jig. Give Snoopy a run for his money. Teal’c didn’t say things like that on a whim.
Naquadah generators. Naquadah-enhanced warheads. Naquadah-powered defense shields. Naquadah-powered space ships.
Hey, George. Look what we found…
“Okay,” he said. “That’s good. That’s a start. But tomorrow we — minus stumblebum Carter — need to put this mission into top gear.”
“Stumblebum? Hey,” said Carter, sounding sleepy now. “I resemble that remark.”
He snorted. “You certainly do.”
“And by top gear you mean…” said Daniel, edgily.
“We stop pussyfooting around. As far as I’m concerned the social ice is well and truly broken. We’re here first and foremost to establish a trading mission with these people. So, our little medical mystery notwithstanding, it’s time to open up the negotiations.”
Daniel cleared his throat. “Ah… don’t you think I’m the best judge of that, Jack? I mean, I was given express orders to make sure anything we do here doesn’t impinge on these people’s lives or — ”
“Actually, Daniel, I believe your orders were to make sure we didn’t repeat the snafu with the Salish. Have you found anything to indicate we’re in danger of doing that?”
Daniel put down his digicam. “Well, no. The people of Mennufer have a longstanding tradition of trading and as far as I can tell there aren’t any religious restrictions involved. In fact I’m still trying to work out how their religious belief structure functions. Obviously they recognize the existence of Ra and Setesh but — ”
“Okay. Good,” he said. “So we’re not looking at Adventures with the Salish, Volume Two.”
“No,” said Daniel carefully. “But, like I say, we could be looking at something else.”
“Like what?”
“Like no matter what we offer them,” Dixon chimed in, “they won’t want to trade.”
“Why the hell wouldn’t they?” he said, baffled. “For crying out loud, Dixon, if you’ve got something to say spit it out!”
Dixon pulled a face. “Well, we found gold and naquadah and gemstones in the shrine at the Stargate.”
“Yeah? So?”
“So what if the Adjoans consider that stuff sacred? What if they’ve got a taboo against trading it?”
Then we’re screwed, aren’t we? He turned. “Daniel?”
Daniel shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“And yet somehow not worth mentioning, apparently.”
“Jack, I don’t how many different ways I can say this,” Daniel sighed. “Wherever possible I try not to jump to conclusions. That means I need time to do what I do. You never want to give me that time. So I do my best in the time you give me. If you want better, you know what to do.”
A spike of pain pounded viciously behin
d his eyes. They were all looking at him, even Carter, who was practically asleep. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t start making noises about trade yet.”
“No. Not until I’ve had a chance to talk to them, tactfully,” said Daniel. “About the religious significance of naquadah, and why they don’t have medicine of their own. I’m sorry, Jack. I know that isn’t what you want to hear. But since when have I been in the business of telling you what you want to hear?”
Since never. “Yeah. Okay. You’ve got twenty-four hours.”
Before Daniel could argue he shoved open the retreat’s door and stepped out into the relief of fresh air and sunshine. Four blank walls, no windows, no natural light at all. Damn retreat was like a coffin. Like a hole in the ground. Memory stirred, claws scrabbling.
Don’t go there. Don’t do it. That was then, this is now.
He found a nice patch of flower-scattered grass and hunkered down on it. Dammit to hell, his head was killing him. Should’ve grabbed the Tylenol. Ah, well.
The sun was slowly sinking, the day’s warmth bleeding from the air. A scrim of high cloud was turning baby pink. The village bustled, all those last-minute chores before suppertime. He could hear the sounds of children, laughing. Parents, scolding.
Come on, Charlie. Get your butt in the house, it’s time to lay the table for dinner.
He closed his eyes, his heartbeat erratic. Behind him the retreat door opened. Footsteps on the pathway. Not Teal’c. Not Daniel. Definitely not Carter.
“Hey,” said Dixon, and joined him on the grass.
If he said nothing maybe the man would go away.
“Doctor Jackson’s pretty passionate, I guess. Takes his anthropology seriously,” said Dixon. His tone was mild, conversational.
Don’t recall inviting you out here for conversation, Dave.
“So,” said Dixon, stubbornly undeterred. “Washington’s got a blowtorch on Hammond?”
He opened his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Figures. What the Stargate program costs, they want to recoup their expenditure.”
If you’re expecting me to have any sympathy for Washington you’re wasting your time.
“Apart from that, everything else okay back home?” asked Dixon. Not quite so mild, now. Not quite so conversational.