Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

07-12-2004, 03:17 MDT
07-12-2004, 09:17 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 28

“Unscheduled off-world activation! Repeat, unscheduled off-world activation!” 

Boots thudding against iron, General Jack O’Neill descended into the control room. He sharpened his eyes on the ‘Gate. Iris sealed, wormhole still active. “Sergeant?”

“It’s ‘439, sir. IDC pending.”

Hours of waiting coalesced into a mere fraction of a second. Signal analyzed and identified.

"Sir, it's SG-3.”

"Open it!" 

The iris retracted, metal hissing against metal. Time stopped. 

Jack waited, arms stiff at his sides. "Come on, kids." 

The wormhole rippled. Lieutenant Grogan of SG-3 stumbled through, breathing ragged. Two of his teammates followed, along with all four members of SG-7. None of them gave the control room a glance. Alien rainwater poured off their ponchos and pooled on the floor.  

Jack’s throat tightened. “Sergeant?”

“One traveler still in transit, sir.”

“Just one?”

The Sergeant’s voice dropped. “Yes, sir. Just one.”

Colonel Reynolds stepped through the 'Gate. Unlike his men, he looked straight at the control room. Straight at Jack. "The storm forced us back, sir."

"How bad?" 

"DHD's already underwater. The rains must have triggered some flash flooding. If we hadn't been near the 'Gate when it hit... we wouldn't have made it back, sir."

The answer struck like a double-edged sword. Jack ground his jaw.   

All of the members of SG-3 and 7 lifted their eyes to the control room. Their countenances screamed loss and defeat.

Behind them, the Stargate shut down.

"We were able to do a full sweep of the area, sir, before the storm came," Reynolds said. "We searched the ruins and every foot of ground within twenty klicks of the 'Gate. There wasn't a sign of SG-14. We couldn't even find where they made camp. It's like they were never even there. I'm sorry, sir."

"Not your fault, Colonel." The words were firm. Unyielding. "Blankets and hot coffee in the infirmary. Get yourselves checked out, then report to the briefing room."

“Yes, sir.”

Hands tightening into fists, Jack stared at the empty ‘Gate. No one gets left behind. No one. The thought hurt, like a knife twisting in his flesh. 

"General O'Neill?"

"What is it, Sergeant?"  

"Sir, don't you think you should eat something? You haven't had anything except coffee since… since this started." 

Jack shrugged, the tautness of his muscles making the motion almost painful.

"General? I could bring a plate to your office."

"The commissary shut down hours ago, Sergeant." 

"Yes, sir, I know. But I may have had the cook save you a tray. Just in case."

The concept behind these words registered slowly. Jack blinked, then turned to the Sergeant. "You're a good man, Walter. Maybe later, after the debriefing."

"I'll hold you to that, sir."

With a tired smile, Jack trudged toward the stairs. "I know you will, Sergeant. I know you will."

CHAPTER ONE

THREE MONTHS LATER

10-18-2004, 07:02 MDT
10-18-2004, 13:02 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 27

Jack stared into his coffee mug. A lone speck of dust was sloshing around in there, just like every morning. “Dang conspiracy.” 

Turning into his office, Jack fished the enemy out with an index finger and gave it a flick. Droplets of coffee landed in a spray across his desk — or rather across the stacks of paperwork covering his desk. With a frown, he gave one of the piles a shove. Sometimes he really hated being a General. 

Now was one of those times. 

Were he still a member of SG-1, he could be staring at an alien sunrise right now instead of the gray innards of the SGC. An alien sunrise and the members of his Team — Carter bright 'n fresh as always, Teal'c stoic as ever, and Daniel nearly comatose from a lack of coffee. The mental image hit Jack hard. An empty kind of ache settled in his chest. 

His life with SG-1 was over.

The mounds of paperwork snapped back into focus. He gave the closest pile another shove, set down his mug, and kept moving. This was his life now. It lacked the overwhelming coolness of commanding SG-1, but as lives went it had its good points. On that thought, he squared his shoulders and headed into the briefing room. 

Forward momentum crashed headlong into utter astonishment and Jack froze. So much for life having its good points. With measured steps, he approached the conference table — all fifteen feet of it. All fifteen, rock covered feet of it. 

He was going to kill the archaeology department.

"Love what you've done with the place."

Somewhere in the back of his brain, Jack had registered the sound of approaching footsteps, but the voice was unexpected. He spun toward the door. "Jacob! Walter told me you'd dropped in. Beat me by a whole eight minutes, I hear."

"What can I say? I've got good timing." Moving into the room, Jacob ran an appraising eye over the table. "What's with the rocks?"

"Ah, yes, the rocks. Well, at exactly oh-nine-hundred, I am to be subjected to a talk on the state of the rock as we know it. I presume these are the bare-minimum, extra-cool samples they insisted on bringing for my benefit."

"Looks like the Mountain threw up on your desk." 

“Yeah…” Jack grimaced and promptly changed the subject. "So, sorry you missed Carter. She and SG-1 won't be back until around oh-eight-thirty. Daniel made me schedule it special so he could add his two cents to the whole archa-logic, info-dump thing. Care to hang around for a while?" 

"Actually, this isn't a social call." 

Jack arched an eyebrow. Walter hadn't mentioned anything about their visitor having business. And if there was one thing Walter never forgot to mention, it was business. 

"Jack, can we talk? In private?" 

Aside from the rock pile, Jack was fairly certain they were already alone, but he didn't argue. With a nod, he indicated the office. His guest led the way, remaining cryptically silent and refusing to take a seat until both doors had been secured. 

Jack dropped into his chair. “What's up?"

"De'nama."

"Oh. I'm... sorry to hear that."

"De'nama's a place, Jack. I think you know it as P3X-439."

Jack stiffened. There weren’t many planet designations he knew by heart, but ‘439 was one of the few. "Not gonna happen, Jacob. De'mamma's or whatever you want to call it is off limits. None of my people are setting foot on that rock."

"No one's asking them to, Jack. Just hear me out. After your teams were forced to leave De'nama, the Tok'ra began monitoring the planet for themselves. They hoped after the flooding stopped, a pair of our operatives could make it through and finish what your people started.”

“We did finish! I got my head sucked, Anubis dang near blew us up, we came home, end of story.” Except it hadn’t been the end. Voices of the lost and presumed dead still screamed in his ears, constantly reminding him. It hadn’t been the end. He stared at Jacob. “SG-14 never should have been sent back there.” 

“Maybe not. But like the Joint Chiefs, many members of the High Council were convinced there might still be something of value in the Ancient ruins — something besides what you blew up with that Repository. It's taken almost three months, but we finally got lucky." 

"Lucky?" The word came out bitter. 

“Yes, Jack. Two of our guys made it through yesterday." 

The response was firm, but somehow managed to avoid being argumentative. Obviously, the man was aiming for a quiet, tactful approach. Too bad Jack didn't feel like playing. "There's nothing there, Jake. We looked."

"I know. And you're right. As far as potential weapons and technology goes, our people struck out."

"Did your people also die?" 

"No, they didn't. They made it home, Jack, and they didn't come back empty-handed. They found something. It just wasn't what they were looking for." Reaching into the pouch strapped to his hip, Jacob withdrew an oval shaped device. About seven inches tall, creased down the middle with matching scroll work on either half, it looked like it was made out of well-oxidized brass. 

"And that would be, what?" The question wasn't born of curiosity. Jack meant it as a challenge.

Expression softening, Jacob almost smiled. "It was worth the risk, Jack. At least, it has the potential to be."

Jack pursed his lips. He wasn’t convinced, not even close, but… "Let's see it." 

Thumbing twin nodules fashioned into the device’s scroll work, Jacob pulled the halves apart. A wavering field of blue appeared between the two pieces. Telescopic rods held the sides together, locking into place with a snap as the screen reached max width. 

"It’s a computer of sorts," Jacob explained, "very advanced in some ways — touchscreen navigation, holographic imaging — but archaic in others. Low memory, poor clarity, that sort of thing. Our operatives found it at the base of the Stargate's platform. Faint skid marks on the dais correspond with damage to the unit's outer casing, as well as depressions in the surrounding mud. Best guess seems to be it was simply thrown through an open wormhole, probably sometime during the last week. Any sooner than that, the flooding would've just washed it away."

"What's on it?"

Something between a sigh and a grunt rumbled in Jacob's throat. Finger raised, he swiped through a series of icons and selected an option. A picture appeared of four people: three men and a woman. Their garb was identical, drab green material and dirty black boots. They stood in a row, legs apart, carefully schooled defiance etched on their faces. 

The embodiment of those lost, supposedly dead voices. The ones that never should have been left behind.

Major Thomas Czachowski. Leader, up and coming. Bit of a hot-head with a temper to match, but a good man. Loyal. Stubborn to a fault. Only son and sole supporter of his mother, Gina — a hole Jack had quietly tried to fill over the past three months. But he wasn't her Thomas, and he never could be.

Captain Jennifer Hailey. Samantha Carter in pint-size. Fiery, brilliant, with a fresh promotion to her credit. Three years at the SGC had found the massive chip on her shoulder whittled down to a splinter. Her future had been bright and full of promise — until '439.

Nyan. Teal'c's unlikely friend and protege. Bedrosian refugee cum Lok'nel proficient wrapped in archaeologist's clothing. Young, eager, open-minded. A fighter who always sought the truth, no matter where it led, no matter what the cost. T still mourned his loss, as did they all.

Sergeant Marco Blocker, aka The Gentle Giant. Last spring he'd returned through the Stargate with four kids in tow — a boy hanging on his back, girl toddlers gripping each pant leg, and a baby cradled to his chest. Orphans abandoned on a war-ravaged planet. Marco and Janie — his wife and childhood sweetheart — had adopted all four. P3X-439 was to be his last off-world assignment. The transfer papers arrived two hours after their final check in. 

A hammer pounded in Jack's chest. Czachowski, Hailey, Nyan, Marco. No one gets left behind. No one.

"It's SG-14."

Jack almost jumped, the unnecessary words jarring him from his thoughts. His vocal chords constricted, a dozen questions warring to be spoken at once. He swallowed. "Where are they?"

"I'm not sure. Take a look at this." Running his finger over the holographic monitor, Jacob selected another option. Alien text filled the screen. "It's a variation of primitive Goa'uld script. Selmak and I were able to work out a close translation."

"And?" 

"There's a set of coordinates for a neutral planet and instructions for establishing contact once we get there. Apparently, whoever took SG-14 has decided they want to make a trade."

Jack's attention flickered from the meaningless lines of text to Jacob. A disquieted expression stared back at him, the eyes giving away everything yet nothing in the same moment. "What do they want?"   

"They want you, Jack."

Chapter Text

10-19-2004, 00:00 MDT
10-19-2004, 06:00 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 18

It was midnight, not that it mattered. Day and night were lost entities within Stargate Command. For some, time was measured by the solar cycles of a thousand planets; for others, by how much coffee was left in their maker.

Buried in his office, Doctor Daniel Jackson thumbed through Burckhardt's Travels in Nubia. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, but he refused to stop. In quick succession the pages rushed by, black and white text blurring to gray. He couldn't read the words at this pace, but that really wasn't the point. Staying in motion was his goal, not reading.   

Flip, flip, flip.

The appendix with all of its well ordered columns sprinted away under his fingers until he reached the back cover. Six hundred twenty six pages of Egyptian wonders and he hadn't paid attention to any of them. 

Daniel closed the book. Dully, he stared at the ruins of his private sanctuary. Most of the reference library, two months worth of reports, as well as a flock of disposable cups littered the desk. In the middle of it all, sat his carafe — it was empty. 

With a sigh, Daniel worked a thumb and index finger behind his glasses and pressed hard.  

Outside the office, muted heel clicks sounded on the floor. Their report echoed oddly in halls accustomed to the thud of booted feet, but the rhythm was familiar. Jack.

Relief and a fine thread of apprehension caught in Daniel's chest. Snatching up a pen, he began stacking errant books with one hand and nesting his used disposable cups with the other. By the seventh cup, he was no longer alone.

"Daniel?"

"Jack! Ah, hi." Adding another cup to his tower, Daniel forced a smile. 

His friend responded with a smirk of his own and walked into the room. Instead of civvies or the usual BDUs, he was clad in dress blues. Or what was left of them. Tie spilling out of one pocket, shirt collar unbuttoned, jacket ajar, and hat no where to be seen, he looked tired and discontent. The sight set Daniel on edge. 

"Here kinda late, aren't ya'?" 

"Ah, yeah, a little. I guess." Daniel shrugged, gesturing to the mound of books on his desk as if their presence explained everything. He got a doubtful eyebrow raise in return and hurried on to a new topic. "You just get back?" 

"Yep." 

"That's good. How was DC?"

"Still there."

Exasperated, Daniel tossed aside his pen. Sometimes getting information from Jack O'Neill was harder than excavating a four thousand year old mummy. And after spending the last fifteen hours flipping through books...

"Look, Daniel, about this morning — I'm sorry for running out on you and your geek friends." Rotating his shoulder joints, Jack straightened to his full height. "You know how much I love the whole rock thing, but this other thing... it couldn't wait. It was important."

Daniel offered a negligent wave, frustration softening with the surprise of receiving an apology. He hadn't expected one. When it came to lectures, Jack might interrupt him, annoy him, aggravate him — but he wouldn't leave him hanging. Not without a reason.  

Fingers snapped in the air and Daniel blinked. His brain caught up a second later and he realized he had been staring at his friend for, well, too long apparently. He fumbled for an excuse. "Oh, ah, sorry. I was just thinking."

The doubtful eyebrow raise came back, but Jack didn't say anything. Instead he plucked an ancient Egyptian marble from the desk and rolled it along his palm. Unearthed in Giza in the year 1908, the marble was a priceless artifact from the fifth dynasty, had he bothered to ask. 

Daniel winced, but couldn’t bring himself to object. Not tonight. "Jack— Jack is everything okay? I mean this trip — if there's some kind of problem, anything I can do to help, I—"

"Thank you, Daniel." The response was purposeful. Sincere. Each word pronounced with care. "But it's nothing for you to worry about. Just a conflict of interest." Jack gave the purloined marble a toss. "I flew out, ruffled a few political feathers. Got lost in the Pentagon, saw Farragut's Square, bought a T-shirt. It was fun." 

Daniel nodded, but couldn't bring himself to answer. His chest felt tight. 

"So," Jack mustered a flat smile, "enough about that. I have come bearing some interesting news. Well, maybe not exactly interesting, but different. Definitely different. Um, so you know the Alpha site?" 

Ridiculous question. Of course he knew the Alpha site.

"Right, well seems like the annual Alpha inspection tour is upon us. Or rather it's upon me. I'll be gating out there tomorrow morning, first thing."

The band of pressure inside Daniel's chest dropped, contracting into a knot deep in his stomach. "Tomorrow?"

"Something wrong with tomorrow?" 

"Um, no. No, I mean it's just kind of sudden, that's all."

Jack shrugged. "Walter mentioned something about it to me last week, but I've been so busy, hadn't given it much thought. Until tonight. I got to thinking about it on my way back. Figured no time like the present, right?" Another bright, one dimensional smirk appeared on Jack's face. He placed the marble back on the desk and shoved both hands in his pockets.

"How long will you be gone?"

"One week."

Daniel gaped at Jack who promptly rebuffed him with a frown. 

"What?" 

"Nothing, Jack, I guess. It’s just… isn't a week kind of a long time? Awful lot of inspecting." 

"Yes." The intonation was solemn, but a twitch of Jack's lips and slight bounce of his heels ruined the effect. Almost. 

"Jack?" 

"Daniel."

"What's going on?" There was a pause and Daniel found himself on the receiving end of an intense stare. The dark eyes of his friend, usually so well guarded, were almost raw. 

Then it was gone. 

Jack struck a pretentiously jovial look and bobbed in place. "The Alpha site has a lake. Thought I might do a little fishing."

"Fishing?" Daniel felt off balance, as though everything in the galaxy had just tipped sideways. Fishing? That's what this was about? Still struggling to regain some mental equilibrium, he asked the first neutral question that came to mind. "They have fish?"

"I do not believe the presence of fish is required for one to engage in the act of fishing, Daniel Jackson."

Daniel startled, swiveling toward the door. “Teal’c!”

The Jaffa inclined his head, then turned to Jack. "It is good to see you, O'Neill. Your presence has been missed.” 

"Well thanks, T. Back at'cha."

Sam came into view a few paces behind Teal’c. She beamed at Jack. "Sir, welcome home!" 

"Et tu, Carter? Doesn't anyone around here sleep anymore?"

"We could not retire in peace, O'Neill, while your fate remained unknown to us." 

And of course Teal'c would put it that way.

"My fate?" 

Daniel choked on a mouthful of air. "Teal'c may have phrased it a bit dramatically, Jack, but—"  

"Ya' think?" 

"Well, maybe just a little." 

A grin flashed across Sam's face, then she sobered. “Dramatic or not, Teal’c does have a point, sir. You left so suddenly, we were worried there must be some kind of trouble."  

"No, trouble, Carter. Just the usual. I went, I saw, I disrupted, I came back."

"And no problems remain, O'Neill?"

"Nope. Got it all taken care of, T. Or I will have. Soon." Jack didn't look at them. 

Daniel swallowed as he watched his friend's gaze fall from the desk, to the floor, to his shoes. Jack was holding something back — from them. His Team.

His former Team. 

The thought stung harder than any slap to the face.  

"Something on your mind, Daniel?"

“No, uh…” Daniel swiped at his forehead. "Th-the Alpha site. You forgot to tell them about the Alpha site."

"Ah! Yes, the Alpha site. I'm going there."  

There was an empty pause and it soon became apparent Jack felt his job of explaining was done. 

Excavating that four thousand year old mummy was looking easier by the minute. If it weren’t for the ache gnawing at his insides, Daniel would have laughed. "Jack's going there for an inspection tour and to do a little fishing. Apparently they have a lake."

"Really?" Sam’s face brightened. "Do they have any fish, sir?"

"I hear."

"Big ones?"

"Huge."

Daniel bounced his gaze from Jack to Sam and back again, panic rising with each bounce. "How big is 'huge', Jack? I mean, we are talking about an alien planet here."

"Indeed," Teal'c said. "The number and size of amphibious life forms could be significant."

This comment brought an enigmatic tilt to Jack's lips, but he dismissed their concerns. "Don't worry, kids. The Alpha personnel have been studying the planet's water-life for a few months now. No primeval Goa'ulds, no aqua-monsters, just your regular ol' run of the mill alien fish."  

"Any idea what you're going to use for bait, sir?" Sam asked. "As you pointed out, these are alien fish. Who knows what they think of earthworms."

"Yes, who indeed. Actually, I hadn't planned on taking any standard bait with me."

"Good idea, sir. Utilizing indigenous bugs or some other natural planetary resource might give you an advantage."   

Expression tightening, Jack seemed to process this suggestion for a beat. "Yes, well, planetary bugs sound great, Carter, but that's not exactly what I had in mind."

"Oh? What were you going to use, sir?"

Jack looked at Sam, his gaze lingering a moment too long and a shade too intensely. Then he switched on a smile. Head cocked, one hand smoothing his coat, Jack wobbled an eyebrow. "I was thinking of my magnetic personality."

"Oh, of course. What fish could resist that?" The sarcasm rolled easily off Daniel's tongue, but his heart wasn't in it. It couldn’t be — not when his soul felt so heavy.

But Jack didn't seem to notice. Smile stretching a bit wider, he said, "Why thank you, Daniel."

Sam emitted a strangled sort of sound and gnawed the inside of her cheek. "Sir, due respect, but do you really think that will work?"

Jack smirked. "Magnets, Carter. Work every time."

The galaxy was tipping again, Daniel was certain of it. "Jack, we are talking about fishing, right? As in fishing for fish?" Rewarded with a snort and an off-center expression he couldn't quite decipher, Daniel again opened his mouth. Before he could get a word out, Jack spoke.

"C'mon campers, time for bed." He sauntered toward the door. "Big day tomorrow. I'm off to Alpha and you three have that mission to PR5-historic-dust-bowl-whatever, remember?"

"But Jack—"

"Ack! No buts, Danny. Sleep. You know, that thing you do when your eyes are closed?"

Daniel wanted to protest, but Jack was already out of sight, with Teal'c and Sam not far behind. Despite the clutter, his office suddenly seemed very empty.

"Daniel, don't make me sic Teal'c on you." Jack’s threat echoed in the hall, slowly fading into a whisper. 

It left Daniel feeling hollow. 

"Daniel?" 

Massaging his forehead, Daniel forced himself to take a deep breath. This was insane. Jack was just going to Alpha for a week, not running off on some suicide mission. So what if he hadn't told them everything? That tended to happen when your best friend became a General in charge of the most top secret base in the nation. And Jack had said there wasn't a problem. He’d said he had everything under control.  

... Or I will have. Soon.

"Daniel, if I have to come and drag you out of that office I am not going to be a happy man." 

"Yeah." Daniel gave himself a shake. "Okay, Jack. I'm coming."

Chapter Text

10-19-2004, 23:44 OWT (Off-World Time)
10-19-2004, 17:44 Zulu 
ALPHA SITE

Jack lay in Alpha's V.I.P. quarters, long legs stretched the length of his cot and arms bent behind his head. He was supposed to be resting. Cardinal rule before any Op: rest while you can, because you might not get another chance. 

Good rule.
 
Jack sighed and continued to stare at the ceiling. "Yep, way to rest up, O'Neill." 

For the most part, he’d managed to put the last twelve hours to good use: tour of the base, with emphasis on their security measures, internal as well as external; a review of personnel shifts and schedules, particularly those of the nighttime SFs; an in depth review of the latest supply requisitions, including those for replacement security cameras to cover hallways three, four, and six, as well as the hangar bay. 

Not too shabby for a last minute recon. 

It wasn’t until twenty-two hundred when the base commander started trotting out the latest stats from the archaeology and science departments that Jack had decided to call it quits. That had been an hour and forty-some-odd minutes ago. His gear was packed, his plans made. All that was left to do was wait. 

Wait.

His alarm clock chirped. Snatching it from the table, Jack swung his legs to the floor. 

It was time. 

10-19-2004, 13:46 EDT   
10-19-2004, 17:46 Zulu  
HOMEWORLD SECURITY, WASHINGTON, DC
GENERAL HAMMOND’S OFFICE                                                           

"Yes, this is General Hammond I would like to speak with General Jack O'Neill room 209... Yes, I'll hold." George swiveled from side to side in his chair, phone in one hand and a pen tapping restlessly in the other. His eyes tracked from the time-stamped message on his desk to the wall clock. He pursed his lips. Fifteen hours.

A feminine voice crackled in his ear — some hotel employee spewing sweetness and light. He cut her short. "Ma’am I'm sorry, but this is a priority phone call. It's imperative that I speak with... Room 209 yes, I'm certain... What?" The pen in his hand stopped tapping. It dropped to the desk. "When did he check out?… You’re sure?… I see. Thank you."  

George placed the receiver on its cradle and held it there, mind working ten paths of conjecture at once. None of them were good. 

He could try Jack's cell number, his home, or... 

Tightening his grip on the phone, George lifted it with a jerk. "Get me the SGC."

10-19-2004, 23:50 OWT
10-19-2004, 17:50 Zulu
ALPHA SITE

The corridor was empty. Minimal emergency lights filled it with a greenish haze and stretched long shadows on the walls. 

Haze and long shadows. He was good with that. 

Tugging a cap over his silver hair, Jack moved into the darkness. Across his face, fresh smears of camouflage paint began to pull as it dried against his skin, and the familiar pressure of his tac vest circled his chest. 

Staying deep in the shadows, he kept his steps soft and fast. He had five minutes, tops, to get to the surface access doors. Timing was critical. 

Exterior base patrol consisted of six men. Not a huge number, but given that the facility was built into the side of a mountain with only two access points, it was sufficient. Two out of the six guards would be stationed at the main entrance; the other four would be circling in regular patrols. After dark, the blast doors were never opened. 

Except at shift change.

From zero hour to zero-ten, the front doors would be wide open. 

Jack quickened his pace, hand pressing against the left-side pocket of his vest. A familiar shape bulged beneath the mesh material, smooth and cool. The sensation was oddly reassuring. His whole plan hinged on what was in that pocket. 

Nine minutes to zero hour.

10-19-2004, 19:51 OWT
10-19-2004, 17:51 Zulu
PR5-381

Historic-Dust-Bowl-Whatever; an unflattering nickname, but an accurate one. The topography of PR5-381 was equivalent to a barren version of Kansas. At least that was the best analogy Sam had thought of after fours hours of observation. Red colored flatland stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. There were no rocks, no trees, no mountains, no vegetation. It was a military tactician's nightmare. In the event of an attack, they would be completely exposed with no viable cover options outside of the 'Gate itself or the DHD. Even the ruins, if they could be called that, were flat. Laid out in a pattern reminiscent of an elongated chess board, they checkered the ground before and behind the Stargate in the form of enormous tiles. Made of sun-baked clay and covered in an alien script, none of them rose more than six centimeters out of the ground. 

Rotating to the left in a tight semi-circle, Sam scoured the horizon for the millionth time. And like the last nine-hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine-hundred ninety-nine times, she saw nothing. It was unnerving. Overall the atmosphere of '381 was favorable, definitely lending itself to sustaining some form of life, be it humanoid or botanical, yet nothing lived here. At least not anymore. Never had she seen such a theoretically livable and apparently once inhabited planet so empty.

"Colonel Carter."

Empty that is except for her teammates. Sam grinned for no particular reason and glanced over her shoulder. "Find anything, Teal'c?"

"I have not. As before, my reconnaissance has yielded nothing of interest."

"Yeah, I haven't found anything either." Turning away from what she had determined to be the western sky, Sam jogged closer to Teal'c. They were a fair distance from the Stargate, but in the barrenness of their surroundings the ring stood out like a beacon. And their third teammate stood out like a sore thumb. Hunched over one of the tiles that lay between her position and the 'Gate, he was the picture of concentration. "Daniel's still hard at it. Maybe he's come up with something."

"I do not believe his discovery to be significant."

"What makes you say that?"

"Daniel Jackson has informed me that these stones contain a record of this planet's weather."

Sam scanned the sky, taking in the cloudless atmosphere and pale twin suns. Night was coming. Both solar disks were hanging low against the horizon and, in the east, dark traces of blue were seeping into the sky. Not a breath of air stirred. "What weather?" 

Features set in stone, Teal'c stared at their archaeologist. "Exactly." 

"I heard that." 

Resisting the urge to giggle, Sam rolled her lips together. A chance look in Teal'c's direction found his eyebrow freezing mid-arch. She ducked her chin to hide another smile. "You about ready to wrap it up, Daniel?"

"Ah, no, actually."  

Sam headed toward the archaeological work area, waving for Teal'c to follow. When her shadow passed over Daniel's back, he turned and flashed her an enormous grin. 

"This is fascinating." Face streaked with dirt and bandanna soaked with sweat, he still managed to project an aura of enthusiasm. "These records... each one of them is so meticulous, it's amazing. The writings are ancient — in terms of age, not origin — and could easily predate that of the earliest hieroglyphs, maybe even some of the later-age pictographs we've found on Earth, yet they're so detailed. The minute variations, the use of phonetics, th-the harmony of the text with the symbols." Commentary fading into another grin, Daniel gazed down at his find. "We've got to come back."

"I don't know, Daniel. Unless something about this planet's weather is going to help defeat the Goa'uld, I don't know how receptive the General will be to sending us back here."

"But there is so much we can learn about history, an-an-and the evolution of human communication." Letting out a heavy breath, Daniel began gathering his scattered notebooks and tools. "You've got to help me convince Jack. You will won't you? When he gets back."

When he gets back. Sam flinched. She'd almost forgotten. Tightening her grip on a sudden rush of pointless emotion, she squinted at the horizon. The suns were setting quickly. A few more minutes and the world would be dark.

"Sam? You okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine." She forced a smile, but judging by the faces of her teammates’ it wasn’t very convincing. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other foot. "What?"

"You appear most unsettled." 

"I’m fine, Teal'c, really."

"No, you're not." Daniel spoke the words in that detached, professorial tone of his — the one Sam had noticed he usually reserved for the General — and shouldered his pack.   

With a flicker of irritation, she squared her stance. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, you tell me. You're obviously upset about something. The question is what?"

Sam worked her jaw forward and back, eyes narrowing. Her intent was to silently fend off the unwanted question, but Daniel remained undeterred. He knew her too well.

"You're worried about Jack, aren't you?"  

Much too well.

Muscles flexing taut, Sam closed her eyes. She needed to move. Without warning, she turned and strode toward the ‘Gate. "Let's go home. It’s late."

"I knew it. Sam!”

How Daniel ‘knew it’ from that unrelated statement, she wouldn’t dare guess.

Footsteps thumped behind her, Daniel and Teal'c both half-jogging to close the gap she'd created. 

Daniel started talking again. "Sam! Sam, there's nothing wrong with that. I think we're all a little worried about Jack right now. At least I know I am. Aren't you worried, Teal'c?"

Impenetrable, stoic silence. 

"There, you see?" 

"Daniel, it's an inspection tour," Sam executed an abrupt about-face, stopping them all in their tracks. "And even if it wasn't, even if it was more than that, you and I both know General O'Neill is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He's ex-special forces, for crying out loud. What is there to be worried about?" 

"Yeah." Daniel seemed to labor over the word, expression expanding and contracting with the effort. 

He wasn't convinced, Sam could tell. What's more, he wasn't convinced that she was convinced. 

Heat flushed along the length of her neck and tinged the edge of her cheeks. He was right, she wasn't convinced. Desperate, she looked at Teal’c. In silence, she begged him to reassure her.

He gave a gentle tilt of the head. "O'Neill is a most gifted and tenacious warrior."

Wrapping his arms about his chest, Daniel stared at them both. "Then why are we all scared stiff?" 

10-19-2004, 23:59 OWT
10-19-2004, 17:59 Zulu
ALPHA SITE

Alpha’s front entrance was massive. Fourteen inch thick concrete walls cut into the mountainside, framing double blast doors the size of an F-302. Thin bands of trees flanked the access point, running parallel with the rock-face and spreading outward around the base's Landing Zone. Not the best layout for what Jack had in mind, but it would do. 

It had to.

Within his mind, Jack visualized the operation he was about to execute. Layers of detail, from the types of ground cover he would cross to the angle of the moonlight, fitted themselves into the mental picture. Other variables, such as the security teams, were painted in as well, but in less defined terms. All out-going personnel were required to pass on a verbal report to the on-coming team. They’d line up six to six, ten to fifteen yards north of the entrance. He’d seen them do it before. 

Max time allotted: six minutes. 

Jack edged close to the threshold. A trickle of sweat ran along his jaw. 

Zero hour.

The first thrum of adrenaline warmed his body, pounding a steady rhythm in his ears. He risked a look around the corner, confirmed the position of the guards, and pulled back. 

Five, four, three. He glanced out for a second time. Still clear. Two, one, mark. 

10-19-2004, 12:00 MDT
10-19-2004, 18:00 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 28

They were home. With a hollow ring, Sam’s boots hit the ramp.

Then why are we all scared stiff? 

The unanswered question repeated in her ears. Apparently nine hundred, thirty-seven million miles wasn’t far enough for her to escape its power. Or her fear. 

“Colonel Carter?”
 
She turned her attention to the control room. Their temporary commander, Colonel Albert Reynolds, stood at the 'Gate room mic. Yet another reminder of the General's absence. She cleared her throat. "Yes, sir?"

“As soon as you finish with your post mission check, I need you here in the control room.”

Passing her P-90 off to a waiting SF, Sam unclipped her vest. “What’s going on, sir?”

“General Hammond just called. He needs to talk with General O’Neill, ASAP. We’re about to dial up the Alpha site and get him online, but I’m going to need your help to patch him through.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam exchanged quick looks with her Team, heart beating fast. 

Then why are we all scared stiff? 

The answer suddenly seemed much too close.

10-20-2004, 00:01 OWT    
10-19-2004, 18:01 Zulu                                                             
ALPHA SITE

Jack lay prone on the ground, every muscle tense and rigid. He was three yards into the tree line. Thin breaths of air passed through his lips, sending wisps of condensation into the night. 

A short distance away, the voice of one of the security officers caught in the wind. Based on the monotone lilt, he was still reviewing the shift report while the rest of the guards remained at attention. 

Jack allowed himself a fuller intake of air. Oxygen swirled into his lungs, and the beat of his blood quickened. Levering his body mere inches off of the ground, he crawled deeper among the trees. He gained six yards, paused, then took six more. Time was short. He needed to make some distance and make it fast. Pushing to his feet, Jack bent low and threaded his way between the trees. 

Ten yards. Fifteen. Seventeen.

Orders snapped in the air. Jack flattened himself on the ground, the heady scent of alien pine needles meeting him in a rush. Time suspended. More words mingled on the wind, this time softened with laughter. Jack's heart thudded a single hard blow, skipped a beat, then fell back into rhythm. They hadn't spotted him. 

Not yet.

10-19-2004, 12:02 MDT
10-19-2004, 18:02 Zulu
SGC, ELEVATOR

Level twenty-two. Level twenty-three. Level twenty-four.

Impatiently, Sam watched the numbers tick by.

Level twenty-seven. Level twenty-eight.

Ping.

Sam was out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. Breaking into a well-collected run, she cut down the corridor toward the control room. The stairs came into view, and she slowed briefly, before taking them two at time.

The Stargate was active, iris open, when she arrived. With a nod at Reynolds, she slipped into an empty chair at the console. "Is Alpha ready?"

"Not yet. One of their technicians is en route to get General O'Neill." Reynolds glanced at his watch. "Should be back anytime."

Sam input the commands for the source connectivity program. Patching one of the SGC's PX lines to an off-world radio channel was not a standard operation, but she could make it work. A dialog box appeared requesting her login and password. She started typing. "What about General Hammond?"

"I told him it might take us a few minutes. He's standing by for me to call him back as soon as General O'Neill's online."

Login accepted. Sam sat back, fingers slipping from the keyboard to the lip of the desk. Until they had an active line on their end to initiate the patch, there wasn't much else she could do.

Reynolds snagged a nearby chair and straddled it, arms propped on the seat.

Empty seconds passed. Sam's muscles drew tight.

"Sam? You okay?"

Reynolds' question startled her. With a side-long glance, she shook her head and forced a smile. "Yeah, Al, I'm fine." He raised a doubting eyebrow; she changed the subject. "Hey, I meant to ask, how's Lieutenant Grogan's leg doing?"

All but rolling his eyes, Reynolds sighed. "Still broken as of ten o'clock this morning. I swear, the kid does this to me on purpose."

"To you?" Sam's muscles began to unlock as she let out a laugh. "You're not the one with your leg in a cast."

"No, but General O'Neill might have put you in charge of this mad house instead of me, if our team hadn't already been off the mission roster."

There was that. A vision of the General's file ridden desk came to mind and Sam shuddered, then smirked. "Remind me to send Grogan a thank you note."

Reynolds shot her a glare, but didn’t have the chance to retort. 

Alpha’s radio operator beat him to it. “Colonel Reynolds, come in.”

He slapped the transmit key. “This is Reynolds, go ahead.”

“Be advised, sir, we have been unable to locate General O’Neill.”

Sam froze, cold fear burning in her chest.

The transmission continued. "He’s not in his quarters, and so far has not responded to our page. Colonel Pierce has been briefed on the situation, and has ordered a base lockdown while we execute a search. We’re going to have to shut down the ‘Gate.”

Reynolds drew in a hard breath, facial muscles clenching. “Understood, Sergeant. Let me know the minute you have something. Reynolds, out.”

Fingers wrapping even tighter around the desk, Sam stared at the Stargate. The event horizon flickered. Then, with a snap, it disconnected.

10-20-2004, 00:03 OWT    
10-19-2004, 18:03 Zulu                                                             
ALPHA SITE

Working deeper into the shadows, Jack aligned himself with the mountain and pressed in close. A chill from the granite surface seeped through his BDUs, sending dull shivers along his side. Less than two yards lay between him and the clearing. A scattering of trees and the darkness itself were his only cover.  

Footfalls and murmurs of hushed conversations filtered through the trees. Their sound ricocheted against the mountain wall and echoed deceptively in the atmosphere. Some seemed to move farther away, others steadily closer. Risking a look behind him, Jack assessed the situation. Shift change was over. The blast doors had been sealed, with the shift Lieutenant and his second in command now standing guard. The remaining soldiers had splintered into teams, the first moving north along the upper ridge and the second heading south through the clearing.

Straight for him.

Jack lowered his himself to the ground. His eyes sliced through the slim underbrush and sharpened themselves on the approaching threat — the threat of his own men. Focus aimed low, he saw only their boots. It was all he wanted to see. 

Steadily, they drew closer. His lips felt dry. An itch developed on his nose, pain twinged in his right knee, and invisible hands twisted around his insides. The boots stopped. Jack could count the crisscrosses of their laces. 

An alarm screamed. Repeatedly. 

The guards turned and raced back to Alpha's entrance. 

Beads of sweat trembled on Jack's forehead. This was his chance. Cautiously, he got to his feet.

It was time to move.

Chapter Text

10-20-2004, 02:31 OWT                                                                                 
10-19-2004, 20:31 Zulu
ALPHA SITE

The lake was beautiful — a mile wide piece of glass streaked in moonlight. Dropping to one knee, Jack wasted several hard earned seconds just admiring the view. It wasn't Minnesota, but it was close. 

With a snatch, he opened his vest pocket. Velcro snagged at his glove as he reached inside for the all important cargo: one Inverted Phase Communicator. High-tech doohickey guaranteed to reach the Tok'ra with a need-you signal in two seconds flat. He just hoped Jacob was listening. Or watching. Or whatever it was you did on the other end of these things. 

Placing the IPC on a nice, even spot of ground, Jack sat back on his haunches. The device was simple — only three buttons. He liked that. Even Carter couldn't take the simple out of three buttons. Inputting the proper sequence, he waited. A beam of light appeared. It grew thicker and more intense by the second, then vaulted into the sky and blazed across the night.  

"Well, that was fun." Smiling, Jack reluctantly pulled his attention back to ground level. A quick three-sixty showed no signs of movement around the banks of the lake or the wood line. He was well out of range for the usual base patrols, and had taken pains to cover his trail, but old habits die hard — especially when you took to firing signals into the air meant to advertise your location half-way across the galaxy.

Tucking the IPC back into his pocket, Jack pushed to his feet. Rest time was over. 

10-19-2004, 16:20 MDT
10-19-2004, 22:20 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 27 

Teal'c stood alone in the briefing room, muscles taut, brow furrowed. He faced the interior window, regarding the Stargate below. Like himself it stood idle — constrained to inactivity by the will of others.

A door opened behind him. Within the reflection of the glass, he witnessed Colonel Reynolds' approach.

"I just talked to Hammond again," the marine said. "His plane landed at Petersen ten minutes ago. He's on his way."

Teal'c absorbed this information in silence, then asked, "Have you heard anything further from the Alpha site?"

"Just that they've completed their search of the base. Still no contact." Colonel Reynolds came nearer, his eyes on the Stargate. "As soon as it's daylight, they're going to start searching the planet's surface."

"Does this mean the lockdown has been lifted?"

"Access is still restricted, but for the most part, yes."

Hands clasped behind his back, Teal'c turned to Colonel Reynolds. "In that case, I request permission to assist in the search for General O'Neill."

"I'm sorry, Teal'c. If it were up to me, I'd have sent you through hours ago, but…" Colonel Reynolds ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. "I've been ordered by General Hammond to keep this thing as quiet as possible. And the best way I know to do that is to let Alpha handle it in house. If I start sending personnel through to help with this search, some very important people could start asking questions. I don't think either one of us want that to happen."

Inhaling deeply, Teal'c inclined his head, but said nothing.

Colonel Reynolds cleared his throat. "Pierce did say his people have a lead. It's slim, but apparently General O'Neill said something about going fishing. He made a point of telling Pierce that if he wasn't around in the morning not to worry because he planned on getting an early start."

Teal'c arched an eyebrow.

"I know. It sounded pretty far-fetched to me, too, but at this point…" Colonel Reynolds finished the thought with a shrug.

Teal’c returned his attention to the Stargate. Fishing. “Perhaps it is not so far-fetched as it may seem.”

“Yeah. Perhaps not.” But Colonel Reynolds didn’t sound convinced.

The room lapsed into silence. Minutes passed. 

At length, Colonel Reynolds spoke, his voice low. "How does he do it, Teal'c?"

"To whom are you referring?"

"General O'Neill. How does he stay sane trapped in this place? If this is what he goes through every time one of us..." The marine fell silent, once again supplementing his thought with a gesture.  

"I do not know, Colonel Reynolds," Teal'c replied. "I do not know."    

10-20-2004, 04:23 OWT                                                                                
10-19-2004, 22:23 Zulu
ALPHA SITE

Jack looked out over the lake. He'd spent the the last sixty-eight minutes circling north along its bank in an effort to put some extra distance between himself and the base. Chances of pursuit grew with every minute that passed. After dawn, they'd skyrocket. And since Alpha’s dawn came earlier than any dawn he’d seen on Earth…

Muttering at the fading stars above, Jack watched the first tinge of daylight appear. "Anytime, Jacob."

As if in answer, the tree limbs above began to bend and sway. Not an altogether unusual occurrence except there was no wind. No breeze. Nothing. 

Moving into the open, Jack waited, eyes tearing apart the surroundings. Ripples appeared on the water. Without an apparent source, they spiraled across lake, multiplying and toppling over each other with increased speed. 

"Jacob?" 

Grass hissed in a nearby field, its blades bowing to the will of an invisible force. Some alien birds took flight, and the music of a hundred unfamiliar insects ceased. 

"Oh, Jacob."

In reply, an echo that was not his own whispered in the air. Jack froze. A chill toyed with his neck and spine. The water continued to race, the trees to stutter, and then... 

Another echo, a step closer and a shade more distinct than the one before. It was a human shout.

They were coming.

10-20-2004, 04:31 OWT                                                                               
10-19-2004, 22:31 Zulu
ALPHA SITE

Jack counted eight men total. Ranged along the lake's opposite bank, they had yet to notice his position. Of course given that he’d fallen back to the tree line and taken shelter among the underbrush, that was sort of the point. 

A call went up from one of the men. The others converged on his position, entered into a brief huddle, then fanned out, attention on the ground. They'd found his trail.  

"Aw, great." Levering onto one elbow, Jack craned his neck for a glimpse of the sky. Jacob was his only hope. And assuming the ruckus with the trees meant what he thought it did…

Energy hummed through the air. An invisible curtain parted revealing the massive, hovering form of an Al'kesh. Vibrations spawned by its proximity shook the ground, while shadows from the ship's hull engulfed the lake. It was the thing of nightmares, but to Jack it was beautiful. 

"Whoa." His murmur of appreciation died beneath a sudden eruption of shouts and automatic weapons fire. Not exactly the welcome Jacob would be expecting.  

Jack scrambled to his feet and darted into the open, arms raised, body in full view of the cockpit. He broke into a run.

More yells scratched in the air. 

He kept running, eyes searching the belly of the Al'kesh. 

The guns stopped. The shouting didn’t. 

Blood pounding in his ears, Jack could still hear his name. It bellowed across the lake and reverberated against the mountains. He ignored it. 

There. A circular pattern cut into the ship’s undercarriage — the rings. Turning his back on the lake, the search party, and everything else, Jack aligned himself for transport. His heart thudded in his chest. The heavy beats failed to drown out the yells from the opposite bank. Then it all disappeared in a blur of white light, the crash of descending rings, and the thrum of energy ripping his molecules apart.  

10-19-2004, 16:26 MDT
10-19-2004, 22:26 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 28

A wormhole exploded against the Stargate's iris. 

Traversing the spiral staircase with as much haste as was prudent, Teal'c and Colonel Reynolds entered the control room. 

"Colonel, we've got audio," the technician announced. "It's Alpha. High priority."

"Put it through." 

Teal'c strode forward, examining the multitude of computer screens. "Perhaps they have found O'Neill."

"Yeah, maybe." The response was tight. 

"Colonel Reynolds?" 

"Pierce, what've you got?"

"We had a visual on him, Al."

Had. Past tense. Teal'c felt his hope begin to falter.

"What happened?" Colonel Reynolds demanded.

"He was at the lake. My men saw him — just before he ringed onto an Al'kesh."

Shock tainted with a degree of fear rippled through the control room. Teal'c could feel its presence like an oppressive, living form. O'Neill was gone.

"My men fired on the Al’kesh, but when—" The transmission cut short. 

"Pierce, come in." 

Nothing. 

"Pierce, do you read?"

"Roger, Command. Be advised, just received another report from the search party. Al'kesh has made the jump to hyperspace. But they're saying it hovered over their position and ringed something down before it left. Stand by."

An eternity passed. Teal'c's patience had worn thin, almost to the point of nonexistence, when the transmission at last resumed.  

"Command, it's an IPC. You know, that thing we use to contact the Tok'ra?"

IN TRANSIT
10-19-2004, 22:29 Zulu
AL'KESH COCKPIT

Jack sank into the copilot's seat. Relieved of his pack and safe in the mysterious realm of hyperspace, he could finally relax. 

"You want to tell me who your friends were back there?" 

Prying open an eyelid he'd just managed to close, Jack gave his rescuer a hard look. "Don't know what you're talking about." The lid slipped back into place. "Want to tell me where you got your ride? I didn't know the Tok'ra had anything this big."

"We didn't, until last week. I managed to… re-appropriate it.”

The lid popped back open. "It's hot?" 

Jacob shot him a look that seemed to hold about two parts annoyance and one part amusement. 

"I hope you remembered to switch plates."

"Jack—” 

“She loaded with anything fun?”

“Just the standard staff canons.”

Slumping further into his seat, Jack smirked. “Nice.”

“I’m glad you approve. Now you want to tell me who those men were?”

Scrubbing a hand over his face and into his hair, Jack leaned forward. A full-bodied, aggravated kind of sigh rushed out of his chest. "Alpha personnel. They were looking for me." He bored his gaze into the floor, then into Jacob. "This mission isn't exactly official."

"So unofficial you almost get caught in the line of fire?"

Jack opened his arms with a shrug. 

"Well, in that case I should probably warn you, there aren't any other Tok'ra here, Jack. The High Council wouldn't allow it. Something goes wrong, we're on our own."

Jack didn’t respond. Eyes lowered, he rubbed his hands together.  

Selmak's distorted voice filled the cockpit. "We felt you should be forewarned, General. But please, do not mistake our warning as a sign of weakness or dissent. If you choose to continue with this mission, we are resolved to assist you by whatever means necessary." 

There was a pause and Jacob resurfaced. "It's your call, Jack." 

He lifted his head. "Let's bring them home." 

10-19-2004, 16:34 MDT
10-19-2004, 22:34 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 27

Daniel thumped his hands hard against the briefing table. Everyone turned his way. He could feel their stares — General Hammond, Colonel Reynolds, Sam, Teal'c. All of them. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to care. "General, we can't just leave him out there."  

"I'm sorry, son, but I don't see that we have much of a choice."

"There's always a choice," Daniel fired back. "Jack is out there right now getting ready to trade his life away. You can't expect us to just stand by and do nothing."

Sam sat up quickly, her eyes darting a warning in Daniel's direction, before shifting onto the General. "Sir, couldn't we contact the Tok'ra? They must have a record of the coordinates for the meeting place."

"I've already considered that possibility, Colonel, but Jack told me himself the coordinates were not a valid Stargate address."

"What of the Prometheus?" 

"Transportation is only part of it, Teal'c. Even if the Prometheus could make the flight in time, there's still the problem of intel. We're working blind on this one and without a way to probe the area, we have no idea what you'd be walking into. We don't know who's behind this offer, what sort of forces they may have — we don't even know for sure that the members of SG-14 are still alive."

"But they might be." Daniel edged forward in his seat. "And even if they're not, what about Jack? We're talking about his life here, too. That ought to be worth something. He at least deserves to have a fighting chance, but if all that you say is true then—" Then he doesn't have a chance. The thought hurt. "Please, General, we have to try, just let us back him up." 

"Indeed," Teal'c said. "We are prepared to assume whatever risks may be necessary."

Sam leaned in, elbows propped on the table. "And we wouldn't have to endanger the Prometheus or her crew, sir. The three of us could handle it. All we’d need is a Tel'tak."

"We could ask the Tok'ra," Daniel threw in, hope already mounting. "They've helped us out with transportation before, and if they can't, there's always the Rebel Jaffa."

"And they don't have to go in alone, sir," Reynolds promised. "On a strictly volunteer basis, I can guarantee you all the personnel you need."

A smile played over the General's lips, but it failed to reach his eyes. "I'm sorry people. I can't allow you do that. I can't justify sending good men and women into a situation we know nothing about — one that may very well prove to be nothing more than an elaborate trap. I'm sorry." 

Daniel clamped his eyes shut. Pushing away from the table, he got to his feet and started to pace. "I don't understand. If the Joint Chiefs knew, if they knew—" Abruptly he stopped and studied General Hammond. Hard. "Why did they send Jack? If they knew you couldn't authorize any backup, why? I-I-I mean since when do they approve of Brigadier Generals taking on 'unofficial' suicide missions?"

Gaze falling to the table, General Hammond drew his hands together and interlaced his fingers. "They don't." 

"What?" The word was a whisper strangling Daniel's throat. Unconsciously, he stepped forward. "Exactly how unofficial is this mission?"

"It has not been sanctioned on any level. That's why I came."

"Sir?" Sam sounded both alarmed and puzzled. 

"My visit here isn't official, Colonel. As far as my staff's concerned, I'm on vacation and can't be reached. I had hoped to intercept Jack before it was too late." The admission was laced with regret. Swallowing, the General continued. "I spoke with Major Davis. He's agreed to keep Jack's absence quiet as long as possible. The Joint Chiefs are not aware of what's happened, and until Colonel Pierce submits his report, you are under no direct obligation to make them aware."  

Daniel tucked both arms around his chest. "What good does that do us?"

"Maybe none, but Jack had a plan. I never heard the details, but according to him there was a good chance it could work. He petitioned the Joint Chiefs about it for hours. He argued, shouted, all but begged them to listen. Eventually, they agreed to take it under advisement and get back with him sometime in the next forty-eight hours."

Throwing his line of focus from the floor to the ceiling, Daniel resumed his pacing. "I bet that went over well."

"The Joint Chiefs felt the plan presented too great a risk. They weren't prepared to gamble with Jack's life or the very real possibility that he could fall into enemy hands. They may have agreed to consider his plan, but their answer is a foregone conclusion."

"General O'Neill must have thought the same thing," Sam murmured. Realization and a certain level of horror colored her face. "He acted before they could order him not to."

"Will that fact alone shield him from retribution?"

The General shook his head. "It helps, Teal'c, but it's not enough. There are a number of charges that could be brought against him, even without that."   

Running both hands up his cheeks and behind his glasses, Daniel inhaled. His thoughts felt staggered and incomplete as he struggled to process what he was hearing. With a heavy exhale, he let his hands drop. "And you think if Jack can get back before the Joint Chiefs find out he's missing, it'll make a difference?" 

"If he successfully rescues SG-14, it could make all the difference."

"Justifiable results?" Daniel received a nod of confirmation. "And if he can’t rescue ‘14?"

"Then I suspect it won't much matter what we do." 

Chapter Text

IN TRANSIT
10-20-2004, 05:57 Zulu
AL’KESH COCKPIT 

"There it is. Tel Mak Ter'rot."

The announcement pulled Jack from the fringes of sleep. He'd been drowsing on and off for hours, long body draped across the copilot's chair. Bad decision. With a groan, he unfolded himself and tried to stretch the soreness from his limbs. "Tell-mock what?" 

"Tel Mak Ter'rot." Jacob pointed through the ship's front glass. A black planet covered in fiery red fissures dominated the view, along with two, close-orbiting moons. "It means ‘Land of the Cursed’."

Jack tossed his companion a look. "Land of the Cursed?" 

"Formerly known as Iunu. Key stronghold of Ra for almost two thousand years. He kept his choicest slaves there."

"What happened?"

"Legend has it the slaves tried to rebel. When Ra learned of their disobedience, he had the Stargate disabled and the entire population wiped out."  

"Nice guy." Jack shifted his weight to stare a bit harder through the window. "Which one is it?"

"The brighter of the two moons. Once we're closer, I'll run a surface scan, try to pinpoint the location of the Stargate. Even deactivated, we should still be able to pick up on the Naquadah."

Falling back into the copilot's seat, Jack nodded. "Sounds good." 

With a shudder, the Al'kesh dropped into the moon's atmosphere. Black space diluted to a deep royal blue. Nighttime then gave way to sunrise in a blur of yellows and pinks. They kept flying.

Bright midday sun spilled into the cockpit as they crossed into yet another of the moon's time zones. Jack reached for his sunglasses. The sky turned a rich blue cluttered with thin white wisps trying very hard to be clouds. It looked hot. Jack wasn't sure why, it just did. Craning forward and down, he caught his first glimpse of the terrain. Desert like the sands of Abydos stretched ad infinitum. "And that would be why it looks hot."

"What?"

"Nothing. How're we doing?" 

"So far, so good. Minimal life signs. Air is clean. Now if I can just get a reading on the 'Gate."

Above the console, digital imaging of the moon's surface appeared. Jacob studied the display and adjusted their course. "We're in business." He pointed to a half-buried strip of metal. "That's the 'Gate, or what's left of it. These are the ruins." The image zoomed out, and Jacob traced his hand over a large area. "As you can see, they're quite extensive. From what I can tell, this grouping over here is the least damaged. Granted, that's not saying much. The rest of this place is pretty well decimated, but I think it's our best shot."

"How close can you get?"

"How close do you want?"

"I want you to get a ticket for blocking their driveway."

Wagging his head, Jacob chuckled. "I'll see what I can do. Get the gear ready. I'll meet you in the ring room in five."

10-20-2004, 11:05 OWT
10-20-2004, 06:05 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT

Awareness of his body vanished and returned with an electrifying intensity. White light permeated his vision, and for a split second Jack grinned. Riding the rings just never got old. 

As each of his senses kicked back into gear, Jack worked to reorient himself. His fingers tightened around the Beretta in his hand, and he pulled both shoulders back just enough to feel Jacob at his six. The rings retreated, and a swirl of heat slammed into him. His tactical gear and black T absorbed the blast like a magnet. He started to sweat. Overhead, an invisible cloak swallowed the Al'kesh, stripping away its shade and revealing the sun. Light beat down and glared off the sand, rapidly amplifying the heat to new levels of miserable.

Before him lay piles of ancient ruins, their structures crushed and broken. Aside from some clumps of weeds surviving on who knew what, the place showed no signs of life. Even the air felt dead.

Jack flexed his hold on the Beretta. "Clear on this side."

"Same here."

"What about prospects? Anything catch your eye?"

"My position, ten o'clock, about thirty paces down,” Jacob answered. “Looks like the remains of some kind of hall. There's a lot of debris towards the back, but we can make it work."

Pivoting around, Jack locked onto the ruins in question. Three out of what he guessed had once been four walls jutted out of the sand. They were jagged and uneven, ranging from ten feet high to almost nonexistent, and formed a squarish horse shoe. Worked for him. "Check it out. I'm gonna do a little recon. You got the things?"

"Tok'ra communication devices, Jack, and yes I have them. Here." Thrusting a comm in Jack's direction, he tapped the unit's mate on his belt. "Holler if you need me."

With a smirk, Jack plucked the device from Jacob's hand. "Likewise." He gave the palm-sized disc a quick once over, tested the transmit key, and slipped it into the harness usually reserved for his radio. "Check in every fifteen minutes."

"You got it."

Smirking again, Jack twisted off to the left and headed for an inviting lump of sand. "Have fun."

10-20-2004, 11:45 OWT
10-20-2004, 06:45 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT

Jack tugged off his ball cap and wiped an arm across his forehead. All around him stretched the remains of Iunu: fractured slabs of rock, enormous columns, walls, floors… an entire city reduced to half-buried heaps of scrap. Angry craters pock-marked the ground, each circled by rubble and shards of red granite. It had been an air strike.  

Nudging through some of the debris with his foot, Jack watched charred bits of rock crumble and fall away. The whole place was like that. Rocks. Nothing but rocks. Okay, so technically they were fancy, alien-stone bricks, that had been pummeled into bite size chunks. But who was he to get technical? 

He gave the pile another nudge and suppressed a growl. Something was wrong. That annoying part of his brain that actually paid attention to Daniel's intellectual prattling kept telling him so. There was something he was missing. Something he'd seen or hadn't seen that was wrong. Something. 

"Jack, come in."

Snapping the cap back on his head, Jack keyed the comm. "Yeah, go ahead."

"I'm ready to move the ship. Configuration's set, but I'm gonna need your help lining up the rings."

He opened his mouth to reply, then stopped short. Air like hot breath blew across the nape of his neck and unseen eyes penetrated his back. 

"Jack?"

Ignoring Jacob's call, he spun on his heel, Beretta raised and searching for a target. His sights met an expanse of empty ruins. They gaped at him, void and motionless.  

"Jack, come in… Jack, answer me."

His left hand wrapped around the comm. "Yeah, I'm here."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. Forget it." He raked his eyes over the area once more. Nothing. "I'm on my way." 

10-20-2004, 11:49 OWT
10-20-2004, 06:49 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT 

Jack turned in a circle, watching Jacob poke random holes in the sand. He had to ask. "What are you doing?"

"Marking off the shield configuration. This square represents the boundary line." Straightening from his work, Jacob set his arms akimbo. "Find the center."

"That's near the middle, right?" An indulgent, perhaps slightly annoyed smile answered this joke, and Jack shrugged. Assessing his position in the square, he took two steps to the left. "So, Jacob, just how sure are you that this is gonna work?"

"I'm not."

"Ah, confidence. I like that." Jack threw a pleasant smile in Jacob's direction and took another half-step. "Y'know, this whole thing just reeks of that plan we tried way-back-when that flopped. Don't suppose that bothers you." 

"We're not going after a Kull warrior this time, Jack. It's SG-14. Big difference."

Wincing for no particular reason, Jack checked his placement in the square and made another adjustment. 

Jacob crossed his arms and slacked a hip. "We also aren't using tranquilizer darts, the Tok'ra forceshield has been inverted to act as a protective barrier, and we've planted enough C-4 to knock out a Ha'tak."

"Yeah." It came out as more of a grumble than an agreement. 

"We hatched this plan together, Jack, I thought you were comfortable with it."

He was. Or he had been. Frustrated and eager to change the subject, Jack pointed to the ground between his feet. "Found it."

"Jack, do we have a problem here?"

A phantom chill ignited along his spine. Digging one hand into the muscles at the base of his neck, Jack executed a controlled turn. Staring out across the landscape, he saw nothing but scorched ruins and blinding white sand. His fingers pressed a bit deeper. "I think plan B's gonna be a problem."

"Jack, we don't have a plan B."

"I know. I think that's gonna be a problem."

10-20-2004, 14:02 OWT
10-20-2004, 09:02 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT

Hidden behind piles of stone debris at the rear of the hall, Jack uncapped his canteen. He took a drink, then offered the canteen to Jacob.

"No thanks."

Replacing the cap, Jack squinted up at the sky. Heat swam in the air. "Y'know, next time I want a ruin with a northern exposure." 

Jacob humphed, but didn't look his way. "I'll keep that in mind."

Several minutes dragged by in silence. Jack adjusted his position, finished a power bar he'd been nursing for the past two hours, and needlessly checked the magazine in his Beretta. "So, any idea when the bad guys are gonna show?"

Selmak answered, "It could be days. Without knowing their point of origin or transportation capabilities, it is impossible to tell."

"They did get the memo we're here, though, right?"

With a dip of his head, Jacob resurfaced. "Let's hope so. If they didn't, we've got a problem."

"A problem as in..?"

Jacob held up the oval-shaped computer retrieved from '439 — their only link to SG-14. "After we deployed the first signal, I checked the power readings. It's down over seventy-five percent."

"And?"

"Think of it as a laptop running on battery power. It was only down about seven percent prior to sending the signal. Which means in order to transmit again we'd need a charge of at least sixty-eight percent. We just don't have it."

"Ah." Jack leaned back against the ruins. Hunks of broken granite pressed into his ribs and spine, even through the tac vest, but he ignored them. Idly he picked up a handful of sand, opened his fingers, and let the grains fall through. "Hey, Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you and Selmak know about this sorta stuff?" He gestured to the closest mound of rubble. 'Archaeology' was what he was aiming for, but he didn't bother to spell it out. He didn't have to. 

Jacob cocked an eyebrow. "Probably a little more than you and significantly less than Doctor Jackson, why?"

He picked at some loose stone shards. "Know anything about the decay rate of human bones?"

"Not off hand." 

There was a hint of bewilderment in Jacob's tone as well as an unasked question. Jack heard it, but didn't respond. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the rock fragments skittering across the sand. "Too bad."

From beyond the remains of the hall, a voice filled the air. "General O'Neill of the Tau'ri." 
   
Jack rolled into a crouch, weapon raised.  

"General O'Neill of the Tau'ri, show yourself." The command came from the south. It was close.

"They must have made our position," Jacob whispered.

"Good thing we weren't trying to keep it a secret." Jack scanned the edge of the southern wall, but saw no sign of the enemy. Ratcheting up his voice to make sure it carried, he barked out a reply. "Not gonna happen. Not yet. First I see my team." 

Silence. Dead, unending silence.

Jack pulled a breath through clenched teeth. Gaze pinned forward, he licked away the sweat beading on his lip. "Prove to me my team's not dead. Then we'll talk." 

Tension filled the air. Milliseconds screamed by, at once passing too fast and all too slowly. Then he heard it. Movement. The swish of sand mingled with the brush of fabrics and thumping equipment. 

"They bought it," Jacob hissed. "They're coming."

Chapter Text

10-20-2004, 14:04 OWT
10-20-2004, 09:04 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT

Jack flexed his fingers around the Beretta. Threading his left hand into a nearby crevice, he retrieved one of the C-4 detonators.

Eighty yards down, between the crumbling walls of the ruin's entrance, two figures appeared. One was slightly taller than the other. The short one had a black beard and walked with a swagger. The tall one just looked restless. Both of them carried staff weapons. 

Jack leveled his sights on Black Beard. "Where's my team?" 

The man snapped his fingers and shouted something. 

"Bring them," Selmak interpreted. 

The two words made Jack's adrenaline spike. He deepened his breaths and tried to ignore the dryness reaching down his throat. 

A detachment of soldiers advanced from behind the southern wall. Ten maybe twelve at the most. They wore neutral colors that blurred into the landscape. Spreading out, they took up positions along the entrance effectively sealing the hall.

"That went well," Jack growled. 

Another order rang out and more soldiers, these dressed in black, began to advance. Holding to an erratic, circular pattern, they passed through the seal created by their brothers-in-arms. When they reached Black Beard and Tall Guy, they came to a halt. Tall Guy leaned forward, exchanged what appeared to be several unhappy words with Black Beard, then shouldered into the knot of black guards. The gap he created held fast and from inside the ring came two people. They filed out, side by side, heads held high. 

Major Thomas Czachowski and Captain Jennifer Hailey — alert, standing under their own power. Alive. 

Jack circled his tongue along the roof of his mouth and exhaled. Two was good, but he hadn't come all this way to take home half a team. No one gets left behind. No one.

Tall Guy reappeared, but stayed close to the gap. He shifted on his feet, then lifted his hand with a jerk. Two more people quickly emerged from the circle. 

Sergeant Marco Blocker and Nyan — also standing under their own power. Un-dented, undamaged. 

"Your people," Black Beard announced. "Alive. Now will you show yourself?"

Jacob laid a hand on Jack's back. "Get them into position. I'll deploy the shield as soon as they're in range, but don't hit the C-4 until they're on board the Al'kesh. I'm counting on that blast to buy you and me enough time to get to the rings. I'll detonate the second round once we're inside the shield." 

"Got it." Jack grit his teeth. They'd been over this.

"And Jack."

"What?"

"I brought this just in case," Jacob opened the pouch at his hip — inside, lay a healing device. "Don't make me have to use it." 

A hard-toned threat that stripped away Jack's impatience. The corner of his mouth kicked up and he gave a firm nod. "Yes, sir." 

"Show yourself," Black Beard demanded again. "Or your people will suffer much." 

Tucking the Beretta into the back of his belt, Jack got to his feet. He stepped into the clear and raised his arms. Unable to think of anything civil to say, he held his tongue and waited. Daniel would be so proud.

"You hold yourself forth as General O'Neill of the Tau'ri?"

"Yep. One and only." 

The enemy seemed disinclined to take him at his word. They prodded SG-14, pointing from different team members to Jack and back again. The apparent interrogation was too far away and too hushed for the questions and answers to carry. But whatever was said, it must have been enough. 

Black Beard turned once again to Jack. "I am impressed, General O'Neill, and pleased that you follow instructions so well."

Jack gave a dismissive wave. "Yeah, whatever. You said you wanted to trade." There was an eighteen inch drop from his position among the debris to the desert floor. He made it in one jump; hands still raised, attention centered on Black Beard. "Start trading." 

At a nod from his superior, Tall Guy motioned their captives forward. SG-14 refused to move. Other soldiers, four to be exact, approached the team from behind. Their body language suggested they were persuaders of the violent, unreasonable sort. 

"Do what he says," Jack shouted. "That's an order." 

After exchanging a few glances, SG-14 did as they were commanded. Four abreast, legs moving in tandem, they headed straight for Jack. That's when he noticed: none of them were wearing restraints.   

Disquiet began to churn inside him. The same pervading, gut-nagging disquiet he'd had during his tour of the ruins. Not that it made any difference. He was committed. Backing down wasn't an option. It never had been.  

SG-14 was less than thirty yards from the shield. 

Jack's fingers itched around the detonator as sweat made his grip slick. He started to walk. A nice, easy, unhurried walk. "Czachowski." Though a yell was necessary for him to be heard at this distance, he kept the inflection casual. It worked. Black Beard and company registered zero on the reaction scale.   

Czachowski’s answer came wrapped in a cheeky imitation of Jack’s tone. “General. Forgive me for sayin' it, sir, but it's about dang time." 

Jack grinned. Twenty yards more. 

"Sir? You said something about a trade." Czachowski was still working the light tone, but this time it came out strained. "Mind if I ask what you're tradin'?"

"Not your concern, Major." Jack reassessed the positions of the enemy, then shifted his eyes to another member of SG-14. "Nyan."   

"General, I... I can't believe it. Are we really going home?"

Something twisted in Jack's chest. "Yeah, Nyan. You're going home." 

Fifteen yards to go. 

"Sir, how's Janie? My kids, are they—" Sergeant Blocker almost tripped in the sand, his legs working hard to match speed with his tongue. "Sir, have you seen them? Do they know I'm alive? Ar-are they all right?"    

Twelve yards more. Ten for Marco if he didn't slow down. "Easy, Sergeant. Your family's fine. Trust me." 

Captain Hailey tugged Marco back to an even pace and locked eyes with Jack. 

The contact was a mistake. He knew it instantly. One look and her expression changed from a genius whose brain was working at mach-Carter to find a solution to a genius who now held all the answers. 

"You're what they want," she said, words slow and measured. "You're taking our place."  

Darting a glance past Hailey, Jack again checked on the bad guys. They still hadn't moved. An internal alarm strafed fear down his back. 

"General, is that true?"

Jack flicked his attention to Czachowski, but didn't respond. Five yards left.

"Sir, you have to get out of here. Now." Hailey sounded desperate. She had to be, giving orders to a General.

"Not until you do, Captain." Three yards.

"Sir, you don't understand. You— " Breaking off mid-argument, she flung her next words down the line to Czachowski. "Major, don't you see what they're after? General O'Neill has the Ancient gene, if they get their hands on—"

"Czachowski." Jack clasped his right hand into a fist, at once dismissing their objections and issuing an order. Stop.

As one, the Team stopped.      

Bulls eye.

Still twenty or so yards from the safe zone, Jack froze. In the distance, he saw Black Beard shift. 

A color-tainted wall of fluctuating energy vaulted out of the ground. It ran a quick course, unfolding into a perfect cube around SG-14. The enemy opened fire and Black Beard let out a roar. The language wasn't familiar, but Jack understood perfectly. Battle cries had a way of being their own interpreters. 

"No!" Hailey's scream penetrated the shield. "Sir, you have to get out of here!"

The rest of SG-14 surged forward, shouting. Plasma blasts splattered against the rear wall of the shield and out of reflex those inside ducked. 

Movement flashed along the edge of Jack's vision. More soldiers were coming in from the south. The shield offered him a temporary buffer, but it wouldn't take the enemy long to compensate. He'd be in range within seconds. "Major!" Pointer finger raised, he circled his right hand in the air. Regroup. "Rings!"

Bolts of fire glanced off the shield's corner and sent shreds of flame into the air. A wide shot struck the ground several yards from Jack's position. His knees buckled as the earth shook and sand fell like rain. 

Behind the shield, Czachowski and the others still hadn't followed orders. If Jacob hit the rings now, only pieces of SG-14 would ever see the Al'kesh.  

He whirled his finger again. "Go! Now!" 

They stopped shouting and took one step backward. 

"Go!" 

Reluctantly, Marco, Hailey, and Nyan closed ranks at the center of the square. Czachowski moved toward them, staggered, then stopped. He collapsed to his knees, hands clutching the base of his neck. His sides were heaving like a drowning man gasping for breath. 

Jack formed the Major's name, felt it rip through his throat, but never heard its sound. With an explosive clap, flames plowed into the sand less than two feet from where he stood. The concussive force of the blast slammed into his left side, throwing his world into a tailspin. Sky and sand traded places in an end-over-end fashion and his vision started to blur. Pain jarred his right shoulder as it connected with the ground. His chest hit next with a solid thud that pushed every ounce of air from his lungs; then he was rolling. Dirt and rubble clawed at his body, scraping exposed skin and tearing at his BDUs. 

As fast as it happened, it was all over. He stopped rolling. Flat on his stomach, yards from where he'd been standing, Jack dragged in a breath. Sounds whirred around him, distorted and thick. He shook his head and spit away the sand clinging to his mouth. Without conscious thought, he reached behind him and felt for the Beretta along his waistband. 

Weight supported on his left elbow, he gave his head another shake and tried to gauge SG-14's status. Czachowski was still down. Marco and Hailey had him by the arms, hauling him to the center for transport. They never made it. As Jack watched, both of them slumped to their knees, faces twisted in pain.

Dull, repetitious syllables hammered in his ear. Over and over they pounded, never quite registering and never quite going away. His right hand found the Beretta. Alien fire was incoming. He rolled out of range, got his feet under him and headed for the closest scrap of cover. Zat fire from the west zinged past, took down three enemy combatants, and sent the rest scrambling. Way to go Jacob. 

Flinging himself against the featureless pile of ruins he'd chosen as a safe harbor, Jack fired off a few shots of his own. Sounds were coming in clearer now. The repetitious syllables gradually took shape and faded into focus. 

"...ack... Jack, come in... Jack, answer me."

Pocketing the detonator to free up his left hand, Jack keyed the comm. "Jacob, we have a problem."

"So I noticed." More threads of blue lightning found their way to the enemy. "What's going on with '14?" 

Glancing into the shielded cube, Jack saw Nyan struggling to drag Hailey into the ring zone. Plasma blasts continued to pepper the walls, but none of them breached the shield. He thumbed the comm. "Something took them down from the inside. Don't ask me how." Chunks of debris showered down from a nearby shot, and he ducked. Through the din, he could just make out the sound of Jacob's return fire.  

"I can't hold them off much longer."   

Jack raised up, took aim, and squeezed the trigger of his Beretta once, twice, three times. Again he fingered the comm. "Nyan's workin' on it. We gotta give him more time."

"Jack—" 

The rest of the transmission was covered by a dozen or more staff blasts. They were bearing down on Jack's position hard. "I can't get clear to make a shot."

"I know." Streams of Zat fire whizzed overhead. It was as if Jacob had found a way to put the Zat on full-auto.  

From where he was pinned down, Jack had a clear view of SG-14. Nyan was leaning over Marco, hands looped around the Sergeant's torso. The kid was breathing hard, but he wasn't down. Not yet. Staggering under the weight of his teammate, he started back-stepping toward the middle of the cube. Hailey was already there, laying in the same prone position he'd apparently left her in. 

Jack clamped down on the comm. "Okay, new plan." 

"It better be good."

Ripping open his vest pocket, Jack retrieved the C-4 detonator. “Fire in the hole!” 

He punched it. 

Explosions rocked the hall. Gobs of black smoke and pure red flames leaped into the sky as the earth shook. The first round of charges had been set in a semi-circle around the open end of the ruin. Their purpose: to distract and terrify. 

None of the enemy was left standing. A few were injured, many more were in a state of total panic. Sporadic weapons fire, screams, and angry shouts competed against the roar of flaming debris. 

An inhuman moan rose above the noise. It was the unmistakable groan of mortar and stone. The northern wall had started to sway. In a few moments, it would collapse. 

Pushing to his feet, Jack charged ahead. His goal was to get to the shield. He depressed the transmit key. "Jacob, we're outta here! Move it!"

"What?"

"Get to the shield. Now!" A blip of static that could have been an acknowledgment was his only answer. Jack risked a look over his shoulder, towards the rear of the hall. Smoke wafted through the air. It swept in low across the ruins, hampering visibility and angering his lungs. There was no sign of Jacob. Coughing, he angled his upper body towards the ground and kept running.

The smoke to the east was thickening. What sounded like a drum roll rumbled through the air and violent tremors shook the ground. The north wall was collapsing. 

Jack's balance faltered. He dropped hard on one knee and had to brace himself with outstretched arms. On the plus side, the air was clearer this close to the ground. He sucked in as much oxygen as he could.

The fall of the ruin wall plunged the enemy deeper into chaos. Or maybe it just distracted them. Either way, they stopped firing.  

Still crouched where he'd fallen, Jack checked his back-trail for any sign of Jacob. There were signs of movement, but with the ever changing veil of smoke it was impossible to tell friend from foe. As far as he knew, none of the enemy soldiers had made it this far into the hall, but that didn’t mean anything. He keyed his comm. "Jacob, come in." 

A beat of silence, then, "Go ahead."

The voice sounded rushed, but strong. Selmak must've been working overtime to keep his—their?—lungs free of smoke. "Jacob, what's your status?" 

"Coming up on your position. I saw you go down, are you all right?" 

"Yeah. Meet you at the shield."

"Copy that. Be on you in one. And keep your head down. That black vest makes you an easy target, even in all this smoke."

Jack didn’t bother to answer. Stumbling to his feet, he started moving. Behind him came the steady thump of approaching footfalls. Jacob's footfalls, or so he hoped. 

Confusion pounded in the air as another wave of black smoke cut through the ruins. Jack ducked lower, lungs screaming for breath. 

Clouds of smoke broke against a corner of the forcefield. It was the first glimpse he’d had of it since the explosion. He made a minor course correction, regulated his speed, and kept running. 

Behind him the footsteps came nearer.

His eyes felt like they were on fire. Tears welled, making his world swim. Roughly, he blinked them away. 

A breeze set in from the north. It was like a downdraft from a furnace, but it helped. The air began to clear.

Jack's vision blurred again, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Displaced tears slid down his cheeks, mingling with crusted dirt and sweat. Air warred in his lungs. He started to cough.

"Sir!" 

Nyan. Jack shot forward. The breeze had thinned solid clouds of black to gray, exposing the shield wall — and SG-14. Every last one of them was standing. 

"General O'Neill, hurry!"

Nyan was doing the urging, but Czachowski, Hailey, and Marco were right behind him. They looked shaken, but uninjured and in full control of their senses. 

Jack really wanted an aspirin. 

"Sir!" This time it was Czachowski.

Demanding more speed from his legs, Jack covered the remaining distance in seconds. He stood in front of the shield, chest heaving, and just stared at them. 

Shivers rocked the moon's surface; an aftershock from the explosion or maybe another falling wall. Jack didn't know. Cared even less. "Get down!" 

All of SG-14 dropped to the sand. 

Jack did the same. When the shaking stopped he ordered them to stay put. The closer they were to the ground, the safer they'd be when Jacob lowered the shield. Ground-level targets were harder to hit. 

Another round of coughs hit him hard. They needed to get out of there. Now. C'mon, Jacob. C'mon. 

"Sir, look out!" The warning came in stereo. A chorus of four voices yelling at once. 

Czachowski gave him the target zone. "Eleven o'clock!"

Jack whirled on the balls of his feet, never lifting out of a crouch, and took aim. Attacker, center-mass, two shots. He didn't miss. Breathing still labored, he keyed the comm. "Jacob." He coughed, dragged in a breath, and tried again. "Jacob!" 

Nothing.

Head down, shoulders bent, he raced away from the shield, back the way he'd come. The way his black-clad attacker had come instead of Jacob. Lack of oxygen had his legs feeling like lead. With each step his boots seemed to sink deeper into the sand. "Jacob!" 

The wind peeled away a final layer of smoke and just that quick Jack's search came to an end. The sight hit him like a punch in the chest. "Jacob!" 

But Jacob didn't move. Sprawled on the ground, a scorched and bleeding wound at the center of his back, he lay completely still.  

The gap between them vanished in a blur of debris and bleached sand. Jack hit his knees. Pain jarred his joints at the abuse, but he ignored it. Fingers pressed to Jacob's carotid vein, he waited for a pulse. 

All he felt was the relentless pounding of his own blood. 

Jack swept his eyes in a quick three-sixty. No signs of imminent attack. Good enough. Jamming the Beretta beneath his belt, Jack gripped his friend's wrist, leaned in, and pulled. He centered Jacob’s body on his shoulders, securing the legs with his left arm, and prepared to stand.   

The enemy was starting to regroup. He could hear their shouts and the distant thunder of their boots. Time was running out.

Adjusting his hold on Jacob, Jack hauled himself to his feet. White hot pain lanced through his bad knee as he felt something inside it rip. Spots danced across his vision. His breath hitched. Gritting his teeth, he hobbled forward one step. Fire raced the length of his leg and shot into his back, but the joint held. 

"Ja... Jack?"

He latched onto the whisper like a lifeline. And took another step. Then another. And another. 

"J’ck?" The name was slurred with pain and fading consciousness. The next moment, Jacob went limp.

Jack kept moving. He didn't think about the body he carried. Didn't listen to the pain screaming in his knee. He just kept moving.

They reached the shield. Relying almost completely on his good leg, Jack lowered himself to the ground and eased Jacob off his shoulders. A hasty search of the Tok'ra's pouch yielded the forcefield controller. 

The enemy was getting closer. 

Jack drew his Beretta, hit the remote, and watched the protective cube fold into itself. SG-14 hurried forward, bodies bent low. 

A few more seconds. That's all they needed. Digging into the pouch again, he searched for the Al’kesh’s cloaking remote and ring activator. 

"Sir!" 

Hailey's warning came a millisecond before she tackled him to the ground. Momentum carried Jack over and under her, then over again. As he tumbled, thin jolts of power dogged his path. The charges pierced the ground with an electric hiss.  

All the charges but one. 

Jack let out a gasp as a dull pulse of electricity struck his side. Compared to the force of a Zat blast, it was nothing. Barely a sting. If they wanted to stop him, it was gonna take more than that. Without missing a beat he rolled onto his back, away from Hailey, and sighted down his Beretta—straight into the face of Tall Guy. 

"Wait." It almost sounded like a request. 

If it hadn't been for the weapon Tall Guy had leveled at Hailey, Jack would have said it was a request. And on different note, he couldn't feel his side anymore. It was numb.

"Wait," Tall Guy said again. "Please." 

The only person that had ever gotten anywhere with Jack O'Neill by saying 'please' was Daniel. And this guy wasn't Daniel. 

Jack tightened his grip on the Beretta to within a hairsbreadth of pulling the trigger. "Back away." 

Tall Guy hesitated. 

"Back away," Jack repeated. The numbness was spreading. A surge of blackness crowded the edges of his vision. Things began to blur. Focus. Stay with it. He clenched his jaw. "Do it now." 

Tall Guy stepped back. His mouth moved. He was talking.

Jack blinked, mind grasping at syllables he suddenly couldn't understand. Syllables that melded together and faded farther away the harder he tried to hear them. He swallowed. Blinked again. 

Then the blackness took over. 

Chapter Text

THIRTEEN HOURS LATER

10-20-2004, 16:46 MDT
10-20-2004, 22:46 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 25

Teal'c opened his eyes. Candlelight encircled him, filling his bedchamber with warmth. Yet he felt no warmth. No peace.  

Across from him, Daniel Jackson sat in a mirror of his own meditative posture — legs crossed, arms lax in his lap. And like him, his friend seemed unaffected by the soothing atmosphere. Furrows, harshly apparent in the candlelight, creased the archaeologist's brow and cut into his chin. 

"I am little comforted," Teal’c said.

"Yeah..." Daniel Jackson's shoulders fell as though under a great burden. "I know what you mean." 

Uncrossing his legs, Teal'c leaned back against the wall. After a moment's silence, his companion again spoke.

"I talked with Colonel Reynolds. He said the Joint Chiefs called for Jack first thing this morning."

Teal'c offered a minimal nod. "I am aware."

"It's been almost eight hours now, I don't know how long Reynolds can keep putting them off. Jack can only be 'unavailable' for so long." 

Teal'c did not respond. He could not. The truth of Daniel Jackson's statement was apparent.

"There, ah… there's something else..." The archaeologist turned away and fidgeted with his hands. "I've been thinking about the Tok'ra."

"What of the Tok'ra?"

"This mission, I don't know, for them it just seems... out of character. They don't exactly have a reputation for daring rescue missions." Daniel Jackson rubbed at his neck. "And when was the last time Jack trusted anything the Tok'ra said? I mean, why... why would he do this, risk all of this — alone, no backup — based on the word of someone he doesn't even trust?" 

Before Teal'c could answer, Daniel Jackson lifted a finger. 

"Unless it wasn't just a Tok'ra."

The implications of this thought struck Teal'c with force. He stiffened. "Jacob Carter."

"It would make sense."

"Have you spoken of this to Colonel Carter?"

"No, I haven't. I, ah... I didn't want to say anything until I was sure." He blew out a sigh. "But nobody seems to know who the Tok'ra sent through. According to the monthly shift log, Sergeant Harriman and his crew would have been the ones on duty at the time, but none of them are here right now — they just got rotated to nights and won't be back on Base for another hour. It would be in Walter's daily shift report, of course, if we could find it. Knowing Jack, it's probably stacked somewhere on his desk, waiting to be signed." Flinging his arm outward in an exasperated gesture he sighed again. "Reynolds said he'd look for it, but I don't—"

There was a rap on the door. Its report echoed inside the chamber with an odd kind of finality. 

Teal'c rose. "Enter." 

The door opened, and a cast of fluorescent lighting sliced through the room. An airman stood in its wake. "Sirs, Colonel Reynolds wants you in the control room. It's urgent."

Daniel Jackson scrambled to his feet. "What's happening?"

"I don't know, sir. We've had an unscheduled off-world activation — Tok'ra IDC. That's all I know." 

"Extinguish the candles in my chamber." Without waiting for an acknowledgment, Teal'c strode into the hallway and broke into a run. 

10-20-2004, 16:55 MDT
10-20-2004, 22:55 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 28

Sam sat in the control room, eyes riveted on the active Stargate. She bit her lip.

"What are they waiting for?" General Hammond muttered.

"I don't know, sir." Skimming over the data on her computer screen, Sam rechecked all the numbers. Energy levels normal. Temperature normal. Radiation zero. No signs of abnormal wave activity or radio transmissions. No incoming travelers. Nothing.

Boots thudded against the stairs to her right. A peripheral glance showed it to be Teal’c and Daniel. 

"What'd we miss?" Daniel sounded out of breath. 

"Not much." Reynolds jerked his thumb at the open Stargate. "We're still waiting for whoever this is to show up." He shifted on his feet, before continuing in a lowered voice. "Oh, and Doctor Jackson, about that other thing — I found what you were looking for."

Sam looked away from the 'Gate long enough to take in Daniel's anxious yet expectant face. 

He returned her glance, but only briefly. His eyes cut back to Reynolds. "And?"

The wormhole fluctuated. Circular ripples broke into choppy, crisscrossing lines across its surface, and their traveler appeared. 

In spite of herself, Sam smiled. "Dad."

Reynolds cleared his throat. "I was about to say, Doctor, that, ah... you were right."

Something in his tone struck a nerve. Twisting in her seat, Sam looked from the Reynolds to Daniel. 

"Sam..." Daniel worked his jaw, lips struggling around words he couldn't seem to utter. "I, ah, I had a hunch... about the Tok'ra. The one that came to see Jack?" He gestured out the control room glass, aiming an awkward smile and wave at her Dad. 

That was all it took. She gripped the desk. "It was him, wasn't it?"  

"Indeed."
  
Her attention darted to Teal'c. He knew, too?

As if he had heard her thought, Daniel started explaining. "I'm sorry, Sam, I... I didn't want to say anything until we were sure."

"Sam?"

Turning at the sound of her Dad's voice, she gave him a nod and stood. "Be right down, Dad." 

The stairs and the short turn through the hall into the Gate room passed in a rush — her teammates, Reynolds, and General Hammond right behind her. The doorway was cluttered with SF's still frozen in defensive positions around the 'Gate, but she ignored them. 

Her Dad hadn't moved more than two feet down the ramp. His left hand held the railing with bleached white knuckles. Now that she was closer, Sam could tell his face was also white. No, not white. Gray. 

"Dad?" Her boots rang against the iron grating as she clamored up the ramp. He gave her a crooked grin, but she didn't return it. "Dad what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." The grin flashed again and he held out his right arm, welcoming her for a hug.

He was wearing General O'Neill's field jacket. 

Reminding herself to breathe, Sam stepped into the one-armed embrace. An acrid stench of smoke and burned flesh reached her nose as she touched him. He tensed under her hand and let out a short gasp when her fingers brushed his back. "Dad, you're not fine." 

He pulled away just enough to meet her gaze. "Hey, I'm fine. Just a little accident. Selmak's taking care of it." Looking away from her, he greeted the other members of SG-1 and Reynolds before setting his eyes on General Hammond. "George! Just the man I want to see. I'm here to ask a favor."

"Name it. I'll see what I can do."

"Excellent. I need permission from somebody to steal SG-1 for a while. There's a moon I want them to see." His manner was casual; a pretense that belied the strained sound of his voice. He continued, "Used to be one of Ra's favorite hangouts. I think Teal'c and Doctor Jackson's expertise would be invaluable on this one. And there are some energy signals I can't quite pin down." He dropped his attention back to Sam. "That's where you come in, kiddo."

"Does this moon have a Stargate?" 

"No, George. It doesn't." He gave them all a subtle, pressing look. "We'll have to fly."

Sam's stomach did a flip. Her mind raced, and for the first time in over twenty-four hours, everything seemed to crash into a wild, chaotic kind of order.  

"Let me guess," Daniel said. "You've got transportation."

Teal'c lifted his chin. "An Al'kesh perhaps?"

Shoulders still wrapped in Dad's arm, Sam felt him give her a squeeze. 

He nodded. "An Al'kesh." 

Up in the control room, one of the 'Gate technicians keyed the intercom. "Colonel Reynolds? Topside’s on line." Gesturing to a phone receiver in his hand, he said, "They’ve got an Arthur Kingman at the gate."

"Secretary to the Joint Chiefs," Hammond muttered. "Used to be Senator Kinsey's lap dog."

"Sir, he's demanding to see General O'Neill. What should I tell them?"

The temperature in the Gate room seemed to drop. 

Sam bit down on her cheek, equal parts panic and adrenaline pumping through her veins. 

Reynolds studied each of them in silence. When he reached General Hammond, their gazes locked. Determination set and matched. "Sergeant, tell security to escort Mr. Kingman to the conference hall, level seventeen. The General and I will join him within the hour."

"Yes, sir."

Reynolds' attention snapped to Sam and she straightened. One order. That's all she wanted to hear. 

"SG-1, you have a go. Colonel, get your Team ready — you gate out in ten minutes." 

10-20-2004, 19:09 OWT
10-20-2004, 23:09 Zulu
PR9-296

Sam wasn't sure what she'd expected to find. Following her Dad through a wormhole on nothing more than blind faith, some veiled hints, and a suggestion that desert camo would be in order, wasn't exactly SOP. It had taken exactly eight and a half minutes for her and SG-1 to gear-up and reassemble in the 'Gate room; one minute to input the coordinates Dad had given them; and an interminable thirty seconds to embark. 

Now, on the other side of the inter-dimensional conduit, she found herself staring at an unknown world. It was night. Three full moons lit the sky. Sam could feel the stress of their combined gravitational pull on her body — and on Dad's. He was leaning on her heavily, arm wrapped around her shoulders. 

"Dad, what is this place?" 

"Convenient. Uninhabited. I stopped at the first planet with a Stargate." 

Sam scanned the terrain. Staggered layers of rock covered the planet’s surface, each so smooth it mirrored the night sky. The Al’kesh was not in sight.

Behind her, Daniel and Teal'c stepped through the Stargate. She listened to their boots slap against the platform and the sound of their breathing. Every noise seemed amplified.

She glanced at her Dad. He looked ashen in the pale light. "Dad?"

"I'm okay, Sam. It's not far."

Daniel stepped closer. "It?"

"Ring zone. I had to leave the Al'kesh in orbit."

“The gravity,” Sam murmured. "It would have destroyed the ship's sensors. So, which way?"

"Twenty yards north of the DHD."

Wordlessly, they descended the platform. Each step was like wading through ankle-deep mud. Sam tried to take a deep breath, but her chest felt compressed, incapable of expanding. But for that she knew the moons were only partly to blame.

"Jacob?"

"Daniel."

"Where's Jack?"

Sam could hear the tension in Daniel's voice. Could hear him swallowing every few seconds, breath dragging through clenched teeth. 

Dad lowered his head. "I don't know."

"What?"

"Did you not accompany him to the meeting place?"

"I was there, Teal'c." 

Slowing her steps, Sam pulled Dad’s arm more firmly across her shoulders. He didn't resist. Eyes closed, lips pressed into a frown, he stopped walking. So did she.

Daniel and Teal'c moved forward, assuming protective positions around them. Patiently, they waited.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said at last. "I couldn't stop it. There were too many of them."

She sifted her jaw. "What happened?"

"I got hit from behind. Jack came back for me, but we never made it to the rings. I was unconscious for almost nine hours. When I came to, the place was deserted. There weren’t even any footprints. It's like they were never even there." 

Sam ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek. Like they were never even there. Colonel Reynolds had used those same words to describe SG-14’s disappearance on ‘439.

"And Jack?"

"I don't know, Daniel." The response held a bite of frustration. "I was unconscious remember?"

Daniel turned away and she heard him take a breath.  

Dad did the same. "Look, for what it's worth, I don't think his life is in danger. Not yet."

"Please explain."

"They had a clear shot at him, Teal'c. More than once. Trust me, if they'd wanted him dead, he would be."

"Is that the sole basis for your conclusion, Jacob Carter?" 

Sam felt Dad stiffen beside her, muscles going rigid as he let out an exhale. "Dad? What is it?"

He smiled at her. A gentle, yet terrifyingly grim smile. "Selmak heard them talking, Sam. I was out of it by then, but…"

"But what?"

"They were after an Ancient, Sam."

An Ancient. The thought left Sam feeling empty.

10-20-2004, 23:13 Zulu
LOCATION UNKNOWN

His world was spinning. Jack was certain of it. Spinning fast. Out of control. He squeezed his already closed eyelids down tight. So tight it hurt. 

He was on the ground. No chains, no manacles, no ropes. Flat surface. Kinda chilly. Nothing like the searing hot desert where he'd fallen. 

Taking in a mouthful of air, he winced as it hit the dry, rawness of his throat. Memories of smoke and flames screamed through his mind, like a horrible dream running on fast-forward. And people. He saw his people. 

Then they were gone.

Forcing his eyes open, Jack took a cursory look around. Ten by ten space. Four walls, ceiling, floor. No windows, no bars. One door. His tac vest was gone. Watch, too. A quick pat down of his pockets found them stripped bare. 

Jacob and SG-14 were no where to be seen. 

The last thing he remembered was Tall Guy pointing a weapon at Hailey. And 'please'. He remembered that. 

"Should'a shot him," Jack grumbled. Rolling onto his side, he pushed his upper body off the ground and leaned against the wall. Head sinking back until it touched the metal surface, he let his eyes drift shut. 

From somewhere outside his cell, Jack heard movement. Distant at first, indistinct. Until it came closer.

Footsteps. 

Jack rolled his eyes beneath their lids. He was getting tired of hearing that sound. 

Nearer. Louder. Harsher. 

He listened to them come. Heard them stop at his cell. And waited for the door to open.
  

Chapter Text

10-20-2004, 23:56 Zulu
LOCATION UNKNOWN

Jack stared at the wall. Inhale. Exhale. Mindlessly, he studied the oxidation marks that streaked his cell, and the mold crowded in the corners. 

The door started to lift, gears grating at just the wrong frequency. The sound hit Jack right in his spine. He winced and rolled his head away. Someone entered the cell, but he didn't bother to look up. The door groaned again, louder this time. It was closing. 

Metal thudded against metal, and Jack's throat tightened. A lock slammed into place.   

Man, he hated this. 

As fast as the thought came, he shoved it down. Not going there. With a glare intended to melt steel and a deceptively easy smile, he turned to face his visitor. Tall Guy. No weapon this time, but judging by the size of the man's shoulders, Jack guessed he didn't really need one. Ah, to be with Teal'c now that enemies were near... 

Jack increased the blandness of his smile. "Come here often?" 

Eyes leaving Jack to wander over the cell, Tall Guy shook his head. He crossed to the room's opposite wall and leaned against it, something between awe and discomfort coloring his features. "The Bennu has only been used once before in my lifetime." 

"The Bennu?"

Arms loose at his sides, Tall Guy propped a leg against the wall. "This is a transport vessel, General O'Neill." 

"Ah..." Jack bobbed his eyebrows with understanding and complete disinterest. "Are we moving?" Because if they were, he couldn't tell.

Tall Guy grinned. The corners of his eyes crinkled and laugh lines cut through the well-trimmed scruff on his cheeks.

This kid was used to smiling. The motion came way to easy. 

"We are moving, I assure you," he answered. "Though our speed is greatly diminished. You have rested much during our journey."

"Hey, knock me unconscious, I can sleep anywhere."

The grin came back. "You made a most willing patient."

A hollow sensation stabbed through Jack's chest. He narrowed his gaze. "Excuse me?"

Leaving the wall, Tall Guy stepped forward. There was no fear in his countenance, but his body language suggested a sort of cautious respect, as if he knew instinctively this prisoner could kill him at a moment's notice given the opportunity.   

Dang straight.

Lowering himself to a half-crouch, Tall Guy returned Jack's stare. 

His eyes were green, Jack noticed, and strangely… earnest. The smattering of freckles on the guy's face didn't hurt the impression a bit either. 

"Your knee, does it still pain you?" 

With a frown, Jack considered the joint that had been a swollen, throbbing mess back on the moon. He hadn't spared it a thought until now. Past experience told him it should have been exploding in pain, even just lying there. It wasn't. 

"There was much damage. You have injured this one before?"

"Yeah." Not that it was any of this alien's business. He gave the knee a test bend. Aside from a slight twinge that was more or less par for the course these days, it felt fine.

"We could not effect a cure for the past damage." Tall Guy offered a smile and a shrug that bordered on apologetic. Then he swallowed. "My name is Nykii."

"Nick-eye?"

"Nykii," he repeated, placing a heavier emphasis on the first syllable. The smile came back, a shade more tentative this time.

Jack maintained eye contact, but didn't respond. This wasn't what he'd been expecting. And on the face of it, he supposed he should be grateful. For once in his life, it seemed he'd fallen into the hands of an enemy that wasn't obsessed with ripping him apart or beating him senseless. Instead this guy was all mild tones and gentle gestures... like Daniel. 

Jack should be grateful. He should. But in its own twisted way, torture was familiar. He'd seen it, felt it, lived it. It was pure evil, and evil he knew how to handle. But this? 

Propping an arm on his bent knee, Jack wagged a finger between himself and Nykii. "Y'know what, we're not doing this." 

The innocent, freckle-faced enemy lifted an eyebrow. "I don't understand."

Too bad, because Jack wasn't explaining. At this point, there was only one thing that mattered. "Where are my people?"

Nick, as Jack decided to dub him, glanced away and pushed to his feet. Returning to his position by the opposite wall he replied, "Your team is safe."

"And Jacob? The one you shot in the back?" 

His only answer was a regret filled silence, along with the emotion that clouded Nick's eyes — at once sympathetic and incredibly vulnerable. Like an apology and a plea for his own life, rolled into one.

The combination only added fuel to Jack's anger. "What did you do to him?" 

"Nothing more. My men attempted to revive him, but received no life responses."

Not good enough. Junior had kept Teal'c alive before with less than one respiration and two heartbeats per minute. If he could do that, so could Selmak. "Let me see him."

"I am sorry." Nick's mouth remained open, tongue hesitating over whatever words were coming next. "... Your friend's body was covered in a burial cloth, the finest we had... and left where he fell among the ruins of Iunu."

Jack inhaled roughly, nostrils flaring. No one gets left behind. No one... The mantra held a dead, hollow ring. "You said my team was safe. Where are they?"

Nick adjusted his weight so that he was perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet; the movement of a man preparing to withstand an attack. Not a good sign. "A group of my finest men are caring for them. They will come to no harm, I swear to you."

Making good use of his mended knee, Jack got to his feet. Nick was a fraction taller than him and a good fifteen years younger, but Jack was past caring. With deliberate steps, he encroached on his captor's personal space. "Where are they?"

Nick's gaze remained steady. "They will come to no harm."

"So you said." 

"So I have sworn. My men will protect them as I will protect you. To the best of my ability, I swear no harm will come to you."

Hard words to believe coming from a man who'd already shot him in the short time they'd been acquainted. Not to mention kidnapping SG-14 for a second time and possibly killing Jacob. An image of his friend as Jack had last seen him flashed through his mind. It made him sick. Facial muscles contracting, he stared down his captor. "Forgive me for not believing a word you say."

Nick pressed his lips together. He didn't look offended, just determined. "I have made arrangements to secure your life. If you trust nothing else, trust that." 

"You shot me!" 

"I had not given you my word then." Easing his lips into a quick half-smile, he lifted a shoulder and added, "I used a Zat'nik'tel."

Not like any Zat I've ever seen. And not that it made a difference. "What about Jacob? Is that what you used on him?" 

The lightness of Nick's expression retreated immediately. He didn't speak, but the wide, vulnerable look returned.  

It made Jack want to punch him in the face. Before he could act, the sounds of someone running penetrated the cell. Loud and hard, their steps reverberated along the ship's floor. 

Nick flicked his attention toward the noise. "That will be a messenger from the pel’tak. Our destination is in range." He offered Jack a final glance, before moving toward the door. 

Eyes closing, Jack ran a hand through his hair. He shook his head and let out an aggravated huff. And of course you took my favorite field cap on top of everything else. Not that this was a good time to notice such a thing. 

"We will land soon."

"Peachy." The word was almost inaudible. Jack cleared his throat and plastered an empty smile on his lips. "Can't wait."

10-21-2004, 05:10 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:10 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT

The eastern horizon was a blur; an upheaval of sand funneling into the sky. After spending a year of his life on Abydos, Daniel supposed he should be immune to the sight. There, sandstorms had been as regular an occurrence as rain was on earth. But no matter how many he'd seen, they still held an ageless kind of wonder, horrible and terrifying.

This particular storm was miles in the distance. It would take an hour at least for it to reach the heart of the ruins, or so Jacob said. 

One hour. It would never be enough.

They’d been hoping to find a clue somewhere in the ruins. Something — anything — that would explain who had taken Jack and why. But instead of answers, all they’d found was smoldering debris and sand. Nothing under one thousand years old had been left behind. Except...

Daniel yanked off his pack. Unzipping the largest compartment, he dropped to the ground. He reached inside, fingers wrapping around rough linen, and started pulling. 

"The cloth again?"

Daniel threw a glance over his shoulder. "We're missing something, Sam. Whoever took Jack, was responsible for making this — and for leaving it behind." Holding the fabric at arms length, he studied it for what had to be the twentieth time. Aside from the blood stains where it had covered Jacob's back, it was clean. Painstakingly clean. An aroma of unfamiliar spices clung to its outer edge and a colored thread ran the length of the hem. "There must be something here. There's got to be."

Crouching beside him, Sam fingered the material. "I don't know, Daniel. If this had been manufactured on earth, yeah. We could have it analyzed — check for DNA, find out where it was made, where it’s been, look for a laundry mark. But out here…" 

She sounded as frustrated as Daniel felt. Wind from the approaching storm whipped at the cloth. It flapped and tugged against his fingers, like a living thing struggling to take flight. If only you were. So many answers, if only you were…

He lowered his hands and stared across the desolate landscape. Land of the Cursed. It certainly lived up to its name — in more ways than one.

Sam broke into his reverie. "Dad took the Al'kesh on another recon." 

"He turn anything?"

"Nothing definite, but… I don't know, maybe I'm just grasping at straws."

"No, no. What is it?"

Sam sighed. "He ran some broad range scans. Of the twelve planets within charting distance of this one, nine showed minimal life signs as well as favorable atmospheric conditions." 

"Meaning?"

"Maybe nothing, but it does make you wonder. With so many other options, why choose this one? Even if it wasn't supposed to be cursed, I can't see Tel Mak Ter'rot making anyone's top ten list."

"… Of course! Sam that's it." Daniel’s mind spun with the force of his sudden epiphany. "We've been so busy searching for clues, th-th-that we missed what was right in front of our faces. Sam, this moon, this… place. This is our biggest clue. You said it yourself, it doesn't make any sense, I mean why… why here? Unless it wasn't just some random choice. What if they picked this place for a reason? A very specific reason. Some sort of connection maybe to them, or why they want Jack or, or something here they needed, something they couldn't get anywhere else. Sam, if we can just figure out wh-" 

"Colonel Carter." 

Thoughts derailing at the crackle of their own radios, Daniel jumped. More out of habit than any kind of cognitive reasoning, he covered his mic. It cut down on the unit's feedback as Sam responded. 

"Go ahead, Teal'c."

"I have unearthed the entrance to a hidden chamber. I am uncertain as to its purpose, but there are signs of recent activity."

"All right, hold your position." Sam paused, her eyes meeting Daniel's. "And watch yourself. Daniel thinks there may be a connection between this moon and whoever took General O'Neill. A significant connection."

"Understood." 

"Daniel and I will be on you in two. Dad, are you copying this?"

"On my way, Sam."

Stuffing the cloth back in his pack, Daniel scrambled to his feet. On Sam's lead, he skidded down the far side of the dunes, headed due north. Another stray wind blew across the sand. The air was hot, but as it brushed across his skin, Daniel felt a chill. A bone-deep chill that set his hair on end. His fingers moved to the grip of his weapon. 

"Daniel?"

"Did you feel that?" 

Sam frowned; alert, yet completely at a loss.  

So she hadn't felt anything. Daniel found that both reassuring and incredibly disturbing. 

"Daniel?"

"Yeah, ah..." With a shake of his shoulders, Daniel forced himself to start walking again. Exactly when had he stopped? "I, ah, thought I felt something. Must've just been the wind." 

Mustn't it?

10-21-2004, 00:12 Zulu
HOLDING CELL ON BOARD THE BENNU

Jack clenched his fist. The width of the holding cell was all that stood between him and his return visitor. A problem he had a sudden, violent urge to solve. "And you did this when, exactly?"

"Before you were brought on board. Those tending your injuries also saw to the implantation. But please, do not be alarmed."

Jack clenched his other fist. "Or what? You'll zap me senseless?"

"Implanting the device is required. I had no choice." Nick sounded desperate. "But I swear, this changes nothing. As long as you are with me, you will come to no harm."

Twisting his expression into something between a wince and smirk, Jack paced to the opposite end of the cell. "Y'know, you keep telling me that."

"It is the truth."

"Oh, right. Like 'i before e except after c'."

"What?"

Jack grit his teeth. More than anything he wanted to press a hand to his temple. His skull was pounding. Apparently being told that a fancy alien push pin had been jabbed into his spine was headache worthy. Without thinking, he touched the back of his neck near the spinal column. His fingers brushed cold metal. 

The head of that fancy alien push pin. 

"Let's just say that 'truth' of yours has a few too many exceptions, Nick. I'm not buying it." 

"General O'Neill, please."

Again with the 'please'. Zeroing in on his captor with murderous intent, Jack dared him to utter that word again. 

The silent threat made a direct hit. Nick blanched. His eyes widened and every freckle on his face seemed to redden against paled skin. A look of pure fear if Jack had ever seen one. 

But Nick still refused to back down. "The device is called a t'yet. I was once implanted with one as you are now. It can be used to administer great pain. I would be lying if I did not tell you that." Glancing down, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like an over-sized marble. "The t'yet's tendril entwines harmlessly into your nerve center. Only by activation of this remote, will you experience any side-effects."

"And this is supposed to make me feel better because...?" 

"They can only mandate that the device be implanted. I decide how it is used."

And there it was. Good cop, bad cop. The mysterious 'they' had ordered Jack strapped to a torture rack within his own body, then politely turned his leash over to Nick. As long as he played nice, no one had to yank the chain. Beautiful. Just what he'd wanted to hear. With an almost imperceptible head shake, Jack closed his eyes. He knew it had been too good to last. And since he had no intention of playing nice... 

Arms crossed and a dangerously pleasant smirk on his face, Jack leaned against the wall. "Bite me."

Nick worked his jaw. A tight breath sifted through his teeth, but the look in his eyes wasn't one of anger. It was an off-shoot of that weird, vulnerable thing he did so well. Half pleading, half determination. 

The reaction made Jack's head hurt even worse. The enemy wasn't supposed to look like that.

"I will not harm you," Nick repeated. "I need you to believe that." Attention shifting to the remote, he let it slip from between his fingers and roll to the center of his upturned palm. 

Without another word, he held it out to Jack.

10-21-2004, 05:14 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:14 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT
 
A waft of stale air filled Daniel's nostrils: mold, rancid spices, and a must reminiscent of Egyptian tombs.

Leaning almost in half, he strained for a glimpse at what lay beyond the chamber's entrance — or rather beneath it. The entrance led underground. From what little he could see, Daniel guessed they were actually looking at a diagonal shaft similar to those found in the pyramids on Earth. Most of the time, these shafts did in fact lead to a chamber — be it main, ante, or hidden. Other times, it was just a dead end. 

Rays from the setting sun angled against part of the shaft's inner wall. The effect was blinding. Brilliant white light cutting into shadows of solid black. Shading his eyes, Daniel bent closer. He was about to drop to his knees, or stomach if necessary, for an even closer look, when something stopped him; the feeling of a presence close by his side and of hands wrapping around the straps of his vest. He spun with a jerk.

To be met by Teal'c's impassive face. "Your balance appeared most tenuous, Daniel Jackson." 

"And I'm not losing you down that rabbit hole until we hear back from Dad," Sam said. With no small amount of irritation, she stalked away from the entrance. "I still can't believe he did this."

"I informed Jacob Carter that you would not be pleased with his decision."

"And what did he say?"  

"That he would not go far." 

Sam smiled with absolutely no humor at all and gripped her mic. "Dad this is Sam, what's your status?"

"Right here, kiddo." The answer didn't come across the radio. Instead, it drifted up from the hole, wrapped in a lazy echo. "There's evidence of some structural damage down here, but from what I can see, it's pretty minor. We shouldn't have any problems."

"Dad—"

"I know, Sam, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure it was safe. Now stop fussing and get down here."

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "I take it he's feeling better?" 

"Indeed."

Sam shot them both a look and motioned to the hole. "How do we get down there?"

"It's only a short drop inside," Jacob answered, "maybe one and a half meters. Probably a little less."

"So… we jump in?" 

"Well, I'd recommend lowering yourself in, Danny, but whatever makes you happy."

"Right." Daniel gave his teammates a closed lip smile. "He's definitely feeling better." 

Somewhere in the distance, a gust of wind kicked against the ruins. It howled, whined, then slowly faded away. Such an odd sensation, hearing the wind yet being unable to feel it. 

"Are you well, Daniel Jackson?"

"What?" 

"You shivered."

"I did?"

Teal'c gave a solemn nod. "I do not believe the temperature of this moon is conducive to shivering."

As proved by his own sweat soaked bandanna. Daniel swallowed. On impulse, he gestured toward the approaching storm. "I guess I'm just a little edgy. We should hurry."

"Indeed."

10-21-2004, 00:15 Zulu
HOLDING CELL ON BOARD THE BENNU

Complete silence filled the cell. The only thing Jack could hear was the murmur of his own breathing. 

His eyes flicked to the remote. Face neutral, posture belligerently relaxed, he raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I'm just guessing here, but… something is supposed to happen now, right?"

"General O'Neill, please."

"Please, what?" Jack felt his self-control snap. "And what is it with you and that word?"

"The answer to the first is would you please take this remote?" There was a stab of impatience in Nick's voice, but it didn't last long. A moment later, his face lit with a sly smile. "And as for the second, I could ask you the same question."

Something hard beat against the cell door. It sounded like a fist. 

Jack's insides twisted into knots. He hadn't even heard someone coming. 

From the other side of the door, a voice shouted 'Nykii' along with a few other words Jack couldn't quite catch. Probably had something to do with them not being spoken in English. He motioned to the door. "Friend of yours?" 

"No. Not of mine." Nick all but spat the words. "They are members of the Royal Guard. They have come for you." 

"Well that sounds ominous." 

"There is no more time." Nick grabbed Jack's hand. Gripping it at the wrist, he turned it over and pressed the remote into the palm. "I will protect you, I swear."  

Again, the fist beat on the door. 

Firing a glare towards the sound, Nick barked, "Kree!" 

The familiar command sent a jolt of adrenaline through Jack's veins. The pounding in his head faded to a dull ache and sweat began to course the length of his back. Nick was right — they were out of time. Jack had to make his choice: trust the man who'd captured him, or take his chances with the wolf at the door. Some choice. 

Eyes steady, Nick tightened his hold on Jack's wrist. "After everything that has been done to you and to your team, I have no right to ask that you trust me. I know that. And I can give you no reason why you should. But please… trust me anyway."  

Immediately, Jack thought about the members of SG-14. The ones he'd failed. The ones who might already be dead.

Or, just maybe, the ones he might still have a chance to save. 

His mouth went dry, the faint taste of bile rising in his throat. This was such a bad idea. 

Swallowing hard, Jack closed his hand around the remote. "If anything's happened to my team, I'll kill you." 

Nick released a breath, a large grin flickering across his face. 

Appropriate response to a death threat. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Jack shoved the remote into his pocket. I must be outta my mind.

10-21-2004, 05:17 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:17 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT

Lights ricocheted through the corridor; a piercing halogen beam from Sam's P-90 and a softer, yellowy haze from Daniel's own handheld. Occasionally their paths intersected, but for the most part he found himself illuminating patches of the walls' red granite alone. 

Third in line behind Sam and Jacob, with Teal'c on his six, Daniel didn't have much space for browsing. Not that there was much to see. The walls were blank. Early on, there had been scuff marks along the floor as well as trails of sand — presumably left by recent travelers. But these traces had faded not long into their descent.   

Condensation fogged his glasses. Again. The temperature must have dropped another few degrees. It had been growing steadily colder the farther they traveled underground, but his body was still radiating a certain amount heat. Result: ever-clouding glasses. 

With a sigh, Daniel pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at the lenses. His thumb and a corner of the cloth were still working their way between his right eye and the frames, when Sam spoke.

"There it is." The words had probably been uttered in a normal tone, or maybe even whispered, but thanks to the acoustics they sounded like a yell. "Up ahead — see it?"

Ignoring the streaks he was leaving behind, Daniel pocketed the handkerchief and trotted closer to Jacob — who was slowing down for some unfathomable reason. 

"I'm getting an energy signal." Angling himself toward Daniel's light, Jacob studied the power meter in his hand. "It's faint, but seems to be increasing." 

On this announcement, mere decreased speed was replaced by a total lack of forward motion. 

Impatiently, Daniel pressed himself against one wall, struggling for a glimpse past the human obstacle. Ice cold stone gnawed at his back, and his head found something sharp on the ceiling, but he got what he wanted: a visual of the mysterious 'it'.

Several meters down, barely discernible in the light of Sam's P-90, stood an archway. Above it, inlaid in silver, was a line of script.

"Those symbols…" Struck by the haunting familiarity of their form as well as his complete inability to read them, Daniel forgot to breathe. He stood, mouth ajar and eyes blind to everything except the script's mystery. There hadn't been anything like this on the surface; hardly a jot or tittle even worth examining, in fact.

Selmak's distorted voice filled the shaft. "It's Goa'uld."  

Of course. Points of similarity between the angular, box-style text he knew and the erratic, fluid lines of this clearly primitive variation leapt from the walls. He sucked in an excited breath. "The structure is completely different."

"I believe the symbols have been rendered in a form equivalent to that of Earth's cursive lettering, Daniel Jackson. A form not utilized for many hundreds of years."

With a bow of the head, Jacob surfaced. "Teal'c's right. Not to mention a few centuries of missed language growth."

"Didn't you say the ransom demand for SG-14 was written in archaic Goa'uld?" Sam asked.

"A variation of it, yes. But it was also computer generated. The styles are nothing alike."

"What about the dialect?" Daniel shouldered forward another few inches. "Th-the spelling, noun and verb order, anything — anything at all?"

After a long pause, Jacob answered, "I don't know. It's possible. I'd need to see a larger portion of script to make a true comparison." 

The light from Sam's P-90 made a slow track across the text. "Can you translate it?" 

"Roughly. According to Selmak it reads: Enter, all who would defy the gods."

10-21-2004, 00:17 Zulu 
HOLDING CELL ON BOARD THE BENNU

With a screech, the cell door began to open. The sound was like ice water in Jack's face. Instinct kicked in, and his emotions went on lock down. The fear, the doubt, the anger — everything he'd felt so acutely moments before — gone. Shoved into a dark place, well out of reach. He could deal with that mess later. 

For now, surviving whatever was about to walk through that door had to take priority.

Nick circled forward, placing himself between Jack and the entrance. Back ramrod straight, shoulders taut, legs slightly spread, his entire demeanor seemed to have changed. All the vulnerability was gone. In its place there stood the hard, impenetrable shell of a warrior. 

The door finished rising to reveal four heavies lurking out in the hall. They were dressed in solid black, their faces expressionless. Without speaking, they entered the cell, marched past Nick, and surrounded Jack. They didn't touch him. Just stood there looking dangerous.

Jack lifted his eyebrows. "This is good."

Nick snapped his fingers. The gesture was simple, but carried the weight of authority. "I will escort the prisoner alone. Return to your stations."

A fifth guard, also clad in black stepped into the doorway. Barrel chested, big boned; bit lacking in the height department. Reminded Jack a lot of a sawed-off shotgun. He moved into the room with the air of a man intent on taking over, and planted himself in Nick's path. "If you will recall, Commander, your orders were to ensure the capture of General O'Neill — nothing more. I and my men were the ones charged with delivering him to the Chancellor."

Jack scowled. "You make me sound like a package."

Sawed-Off glared at Jack, eyes ready to spit fire. "Do not speak!" 

"Kinda touchy there, aren't ya'?"

A vein bulged along Sawed-Off's temple. He made a move toward Jack, but Nick stepped between them. 

"Guardsman!" Nick's voice seemed to have dropped about an octave. "You forget your place." 

"No, Commander. It is you who have forgotten yours. We are members of the Royal Guard in service to the Chancellor. We are under no obligation to—"

"Yes you are!" Nick let the rebuttal stand for a moment. His chin jutted forward, muscles rippling along his cheeks. "This is still a joint operation. The Guardians and select members of the Royal Guard united under one command."

"Under Supreme Guardsman Hav'ok's command."

"Hav'ok is dead. And as I am the leader of the Guardians and the appointed second in command of this operation, you will now answer to me." 

The tension was palpable. Neither man spoke and neither backed down. It was an impasse.

As Jack watched the wordless duel, his mind returned to the botched exchange back on Iunu. That first moment of contact when he'd seen Nick and… Black Beard. Head honcho with a bad attitude who'd been calling all the shots. The one he'd seen Nick arguing with just before—

Sawed-Off jerked his hand upward, a motion that evidently called his men to attention. Then his eyes met Jack's. Derision twisted into pleasure as he said, "Secure him."

10-21-2004, 05:19 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:19 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT

With an exhale, Daniel crossed the threshold. He fit the criteria — he would 'defy the gods' — but it remained to be seen whether or not that was a good thing. 

Stepping further into the chamber, he swept his flashlight beam over every available plane. Shaped like a trapezoid, the room unfolded before him in all its wonder. It was breathtaking. Vaulted ceilings, a gathering of enormous block columns at the room's center, and walls filled with beautifully fashioned script. Just what they needed to make that comparison. And if it was a match… 

"This could be most unwise."

Quoth Teal'c, encourager of all men. 

"He has a point," Jacob said, once again studying the energy meter. "The surface was completely wiped clean — no tracks, no marks. Then suddenly down here they get sloppy?"

Sam advanced a step, weapon raised. "You think they left that trail on purpose? Lead us into some kind of trap?" 

"I'm saying it's possible."

"Maybe they just weren't expecting us to find it," Daniel suggested. "I mean Teal'c did have to 'unearth' it."

"Or maybe they were never down here at all." Jacob looked straight at Daniel. "Bottom line is we don't know who left those tracks or why."

"Oh, I don't know…" Crouching, Daniel traced his flashlight beam over the grit coated floor. Scattered bits of silver caught the light. "Teal'c, what does this look like to you?"

Teal'c knelt beside him. He flicked a finger against one of the shreds of silver. "I believe it is foil."

Daniel plucked one of the pieces off of the floor and examined it. "And not just any foil — look at that." He passed the piece to Teal'c. "Lettering." 

"It appears to be a portion of a wrapper from your government's water purification tablets."

Daniel glanced at Jacob. 

“Jack left his pack on board the Al’kesh. Unless he had one of those things in his pocket, it can’t be his.”

“What about SG-14?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible.”

Sam adjusted her P-90. “All right, Teal'c, check the perimeter: walls, floor, ceiling. I don't want us running into any surprises. Daniel, see what you can find out about this script. We don't have a lot of time, so work fast. Dad and I'll focus on locating the power source responsible for these energy readings. If there's a connection between this place and the men responsible for capturing General O'Neill and '14, we're going to find it."

They had to. 

10-21-2004, 00:19 Zulu 
HOLDING CELL ON BOARD THE BENNU

In a blur of chaos and movement, Jack was forced to his knees. Hands gripped him on every side, pinning his arms behind his back and digging into his shoulders. Angry yells in a language he didn't understand fired in his ears. 

He heard Nick shout his name. 

A sickening thud rocked the cell. Then another and another.

Chancing a look up, Jack saw Nick shoved against one wall, Sawed-Off's hands wrapped around his throat. The kid was stunned, probably from a blow to the head, but was aware enough to grab at the hands around his neck. Not that it was doing him any good. If he stayed in that choke hold much longer… 

Jack looked away. He shouldn't care. Nick was the enemy. Ten minutes ago he'd been ready to throttle the kid himself. Nothing had really changed.

Nothing.

His eyes fell to the circular bulge in his right-side pocket. The remote. His muscles clenched. 

I will not harm you… I need you to believe that.

General O'Neill, please.

... Trust me anyway. 

"Nick, kick him!" Jack yelled it as loud as he could, hoping it would be enough to breakthrough the fog of a head blow and low oxygen. His keepers took exception to his plan. A grip like a vice clamped onto his neck, forcing his head down. He gasped, blocked out the pain, and yelled again. "Kick him!" 

His arms were twisted farther behind his back, and the hand-lock on his neck sank in deeper. With another gasp, he bent to the pressure, eyes screwed shut. "Do it now, Nick!"

Someone cried out. The sound was loud and desperate. Seconds later, the cell shook with the impact of a falling human body and an alarm began to blare. 

Jack hissed as the hands gripping his right shoulder and forearm tightened their hold. At first, he thought it was just more retaliation, but then he heard the skirmish. Opening his eyes, he caught a glimpse of desert colored boots tangling with black. Someone was attacking his right hand guard. Nick. A crooked grin spread across his face. 

Way to go, kid. 

With a shaky laugh, he felt the handholds on his right arm and shoulder break away. It wasn't much, but it was an opening. And that's all Jack needed. He went for the guard clamping down on his neck first. Jamming his thumb into the soft tissue between his opponent's thumb and forefinger, got an immediate reaction. Grabbing the bad guy's thumb and bending it completely backwards, got an even better reaction. 

It also earned him a sharp twist to his left arm.

Jack's already ragged breathing hitched and he let go of the guard's thumb. But he wasn't out of the fight. Not yet. Making a fist, he slammed it down and back, connecting with the man's inner leg just above the ankle. His victim fell to one side as he struck the pressure point, but Jack barely noticed. Because whoever had his left arm upped the ante yet again. This time the pain shot through his shoulder, into his neck. He really needed to do something about that guy. 

The pain spiked and his world went gray. He needed to act. Now. Before it was too late. But everything seemed distorted. Out of focus. 

People were running. Lots of people. Their steps rattled the floor. 

Dully, Jack wondered why none of them were coming at him. Jabbing your captors usually didn't go over well. But Lefty seemed to be the only one who'd gotten that memo. The little try-hard. 

The constant droning of the alarm stopped. But the level of chaos around him only seemed to increase. 

Then, in an instant, the pressure on his left arm was ripped away. With a cry of relief, Jack sank forward. 

A pair of hands caught his shoulders. "General O'Neill? General O'Neill, can you hear me?"

Overall things were still a bit hazy, but Jack didn't have any problem placing that voice. Even strained and hoarse it was unmistakable. He shot Nick a lop-sided smile. "I know. You're gonna protect me, right?"

Hands slipping from Jack's shoulders, Nick sank to his knees. His breathing sounded shallow. Happened when you just missed being choked to death. "I failed you. They should never have touched you." 

Jack leaned back, studying Nick as though for the first time. The kid had taken a blow to the face. The skin along his left cheekbone was scraped and inflamed; in an hour it would be royally discolored. So would his neck. The marks from Sawed-Off's hands were already shining bright red. Another side-effect of the whole choking thing.

Nick lowered his eyes. "I am sorry."  

"Yeah, well. Let's just say prevention isn't your strong suit." Jack kept his tone light. With a shrug, he then looked around the cell. The walls were lined with soldiers; a dozen or more all wearing loose, desert colored uniforms. He assumed that meant they were with Nick. That and the fact they had all five of the black-clad guardsmen pinned against the walls.

Sawed-Off glared at Jack, muttered something, then spat on the floor. 

Jack just smirked. Shaking out his limbs, he very carefully got to his feet. "I'll say this for you, though, kid — you do have a flair for damage control." 

Nick lifted his head, expression intense, but for once completely unreadable. 

With a nod, Jack offered the man his hand. "Commander?"

10-21-2004, 05:28 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:28 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT

Blank. The last portion of the chamber wall was blank. Almost as if the person charged with engraving the text had been interrupted. Stopped mid-paragraph. 

Clicking off his digital recorder, Daniel studied the last line of symbols. His mind was still unaccustomed to the script style and archaic sentence structure, not to mention word choice and spelling, but… 

Slowly and with great care, he whispered through the translation symbol by symbol. "This then… is our end… May we yet… may we yet…" He brushed his fingers over the text, tracing every groove. "Find! May we yet find… hope… for our greatest… beginning." He backed away and read through the lines once more. 

This then is our end. May we yet find hope for our greatest beginning. 

"Of course. Makes perfect sense." 

The wall didn't answer his sarcasm nor did it offer any insight into the cryptic words carved along its plane. 

With a sigh, he turned away. Teal'c stood in the chamber's far corner, hands ghosting over the wall. Daniel joined him. "Find anything?"

"I am uncertain. The temperature of this wall does not correlate with the others."

Frowning, Daniel pressed his own hand on first one wall, then the other. His frown deepened. "It's colder."

Teal'c crouched and ran his fingers along the seam of wall and floor. 

"Well?"

"Air.” Teal’c met Daniel’s eyes. “I believe this wall may conceal a separate chamber."

"A separate chamber? You mean—"

"Whoa!" 

Sam. Daniel spun on his heel as a loud hum rattled the chamber. He looked toward the circle of columns where he'd last seen Sam, and froze. Mouth ajar, inarticulate sounds falling from his lips, he couldn't help but stare. For there, projected within the center of the colonnade, was a massive, flowing star-scape; each celestial form moving in accordance with its orbit. 

"Colonel Carter?"

"It's okay, Teal'c," Sam said. "I'm fine."

Struggling to see through the holographic images, Daniel could just make out Sam and Jacob's positions. They stood on the opposite side of the projection, innards of a control panel apparently extracted from one of the columns laid out between them. 

Selmak spoke. "These graphics are almost identical to those found among the earliest Goa'uld navigation systems. The crystals used to power this device, however, are unlike any I have ever encountered."

"They're not refined," Sam answered. "They're practically still in rock form, but the basic principles for the technology, power extraction, and the resulting conductivity are—"

Without warning, the projection zoomed in, enlarging a tiny quadrant of space. The blanket of stars disappeared, leaving only a single planet circled by two moons visible.

"Um, Dad…?" 

Hands raised, Jacob shook his head. "Don't look at me."

"Could it have been programmed to behave in such a manner?" Teal'c asked.

"It's possible." Sam cocked her head, scrutinizing the projection. "We'd have to compare stellar charts to be certain, but doesn't this grouping look familiar?"

"Large planet, two moons." Jacob shrugged. "It certainly fits. If you're right, that brighter moon there should be us." 

She bent closer. "There in the corner, looks like some kind of legend. Can you read it?" 

Daniel hurried forward. Recorder still in hand, he switched it on and began filming the hologram. The 2D images he'd have as a result would never do it justice, but for reference purposes it—

Echoes of an inhuman scream drifted down the entry shaft. It faded into a howl, then a slow, steady whine. 

None of them moved. 

Air tainted with sand gusted into the chamber, swirled, and died. 

"The storm. It's here." Daniel heard himself utter the words, even as his head shook in denial. They couldn't be out of time. Not now. 

But they were. 

10-21-2004, 00:29 Zulu 
HOLDING CELL ON BOARD THE BENNU

Jack waited for Nick to take his hand. It didn't take long. Calloused fingers soon settled around his and he pulled the man to his feet.

Still shoved against the wall, Sawed-Off jerked against his captors. "This is treason, Commander. Your life and the lives of all you hold dear will be worth nothing!"

A deadly calm tightened Nick's features. He turned to face the prisoner.  

"The Chancellor will hear of everything you have done,” Sawed-Off threatened. “Everything." 

Moving to within inches of the loud-mouth’s face, Nick dropped his voice to a hiss. "By all means, Guardsman, tell him everything. And when you have done, we shall see whose life is forfeit."

Sawed-Off pressed himself back against the wall. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he dropped his eyes.  

Nick stepped away. "Take them to the holding cells."

The soldiers yanked their prisoners away from the walls or off the floor, and marched them from the room. 

Tilting his head, Jack watched them go. “So long kids.”

The flippant words were like a pin popping a balloon. With a snort, Nick shook his head and all but collapsed right on the spot. His shoulders sagged, his legs swayed. Seconds before he'd look strong enough to rip Sawed-Off into unrecognizable shreds. Now, he could barely stand upright. 

"Hey, hey, easy." Jack made up the distance between them and held onto the kid's shoulders. 

"It's okay. I am fine." Nick blinked, his breath coming in shallow pants.  

"Yeah, I don’t think so.” 

The kid pursed his lips, wrapped his hands around Jack’s arms, and tried to push him away. “I swear to you, I am fine.”

But Jack refused to be brushed off. “Look, how 'bout we just sit down for a minute?"

"I am fine." 

The kid's tone had shifted from reassuring to petulant and the change blindsided Jack. Memories of Daniel uttering the same lie with the same amount of petulance came out of nowhere. They left him feeling empty. And… he didn’t have time for this. Not here, not now. Probably not ever. Forcing his mind back to the present, Jack surveyed Nick up and down. "Yeah, you're just great."

"I am pleased you agree."

"But we're still gonna sit down." On Nick's annoyed glare, he rolled his eyes. "Humor me." 

That, of all things, seemed to do the trick. Nick shrugged out of Jack's grip, leaned against the nearest wall, and slowly slid to the floor. 

Cuffing him on the leg, Jack dropped down beside him. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" 

"No, General O'Neill. It was not so hard." Eyes heavy, a weak smile tugging at his mouth, Nick stared at the opposite wall. "But this is only the beginning."

"Of what? Sitting?"

Nick turned, glazed expression lifting as he fixed Jack with a suddenly sharp, intense look. "No. Of ensuring your escape."

Chapter Text

10-21-2004, 05:36 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:36 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT

"We can't just leave."  

"We have no choice, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c moved toward the chamber's entrance. The sound of the wind had already begun to increase.

At the center of the chamber, Colonel Carter was on her knees, hurriedly packing up her gear. "Teal'c's right, Daniel." 

"But he could be here!" Daniel Jackson waved an arm at the wall of discrepant temperature. "If there is another room on the other side of that wall, we could be walking away from Jack right now."

"If that storm hits and buries us in this chamber, it won't matter whether Jack is on the other side of that wall or not," Jacob Carter pointed out. "We can monitor the storm's progress from the Al'kesh and come back as soon as it clears."

"But—" Daniel Jackson's protest was cut short by another swirl of air funneling into the chamber. 

On the floor beside his daughter, Jacob Carter hastened his own efforts to pack up their gear. "If that opening caves in we're going to be in big trouble."  

Teal'c bowed his head in quick acknowledgment. "I shall attempt to secure the entrance."

"Right." Colonel Carter pulled several crystals from the column's panel and added them to her pack. "We'll be right behind you. Daniel, Dad, grab whatever you can and let's move."

10-21-2004, 00:37 Zulu
HOLDING CELL ON BOARD THE BENNU

"Commander Nykii!" The yell rang out a moment before a breathless soldier rushed into the room. His uniform looked about one size too big as did his arms and legs. He was just a kid, a teenager; explained the slightly falsetto ring of his voice. "Commander Nykii, he's here!"

Nick shot to his feet. One hand braced against the wall, he placed the other on the messenger's shoulder. "Take a breath, Ocmon. Who is here?"

"Th-the Chancellor. He is outside on the landing dock. He says—" he broke off, chest heaving.

Nick kneaded the boy's shoulder with his fingers. "What did he say, Ocmon?" 

"He said… he said you were to bring him the prisoner without delay." 

Rising from the floor, Jack gave the boy a smile. Huge, dark eyes met his then darted back to Nick. 

"Nykii, what—"

"Never mind, Ocmon. Have they made any progress on the engines?" 

"The engines?" Jack frowned. "What's wrong with the engines?"

Lips twisting into a smirk, Nick glanced over his shoulder. "They are broken, General O'Neill."

"Ah, right.” With a shrug, he rocked back on his heels. “And this whole engine breaking thing… that happened after we landed, right?"

Nick's smirk stretched into a slow smile. 

"Yeah, ya' know," Jack made a negligent gesture. "Forget it. I don't want to know."

Huffing a laugh, Nick turned back to the boy. "The engines, Ocmon."

"They still have not been repaired. Five of the power units have to be replaced, and they are having difficulty scavenging enough parts… sir." 

The honorific seemed to be added as an afterthought, but if Nick minded he didn't show it. Lower lip caught between his teeth, he shifted his gaze around the room. 

Jack ducked his head just enough to snag Nick's attention. "Commander?” 

"We cannot attempt to stage your escape until the Bennu is operational. It is the only way you will be able to return to your people."

Jack nodded. "Okay. So, stall for time?" 

"Yes. We will have to."

The boy, Ocmon, paled. "Nykii, I have never seen the Chancellor this angry. You— you will be careful… won't you?"

Nick cupped his hand around the boy's neck, then tousled his hair. "Yes, Ocmon. We will be careful." Nodding toward the door, Nick cuffed the kid on the shoulder. "Now, go back with the rest of the Guardians. Bring me word when the engines have been repaired." 

Ocmon swallowed, head nodding vigorously. A blur of movement and the boy was gone. 

"Friend of yours, I take it?" Jack asked.

A fond look softened Nick's face. "Ocmon is my nephew. He is still so young. Too young to be weighted with such worries." 

The hint of sadness in these last words was clear. As was the distant look that clouded Nick's eyes. 

Giving him an assessing glance, Jack cocked his head. "You ready for this?"

"Somehow I feel it is I who should be asking you that, General O’Neill."

"Hey, I'm not the one who almost got throttled here. So, you good?"

"I am."

"Excellent." Jack rubbed his hands together and gestured toward the open door. "Off to see the Chancellor?"

Nick straightened. "To the Chancellor." 

10-21-2004, 05:38 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:38 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT

Teal'c raced through the shaft. A spray of wind-tossed sand assaulted his face, but he barely blinked. The closer he came to the surface, the more determined his resolve became for haste. Still several meters underground, he could already hear the whir of air above. Its shrieks set his teeth on edge. 

His boots caught, then slid on layers of sand. The shaft's floor was made of granite, but the inevitable dusting of grit that coated its surface grew quite thick once one neared the entrance. Teal'c adjusted his pace to allow for the unsteady footing as he scrutinized the dark corridor ahead. Faint streams of light, shifting and flickering in time with the wind, soon appeared. 

He thumbed his radio, yelling to be heard over the storm's wail. "Colonel Carter!"

"… Go ahead." Her voice was edged with adrenaline. 

"I am approaching the entrance."

"How's it look?"

"It is passable, but may not remain so for long."

"Okay. We’re our way."

A blast of air funneled through the opening, whipping debris and sand into a cloud. A second blast was quick on its heels, doubling the strength and size of the first. Feet planted, determined to hold his ground, Teal'c raised an arm to shield his face as the wall of circulating air plowed into him. He swayed, upper body bending with the force of the blow, then staggered when the gust finally dissipated. Dust clung to the air around him, making it hard to breath. It also made it hard to see. 

Up ahead, where moments before he'd seen the dim glow of daylight, he now saw only darkness. Complete darkness.

10-21-2004, 17:39 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:39 Zulu
LANDING PLATFORM

The Bennu was not equipped with rings. Or if she was, they must have been broken along with her engines, because Nick lead Jack out the old fashioned way: a gangway lowered from the ship’s belly to the ground. Hydraulics hissed and there was a release of steam. 

A light breeze touched his face and bare arms as Jack inhaled. Fresh, salt-scented air filled his lungs. He could already hear the steady churn of ocean waves and the call of what had to be an alien sea gull. He'd never thought of an alien planet having sea gulls, but then it had been a while since he'd thought about sea gulls, period. 

Taking a visual turn about the area, Jack skimmed over the landing platform. It was about the size of an air craft carrier deck and made of gray stone slabs in the process of being taken over by moss. Hovering close to the horizon line, the planet's moon dominated the sky — a globe of blues, greens, and purples veiled in a mist of clouds. Water stretched out beneath it as far as the eye could see. Not bad as views went. 

Around two o'clock there was a staircase, also made of stone slabs and losing its own battle with moss. It rose at a steep vertical angle and was set into the side of a narrow mountain. Jack tried to judge its height, but there were too many low-lying clouds. The top disappeared in their mists.

There were a few guards scattered around the landing platform. Most wore the loose, desert colored uniforms Jack was starting to identify as the good guys — Nick’s ‘Guardians’. But there were also a small handful of the black clad guardsmen standing in a perfect line at the bottom of the gangway. Directly in front of them, complete with flowy black cape, there paced an important looking man. His movements screamed irritated bad guy. All he needed to complete the look was a face mask and a respiratory problem.

"Chancellor." Nick came to a halt. He didn't offer any kind of salute, but his body stiffened to attention.

Hanging back a step, Jack kept his stance wide and arms loose at his sides. At close range he bothered to notice the Chancellor's full beard and un-military haircut. His hair was even shaggier than Daniel's had been way back in the day. Had the guy heard of barbers? 

The Chancellor finally stopped pacing and straightened to his full height. The motion left him a fraction taller than Nick. Chin jutting forward, head tilted back, he stared down at the Commander. When he spoke his voice was deep and smooth as ice. "I expected your return hours ago."

Still holding himself at attention, Nick answered, "I know, Chancellor. We experienced multiple engine failures."

Jack shot Nick a look. Multiple engine failures? 

"Is that why you failed to answer the numerous hails we transmitted to the ship, Commander?" 

"My chief engineer had to appropriate parts from the communications unit to effect repairs, sire. Unfortunately, it did little to aid our ability to communicate." 

The Chancellor's chin lowered infinitesimally. If it weren't for his obvious desire to keep the hostility fest going, Jack would have sworn the guy wanted to smile. Just a little. When the man spoke again his voice, though still hard, had lost a bit of its coolness.

"What happened to Hav’ok?"

Nick responded to the change of tone, his shoulders relaxing. "One of the ruin walls collapsed during the exchange, Chancellor. Guardsman Hav’ok was injured by the falling debris. He died aboard the Bennu shortly before our arrival."

The Chancellor bowed his head. The gesture struck Jack as being more respectful than emotional, but he supposed that was natural. From what little he'd seen of this Havoc guy before his death, the man hadn't exactly seemed like the lovable, friendly type.

Moment of silence over, the Chancellor looked at Jack for the first time. His eyes, like his voice, turned chilly. "You are General O'Neill of the Tau'ri?" 

"You got it."

Hands clasped behind his back, the Chancellor moved toward him. "We have heard much about your abilities, General O'Neill."

"And I have heard… nothing about yours." He offered a mock smile of apology.

A barely tolerant smirk was offered in return. "I am Chancellor Laonides, leader of the Corvee'."

Jack gave the vast expanse of water beyond the landing platform a thoughtful look. "Impressive. Been leading the ocean long?" 

"You are insolent, aren't you?"

"Only when the moon is full." 

The Chancellor lifted an eyebrow and began pacing a slow circle around Jack. "The Corvee' possess a device, General O'Neill. A device purported to be of great power. It is known as the Wadjet, and has been kept by our people for many generations."  

"I'm happy for you." Jack canted his head to the right, peripherally monitoring the Chancellor's circle. "But what does that have to do with me or my team?"

"None of our forefathers were able to unlock the Wadjet's secrets. But after years of searching, we now believe we have the key." The Chancellor completed his circle. "You, General O'Neill, are that key."

"Me?"

"Yes. You possess the gift. You have within you the knowledge of the Ancients."

"Had." Jack held up both hands, index fingers raised. "Had the knowledge of the Ancients."

"That may be so, but you still possess the gift — the gene, your people called it. And with that gene you will unlock the secrets of the Wadjet."

Pursing his lips, Jack squinted at the sky. They had agreed to stall for time, but activating an Ancient device of great power that did who-knew-what, wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. With a shrug, he dragged a breath through his teeth. "Yeah, I think I'll pass."

"Insolent and stubborn."

"You caught me on a good day."   

"Perhaps we can persuade you to change your mind.” The Chancellor smiled. On him it looked hard. “Commander Nykii."

"Yes, sire?"

"Where are the members of this man's team? The ones he traded his life for?"

The words were an invisible blow that caused Jack's lungs to seize. Muscles twitched with the need to flex, to fight. But he held still; mouth set, eyes unblinking. 

Then his world came crashing down.  

"Royal Guardsman Hav’ok ordered them destroyed, sire." Nick looked straight at Jack. The contact was brief, but steady. Unyielding. 

Trust me. 

The unspoken plea screamed in the silence.

Fingers coiled into loose fists, Jack ticked his head in a nod. It was both an acknowledgment and a warning. If anything had happened to his people…

“The fool!” Anger colored the Chancellor's face. He muttered a string of curses and stalked a few paces away. "What about the t’yet? Has it been implanted?”

A muscle along Nick’s cheek jumped. “Yes, sire. It has.” 

Visibly collecting himself, the Chancellor faced them once more. “Very well. Take General O'Neill to the Wadjet. Convince him to activate it — by whatever means necessary. You have twenty-four hours."

Losing the stiffness of his posture, Nick stared at the Chancellor. "What?" 

"Twenty-four hours. If at the end of that time General O'Neill has failed to bring the Wadjet to life," the Chancellor set his eyes on Jack. "Destroy him."

Jack didn't flinch. 

Neither did the Chancellor. "If our other methods of persuasion have no effect, perhaps the threat to his life will."

Face suddenly alight with passion, Nick stepped toward the Chancellor. "General O’Neill is not our enemy." 

The Chancellor snapped his fingers, eliciting an immediate response from the guards in black. They broke ranks and fell into position around their leader. "Carry out your orders, Commander, or I will replace you with someone who will."

Nick advanced another step. "Is this what your father would have done?" 

Something indefinable flickered across the Chancellor's face. He glanced at Jack, steeled his jaw, and turned away. "I have no choice." 

"Yes, you do!" Nick grabbed the man's arm, spinning him back around. 

Guardsmen moved in from all sides, but with another snap of his fingers, the Chancellor had them stand down.

"Laonides." Tone suddenly pleading, Nick leaned closer. "Please. Do not do this."

"If we cannot activate the Wadjet, all of our people will perish. It is the only hope we have. And I, for one, will do whatever it takes." 

Nick shook his head. "No. We will find another way."

"There is no other way." With a twist of his arm, the Chancellor broke free of Nick's grasp. "You have your orders, Commander. Now do them."

10-21-2004, 05:42 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:42 Zulu
TEL MAK TER’ROT

A sliver of daylight was all that remained of the entrance. Driving his staff weapon into the sand, Teal'c used its hilt as a spade. With each stroke he drove it deeper. Sand poured away from the aperture and cascaded around his boots. 

Wind lanced through the opening. Its force helped clear the entrance, even as it drove more sand into the shaft. 

Taking advantage of the widened opening, Teal'c thrust his staff through the hole and set it down horizontally, creating a bar across the entry. Using this as a point of leverage, he hauled himself upward. Releasing one handhold, he folded an arm over the staff, then the other. The higher he climbed the fiercer the wind became. It bit at his face and buffeted his body. Sand dragged at his legs. 

Kicking free, Teal'c gave one final heave. The momentum allowed his upper body to clear the hole and one knee to come to rest on the staff. Pitching himself hard to the left, he released the weapon and rolled clear. He tumbled into a crouch. 

A column of writhing sand darkened the horizon to the north. Angry winds whipped at the dunes in anticipation of the storm's arrival. 

Teal'c rushed back to the entrance. Planting himself as a shield, he bent over the opening. With one hand he retrieved his staff and threaded it back through the hole. Almost immediately he heard Daniel Jackson call.

"Teal'c!"

"I will pull you free," he called back. "Grab the staff." A moment of stillness, then the weapon tugged in his hands, and he tightened his grip. 

"I'm ready!"

Teal'c pulled as Daniel Jackson climbed. Grip moving in a hand over hand manner, the archaeologist soon emerged. His feet slipped on the sand embankment below, and he struggled to brace himself against Teal’c’s shoulder. 

Teal’c wrapped an arm around his teammate and tugged him clear of the shaft. 

Choking on grit and sand, Daniel Jackson sucked in a gulp of air, before rolling back toward the entrance. "Sam and Jacob were right behind me." 

Teal’c shoved the staff back through the hole and again felt a tug. This time it was Colonel Carter. As she appeared, Daniel Jackson grabbed her around the waist and helped pull her clear. 

A wall of sand topped the nearest dune and plowed into them. Absorbing the brunt of the blow with his back, Teal'c bent low over his teammates. He felt their fingers wrap around his biceps, digging into corded muscle, and an arm looped around his shoulder. 

A shuffle of air from a different direction washed over his face, tangling with the opposing wind. Seconds later both forces died away. 

Colonel Carter released her hold on Teal'c's shoulder and leaned in close to be heard over the approaching storm. "Get Dad out of there, we need to move." 

Without delay, Teal'c thrust his staff once more into the hole and Jacob Carter's ascent was executed with dispatch. 

"Get to the rings! Dad, take point." 

Jacob Carter acknowledged his daughter's order with a wave, angled himself away from the storm, and set off at a fast pace. Daniel Jackson and Colonel Carter fell in behind him, as did Teal'c. With the wind at their back's they made good time. The remains of the hall where their search had begun were soon in view. 

At the threshold of the crumbling structure, Teal'c paused. A shiver passed through him. Pivoting on his heel, he scanned the immediate area. A shadow caught his eye, a form. He lifted his staff weapon. A whirl of sand obscured his view. It whipped and tossed, then fell away. 

The form was gone. 

"Teal'c!" Yelling to be heard over the storm's tumult, Colonel Carter touched his arm. "Teal'c, what's wrong?" 

Grit stung his eyes as the flailing wind increased. Still he hesitated, straining to see through the angry veil of sand. But whatever he had seen was gone.

"Sam, Teal'c!" 

"Come on!" 

The voices of Daniel Jackson and Jacob Carter barely carried through the rough winds. The sky was darkening. They truly were out of time.

"Go!" Teal'c shouted, turning his back on the ruins and setting off once more for the rings. Only a few more strides. At his side, Colonel Carter stumbled. Wrapping a hand about her arm, he steadied her as they all but tumbled over the last three meters. Daniel Jackson and Jacob Carter fought against the wind to reach them, pulling them on toward the safe zone. 

A deafening roar thundered through the ruins. What was left of the morning light failed in an upheaval of earth and overwhelming power. 

Teal'c held tight to his teammates and they to him. Beneath his hand, he felt Daniel Jackson lose footing and pitch forward. Colonel Carter dropped to her knees. Teal'c bent with them, gripping their arms with all his strength.

Mere moments later, they were enveloped in light, a force of a different kind engulfing them.

10-21-2004, 17:50 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:50 Zulu
LANDING PLATFORM

The Chancellor and his guards were no longer in sight. They had walked toward the stairs, but Jack had lost track of just exactly where they'd gone from there. He'd been too busy watching Nick. Broad shoulders pulled taut, the kid stood motionless exactly where the Chancellor had left him. 

Jack cleared his throat. "Just keep makin' friends everywhere we go, huh?"

Jaw muscles rippling, Nick closed his eyes. "It may be several hours before the Bennu is ready to embark. Come, I will take you to the chamber of the Wadjet." Without a backward glance, he led off in the direction of the staircase.

Jack followed. He reassessed the towering mountainside from the perspective of a potential climber and groaned. Mounting the first step close behind Nick, he asked, "So, exactly how far up is this thing?"

Taking the stairs two at a time, Nick kept his attention forward. "The chamber is at the very top."

"Of course it is."

"What?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So, Nick, you wanna tell me what all that was about?"

The kid seemed to pick up speed. "You need not worry. I will keep my word. No harm will come to you."

"Yeah, I got that." Jack jogged up several single steps, then fell into a two-step rhythm behind Nick. "What about what you told Chancellor Leo back there about my Team?"

"It was the truth. Hav’ok did order them to be destroyed. But that order was never carried out. Your people are safe."

Jack deepened his breathing, taking two strides for every inhale, two for every exhale. "Safe where?"

"Where the Chancellor will never find them." Nick said the words through gritted teeth. The force of his steps increased as did his speed. Again.

For the sake of his lungs, Jack decided not to press the issue. Not yet anyway. He quickened his pace again to match Nick’s.

Vegetation had begun encroaching on the stairs' path. It was mostly grass. A thick, spindly type that covered the entire mountainside. Ocean waves droned steadily down below, battering the black rocks of the shoreline. It was the only place there didn't seem to be any grass. 

Calves already burning from the strain, Jack looked up to check their progress. 

And almost collided with Nick who had apparently decided this was a good place to stop. Head bowed, he gave Jack a brief, sideways glance, then lowered his eyes. He was breathing hard. "I am sorry."

"For what?"

Nick dropped onto the closest step, the tension in his body draining away. Shoulders rounded, arms propped on his knees, he stared at the ground. 

The step was wide enough to accommodate two. With a shrug, Jack sat down beside him. 

Labored breaths easing, Nick again glanced Jack's way. "My father was a good man, General O’Neill. When I was young, he told me the only things that matter in this life, are the things we do for others. That is why he became a scientist, to help others."

Not exactly sure what he was supposed to do with that information, Jack hesitated. Studying Nick out of the corner of his eye, he cleared his throat.  "You said ‘was’…"

Nick scrubbed a hand over his face. "Five seasons ago a plague struck our people. My father worked day and night until he found a preventative. It saved us."

"But not him?"

"No. For him it was too late." 

"I'm sorry."

Drawing a deep breath, Nick looked off into the sky. "My father spent much time studying the Wadjet. At first, he believed it could be used for good, as a means of defense for our people. But later he came to believe that it was a weapon of far too great and horrible a power; that the force it held would destroy us. Laonides' father was Chancellor then. He honored my father's judgment and ordered the Wadjet's chamber sealed." 

Again unsure how to respond, Jack joined Nick in staring at the sky. Evening was coming. The enormous moon was starting to glow a pale blue.

Jack rubbed his palms together. "The Chancellor said something about your people perishing if we didn't get this thing running. What was he talking about?"

"We are not a people of war, General O'Neill. For centuries we have relied upon our ability to hide to keep us safe from those that would oppress us — and for centuries no one has known of our existence. But this winter a ship crashed on the outskirts of my village. We cared for the pilot, took him into our world.” Nick paused, chin shifting forward. “The man was a fugitive. Goa'uld ships soon filled our skies, searching for their lost prisoner. They flew in low over the mountains. Every day they came closer. Many felt it was only a matter of time before they discovered our people."

"What happened?"

"The fugitive left our village. He fled during the night and surrendered himself to the Goa'uld."

"How do you know?"

"I followed him." Nick stared into the distance. "I wanted to stop him from sacrificing his freedom. With the knowledge he held of our people, giving himself into the hands of the Goa'uld could only put us at an even greater risk. But he would not listen. He insisted that he must try to save us, protect us. I saw the Goa'uld take him prisoner."   

"This Goa'uld have a name?"

"Yes. It was Klorel."

10-21-2004, 05:58 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:58 Zulu
ON BOARD THE AL’KESH

The rings fell away, sending a spray of sand dancing across the floor. Unbalanced with the sudden absence of wind, Teal'c tumbled to his knees. All around him, the members of SG-1 and Jacob Carter lay in a tangle of arms and legs, breathing ragged. His own breath was labored and rattled with coughs; a combined effect of exertion and the polluted air of the storm. Grit coated the inside of his mouth. His throat burned. 

Setting aside his staff weapon, Teal'c rose to help his teammates. Daniel Jackson declined his offer of a hand, simply rolling into a seated position on the floor. Jacob Carter accepted, however, with thanks as did Colonel Carter. Sand poured off their clothing with every move. 

Daniel Jackson tapped the heel of his palm against his temple. "I think I've got sand in my ears." 

"You know there's a reason I never took you and your brother to the beach, Sam," Jacob Carter muttered, hands tugging at his clothes. "I feel like a piece of sand paper."

Colonel Carter worked her fingers through her hair. "Okay, let's get started. I'm going to try and integrate the unrefined crystals from the projection unit into one of the Al'kesh's panels — see if I can't access the rest of the information. Dad, I may need your help. Daniel, Teal'c, start working on translating those inscriptions—"

"Sam." Jacob Carter placed a hand on her shoulder. Voice soft, he said, "I want to find Jack as much as you do. But it's going to take hours for that storm to clear. And we've been at this non-stop for… a very long time.” His eyes lowered to meet hers. "Sam?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. "You're right."

"No," Daniel Jackson got to his feet. "We can't stop. We're close, I know we are. The answer is here, it has to be."

"I am inclined to agree with Daniel Jackson," Teal’c said.

Colonel Carter waved down their protests with a hand. "We'll break into shifts. MRE's all around, then Dad, Daniel — you two take four hours. Teal’c and I will take first watch."

Pleased with this arrangement, Teal'c bowed. "Very well." 

Daniel Jackson pursed his lips, glowering first at the ceiling then at the floor. 

"Daniel?" Colonel Carter prompted.

"Yeah. Okay, okay."

"All right then. Let's go."

10-21-2004, 17:59 OWT
10-21-2004, 00:59 Zulu
STAIRWAY TO THE WADJET

Klorel.

An image of Skaara flashed through Jack's mind, but he shook it away. They'd gotten that filthy snake out of him. Skaara wasn't Klorel's host anymore. And thanks to Oma Desala, he wasn't dead either. Not exactly. Didn't make thinking about him any easier. Especially not when the only face he had for Klorel also happened to be Skaara’s — no matter how many times he told himself it wasn’t true. 

The memories turned his stomach.

“General O’Neill, what is wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

It wasn’t true. Far from it. But there wasn't anything here Nick could fix. 

Raking a hand through his hair, Jack shrugged. “So what happened after that?” 

Nick hesitated, silently charting Jack’s face. 

And the man really needed to stop with the Daniel traits already. Just accept that Jack was lying through his teeth and leave him to work out his own issues. Was that too much to ask? 

With a huff, he pushed Nick to continue. “So this prisoner guy gave himself over to Klorel, and...?”

Nick held his gaze a moment longer, then exhaled. “For a while our life of peace returned. I thought perhaps I had been wrong; that because of the man’s sacrifice the Goa'uld truly had gone forever. But this season the ships returned. Again and again they have returned. It has become a pattern. They never land. Never attack. But each time they come closer. Many among our people feel an attack is imminent."

"Those folks are probably right. How much time do we have before they come around again?"
 
"They will arrive tomorrow, at sunrise." Interlacing his fingers, Nick turned toward Jack. "I do not know how to fight the Goa'uld, General O'Neill. But I do know my father was a man of courage and honor. He would not have fought so hard against the Wadjet if he had not believed it to be evil."

"That why you're so eager to get me outta town?"  

Nick met Jack's eyes. "I was going to kill you."

The point-blank honesty carried quite a punch. Jack swallowed.  "What changed your mind?" 

"You." Plucking a shaft of grass from the side of the path, Nick systematically began tying it into knots. "Hav’ok told me you possessed the power necessary to bring the Wadjet to life. I was certain that anyone capable of accessing such a destructive force must himself also be evil." Nick's hands fell still. "I was wrong. A man who would trade his life for the sake of others and risk that same life to retrieve a fallen comrade... that man is not evil. He cannot be."

Jack looked away, attention tracing first the stars, then ground.

Nick kept talking. “Hav’ok’s men would never have allowed you to escape the ruins. And they would not have taken you prisoner without much pain. I did my best to protect you in hopes that…” voice trailing off, Nick’s gaze wandered once again to the sky. “Perhaps it was arrogant of me, but I had hoped I could find some other way to make it right. To stop Hav’ok and the Chancellor from activating the Wadjet, and return you to your people without further harm.”

“Well,” Jack plucked the knotted piece of grass from Nick’s hand and rolled it between his fingers. “You’re off to a pretty interesting start.”

Nick turned to face Jack. “I will restore you to your people, General O’Neill. This I swear to you.” 

With a half-smile, Jack tossed away the piece of grass. Darned if he didn’t believe the kid would do it, too — t’yet, Chancellor, imminent Goa’uld attack, and all.

Nick stood and extended his hand to Jack. “General O’Neill?” 

Deja-vu in reverse. Jack shook his head — and gripped Commander Nykii’s hand in return.

10-20-2004, 19:02 MDT
10-21-2004, 01:02 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 17

General Hammond strode down the hallway, Colonel Reynolds at his side. The door to the conference room was just around the corner. The thought was enough to make George slow his steps. 

Reynolds adjusted his stride, pacing him. "Any idea what we're gonna tell him, sir?" 

"Yes, Colonel. As little as possible."

They turned the corner. 

Opening the door, Reynolds stepped to the side, allowing George to enter first. 

Arthur Kingman sat at the conference table. A briefcase and neatly arranged stacks of folders were spread in front of him. He looked up at their approach. His face, with its simple lines and pallid skin, was impassive. He wore rimless glasses; the kind you noticed, but could just as easily overlook. They fit him well. 

With a nod, George pursed his lips. “Mr. Kingman.” 

What could have been a smile crimped the man’s mouth, but other than that his expression remained flat. He gave his watch a casual glance. “Your hours here at the SGC seem to be a bit longer than what we have in Washington.” 

Reynolds closed the door. He stepped forward, staying a pace behind and to the right of George. "I'm sorry, sir. There were other more pressing matters that had to be attended to."

“Of course.” Kingman widened his smile. Gathering several folders, he tapped them against the table, straightening their edges. His gaze shifted to George. “General Hammond isn’t it?”

"Yes, sir."

“No offense intended, but I thought it was understood that General O’Neill was the man I came to see.” He made a show of glancing around the room. “Where is he?”

"I'm afraid General O'Neill isn't available," Reynolds answered. "But if you'd like to leave him a message…"

“I see.” A vein ticked along Kingman’s temple. His smile slipped. “And when do you expect him to be available?”

Lifting his chin, George bit the bullet. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kingman, but General O'Neill is not on Base.”

Kingman placed the handful of folders in his briefcase and closed the lid. He stood, the tight-lipped smile resurfacing. “Very well. I have his home address in my files. I shall attempt to contact him there.” 

“I’m afraid that would be a waste of your valuable time.” George nailed on a smile of his own. “General O’Neill gated to the Alpha site this morning. It’s time for their annual inspection tour.” 

Two completely truthful yet irrelevant statements of fact at this point. But if they were lucky, Kingman wouldn’t press.

“Inspection tour?” The words rippled with doubt. A carefully schooled frown of suspicion crossed the man’s face. “And when do you expect him back from this inspection?” 

Reynolds slanted his eyes toward George, then focused straight ahead — missing Kingman’s head by several inches if George was any judge. "General O’Neill advised he would return in seven days." 

“I’m afraid that is not acceptable. What I have to say to your General O’Neill is of the utmost importance. And extremely time sensitive.” He gave them both a significant look. 

George pinched the inside of one cheek. 

Reynolds remained silent.

“Now, gentlemen, I may not know all of the ins and outs of this Stargate program, but please do not take me for a fool. I know it is possible to contact personnel off-world. I must speak to General O’Neill. Immediately — not in seven days.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Reynolds said, “but that’s not going to be possible.”

Kingman opened his mouth, the first hint of pure, unveiled anger tightening his face. 

George cut him short. “It is impossible, Mr. Kingman, because General O’Neill is currently unaccounted for.”

“What?” 

It was an invitation to explain. 

George declined the offer. “We will let you know as soon as the General is available.”

This time when Kingman smiled it looked almost genuine. Pleased. 

A cat with its prey in sight.

With a flourish, Kingman snapped his overcoat off the back of a chair and laid it over his arm. “Well, in that case my job here seems to be done. For now.” He picked up his briefcase. “I will need to speak with my superiors about this development.” 

“Yes. Do that.” Reynolds opened the door, jaw set in stone. 

“Yes, well.” Kingman strode past them, hesitated, then gave them a nod. “I’ll be in touch.”

Straightening to his full height, George returned the nod. “I’m sure you will, Mr. Kingman.”

The man’s Cheshire cat look faltered just for a second. Then, one more smile forced onto his twitching lips, and Kingman walked away. 

Voice pitched low, Reynolds asked, "What do you think the Joint Chiefs will do when they hear his report, sir?"

George shook his head. "I don't know, Colonel. But I have a feeling we aren't going to like it."

10-21-2004, 18:50 OWT
10-21-2004, 01:50 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Jack couldn't help but wonder sometimes at the insanity of alien cultures. Like whoever the genius was that thought up inventing a spaceship with hyperspace capabilities and left out the seat belts. 

Or in this case, how about the guy who decided sticking a super-powerful weapon at the top of a mountain was a good idea and forgot to throw in an elevator. 

Whoever he was, the guy ought to be shot. Bit extreme as punishments went, but after spending the last hour climbing stairs, Jack wasn’t feeling the least bit charitable. 

"We are almost there, General O’Neill." 

"You said that a hundred steps ago," Jack grumbled, not at all convinced.

To his surprise, Nick actually laughed. "Look around you."

He did.

They were in the clouds. Thin, low-lying clouds. Night had fallen, but the light from the moon was brilliant. It's reflection on the ocean was almost blinding. Jack could clearly see the Bennu where it sat parked on the landing platform below. It looked like a child's toy. 

The grasses, which had followed them up the mountainside, were giving way to boulders; jagged and dark. And just above, carved into one of the larger rock formations, was an open doorway. Three smaller openings he took to be windows flanked the entrance.

Tossing his head back, Jack fisted both hands. "Yes!"

Nick grinned as he mounted the last step. "The Chancellor may have his guards monitoring our movements. We should go inside."

"Great. Wonderful idea. What're the chances of finding a chair in there?"

A chuckle was his only answer. Not the most encouraging thing he'd ever heard.

Jack tried again. "Okay, so no chair. How 'bout a floor? There's gotta be a floor. Everything's got a floor."

Ahead of him, Nick bent down to pass through the doorway. Moss hung like stalactites across the entryway and the stale smell of damp earth was pungent. 

The air felt electric. 

Goose-flesh prickled Jack’s neck and arms. He stepped closer. Pale light ignited in the windows and doorway, streaming onto the rocks. It covered them in a bluish yellow haze. 

Biting thoughtfully at his cheek, Jack hesitated then ducked inside. The light grew brighter, illuminating black rock walls carved in script. Jack could tell the writing was Ancient — sure sign he'd hung out with Daniel too long. 

As Nick's chuckle had foreshadowed, there were no chairs. No furnishings at all in fact, unless you cared to count the glowy pedestal thing at the center of the room. 

"How did you do that?"

Turning to Nick, Jack found him standing wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "What?"

"The Wadjet — it has never before glowed like this."

Jack looked back at the pedestal. Sweat that had nothing to do with the hike he'd just taken trickled down his back. 

"I should not have brought you here." Nick didn't sound angry, just… scared. "It will be risky, but we must leave."

"No." The word left Jack’s mouth before he had a chance to think. There was something here. Something important. He couldn’t explain it, but… he could feel it. 

Giving the pedestal a wide berth, he circled the room. Lined notebook paper had been taped over certain portions of the walls’ script, most of it covered in Nyan's ridiculously perfect cursive. Even more papers had been stacked in neat piles on the floor, or crumpled and tossed into the corners. 

There was also a pen. A distinctly non-alien ballpoint pen.

"General O'Neill?"

Crouching next to a particularly tall stack of papers, Jack thumbed through them. Partial translations, random sketches, equations — all written in four very familiar, very distinct sets of handwriting. "These notes were written by my Team."

"Yes.”

“It must have taken them…” Months. Three months and six days to be exact. 

“Hav’ok and his men held your people here in complete secrecy. Only the Chancellor knew of their presence. He hoped they would be able to activate the Wadjet. They could not."

"None of them have the Ancient gene," Jack said absently. 

"But you do."

In answer, Jack lifted his eyebrows and offered a quick, closed lip smile. A half-second later, he shifted his attention back to the floor. And the pen. Plucking it off of the floor, he rolled it between thumb and forefinger. The SGC logo with ‘Stargate Command, Deep Space Telemetry Station’ written alongside it stared back at him.    

Jack went back to thumbing through the papers. Hailey would have known right off the bat her Team didn’t have a chance of making the Wadjet work. All this translating and figuring, it had just been a stall. A way to buy time. 

A way to keep them alive. 

"So, any idea how this Havoc guy and your Chancellor figured out they needed someone with an Ancient gene?"

"Hav’ok’s guardsmen apparently had your people under surveillance for many hours on De’nama. They recorded their movements as well as their conversations. From what I was told, your name and your gift were discussed at some length. When your people failed to bring life to the Wadjet…" Nick lifted a shoulder. The motion was tight. 

Papers set aside, Jack propped his arms on his knees. "Look, Nick, I don't want to tell you how to run your business, but there's a chance this weapon may not be as bad as your father thought." He stood and circled back around the pedestal to face Nick. "The same race that built this… thing, built an outpost on Earth with a big, honkin’ weapon inside it. When the Goa'uld attacked us, we were able to use that weapon to defend ourselves. If it hadn't been for that, our whole planet would'a been wiped out."

Brow constricted into knots, Nick didn't respond. But he was listening. 

Maybe.

"I've seen what the Goa'uld can do, Nick. Just one of their motherships can take out an entire city and not even work up a sweat. If that fleet does decide to attack tomorrow, there won't be anything left. Trust me on this."

Nick stayed silent. Conflict swirled in his eyes. Conflict and fear. Lots of fear. Side-effect of holding the future of your entire world in your hands. 

Jack could relate. "Look, I'm not saying your father was wrong, but maybe… maybe there's something here he missed."

Gaze moving to the still glowing pedestal, Nick licked his lips.

“Hey, we’ve got nothing but time until that bird of yours gets fixed. It can’t hurt to at least look at my Team’s notes. Can it?”   

Nick shifted. "No, General O’Neill. I suppose it would not hurt to look."

Chapter Text

10-22-2004, 00:23 OWT
10-21-2004, 07:23 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Jack pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. A dull ache thudded at the back of his skull and his brain felt like mush. Any second now he expected it to start melting out of his ears. 

Head dropping forward onto folded arms propped on his knees, Jack groaned. "Oi..." 

Beside him, he heard Nick shuffling through papers. The kid couldn’t read English — something about his people having a different alphabet — but he’d caught onto the numbers thing pretty fast and even recognized an equation or two. Apparently, math was math no matter what planet you were from. More or less. 

Face still nestled in the crook of one arm, Jack cracked open an eye. "You find anything?"

"I have not been able to decipher the remainder of these equations." Nick held out a sheet for Jack to see. Numbers and letters sprawled across the page, along with rough sketches of random bits of technology. The fine hand of Captain Hailey no doubt. No wonder Nick couldn’t understand it.

Burrowing his head harder against the muscles of his arm, Jack sighed. "Yeah. Join the club." His stomach chose that moment let out a low rumble. As if he needed to be reminded that on top of everything else, he was starving.

Nick's boots scraped on the floor. He seemed to be moving closer, and even without looking up, Jack could feel his stare. "You are hungry." It was a statement, not a question.

But Jack shook his head. Stretching out his back and arms, he said, "Nah, I'm okay. How much do we have left?"

"We have finished. That was the last of the notes."

Despite the headache, hunger, and a firm conviction that all of this research was slowly frying his brain, Jack wasn't ready to quit. So far, all they'd managed to discover was that Hailey's math was over both of their heads and that the device bordered on being fatalistically powerful. How someone had filled this entire chamber with words and not said anything more helpful than that, was beyond Jack. 

"Come, General O’Neill. You have worked long enough." 

Ignoring him, Jack looked around at all of the papers. "There's got to be something more here."

But Nick was already standing. He wrapped a hand around Jack's upper arm and tugged him to his feet.
 
A sharp protest from his knee caught Jack by surprise. He bit back a hiss, tentatively flexing the joint. Hiking up stairs for over an hour, followed by sitting on a stone floor for hours? Not the best itinerary. 

"Your knee, it pains you?"

"It's just a little stiff." Jack winced as he took a few steps, but it wasn’t too bad. He'd had worse. "There ya' see? No problem."

Nick dropped into a crouch and without warning, probed the joint with his fingers.

"Ah!" Jack gasped before he had a chance to check himself, then batted away the kid’s hand. "Stop that." 

"There is some warmth and slight swelling."

"Yeah, well…" Jack gave a dismissive roll of his shoulders.

"Where is your t'yet?"

Not a hundred percent sure where this was going, Jack warily reached into his pocket and withdrew the remote. 

Nick rose, but made no move to take the device. He tilted his head. "May I see it?"

More curious now than apprehensive, Jack slowly handed it over. 

Nick folded his fingers around the remote. His expression grew tight, eyes closing with concentration.

Jack opened his mouth to say something — exactly what he wasn’t sure — but then stopped short. The pain was easing. Huh.

Slowly, Nick's facial muscles relaxed. He let out a breath. "How does that feel?"

"Fine. Great actually, but… I don't understand." Jack frowned, first at Nick then at the hand that held the remote. "I thought that thing was supposed to hurt people."

"Like many things, General O'Neill, the t'yet can be used for both good and evil." His gaze strayed to the still glowing pedestal. Without a word, he placed the remote back in Jack's palm. "Come."

"Where?"

"I am taking you home."

"But I thought the Bennu couldn't fly yet?"

Nick half-smiled. "My home, General O'Neill."

"What about the Chancellor? Won't he mind us cutting out on this little party?" 

"You need rest and nourishment." Nick's tone was matter-of-fact. "Even prisoners are allowed such things, with or without the Chancellor's permission." Hurt and anger flickered across his face. He turned away and strode toward the chamber door. "Come. Please."

Silently, Jack followed. Behind him, the Wadjet’s light began to fade.  

10-22-2004, 00:33 OWT
10-21-2004, 07:33 Zulu
OUTSIDE THE WADJET CHAMBER

Jack didn’t ask any questions when Nick bypassed the stairs. This was the kid’s home. If he knew how to get them wherever it was they were going without the stairs, Jack was all for it. But as they circled farther around the stone chamber and deeper into the shadows, he couldn’t help but wonder. 

Sidestepping a boulder, he called out to Nick. “You do know where we’re going, right?” 

The kid didn’t turn around, but Jack could have sworn he heard a laugh. “To reach my world, we must travel through the Portal.”

“Portal? You mean like a Stargate. A… Chappa'ai?”

“No. Not a Chappa’ai.” Stepping into a clearing bordered on all sides by black stone, Nick pointed straight ahead. “The Portal.”

It didn’t look like much: circular base a little over a meter in diameter, two poles on either side. The poles resembled staff weapons; the base an over-sized coin.  

Nick moved to the rock wall directly behind the Portal. Head bent low, he leaned into the shadows. His body — whether intentionally or just by chance — kept Jack from seeing whatever it was he did next. But it didn’t take long for him to witness the results. 

A wormhole opened inside the Portal. It spread out smoothly like a piece of glass sliding into a frame. No explosion, no backwash. 

Returning to Jack’s side, Nick flashed him a smile and gestured to the quiet puddle. “Shall we?”

10-21-2004, 08:35 OWT
10-21-2004, 07:35 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

Jack stepped through the Portal into a different world. 

The lack of light made it hard to see, but there was a feeling of vastness. His steps, even his breath, seemed to echo in the air. 

In the glow of the still active wormhole, he could just make out a staircase chiseled in stone. It led down from the Portal and curved into the shadows. 

The puddle slipped away as smoothly as it had appeared, leaving them in almost complete darkness.

Jack rested his hands on his hips. “This is fun.” He heard Nick grunt somewhere off to his right. A second later he felt the kid’s hand wrap around his arm.

"This way. The stairs are steep. Be careful."

The first few steps were interesting, but it didn’t take Jack long to find his bearings. Right hand trailing the wall, he listened to the steady thump of Nick’s boots. It kept him on course. 

They rounded the curve. Shafts of sunlight lit the path ahead. It was patchy and minimal at best, but Jack wasn’t about to complain. Anything was better than not being able to see the hand in front of your face. 

Time for a little reconnaissance. 

With a practiced eye, Jack studied the area. They seemed to be in an enormous vaulted cavern. The fragments of light were filtering in through slits cut along the cavern’s peak. Aside from the stairs there weren’t any obvious signs of civilization. No buildings, no people. Nothing.

A breeze nipped at Jack's T-shirt. Scents that reminded him of fall in Minnesota filled his senses. Rather an odd sensation, since there wasn't a tree or sprig of vegetation anywhere in sight.

Murmurs of laughter, voices, and movement tickled his ears. With each step the sounds grew closer, clearer. 

The stairway took another turn. Warmth spread across Jack’s back as the bands of light above them grew wider.  

The path took yet another turn and his boots hit dirt. He glanced down. The chiseled steps had given way to hard packed earth. 

"Welcome to the home of the Corvee', General O'Neill."

Jack lifted his eyes. Before him stood a city. Structures of stone, wood, and plaster lined a single cobbled street. And there were people. Hundreds of them. Men, women, children. Mostly children.

With a smile, Nick led the way up the street. He dodged carts, called almost every person by name, and received salutes from a pair of tan-clad Guardians. The children swarmed him. 

If we cannot activate the Wadjet, all of our people will perish… There is no other way.

Jack felt a weight settle across his chest. He blew out a breath and kept walking. 

The road gradually wound upward. Store fronts gave way to homes and somewhere along the way, Jack lost track of time.

10-21-2004, 08:43 OWT
10-21-2004, 07:43 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

Jack lengthened his strides. The farther they got out of town, the faster Nick seemed to be walking. Eventually, they left the street and followed a stone pathway toward a house. 

Nick hesitated, then turned to Jack. His lips twitched, hovering on the edge of a smile. "My home, General O'Neill."

Before Jack could answer, the front door swung open. With a chorus of shouts, five kids ranging from mid-teens to maybe five years old, ran into the yard. They aimed straight for Nick. Arms open wide, he went down on one knee and caught the first arrival, a boy around six with curly hair.

A slender girl who was maybe twelve came next. She stopped a few paces short of Nick, allowing a younger boy and girl to tumble in ahead of her. Hands twisting together, she smiled shyly at Jack, then dropped her eyes to the ground.

The last kid to arrive was another boy, this one around thirteen or fourteen. He lacked the restraint of the oldest girl, plowing straight into Nick and wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

Nick laughed, rocking back with the force of the hug and tussling the teenager's hair. A moment later, he reached for the slender girl's hand. With a gentle tug, he pulled her toward him and placed a quick kiss on her cheek.

She smiled, then bent low and plucked the curly haired boy from Nick's lap. Propping the little guy on her hip, she reached down again, this time snagging the wrist of the girl.

The fourteen year old followed her lead, unwinding his arms from around Nick to gather up the last youngster.

Face falling, Nick started to protest. Until the teenage boy pointed him toward the house.

A young woman stood in the doorway. Her dark auburn hair hung free, coming down to her waist, and the sleeves of her dress were rolled up past her elbows.

At the sight of her, Nick rose to his feet. He took a step up the path, then another.

Snatching up handfuls of her floor length skirt, the woman broke into a run.

The two met halfway. They folded into each other's arms and held on tight. 

Face tucked against the woman's neck, Nick pulled her even closer. 

Jack looked away. So did the kids. 

The youngest girl, five or six at the most, stared up at Jack. She had blue eyes and blond hair.

Just like Carter.

Crouching down to her level, Jack cocked his head. "What's your name?"

"Sha'rone. What's yours?"

"I'm Jack."

She grinned at him, then ducked her head and giggled.

Yep, definitely a Carter in the making.  

"Are you here to help us?"

It was the oldest boy who'd spoken, but all the children seemed to be waiting for the answer. Their faces were somber, the excitement and joy of moments before already fading.

A heaviness settled in Jack's stomach. He met the older kid's eyes. "What's your name, son?"

"Benn."

"What about you?" He pointed to the boy in Benn's arms.

"Te'ev."

Nodding, Jack turned to the slender girl. "And you?"

"Perrin."

The curly haired boy on her hip, raised his hand. "I'm Joss."

Jack grinned. Small hands patted his knee. It was Little-Carter, frown lines puckering her forehead.

"You didn't answer Benn's question."

"I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry." Jack brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and brushed a thumb across her cheek. "I want to help you. But I'm not sure I know how."

"General O'Neill?" 

At the sound of Nick's voice, Jack looked up. 

His host still had one arm wrapped around the woman's waist, but his attention was on Jack. With a wave, Nick motioned for him to join them.

Touching Little-Carter's head one last time, Jack stood. As he walked up the path, the kids fell in around him.

Nick's face lit with a grin. "General O'Neill, this is my wife, Saskia."

"Ma'am."

With a nod, she gave him a welcoming smile. "Nykii tells me you are hungry. The family and I have finished our meal, but there is more than plenty left for you both. Please come inside."

10-21-2004, 08:47 OWT
10-21-2004, 07:47 Zulu
NICK’S HOME

Jack stood in the center of what he took to be Nick's living room. The kids were seated on woven rugs arranged around what on Earth would be called a coffee table. Stones, marbles, and twigs were laid out in patterns across the table — playing pieces for some kind of game. Saskia had disappeared down a hallway promising to heat their meal and Nick... well Nick had just disappeared. He'd whispered something to his wife and promptly vanished into an adjoining room. 

Feeling a bit out of his element, Jack tried to distract himself by watching the kids’ game. If there were rules, he couldn't tell what they were. 

He'd just about decided to trail Saskia down the hall, when Nick reappeared — a baby no more than ten months old in his arms. Without a doubt it was a girl. She was beautiful. Striking green eyes and soft round features. Her fingers patted Nick's mouth, and he gave them a kiss. She giggled, sparking an enormous grin from Nick. He stepped closer to Jack. "This is, Jaya. My daughter." 

It had been years since Jack had held anyone that little. The sight made his arms feel empty. He swallowed and offered her his finger. "Nice to meet you, Jaya." 

She latched onto his finger and stuck it in her mouth. 

Looking impossibly proud of this feat, Nick grinned even wider.

Up close, Jack could see small crusts of sleep in the corners of Jaya’s eyes. Just up from a nap, then. 

"Benn?" Saskia's voice carried down the hall. "Take Jaya from your brother so he can come eat."

Jack lifted an eyebrow. "Brother?"

"Yes." Nick's face fell as his baby daughter was taken from his arms. He watched Benn carry her back to sit with the other children, and said, "Jaya is our only blood child. Benn there is my youngest brother. Perrin is Saskia's sister and the little ones are our nephews and niece."

"And they all live here? With the two of you?"

Nick nodded, reluctantly leading Jack down the hallway into what proved to be the kitchen. "Ocmon also lives with us when he is not on duty as a messenger."

The kitchen was long and narrow. Heat drifted down from an open fireplace at one end. Plank shelves lined the walls and sprays of drying spices hung from the ceiling. Eight chairs of varying heights and sizes crowded around a long table. 

Nick pulled out one of the larger chairs for Jack, before taking another one for himself. In a low voice he said, "The plague that ended my father's life took the lives of many others — but only among the adults. Our children remained untouched."

Placing bowls and spoons on the table, Saskia met Jack’s eyes. "Those of us who were spared, began caring for the younger ones, taking in as many orphans as we could." 

"They are our family." Nick clasped his wife's hand. "Our home is theirs now."

Jack worked his jaw. Playful shouts filtered in from the main room. He heard Little-Carter squeal, then dissolve into giggles. Jaya followed suit. 

Gently pulling away from her husband, Saskia cleared her throat. "And now, General O'Neill, it is time you had something to eat."

10-21-2004, 09:11 OWT
10-21-2004, 08:11 Zulu
NICK’S HOME

Jack scraped his spoon along the bottom of the bowl. The soup had been blue — a most disturbing color for soup — but the taste had been fantastic. There had been bread, too; knotted bread with shreds of something baked inside it. Like the soup, it lacked eye appeal, but the flavor wasn’t half bad. 

Pot in one hand, ladle in the other, Saskia hovered near Jack's elbow. "There is still more." She waggled the pot temptingly.

Swallowing his last bite, Jack shook his head. "Oh no, ma'am. It was delicious, though, thank you."

She tilted her head back and gave him an assessing look, as if she were trying to judge whether or not he was in fact full to capacity. With a nod, she finally shifted her attention to Nick.

Her husband's lips pulled into a soft smile, but he didn't say anything.

Saskia arched an eyebrow. Pot and ladle set aside, she traced the bruise on his face with her fingers. "You, Commander, need more than soup." Her hand moved to Nick's collar, tugging at the strings of his V-neck and exposing his throat.

His inflamed, slightly green and purple throat.

Jack winced. It had been hours since he’d first assessed Nick’s injuries. The discoloration had grown far worse.

Lifting his wife’s chin, Nick smiled again, very softly. "I am fine."

Saskia's hands trembled. So slightly Jack almost doubted he'd seen it at all. She leaned in, long hair falling over her arms and puddling in Nick's lap, as she kissed him. A second later, she pulled away, hands swiping at her face.

Jack watched her cross the room. Her strides grew longer, more clipped, and her back straightened. 

Reaching the shelves, Saskia grabbed a stack of cloths and a container of something green. She returned to the table and set the items in front of her husband with purpose. 

Jack grinned as her eyebrow arched to a height even Teal’c would’ve been proud of, and she canted her head at her husband.  

Without so much as a huff of protest, Nick slid his chair away from the table and angled himself toward her. He sat perfectly still. 

And Saskia went to work. She uncapped the container, poured a portion of its contents into a bowl, and began stirring it with her fingers.

A rank aroma that reminded Jack of sour cabbage seeped through the air. With a gasp, he took several breaths through his mouth to keep from gagging. Saskia glanced his way, and he forced a smile.

She winced. "I should have warned you of the smell. The roots and spices are quite pungent."

"No, no, it's fine. I'm good."

Wince transforming into a smirk, she turned back to her patient. She applied the goo with care to the bruise on Nick's cheek. He didn't shy away or flinch. Just closed his eyes. With her clean hand, Saskia pulled at his shirt collar, re-exposing the neck bruises.

She assessed the ring of marks critically. "Does it hurt when you swallow?"

Nick opened his eyes, but seemed reluctant to answer. His attention fell to the floor. 

Voice low, Saskia bent into his line of sight. "How bad? Do not lie to me, Nykii."

"It is sore, but not overly painful."

The couple stared at one another for several beats. They didn’t blink. And, as far as Jack could tell, they didn’t even breathe. 

Then the standoff ended. Saskia dipped her fingers back in the bowl and Nick exhaled. 

Who’d won, Jack had no idea. Maybe they didn’t either. 

Saskia smoothed a generous portion of the green slime over her husband’s inflamed skin, then wiped her hand clean. Turning away from the table, she moved toward the open fireplace. 

Nick lifted his hand to his neck. 

"Do not touch it, Nykii."

A hand-in-the-cookie-jar blush crept over Nick’s face even as he tried to scowl. His focus skittered to Jack, then fell to the floor.

Muffling a laugh, Jack ducked his head. 

Saskia had filled a kettle with liquid and placed it on a hook inside the fireplace. Now she was back, standing behind her husband, hands on his shoulders. But her attention was on Jack. "Nykii says that you are a good man."

The unexpected statement caught Jack off-guard. He felt something inside him twist. Diverting his gaze, he studied the tabletop. It was wooden, dark. Almost black. 

"You told the children you wanted to help us,” Saskia pressed. “Is that true?"

He lifted his head immediately. “Yes, ma’am. It is.” 

"Why?" 

Why? He blinked, shrugged. "You're up against a Goa'uld. Fighting those guys… it's kind of what I do."

Saskia stared at him. Her eyes seemed to pierce straight through his soul. "Is that the only reason?"

"No." The answer came out fast. Jack wasn't even sure why. It certainly wasn't the answer he'd intended to give. Fighting the Goa'uld was a good reason. Good enough anyway. Even if it wasn't the complete truth. 

Grinding out a sigh, Jack folded his arms on the table. "Look, your Chancellor is not one of my favorite people. Him and his Imperial Guard, or whatever you call it, snatched my Team, held them prisoner, and possibly killed one of my best friends." He fought to keep his voice even. The words were like acid in his throat. Jacob being dead was not something he could deal with right now. And not something he could accept.

Saskia tipped her head, recapturing his attention. "Why then are you willing to help us?"

Chin jutting forward, he swallowed and gave her his answer. "Because I don’t think the Chancellor represents your people. From what Nick’s told me, and from what little I’ve seen, you seem like nice people. Good people. And you shouldn’t have to die because of one man's mistake. Which is exactly what’s gonna happen if that Goa’uld decides to attack this place."

"Do you truly believe the Wadjet's power is the answer?" 

"It's about all we've got."

"But you read the warnings," Nick said. "Once the power has been accessed, they say it can become all consuming. Impossible to contain or physically limit."

Raking a hand through his hair, Jack nodded. "I know, I know. It just seems to me that if it were going to take on a life of its own and start blasting everything out of existence, it would have done it the minute I got close. There has to be a conscious human element involved in it somehow, and if that's the case, there's gotta be a way for that human element to control it."

Nick leaned forward. "How can one control a force 'stronger than a thousand winds'?"

And that would be the million dollar question.

Helplessly, Jack opened his arms and shook his head. The dull ache behind his eyes was back, thumping in time with his pulse. 

The kettle began to steam. Saskia pulled away from her husband, grabbed a towel, and headed for the fireplace. 

Pressing the heels of his hands against his eye sockets, Jack listened to her work. The rhythmic swish of her skirts was oddly soothing. The clinks of metal and iron from the kettle, not so much. With a sigh, he lowered his hands. 

A cup and basin had been set out on the table. Saskia filled both with liquid from the kettle — liquid that looked suspiciously like water. She added a sprig of spices to the cup, stirred briskly, and handed it to her husband. "Drink this. It will soothe your throat." 

Nick gave her a tired smile. “Thank you.”

Dipping her towel into the basin, Saskia humphed. “I do not want your thanks. I want you in one piece.” Her fingers flushed red then white as she wrung out the towel. But when she brushed the cloth across her husband’s cheek, her touch was nothing but gentle. The green stuff was wiped away as carefully as it had been applied. 

To Jack's surprise, the bruising underneath seemed to have actually faded. 

Saskia repeated the process several times until all the goo had been removed, and then dried her hands. Pushing the cup of still untouched tea — or whatever it was — closer to Nick, she gave him a hard look. "Drink. And you,” she turned to Jack. ”You need rest."

Jack couldn't argue the point. Not when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. The zapped-unconscious nap on board the Bennu didn’t count. No nap that left your head feeling like it had been split in two ever counted. But they were running out of time, and ‘rest’ didn’t fit into their schedule. 

Jack tried for a smile. “Thanks, ma’am, but-” 

“I was not asking, General O’Neill.” Saskia’s hands came down on her hips — a silent dare for him to challenge her again.

Which he fully intended to do. 

“Listen to her,” Nick whispered. His voice was hoarse. “Rest, General O’Neill. While you can.”

“Nick—”

“Go. Please.” 

Ten minutes later, Jack found himself in a bedroom: a pallet laid out on the floor, a basin of water on a shelf, and clean clothes in his hand. 

Saskia hovered in the doorway. “Rest, General O’Neill. Everything will seem better when you awake. You will see.” Giving him a warm smile, she closed the door.  

Jack stared after her. 

There were less than seventeen hours left of the Chancellor’s twenty-four hour deadline. Assuming they survived that — which was a heck of an assumption — they still had to face the sunrise. And with it the Goa'uld ships. 

The ones he had no idea how to stop.

How could a few hours of rest make any of that better?

10-21-2004, 11:22 Zulu
IUNU AIR SPACE
ON BOARD THE AL’KESH

Forehead propped on one hand, Daniel leaned over his work. Sheets of notes, some in his own handwriting, others in Teal'c's or Jacob's lay scattered in a semi-circle around him. After eleven and a half hours of joint effort, they had succeeded in translating almost two-thirds of the text from inside the chamber. 

For all the good it was doing them.

“Hey.”

Sam. Lifting his head, Daniel glanced toward the door. “Hey.”

“How's it going?"

"Oh, great."

"That good, huh?"

"Yeah." His tongue dragged around the word. With a sigh he leaned back, fingers beating the edge of his makeshift desk. "How about you?"

"Nothing so far. Dad and I altered the depth penetration for the Al'kesh's heat and density scanners. Looks like that chamber we were in is one of at least four hidden under the ruins. But so far we haven’t been able to pick up any life signs. If the General or SG-14 are still down there, they must be down deep. Of course, it’s possible the storm is interfering with the system."

"Yeah, how’s the storm looking, by the way?" 

She gave him a pained smile. "Worse actually."

"Fantastic."  

Coming up beside him, Sam fingered a page of the translation. "So what does all of this say?"

"Mostly it's a history of the slaves who lived on Iunu and their decision to finally mount a rebellion. According to this, only the best and brightest of Ra’s slaves were ever sent to Iunu — which by the way is also the name of an Ancient Egyptian city on Earth, though it is more often referred to by the Greek name Heliopolis. In Earth's culture, Heliopolis was considered to be one of the chief seats of worship for the sun god Ra, as well as the principal sanctuary of Seshat, who—" Daniel tossed aside his pencil and sifted through a stack of notes. Finding the correct page, he pointed to an inverted set of horns over a seven pointed star. "— Is represented here. Apparently the Goa’uld Ra left in charge of Iunu while he was off pillaging the galaxy assumed Seshat’s identity."

"What do we know about her?"

"Well, according to mythology, Seshat — also known as Safkhet, Seshata, Sesheta — is most consistently sited as Ra's daughter, Osiris' sister…" Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, mentally skimming through the rest of her lineage. Sister to Isis and Seth; consort of Thoth. "… Possibly the mother of Anubis."

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Quite a family."

"Yeah. Before I knew what all of that meant, she was actually my favorite of the Egyptian goddesses." Daniel smiled a bit sheepishly. "She, ah, she's known as the Mistress of the House of Books. Patron Goddess of Librarians."

Sam grinned. 

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Daniel continued. "Seshat was involved in other areas, too — mathematics, astronomy, surveying. And, here's where it gets interesting: she was also responsible for cataloging all foreign captives taken during military campaigns as well as inventorying all of the goods seized with them." He gave Sam a pointed look. "Now we know that only a select few of Ra's captives were brought to Iunu, but at one time, every piece of technology he scavenged came here to be cataloged and reverse engineered for mass production. There are descriptions here for prototypes of the very first naquadah-based weapons as well as crystal technology." 

Understanding dawned on Sam's face. "The unrefined crystals in the projection unit."

"Exactly. Unfortunately, none of that gets us any closer to finding out who took Jack." Arms on the desk, Daniel leaned forward, hands tightening into fists.

Sam rubbed his shoulder. "We're going to find him, Daniel. We'll figure this out."

"Yeah, I know. I just wish—" Daniel stopped talking, brain and mouth stymied. He blinked.

"Daniel?"

"That's it." The answer. Right there. Sitting on a partially translated page right in front of him.

"Daniel, what is it?"

Too lost in his own thoughts to answer, Daniel grabbed his recorder. He hit play, impatiently waited for the next frame of text to appear, and pressed pause. Scanning through the lines, he scrawled out the rest of the translation in his own form of shorthand. "Teal'c, Jacob!" Throwing the yell over his shoulder, he kept writing. By the time he reached the end of the page, Jacob and Teal'c had arrived.

"Have you discovered the solution, Daniel Jackson?"

Nodding hastily at Teal'c, Daniel flipped through sheets of notes and one of his reference books simultaneously. 

Jacob raised his eyebrows. "Sam?"

Even as she shrugged, Daniel launched into his explanation. "Okay, according to this section of text, one of the last shipments of technology brought to Iunu contained 'a device of enormous power'. The slaves never managed to activate it, and the references here are pretty obscure, but if you look here —" he ran his finger beneath a line of symbols, "— this is a copy of an inscription they found on the device." 

Sam frowned. "Is that Ancient?"

"Yes!" Daniel swiped at his brow, mind still spinning. "And from what it says here, the device was stolen from an Ancient temple on a planet known as De'nama."

Jacob exchanged a quick look with Sam. "P3X-439."  

"The planet where SG-14 disappeared?"  

"Exactly." Daniel turned to Jacob. "The men that took Jack — you said they were after someone with an Ancient gene, right?"

"Yes, they were."

"And the only reason they could possibly need an Ancient would be to activate some form of Ancient technology." Daniel ran his tongue across his teeth and forced himself to take a breath. "We find this device, we find Jack."

"Would not this device have been destroyed along with the rest of Iunu?" Teal'c asked.

Lips pressed together, Daniel rubbed at his forehead. "No, I don't think so. And… I’m not so sure the people of Iunu were destroyed either.” He gnawed at his cheek, then lifted a finger. "While we were in the chamber, I happened to read through some of the last few passages of the inscription. There was a phrase at the end that didn't make much sense at the time, but…" He pulled out his latest sheet of notes and held it out for them to see. "There are repeated references here to the 'Bennu'."

His audience traded empty looks.

"I am unfamiliar with this term," Teal'c said.

"In mythology, the Bennu is depicted as a bird,” Daniel explained, “the Egyptian predecessor of the more commonly known Greek myth of the Phoenix."

Sam’s expression widened. "The bird that rises from its own ashes."  

"Yes. Only in the Egyptian tale, the Bennu never actually died. He lived in a constant state of regeneration.” Setting aside his notes, Daniel had to resist the urge to pace. “What if the rebellion didn’t fail? What if the slaves killed Seshat and managed to escape before Ra came back?”

Teal’c inclined his head in agreement. “There was a paucity of evidence to indicate any form of human remains among the ruins.”

Brow knit tight, Jacob shifted closer. “When Jack and I were here before, he asked me about the decay rate of human bones." 

Jacob didn’t clarify this statement. He didn’t have to.

Jack had known. Or at the very least, he’d suspected. 

The realization made Daniel’s head spin just a bit harder. It was so easy sometimes to forget that in spite of the eye rolls, groans, and complaints, Jack O’Neill actually did pay attention to everything Daniel said.

Well, almost everything.

Daniel had noticed the lack of human bones, pottery, or other artifacts among Iunu's ruins as well, but he’d been so preoccupied with the need to find Jack, the relevance of it all had failed to register. 

Until now. 

Daniel stared at Sam. “Ra destroyed an empty city.” 

“But that doesn’t make sense. Why destroy an empty city?” 

“Pride,” Teal’c answered. “Word of a successful rebellion would have damaged Ra’s standing among the Goa’uld. By destroying Iunu, he could not only erase all evidence of his failure, but also instill fear in the remainder of his slaves.” 

Excitement and certainty mounting, Daniel nodded. “Which means that when that air strike hit, everyone was already gone. Everyone and everything."

"Including the Ancient device,” Jacob said.

"So how do we find them?" Sam glanced around the room at each of them. "We're talking about an entire colony of people that have been assumed dead for over a thousand years."

Grabbing his pencil, Daniel thumbed back through his translation notes. "Well, I don't know if this means anything, but the phrase 'flight of the Bennu' is used multiple times. Now, according to myth, the Bennu is said to have flown over the primordial waters of Nun and landed — " discarding his notes in favor of an open reference book, he tapped one of the illustrations, “— here. It’s a benben — a mound or rock — that rose out of the watery abyss."

Sam’s eyes went wide. “Daniel, the recording you made of the hologram, where is it?”

“Right here, why?”

“Because unless I’m mistaken that secondary moon was comprised almost completely of water. And if its name is Nun…" 

Daniel snatched up his recorder, fingers already fumbling for the fast-forward button. The last few sections of wall he’d filmed crept by, then finally, finally, there was the holographic map. And there was its legend. "Okay, okay… The name of the second moon is… Nu. Nu, th-that’s an alternative form of the name Nun."

Sam planted both hands on the table. A slow grin lit her face. "We've got them."

Chapter Text

10-21-2004, 12:42 OWT
10-21-2004, 11:42 Zulu
NICK’S HOME

The sounds of children laughing woke him. Rolling onto his side, one arm tucked beneath his head, Jack stared at the door. 

There was a flurry of hushing noises and the laughter gradually subsided. Most of it anyway. One persistent giggler kept going.

A smile played with Jack’s lips. Had to be Little-Carter. 

His smile faltered. Carter.

Daniel. Teal’c.

The names left his chest feeling strangely empty. So empty it hurt. 

He flopped onto his back, thumb and forefinger pressed tight against his eyes. SG-1 would know by now that he’d lied to them. His Team was the best and the brightest. Once they found out he was missing, it wouldn’t have taken them long to put the pieces together. But would they understand what the pieces meant? Why he hadn’t told them the complete truth? 

Dropping his hand away, Jack blinked at the ceiling. His career was over. Had been the moment he chose to board that Al'kesh. It wasn't a question of if he'd be court martialed, but when — assuming he made it home at all. Not the rosiest future he’d ever imagined for himself, but that didn’t matter so much. He could deal with it. In the grand scheme of things, he was expendable. But his Team? They were worth so much more and deserved so much better.

Ten times better.

Daniel and Teal’c would have been safe from courts martial, of course, but there were other ways they could have been hurt. And Jack wasn’t about to let that happen.

So he’d walked away. No ‘good-bye’, ‘so long’, ‘nice to have known ya', nothing. 

Nothing except a handful of carefully packaged half-truths. 

Jack ground his fist into the pallet. They’d deserved better than that, too.

Little-Carter giggled again. 

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Jack rolled to his feet. Time to get back to work. 

The basin of water Saskia had left him, as well as a towel he’d failed to notice before, still sat on the shelf. He’d been too distracted to care a few hours ago, but now they looked halfway inviting. 

He cupped his hands in the water and pressed them to his face. It felt cool against his skin — almost refreshing. He wet his hands again and rubbed them over his eyelids, mouth, cheeks, chin. Stubble grated against his palms and fingers. Had to be at least a day’s worth, maybe two. A bare forty-eight hours. Weird how it felt like so much longer.  

A different lifetime ago.   

The water rolled off his skin and pooled back in the basin, tinged with brown. Jack snatched up the towel. The texture was rough, but he scrubbed his face hard anyway. 

Changing clothes came next. The bundle Saskia had given him consisted of a loose-fitting, long sleeve, V-neck and tighter fitting pants like what Nick wore. Made sense, since these probably were Nick’s. Good thing the kid was just about Jack’s size.  

Like the towel, the clothes weren’t exactly soft, but they were clean. He rolled the wide sleeves up a few inches to get them out of his way, and spent a full minute fastening all of the buttons spread around the pants’ waist band. 

Satisfied, he moved to the door. The handle was a knotted rope hanging through a hole bored into the center of the door. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the rope. 

The scene he found waiting for him in the living room was almost enough to make him smile.

Nick was stretched out on the floor, head pillowed in Saskia’s lap. Jaya was on his chest. One of his arms was wrapped protectively around her, even in sleep. Joss lay curled against Nick’s side, his body effectively pinning Nick’s other arm to the floor. 

Benn and Perrin had the other two kids on the far side of the room bent over… homework? Scrolls, tablets, and pen-esque sort of things were spread around them on the floor, and their faces were scrunched tight in concentration. Looked like all the symptoms of alien homework to Jack, but then what did he know?   

Saskia caught his gaze, her eyes pinning him in place. From what little he knew about her, Jack guessed she was probably trying to divine whether or not he’d gotten any rest. 

He didn’t want to hear her verdict.  

Squaring his shoulders, Jack shifted farther into the room and acknowledged her with a nod.

To his surprise, her face warmed with a smile. "You rested longer than I dared hope. How do you feel?" 

Bit of a loaded question, but given that his brain no longer felt like it was trying to hammer out of his skull, Jack guessed he could tell her what she wanted to hear. With a shrug, he tried on a smile of his own. “Better.”   

Her expression narrowed, but she didn’t challenge him. Attention still on Jack, she absently trailed a hand through her husband’s hair. 

Shifting on his feet, Jack tugged at his fresh shirt and pants. “Oh, ah, thanks for these, by the way. Mine were a bit—”

The report of pounding footsteps kept Jack from finishing his thought. 

It also woke Nick. Wriggling free of Joss, he pushed himself into a half-sitting position and passed Jaya to his wife. An instant later, he was on his feet. 

The door opened and Ocmon burst in, chest heaving.

Every time Jack saw this kid, he seemed to be out of breath. 

"Nykii! The Bennu — she is fixed. They have her waiting at the landing bay."

Nick looked at Jack, a silent war raging in his eyes. 

Ocmon stepped closer and held up a cloth sack. "I have brought General O'Neill's things as you asked, Nykii. It is all here." 

Without a word, Nick accepted the bag. A muscle in his cheek jumped.

"Benn, Perrin?" Saskia stood, Jaya propped on her hip as she herded Joss toward the front door. "Would you take the children outside to play?"

The kids obeyed in silence. They looked scared. Their eyes skimmed the room, mostly bouncing between Nick and Jack. Ocmon whispered something to them as they left, flashing a quick grin, but it didn’t seem to help. 

The door closed behind them. 

Kneeling beside the table in the living room, Nick looked side-long at Jack. His focus then fell to the sack. With great care, he emptied its contents onto the table. 

Jack’s Beretta, his cap, GDO, tac vest, extra magazines… his SG-1 patch. He wasn't allowed to wear it anymore, but he always kept it with him. 

And, no, he had never pondered the psychological significance of that. Not at all. 

Nick pulled one more thing from the bag. It was small, wallet-sized; the corners softly tattered, the backing yellow with age. Charlie's picture.

Lifting his head, Nick smiled. "Is this your son?"

"He was." The murmur was almost inaudible. 

Sorrow washed through Nick’s eyes, and the laugh lines on his face seemed to disappear. He glanced half-way behind him, where Saskia still stood with Jaya. His jaw tightened. Then he pushed to his feet. “The Bennu is waiting. We should go.”

“What? No, Nick—”

“I swore I would return you to your people. The Bennu has been repaired. There is nothing to hold you here.” Abruptly, Nick handed him Charlie's picture. "You have suffered enough at our hands. I must take you back. Now, before it is too late."

Jack swallowed as he took the picture. After all these years, it still hurt.

“Ocmon, take—”

“No.” Interrupting whatever order Nick had in mind, Jack circled forward, planting himself in front of the door. “You're not taking me back. Not yet."

"General O'Neill—"

"No. Nick, your people are not going to be able to hide from this. If a mothership attacks this place, there won't be anything left. You don’t want to see that happen. And neither do I." Jack shifted closer. “Maybe turning on that thing up there isn’t the answer, but I’d like to try. If you’ll let me.”

Saskia pressed close to her husband, one hand cupping over his shoulder. "Nykii."

Nick covered her fingers with his own.

“Please,” she whispered. “Let him try.”

Eyes falling closed, Nick pressed a kiss to her forehead. He lingered there, just for a moment, then faced Jack. "What would you have me do?"

Jack breathed out a triumphant ‘yes’. Relief and a faint surge of adrenaline tangled in his chest. "I think it’s time to call in the experts. Can you get SG-14 up here without the Chancellor spotting them?"  

"It is possible, but the Bennu's hyperdrive was damaged beyond repair during our flight. With sub-light engines alone, it will take at least ten hours to reach your people."

And ten hours to get back. Which would be fine, except by then not only would the Chancellor’s deadline be long gone, but the Goa'uld would have arrived. And, assuming the snakehead had more in mind than just another fly over, all of the Corvee' could be dead. 

Jack shook his head. "Okay, scratch that. I’d rather not have them in danger again, anyway. Can you get them, I don't know, on a radio, long range communicator, something?" 

Nick turned to Ocmon. "Were they able to repair the Bennu’s communicators?" 

"No, sir. Their crystals were all sacrificed to effect repairs on the engines." 

“And there is only one other communicator available to us here.” Nick slipped his attention back to Jack, expression going carefully blank. “It is kept in the Chancellor's private chambers.”

Not what Jack wanted to hear.

Nick pulled away from his wife. “I will speak with the Chancellor — tell him what I have done. And of what you are willing to do. He will be angered at my betrayal, but he will let you speak with your people. He will help you. I am certain.”

“Yeah, maybe; after he has you shot, or whatever it is your people do with supposed traitors. Forget it, we’ll find another way.” 

“There is no other way.” Nick’s voice was soft, but insistent. “Laonides is not a bad man, General O’Neill. He is afraid, and desperation has caused him to act foolishly, but in his heart… I cannot believe he has changed so completely.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Jack muttered. He kneaded a hand along the back of his neck. They were running out of time. And choices. “Can you get me into the Chancellor's chambers?"

“I can request an audience. He is sure to—”

Jack shook his head. “No, can you get me into his chambers without him knowing about it?”

"What?"

"I'll go in alone, just point me in the right direction."

“General O’Neill, the Chancellor’s chambers are in the heart of the Upper City. The Royal Guard have total control there. If you are caught—”

"I won’t get caught." Jack began stuffing what he could of his belongings into his pockets. The Beretta he jammed into the back of his waistband. With any luck, the loose shirt Saskia had given him would keep unfriendly eyes from noticing that their prisoner was now armed.  

Nick wrapped a hand around Jack’s forearm. "I cannot let you do this."

"Yes. You can.” Jack stared hard at Nick, ignoring the way the kid’s fingers were tightening around his wrist. “Look, Hailey and Nyan have been studying that thing for the last three months. If there’s a way to activate it safely, they’ll know how. Which means I need to get my hands on that long range communicator. And this is the only way that’s gonna happen." He twisted his arm free, grabbed the extra magazine for his Beretta off the table, and shoved it into his pocket. "Now are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help me?" 

The room was silent. Resolve, either for or against, steeled Nick’s expression. Jack waited.

“Ocmon, send word to Commander Allisar. Tell him to dispatch ten Guardians to the gates of the Upper City. We have a theft to commit.”

NUN AIRSPACE
10-21-2004, 11:59 Zulu
ON BOARD THE AL’KESH

Arms braced on the center panel, Sam scanned the holographic imaging of Nun's surface. Initial scans had indicated no anomalies — no power spikes or apparent life signs. But they weren't giving up. Dad had the Al'kesh in a search pattern, flying low. Crosshatched green lines depicting the moon's endless ocean sped by. Sam's eyes blurred and she blinked them clear. 

Beside her Daniel thumped his fist against the console. "It's got to be here."

"Yeah, whatever 'it' is," Sam muttered. "I'd feel a lot better about this if I knew exactly what I was looking for."

"There." Teal'c pointed to the upper corner of the digital array. The edge of a shape that was most definitely not part of the water flew by and was gone. 

"Dad, swing it around. And bring it a few degrees west."

"I'm on it." Maneuvering the ship through a wide arch, Dad slowed their speed.

"Look, look, there it is! Jacob can you—” 

Dad had the ship stopped and hovering over their find before Daniel could finish his sentence.

"It appears to be an island of some kind," Teal'c said.

Sam nodded, already turning to Dad. "Can you get any kind of reading on this thing?"

"No power spikes, but a few faint life signs."

Daniel tapped his index finger on a lower portion of the image. "Sam, is that what I think it is?"

“If you’re thinking it looks like a spacecraft, then yes. The size and design is similar to the troop transport vessels used by the Goa'uld. Teal'c, what do you think?"

"There are similarities, however, I do not believe this vessel to be of true Goa'uld design."

Daniel lifted his eyebrows. "Could it be an early prototype?" 

"That is possible."

"Okay," Sam took a breath. "The Al'kesh has to be uncloaked for us to ring down. But we can't risk someone on board that ship spotting us."

Turning around in the pilot's seat, Dad hooked an arm over the back. "There’s some solid cloud cover out there. I can ring you three down on top of the mountain, away from the troopship. Even if someone down there spots the light from the rings, it would take them a while to reach your location on foot. And if they try to use the ship, I’ve got a clear shot."

"What happens if there's somebody already at the top of the mountain?" Daniel asked.

Dad touched the control panel, then shook his head. "I'm not picking up anything that close, you should be good to go. But if there is a problem, I can always ring you back up."

Sam looked at each of her teammates. Teal'c bowed in approval and Daniel gave a nod. "Okay, let's gear up. Ring room, two minutes."

10-21-2004, 13:05 OWT
10-21-2004, 12:05 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

The Upper City wasn’t all that different from the Lower. The buildings stood a bit taller and there were flashes of black among the crowds — a subtle reminder that they were in Royal Guard territory. There were almost no children.  

Nick had sent the Guardians in ahead of them with orders to simply watch and wait. If Jack made it out safely, they were to do nothing. If he didn’t…

“The Chancellor’s Tower is well guarded. They will expect me to be in possession of your t’yet.”

With a sidelong glance at Nick, Jack reached into his pocket. “How many guards is ‘well guarded’?”

“See for yourself.” 

Eyes following the tilt of Nick’s head, Jack unconsciously slowed his steps. The Tower itself was massive; an ornate growth of cultured stones set into the cavern wall. A staircase lead up from the street to an open marble porch — completely lined with black uniforms.

Jack fisted his hand around the t’yet. “I don’t suppose there’s a back door to this monster.” 

“No, there is not.”

“Yeah.” He passed the remote to Nick. “S’what I figured.”

10-21-2004, 13:08 OWT
10-21-2004, 12:08 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

Getting inside proved to be simple enough. The Guards had been told about Nick and his prisoner; they were expected.

Somehow the thought didn’t make Jack feel the least bit better.    

"There are two doors that lead to Chancellor’s private chambers," Nick whispered. "One enters into the main hall where he receives his guests, the other leads to his bedchamber."

A quick visual sweep of the corridor — no guards in sight — and Jack lengthened his strides. "Where is he most likely to be?"

"On the balcony adjoining his bedchamber."

"What about the communicator, where does he keep that?"

"In the main hall — center of the council table."

"All right, I'll go in there." 

With a wave of his hand, Nick motioned for Jack to slow his pace, then to stop completely. Just ahead of them, a secondary hallway branched off to the left. Nick pointed to it. "The first door around this corner is the one we want. It is positioned within a small alcove."

Jack nodded. "Wish me luck."

"No." Nick blocked Jack with an arm. He peered around the corner, checked left, checked right, then pulled back. He stared straight at Jack, lips pressed into a tight smirk. "Wish us luck." 

Before Jack could open his mouth, the kid turned the corner.

Cursing under his breath, Jack went after him. Three steps was all it took to reach the alcove — exactly one step behind Nick. He glared holes in the kid’s back. "You're nuts, y'know that?” 

Hands already wrapping around the door's iron latch, Nick arched an eyebrow. "Nuts?"

"Crazy. Insane."

Both eyebrows danced up this time. The look was pure amusement. "What, and you are not?"

Jack scowled. So not the point.  

The latch yielded with a small click. Nick pressed his body against the wooden door, easing it open just a fraction.

Voices drifted through the crack. One belonged to the Chancellor. The other… 

Jack grabbed Nick's shoulder. Pulling the kid away from the opening, he edged into his place.

Inside, faint traces of light reflected off the polished floor. They shimmered, solidified, wavered. 

Casts from a hologram.   

"A few more hours, my lord,” the Chancellor said. “The Wadjet will be operational, I swear upon my life." 

"As well as the lives of all your people.” And there it was, the voice of a talking gravel pit — a Goa’uld. “I will tolerate no more delays, Chancellor. Do not fail me again."

"No, my lord."

The haze of light vanished. 

Jack tipped his head, just catching Nick’s eye. Pupils blown wide, freckles stark against suddenly pale skin, the kid seemed caught between horror and disbelief. Jack couldn’t blame him. Betrayal was a hard pill to swallow. 

A furious yell split the air. "You there, you at the door — halt!"

10-22-2004, 05:08 OWT
10-21-2004, 12:08 Zulu
NEAR THE WADJET CHAMBER

The rings retreated. Sam stood with her back against her teammates, P-90 raised, eyes scanning. The air was damp, a light rain misting in the air. Thin wisps of fog combed through the enormous rocks. Nothing stirred. "Clear."

"Same here."

"Indeed."

Their words were hushed. 

Using hand signals, Sam directed her team to fan out among the rocks. Keeping low, she moved forward. All around her, black rocks jutted toward the sky. The ground was covered in mud, stone, and moss. No footprints or signs of life.  

Daniel waved his arm, motioning her toward him. To his right, there stood a square shaped cove. He pointed at it and gave her a thumbs up. 

He had something. 

She glanced at Teal'c. He gave a deep nod, abandoning his search pattern to respond with her. They advanced from one covered position to the next, each covering the other's back. 

Daniel was positioned against a rock wall. As she drew closer, Sam could see multiple apertures cut into the stone. Windows? And the square shaped cove was definitely a doorway. 

Signaling Teal'c to go wide and approach from the door's opposite side, she positioned herself among the rocks to cover his path. It took less than a minute. 

Body bent low, well beneath the line of windows, Teal'c crept forward along the wall. He passed the last window, straightened, and flattened his back against the rock. He gave her a nod.

Sam retreated a step and worked a path through the rocks to Daniel's side. He yielded his forward position to her, allowing her access to the corner. She held up her hand and mouthed 'on three'. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Sam took the corner and rushed right. Teal'c went left. Daniel took center. 

Nothing. 

Sweeping her P-90 in an arch from right corner to mid-center, she caught Teal'c in the periphery of her vision going through the reverse motion — left corner, mid-center — with his staff. 

Daniel, his weapon trained on a pedestal at the room's center, caught her eye and jerked his head. She nodded. A signal to Teal'c, and he moved forward, circling the pedestal. She mirrored his movements. The area was clear. 

She keyed her mic. "Dad, come in."

"Go ahead, Sam."

"We've got something here, Dad, a chamber of some kind. We're going to check it out."

"Copy that."

"How's it look from up there?"

"So far, so good."

"Okay. Keep us posted. Sam out."  

Daniel traced a hand over one of the room's walls. "This writing is Ancient." 

Kneeling by the pedestal, Sam studied the object's design. It resembled opaque stained glass, soldered together in ornate, geometric patterns. She pulled out her spectrometer and ran it over the pedestal's surface. "I'm not getting any power readings, but this is definitely some form of Ancient technology." 

Behind her, Teal'c crouched and began sifting through a handful of papers. "These translations are in Nyan's handwriting."

Sam took a page from a separate stack. This one was filled from top to bottom with equations. Looked like Jennifer’s work. "Well, at least we know SG-14 was here."

"And so was Jack." Daniel held up a sheet from yet another pile of papers. It was covered in a maze of doodles —  including a barely recognizable Homer Simpson. 

The sight of that ridiculous scribbling made Sam’s heart ache. She closed her eyes. 

"Sam, come in."

Grateful for the distraction, Sam keyed her radio. "Go ahead, Dad."

"We got company. Goa'uld mothership just dropped out of hyperspace."

"Copy that. Have they spotted you?"

"Negative. I’ve got the Al'kesh cloaked."

"Good." Her gaze shifted around the room. "Dad, it looks like General O'Neill and SG-14 have been here. We're going to need to look around some more."

"Understood. Make it fast."

“Yes, sir.” She stared back at her teammates. "You heard him. Let’s get to work."

10-21-2004, 13:09 OWT
10-21-2004, 12:09 Zulu
OUTSIDE THE CHANCELLOR’S CHAMBERS

The furious voice belonged to a guard wearing solid black — just like all of his friends. Jack counted maybe a dozen men total; none of them looked happy. Nick had moved in front of him the moment the shout rang out, but somehow Jack didn’t think it was going to make any difference.

He was right.

A snap of the lead guy’s fingers, a barked order, and Jack found himself shoved against the alcove wall. The guards locked their hands around his biceps and wrists, and the business end of a staff weapon was pressed to his chest. 

The chamber door opened with a jerk. Expression hard, face oddly colorless, the Chancellor studied each of them. 

The lead guy advanced and came to attention. “Chancellor Laonides, it is my pleasure to serve you.”

“What is the meaning of this, Farad?” 

"These men were attempting to infiltrate your chambers, sire.”

The Chancellor stared at Nick. “Is this true, Commander?”

Trapped against an adjoining wall, a primed staff weapon caressing his throat, Nick didn’t answer — he accused. “You lied to me.” The words came out grated; low and uneven. “You said the Wadjet’s power was going to be used to defend our people — to save us from the Goa’uld.”  

The Chancellor’s eyes darkened. “Bring them inside.”

Jack was dragged, with more force than he really thought necessary, into the main hall of the Chancellor's chambers. Staggered rows of stone archways filled the space. There was a long table spanning the width of the room, a metallic ball suspended over its center. 

The long range communicator. 

"Oh, so close," Jack muttered. 

The staff weapon jabbed into the muscles of his chest. 

Right. No talking. What had he been thinking?

The Chancellor flicked a hand at Farad. “Search them.” 

Scratch one Beretta, one extra magazine, and one Zat from their arsenal, as well as the t’yet remote. 

Farad found Jack’s SG-1 patch, too, but stuffed it back into the pocket with barely a glance. He missed Charlie's picture.

Their confiscated belongings were laid out on the conference table. The Chancellor glanced at the Zat, handled the Beretta and it's magazine, then came to the t'yet. His fingers hovered over the device. 

And slowly wrapped around it. 

He looked at Jack. Then Nick. “What was your purpose in coming here, Commander?"

“I told him to bring me here,” Jack said, attention sharpening on the Chancellor. “I was ready to do what you wanted — what I thought you wanted.” Which was true, in a way.

Relief chased anger from the Chancellor’s face. “The Wadjet, you have unlocked it?”

"More like it unlocked itself." Jack canted his head in a shrug. “Guess it likes me.”

"Excellent."

"But it will never work for your Goa'uld friend." 

The Chancellor's hand — the one holding the t’yet — tightened into a fist.

Jack forced himself to take a breath as a dull pulse of pain shivered through his body. Whether it was intended as a reprimand or just an out-lash of anger, he wasn’t sure. 
 
Maybe the Chancellor wasn’t either.

After a few beats, the pain seemed to evaporate. Jack blinked.

Fingers loose around the t’yet, the Chancellor stepped closer. “Explain yourself.”  

Jack’s mind felt like it was stuck in first gear. He shook his head. Explain. Explain. "The… the thing was made by the Ancients. A Goa’uld can’t make it work.”

"But you can?" 

Jack didn’t answer. Another pulse of pain, stronger this time, rippled down his back and seized his lungs. He let out a gasp.

"It came alive for you. You can unleash its power, can you not?"

“Yes. But I won’t.” The pain increased again, searing through his legs and arms. Oddly enough, his mind seemed to clear with the sudden surge, even as his vision tunneled. “I won’t,” he repeated. “Not for… them.” Jack squeezed his eyes shut. Gasped. Maybe screamed.

Someone shouted. The words were jumbled. Loud. Angry. Jack tried to focus, but the world seemed to be slipping away, vanishing along with his brief moment of clarity. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. His body was sagging, falling. 

He never reached the floor. Hands digging into his arms and shoulders wouldn’t let him. Guards. His brain provided the identification in scattered, broken pieces. 
 
Then, as swiftly as it had attacked, the pain lifted. Jack sucked in gulps of air, strangled lungs struggling to expand. 

More shouts, angrier and clearer now than before, filled the room. Chest heaving, Jack opened his eyes. 

Nick was loose. He had the Chancellor slammed against a stone column, fingers tangled in the robes just below his throat.  

The t'yet rolled along the floor at their feet. 

Six staff weapons were aimed at Nick's back, but the kid didn't seem to care. He was breathing hard, knuckles flushed white. “Is this truly who you have become? A torturer? A servant to those who would enslave us?”

With a hard sweep of his arm, the Chancellor ripped free of Nick’s hold. "Klorel left me no choice! Can you not understand that?" 

"You have betrayed our people!" 

"I am trying to save our people." The Chancellor pulled away from the column, closing the distance between himself and Nick. His voice softened to a tired whisper. "We have seen but one mothership of Klorel's fleet. There are others, Nykii. Many, many others. We cannot fight them.”

“We can try. With the Wadjet—”

“No!” Anger flared in the Chancellor’s tone only to falter moments later — this time with despair. “Klorel has given me warning. Whenever his ship enters our airspace, the others of his fleet remain hidden at a distance. He contacts them once every hour. The day he fails to do so, they are to go in search of another, more powerful Goa’uld, one called Anubis. They will lead him here to finish what Klorel has begun. He will claim the Wadjet and destroy all our people.”

“Not if we use the Wadjet against him first. If it can destroy Klorel—”

“Anubis cannot be killed, Nykii, even by a force as strong as the Wadjet. Our people would certainly perish at his hands. Klorel’s deal is our only hope.”

Nick’s nostrils flared. “What deal?”   

“Klorel has promised that in exchange for unlocking the Wadjet and turning it over to him, our people will be spared." 

Breath coming in soft pants, Jack licked his lips. "That snakehead will never keep his promise, Chancellor." 

"You do not know that."

"Yes. I do." Defiantly, Jack lifted his head. "You made a deal with the devil, Chancellor. As soon as Klorel gets what he wants, you and your people become expendable. He will not honor his word to you."  

Skin paling to the point of appearing almost translucent, the Chancellor swallowed. But the moment of fear was short-lived. Pulling his shoulders back and firming his jaw, he met Jack’s stare. "It is done. The Wadjet will be delivered to his lordship at dawn. And you with it."  

With an almost sub-vocal cry, Nick lunged for the Chancellor. The six staff weapons at his back primed. 

Jack lurched forward. "No, Nick!” 

The kid froze. Whether it was in response to Jack’s order or to one of the staff weapons being shoved against his head, Jack didn’t know. Cared even less. 

“Nick?” Turbulent green eyes shifted to his. Jack strained against his guards, their hands biting into his shoulders as he leaned closer. He lowered his voice. “Not here.”

Nick’s tense body sagged, face crumbling in defeat. Or was that devastation? 
 
The Chancellor adjusted his robes. He stooped, picking up the fallen t'yet, and handed it to Farad. "Take them to the Cells. Both of them. I will send for General O'Neill in the morning." He turned to Nick. When he spoke, his tone was subdued. "Commander Nykii, you are hereby relieved of duty. Your second in command, Allisar, shall be appointed Leader of the Guardians in your stead. Farad, see that he is notified and have him report to me at once."

"Yes, sire." Farad bowed, then snapped his fingers at the guards. "Kree!"

Nick was once again secured, a man on each arm. They manhandled him toward the door. He didn’t resist.

A staff weapon prodded Jack in the back and his guards jerked him forward. He yielded, body loose and pliable. Resisting them now was pointless. Outside, where they’d have Nick’s men as back-up, that’s where they’d make their stand. 

And possibly their last fall.

Chapter Text

10-21-2004, 13:26 OWT
10-21-2004, 12:26 Zulu
THE CHANCELLOR’S CHAMBERS 

The Tower's entrance was in sight. A few more yards and they'd clear the doorway, then the stone porch. After that they'd hit the street.

They didn’t make it.

“Halt.” Farad’s order came out hard. It matched his smile. Fingers toying with the t’yet, he stalked behind Jack. 

A shiver that had nothing to do with the torture device, skidded down Jack’s back. He closed his eyes, opened them, and blanked his mind. His body responded, dialing down the fear-laced adrenaline rush a few notches.   

When Farad spoke again, his voice was deceptively casual. "Nykii, where is Allisar?" 

Nick hesitated, eyes flicking to Jack. 

“I suggest you answer, Commander, before I grow impatient.”  

Jaw clenched, Nick leveled a glare at his interrogator. "Allisar is on board the Bennu, awaiting my orders." 

"Very well." Farad sounded pleased. No, make that smug. He moved back into Jack’s line of sight, fingers still fondling the t’yet. "I am glad we understand each other, Commander.”

Nick’s glare intensified, but he stayed silent. And very still.

The impotent reaction made Farad laugh. “Guardsman Yaku, take your men back to their posts. We will not be needing your assistance. Will we, Commander?” His gaze shifted to Nick.  

The kid cut his eyes away; red swept through his cheeks.

With another laugh, Farad snapped a hand at Yaku. “Go.” 

The guard bowed and marched away. Four men out of their twelve man escort followed him.  

Things were looking up. 

Another order from Farad and they started walking again.

10-21-2004, 13:28 OWT
10-21-2004, 12:28 Zulu
THE UPPER CITY

They made it to the street. 

Pedestrian traffic was heavier now than it had been before, but most of the townspeople seemed anxious to get out of the Guards’ way. A few called out Nick’s name. Most stayed silent.

Jack licked his lips. 

A high-pitched war cry sliced through the air. There was a flash of desert colored uniforms among the crowd and the knot of humanity suddenly ripped apart. Staffs swinging, Nick’s men attacked.

With a yell, the Royal Guards closed ranks. They drove their bodies hard into Jack, trapping him in place. The grips on his arms intensified. He twisted, yanked. The Guards pressed in tighter. 

Farad’s voice boomed over their heads. “Back to the Tower!” 

Not gonna happen. Planting his feet, Jack slammed his head back. It connected with someone’s face. He heard them cry out; felt the warmth of their blood on his scalp. 

A hand clamped onto his neck from behind, fingers digging into soft tissue and muscle. It jerked him hard left. He stumbled, boots skidding on the cobbled street. They dragged him forward. 

Almost to the Tower steps.

Jack let out a growl. His world blurred into noise, vicious motion, and instinct. Strike. Jab. Kick. 

He broke free. 

Fingers hooked around his arm. He latched onto the opponent’s wrist with his opposite hand and froze when he saw it was Nick.

Breathless, the kid shoved a Zat into Jack’s hand and tugged at his arm. “This way. Hurry.”

They started running. None of Nick’s men followed. It was part of the plan — the Guardians were there to buy time for Jack and Nick to escape. But it still felt wrong.

No one should be left behind. 

Boots hammering against stone, Jack kept running. Alleys and city walls blended into a fog of speed and burning lungs.

"There is a second Portal," Nick said between breaths. "It will take us to the Wadjet and the Bennu."

They cut deeper into the cavern. Sunlight grew scarce, the terrain treacherous. 

Jack checked his speed. "Then what?" 

"We take the Bennu. Bring back your team."

"Not enough… time." A surge of power rippled through Jack's body, fierce and crippling. His knees buckled. He fell sideways, rib cage connecting with a jutting half-wall of solid rock. Air left his lungs in a rush. The Zat Nick had given him slipped through his fingers. 

He didn’t have time for this. 

Someone touched his arm… Nick?  If the world hadn't just turned into a kaleidoscope of swirling grays and blacks, he might've been able to tell for sure. Jack grit his teeth. “Danged… t’yet.”

A voice drifted back at him. Gentle, reassuring. Had to be Nick. Gradually, the words came into focus. “General O’Neill… hear me?”

Well most of the words anyway. Jack flattened his hands against the rock and forced himself to breathe. “… M’okay.” It came out as a rasp of air, barely intelligible even to him. He tried again. “Let’s… go.”

Nick seemed to understand that one. He scooped up the fallen Zat, dragged one of Jack’s arms over his shoulder, and cinched a hand around his waist. The grip brushed Jack’s side. 

And didn't that just feel wonderful. Jack bit his lip. He tasted blood.

Adjusting his hold, Nick murmured an apology, then stated the obvious. "I think you may have cracked a rib."

Jack gasped out what might have passed for a laugh. "Ya' think?" More like two, maybe three ribs…  but who's counting?

Shouts echoed through the cavern walls.

"C'mon… move it." Jack willed his body into motion, the prick of a thousand needles electrifying his arms and legs. Each step jarred his ribs. He grit his teeth and moved faster. "Let's… get outta here."

A staff blast impacted the rocks. Flames spit into the dirt at their feet. The shouts and clamor of approaching soldiers grew louder. 

And the influence of the t'yet grew stronger. 

Jack went down. Breathe. He needed to breathe. Nick's face swam in front of his eyes. Words and noise blurred into an unrecognizable scream in his ears while the world melted into a sea of unnatural colors, tinged with gray. He swallowed and sucked in a gulp of air. It wasn't nearly enough. 

Hands shaking, he reached into his pocket. The action took all of his concentration. His fingers felt heavy and uncoordinated as they finally closed around what he was after. He shuddered, air hissing through his teeth, and blindly found Nick's hand with his own. Pressing the content of his pocket into the kid's palm, Jack opened his eyes. "Get ‘14… tell them…" he gasped and squeezed Nick's hand tighter. "Tell them… I sent you."

Nick was shaking his head and murmuring words Jack couldn't hear. Shreds of fire arched overhead, and the world grew dark as Nick shielded Jack with his body. 

"Go." Jack knotted his fingers in Nick's shirt. "Go… please." 

10-22-2004, 05:30 OWT
10-21-2004, 12:30 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Sam compared points on the Wadjet pedestal against one of Jennifer’s sketches. Several basic elements were clearly marked and identified; others had been circled with less certain, but theoretically plausible options listed beside them. The inferences Jennifer had drawn to arrive at her results matched what little they knew of the patterns and behavior exhibited by most Ancient technology — including the need for an Ancient or one possessing the Ancient gene, to activate the device. 

Sam pressed her fingers more tightly around the edge of the sketch. They were going to find the General. And they were going to bring him home.

They were.

A sound like heavy wind reverberated through the chamber, snapping Sam out of her reverie. Her senses pinpointed the source — rear wall, outside — and she raised her P-90. 

"Sam, come in." Dad's transmission came through low, only partially due to the radio’s volume level.

In an equally soft voice, she responded, "Go."

"I just got a major power spike close to your position. Showing at least one life form now in the area."

"Copy that." Sam exchanged looks with her teammates. 

In tandem, Daniel and Teal'c took up positions on either side of the chamber’s entrance. Sam held her place behind the pedestal. She crouched, listening. 

Heavy footsteps and labored breathing. Closer. Closer. 

There.

Sam rose, P-90 sited to the newly arrived opponent’s center mass.  

Daniel and Teal'c shifted, making their presence known. Coupled with their already raised weapons, the move effectively ended any hope of retreat by their target.

The subject in question appeared to be human — male, thirties, desert hued clothes, armed with a Zat. Dirt and sweat smeared his face. His eyes were blown wide. 

"Put down your weapon." Sam watched the man’s gaze dart around the chamber, assessing options. She pressed her finger a hair closer to the trigger. "Do it now."

Opening his arms in surrender, the man knelt slowly and placed the Zat on the ground. His other hand remained clenched in a fist.

Sam tilted her head toward the far side of the room. "Over there." 

Obediently, their prisoner stood and walked into the shadows. 

"Daniel, watch the door," Sam ordered.

"On it."

She nodded. "Teal'c, with me." Stepping away from the pedestal, Sam positioned herself between the entrance and their intruder. Gray light from one of the windows spilled over her face and arms as she moved. 

And just like that, the man froze. His ever-ricocheting eyes stilled, zeroing in on… her shoulder? 

Adjusting her posture so that her P-90 would hopefully steal his center focus, she started the interrogation. “Who are you?”

“I am Nykii. And you are?”

“Our identity is irrelevant.” Zat trained on their captive, Teal’c advanced a step. “For what purpose have you come here?”

The man, Nykii, bit his lip. Gaze dropping to the floor, he pointed to one of the stacks of paper. “I came for those.” 

Sam stiffened. “The people who wrote these notes are friends of ours. We’re here to take them back. Where are they?”

“The Team, the ones called SG-14, are safe — well away from here.”

“You mean they escaped?”

Head tilting, Nykii pinched the inside of his cheek. “They are no longer prisoners.” 

There was a level of hesitancy in the answer that set Sam on edge. 

“What of the other man,” Teal’c demanded, “the one called O’Neill?”

This time, the answer was quick. "General O’Neill has been captured." 

It sounded like an apology. 

Fighting to keep her tone even, Sam pressed for specifics. "Where is he?"

Nykii held silent, but something in his expression shifted. The wariness slipped away. So did the fear. Tentatively, he extended his hand — the one clamped in a fist — and opened his fingers. “General O’Neill gave me this. Do you recognize it?" 

Teal’c stepped closer, then stopped short. The muscles along his back went rigid. Almost reverently, he took whatever it was from the man’s hand.

"Teal’c?"

"It is O'Neill's SG-1 patch." 

Sam worked her jaw. “Where did you get that?” 

"I have already told you. General O’Neill gave it to me. He said I was to contact his Team for help. That I was to show them this and tell them he sent me."

"That seems most unlikely,” Teal’c said. “O’Neill could not have known of our arrival."

"He did not send me to find you, but the others: SG-14.” Nykii switched his weight from one foot to the other. “Please, you must believe me. General O’Neill is in grave danger. I can lead you to him, but you have to trust me.”

Quite a thing to ask. 

The man stared at Sam, his green eyes boring into hers. Begging. "… Please."

Relaxing her stance just a fraction, she nodded. “Tell us what you know.”

“I will. I will tell you everything, but not until we have left this place. It is not safe.”

Teal’c arched an eyebrow. “Explain yourself.” 

“Those who captured General O’Neill also pursue me. If they discover I have left the surface, they will search for me here.”

“Left the surface?” Sam repeated.

“Yes, of my homeworld.”

Teal’c cocked his head. “Then Nun is not where your people took refuge?” 

“No.” Nykii frowned, apparently perplexed by the question. He pointed through one of the chamber windows. The misting rain had stopped and the sky, though still overcast, had begun to clear. Nun’s companion moon, was just visible through the haze. “That is my homeworld.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “Tel Mak Ter’rot? But we searched—”

“And you did not find us.” Nykii smiled. “That is how my people survive. How we used to survive.” His smile faded with the words. “Now come, we must hurry.” 

10-21-2004, 13:48 OWT
10-21-2004, 12:48 Zulu
CHANCELLOR’S CHAMBERS

The pain had stopped. Or maybe Jack just couldn't feel it anymore. His body felt distant. Numb. He could sense pressure around his arms, but nothing distinct. Sounds blurred in his ears. 

His thoughts wandered. Snatches of his argument with the Joint Chiefs fell like mismatched puzzle pieces through his mind. Too risky, they'd said, too dangerous. He snorted. So what if he’d been captured twice, cracked three ribs, and was having trouble remembering what day it was. It could be worse. 

Okay, so maybe he was about to be handed over to a Goa'uld. And ordered to activate the largest doomsday weapon in the galaxy. That wasn't such a big deal. All he had to do was get away. 

Piece of cake.

Fingers tugged at his chin, lifting his head. He struggled to focus. Concentrate.  

"You are a fool, Farad. If he dies, the Goa'uld will destroy us."

The hand supporting his chin pulled away, and Jack's head fell forward. He ran his tongue along the inside of mouth. So far that seemed to be the only part of his body listening to him. 

"He will not die, Chancellor. I assure you. The effects of the t'yet and Zat’nik’tel, are not permanent."

"For the sake of our people, I pray you are right. Take O’Neill to the Cells with the rest of the prisoners. Hold him there, until I send you word.” 

“Yes, sire. As you wish.”

10-21-2004, 13:50 OWT
10-21-2004, 12:50 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

Nykii had called it a Portal. And their exit point the ‘secondary Portal’; little used and apparently little known. 
 
Daniel blinked, eyes struggling to adjust to the blackness. They were in a cave. Curved stone walls stood on three sides, with rocks broken into natural columns on the fourth. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the pillars, stark against the dark interior of the cave. A breeze nipped at his skin. 

Their prisoner-guide threaded his way between the columns and motioned for them to follow.

Sam ahead of him, Teal’c behind, Daniel exited the cave. A natural path cut downward over rocky terrain toward an open field. Black mountains hemmed the horizon. A waterfall sliced the jagged range in half and fed a narrow river. And there were trees — lots of trees, coating the base of the mountains and reaching into the fields. As Jack liked to say, ‘what a wonderfully green universe we live in.’ The thought made Daniel smile.

They crossed the open field and edged into the woods.

Overhead, full even in broad daylight, hung an enormous blue moon: Nun. 

As Nykii had said, they were back on Tel Mak Ter’rot, approximately one hundred eighty degrees and a few thousand miles northwest of where their search had begun. As hard as it was to believe, Daniel had to admit, it was rather ingenious. The one place Ra probably never thought to search for his missing slaves was on the opposite side of the very planet they had supposedly fled. Given that they’d had access to a Stargate, it would have only made sense to assume they'd utilized it. 

There was also the fact that despite apparently being within walking distance of Nykii’s village, the one thing Daniel couldn’t see at the moment was a village. Or any signs of human life for that matter, or even any indication of some brief, previous human habitation. 

His growing uncertainty about the situation must have shown because Nykii stopped long enough to say, "As I told you, my people have survived for generations because of their ability to hide."

"You do it very well." Daniel offered a flat smile and tried not to think about how very ‘Jack’ that comment sounded. It was strange. For the first time in his life, Daniel could honestly say he had no interest in this mysterious civilization's culture or history. Their means of survival meant nothing. Finding Jack — that’s what mattered. 

The ground grew rockier and the trees thinner the closer they came to the mountainside. 

Nykii led them along a low ridge that trailed upward to the edge of the falls. 

Spray from the crashing water misted in the air, dotting Daniel’s glasses. Something jerked at his back. It was Teal’c, tugging him away from a particularly steep precipice. With all of the droplets cluttering his vision, Daniel hadn’t even seen the edge. 

Up ahead, Nykii gave them a final look, then disappeared behind the crashing water. 

Sam followed him. 

Blowing out a breath, Daniel took off his glasses and tucked them into his pocket. He swiped a hand across his eyes, giving them a chance to refocus. It wasn’t perfect, but so long as he didn't try to read anything, the world looked almost normal. 

He pressed his back hard against the rocks. Moisture sprayed over his face. Briefly exploring the ledge with his boot, Daniel prepared to make his move. There was just something counter-intuitive about darting head long into darkness. He darted anyway. The roar of the falls grew deafening. Water danced over his clothes and clung to his hair. 

A hand flattened against his chest, slowing his forward momentum. He couldn’t hear much, or see, but the faint scent of cucumber melon shampoo and gun oil was enough to identify his savior as Sam. 

The cave, or whatever it was they’d just entered, was dark and his vision had to adjust yet again. Shreds of daylight were filtering in through the wall of water, which helped, but not much. The air felt cold.

Teal'c came through the falls, his large frame briefly eclipsing what little light there was. 

Yelling to be heard, Nykii pointed downward. “This way!”

Sam, her face and hair a pale white in the darkness, caught Daniel’s eye, then Teal'c's. "Stay close."

They started walking. 

Less than a minute and their downward climb was over. The path, clogged with rocks and boulders, gave way to an expanse of flat rock as well as the outskirts of a city. It opened up before them like nothing Daniel had ever seen before. Contained within the high, black cavern walls the village was idyllic — an architectural mix of Dutch and Viking cultures, as well as elements from medieval England. 

Nykii lowered himself to the ground along the edge of a ridge overlooking the town. SG-1 followed suit. 

Directing their attention to a stone tower set against the far interior wall, Nykii said, "The Cells where General O'Neill was to be taken are there."

Sam pulled out her monocular. "How do we get in?"

"Through the Portal there outside its walls. You will need this." Nykii pulled what looked like a metal tongue depressor from his boot. "Do you see the square stone at the Cells’ base?"

Sam nodded. 

"Sliding this into the slot within that stone activates the Portal."

Daniel's eyes caught on something in the street. He tapped Sam's shoulder, heart already pounding. "Look." He heard her breath hitch. 

Beside him, Teal'c tensed. "O'Neill." 

“Yeah.” Daniel clenched his fist. Jack looked like he was barely conscious. Head hanging, arms held by two guards, he was being dragged toward the Cells. His legs were under him, but their movements were slow and uncoordinated. 

The sight made Daniel’s insides churn. He fired an accusing glare at Nykii. "I thought you said he just had a couple of cracked ribs."

"After being subjected to the t'yet, there can be a time of limited awareness. It is rare. Only in cases of lengthy exposure." Nykii ground his jaw, then added in a mutter, "They did not have to do this."

"When will he be able to move?" Sam asked.

"The duration of such a side effect is impossible to judge. A lot will depend upon General O'Neill."

"Well, we're not waiting." Pocketing the monocular, Sam eased away from the edge and faced Nykii. "Once we're inside, what do we need to know?"

"The interior Portal is manned by several guards."

Daniel raised his finger. "How many is 'several'?" 

"Usually twelve."

"Okay, that could be a problem." Sam looked at each of her teammates. "Any ideas?"

“I believe there may be a method at our disposal which could be of value,” Teal’c announced. “Daniel Jackson, did you not say that the slaves of Iunu were responsible for developing prototypes of modern Goa’uld technology?”

“Yes, they were. Why?”

Eyebrow arching, Teal’c turned to Nykii. “Have your people anything in the way of a Tok’Kal?”

Of course. Daniel locked eyes with Sam. “Goa’uld shock grenade.”

10-21-2004, 14:20 OWT
10-21-2004, 13:20 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

The Corvee’ were not well stocked for war. What they optimistically called an armory had been almost bare. 

Almost. 

Daniel flattened himself against a stone wall at the mouth of the alley. Behind him, Teal'c advanced several meters, dropped to one knee and raised his staff weapon. Sam nodded to them both, then darted across the no-man's land that lay between their position and the Cells. Nykii followed.

Their movements went unnoticed. The monotonous rumble of carts traveling down the street continued as did the babble of the citizens' voices.

Keeping to the shadows, where the Cells seemed to actually grow into the cavern wall, Sam gave Daniel a thumbs up. P-90 to her shoulder, she kept her eyes trained on the pedestrian filled street. 

Daniel inhaled deeply and blew it out in a huff. One, two, three… The ground sped away under his feet, changing from semi-paved, to grass, to stone. Shadows fell across his back with a chill as he slid in just behind Sam. 

Teal'c arrived seconds later. 

The sounds from the street never faltered. 

Sam motioned Teal'c forward and dropped back a step. She gave Nykii a hard look. "You ready?"

He nodded.

"Good. Be sure to count five before you activate the Portal the second time."

Again he nodded. 

Sam assumed a defensive position beside Teal'c, eyes once more on the street. "Go."

Nykii moved into the open. Strides long, but casual, he approached the Cells’ Portal. Crouching with his back to the street, he slid the metal activation strip into the stone slot. A wormhole opened inside the Portal. 

Without looking up, Nykii pulled one of the Corvee’s last remaining shock grenades from his pocket. He activated the trigger and tossed it through. 

The wormhole disengaged. 

Exactly five seconds later, he activated the Portal again.

Responding to a tap from Sam, Daniel darted from his place of cover, past Nykii, and into the wormhole. 

Daylight vanished. 

He stepped out of the Portal into a square room. It was dim. Four walls, four doorways, all built of solid rock. Twelve bodies littered the floor. 

Beretta in hand, Daniel shifted away from the Portal. He sidestepped, keeping a solid wall at his back, and scanned the four doorways. 

Teal'c joined him moments later and mirrored his stance on an opposing wall. 

Nykii and Sam came through last.

On Sam's signal, they checked each entrance. A curtain of vertical iron bars set two inches apart, stretched from floor to ceiling just beyond the doorways. Every few meters a rock wall rose as a semi-natural divider between the cells. Three of the cells were full. Ten men total, all wearing desert colored clothing. All of them unconscious. 

“My men,” Nykii whispered. He reached through the bars, touching those he could reach; pressing his hand to their foreheads, their chests. Feeling them breathe.  

Sam keyed her mic. "Dad, come in."

There was a garble of static, then, "… signal… but go… —ead."

"We're in. How's your position?"

"I— hovering… open field, maybe one an—  half klicks from… falls."

"Copy that. Any news on the mothership?"

"Sti— there… she’s not ma— ‘ing any moves. Not yet."

Nykii lifted his eyes with a start. "Mothership?"

Sam spared him a glance, then signed off. 

Nykii stepped closer. "The Goa'uld is here?"

"His mothership dropped out of hyperspace a little over an hour ago," Sam answered. 

Daniel watched Nykii absorb this information — or try to. He seemed frozen. 

"We must hurry," Teal'c urged. 

"Right." Sam fingered one of the cell bars and looked at Nykii. "Can you open these?" 

Without a word, he lifted a ring of square metal pieces from a hook by the closest doorway. Quickly and efficiently, he knelt by a slot that had been cut into the floor and inserted one of the metal squares. The first section of bars began to rise. 

Sam nodded her approval. "The effects of the grenade may only last for a few minutes. Take their weapons, and then we’ll carry the guards in here and lock them up. Let's move."

10-21-2004, 14:31 OWT
10-21-2004, 13:31 Zulu
INSIDE THE CELLS 

Level five.

Still tucked in the shadows of the stairway, Daniel strained for a look into the corridor.

Ahead of him, Teal'c held up a fist.  

Clipped steps echoed against the rock floor as someone approached. 

Daniel could practically feel the adrenaline radiating from Teal'c's body, his muscles coiled, ready to strike. 

A guard stepped into view. With one blow, Teal’c dropped him to the ground. 

Daniel made the corner, Beretta sweeping the area, in case their friend hadn't been traveling alone. But the carved out hall was empty. 

The guard's body was piled into a dark corner and his weapons discarded. 

"General O'Neill, should be in one of these holding blocks." Nykii pulled the cell keys from his pocket, flipped to a certain one, and offered it to Sam. "This will give you access to any unit on this floor."

"Right. Teal'c, Daniel take left. Nykii, you're with me."

Narrow passageways funneled off of the main corridor leading to the individual cells. Horizontal bars instead of vertical sealed each. The atmosphere was dank. 

Cell after cell was empty. 

Empty. 

Emp— 

"Teal'c, Daniel, over here."

The cell door was open and Sam out of sight by the time Daniel crossed the hall. He ducked into the passage. Jagged stone nipped at his clothes and something sharp creased his temple. But that’s not what made his steps falter. 

It was the sight of Sam, her fingers pressed against Jack’s neck, searching for pulse. 

10-21-2004, 14:38 OWT
10-21-2004, 13:38 Zulu
INSIDE THE CELLS

Everything tilted. Swirled. Spun. It was suffocating. 

Air, he needed air. But the harder he tried to breathe, the more he felt the pain. Probably had something to do with the coughing fit he suddenly couldn't seem to stop. Cracked ribs reminded him of their presence in sharp, jarring terms. He squeezed his eyes shut. Good thing Carter wasn't there — she'd try to put a splint on him. A laugh rose in his throat at the thought, then died into a gasp. 

Okay, small breaths. No laughing. No coughing.

Through the haze, he felt himself being moved. Every muscle tensed. Something solid pressed against his upper back. Warmth wrapped around his shoulders. He hadn't even realized he was so cold. Freezing. 

Hands touched him. They were everywhere — his face, legs, arms, sides. It was too much. His body felt heavy, disconnected, and it was all just too much. He tried to pull away. He needed to get away.

A bar came down across his chest, holding him in place. Need turned to desperation. He clawed at the bar, his fingers dull, fumbling.  

Voices hummed in his ears. Something warm wound around his hands, trapping them against the bar. Except… it wasn’t a bar. It was skin and muscle and bone. Jack stopped short.  

"O'Neill?"

His eyes flew open. "T?"

10-21-2004, 14:39 OWT
10-21-2004, 13:39 Zulu
INSIDE THE CELLS

The syllable was slurred, O'Neill's voice low and hoarse. But the light of recognition in his friend's eyes was certain. 

Teal'c smiled gently. "It is I, O'Neill. You are safe." 

O'Neill's lips twitched in response. His eyes drifted closed, and the tension in his body eased.

"His pulse is strong," Colonel Carter reported. "The fifth, sixth, and seventh ribs on his left side are cracked and there's some discoloration. It could just be bruising, but we'll need to watch him for signs of internal bleeding. There's also a small metal disc fixed at the base of his neck — no blood, but it definitely punctured the skin. I can’t tell how deep."

Hands hovering over O'Neill's frame, as if unsure where to touch, Daniel Jackson grit his teeth. "It's that danged t'yet. We've got to get it out of him."

Unclipping her pack, Colonel Carter shook her head. "There isn't time." She pulled out her medical aid kit. "I'll tape up his ribs to stabilize them, but—"

"Someone is coming." Nykii's urgent whisper silenced them all. 

The swish-hiss of brushing fabric echoed through the Cells. Careful footsteps crunched against the stone floor. 

Having set aside his staff weapon upon entering, Teal'c accepted a Zat'nik'tel from Colonel Carter. He continued to support O'Neill against his chest; the elevation had seemed to ease O'Neill’s breathing, undoubtedly alleviating the pressure of cracked ribs on his lungs. It wasn't the most defensible posture, but Teal'c was not alone. 

Colonel Carter, Daniel Jackson, and Nykii formed a barrier between O’Neill and the cell entrance.

But their efforts were not enough. Not against the enemy's chosen weapon.

"This is Royal Guardsman Farad." The bold voice drifted into the cell from the outer hall. "I am the holder of General O’Neill’s t’yet. Surrender now or see your friend suffer."

The line of Colonel Carter's shoulders went taut. 

Teal'c tightened his hold on O'Neill and felt his friend's grip strengthen in return. 

The bold voice resumed. "What is your decision?"

Colonel Carter hesitated, but it was brief. There could be only one decision. 

"We're putting our weapons down." Colonel Carter released her P-90 from it's harness and placed it on the ground. 

Daniel Jackson and Nykii followed her lead. Teal’c did as well. 

As the last of their weapons clattered to the floor, Guardsman Farad appeared. In his hand, he held a small marble like object Teal’c assumed to be the t’yet remote.

Three guards dressed in black entered behind him. 

"Secure their weapons." Guardsman Farad snapped his fingers, then rested his gaze on Nykii. "Commander, we meet again."

Teal'c felt O'Neill stir. He looked down to find his friend's eyes open once more and surprisingly alert. O'Neill planted a hand on the ground, pushing himself higher off the floor. Teal'c aided him, supporting his shoulders and guiding him upward. 

"General O'Neill." Guardsman Farad toyed with the marble. "Shall I demonstrate the t'yet's power for our guests?"

"Bite me, Farad." 

The man gave an almost feral smile. "The Chancellor was right. You are insolent. Perhaps another lesson in respect..." He trailed off suggestively and turned to Nykii. "I suggest you pay close attention to this demonstration, Commander. You may find it a valuable reminder."

Nykii's muscles corded, then loosened. It was an act of preparation — one their would-be assailant failed to notice. 

Teal’c tensed. Trapped beneath O’Neill, he was powerless to do more than watch the attack unfold.

It happened swiftly. Nykii's shoulder connected with Guardsman Farad's midriff, driving him against the wall. Flesh collided with solid rock. 

Daniel Jackson and Colonel Carter were already in motion, but it was too late. Primed staff weapons swung toward them, halting their charge instantly.

Nykii continued his attack, slamming his opponent’s fist into the raw-cut stone. Repeatedly. Something cracked.  

One of the guardsmen deactivated his weapon, spun, and struck. The staff’s hilt connected with Nykii’s skull. He crumpled to the ground.

With a guttural sound, O'Neill lunged forward. The momentum of his upper body carried him into a partial crouch. 

The guard who had struck Nykii, reversed his hold on the staff and twisted toward O’Neill.

Teal'c arched off the floor. Covering O’Neill’s body with his own, he forced them to the floor. 

The staff weapon sliced through the air inches above their heads. 

"Enough!" Guardsman Farad's face was red with anger. Blood trickled down the fingers of his right hand. Shards of what had once been the t’yet lay scattered at his feet; its pieces flecked with blood. “The Chancellor does not want his prize permanently damaged. As for the rest of you, I shall tend to your education in time.” With a scowl, he stepped over Nykii’s motionless form and strode toward the door. “Kree!” 

The three guardsmen came to attention, then retreated through the passageway, following their leader.  

The bars of their prison slammed shut.

10-21-2004, 14:50 OWT
10-21-2004, 13:50 Zulu
INSIDE THE CELLS 

Sam dropped to her knees beside Nykii. She touched his pulse point. Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump. Strong and steady. 

Her eyes cut to General O'Neill. He was sitting upright, Teal’c hovering at his back, but for the moment he seemed to be supporting himself. 

Breath hitching on a cough, the General nodded at Nykii. "How is he?"

"Unconscious,” she answered. “What about you?"

"Peachy." 

She immediately shifted closer to the General, but he waved her off.

"I'm not dying, Carter." He took several careful breaths as if to prove it, then pointed her back to Nykii. 

Biting her lip, she obeyed.

There was a shallow gash, maybe two inches long at the base of Nykii’s skull. It was bleeding sluggishly at the wound's center, but for the most part the blood had already coagulated.  Daniel passed her the med kit — which the guards had thankfully left untouched on the cell's floor — and she fished out the alcohol wipes and butterfly bandages.

"How'd you find me?" The General's question came out soft. Softer than he’d probably intended. 

Sam’s hands stilled as she caught Daniel's eye. 

Head cocked, he glanced from her to the General. "Didn't you think we would, Jack?"

A beat of silence, then, "Can't leave you kids anywhere, can I?"

"No." Daniel smirked. "No, I think you're stuck with us."

"Indeed."

The General huffed a laugh and pressed a hand against his ribs. 

Sharing another quick look with Daniel, Sam went back to work. 

By the time she had finished sterilizing and dressing the wound, Nykii was coming around. He groaned, hands drawing into fists. On unsteady arms, he pushed himself off the ground. 

Daniel grabbed Nykii’s shoulders, guiding him into a seated position against the wall. "Easy, easy."

Snagging the med kit, Sam moved on to the General. His breathing rhythm had regulated, though the inhalations themselves were still too shallow for her liking, even with cracked ribs. She pulled his hand away from the injury. 

His eyes never left the floor. 

Taking a breath, she lifted the unfamiliar shirt, exposing the General's side. "This is going to hurt, sir." She tore off a piece of tape and laid it across the seventh rib. The General hissed. 

Five pieces of tape later, he grabbed her hand and barked, "Carter." Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. "It's great. Perfect. Just—" 

She chewed the inside of her cheek, reluctantly pulling away. "Yes, sir."

A blip of static scratched across the radio. 

The sound was soft, but it made Sam startle. 

Daniel was on his feet in an instant. Pressed close to the bars, he canted his head, listening, then gave her the all clear.

“Go ahead.”

“… we… have a problem."

The General stared at her radio. "That's Jacob." 

"Yes, sir." With a grin, she keyed her mic. "What’ve you got?"

The General called out a 'hey Dad' at the same moment, covering her traffic. 

She shot him a look that bordered on reproachful, but he just smirked. 

"—ack? "

Cupping her hand over the radio, Sam answered for the General. "Yes, he’s here, Dad. We’ve got him. What's your status?"

"Th— mothership… making… —er move. We… got Jaffa ringin— down on th— opposite side of… mount— from your position… —nd gliders leaving th— bays."

She worked her jaw forward, eyes closing briefly. 

"No." Behind her, Nykii bolted upright. And just missed face-planting on the cell floor. 

Daniel caught his arm and held him steady. 

"I am fine, I—" Placing one hand on the wall, Nykii pulled away from Daniel. "I am fine." Expression desperate, he turned to the General. "Please, we must stop them."

"We're not going to be stopping anybody unless we get out of here," Daniel pointed out.

"Well, then,” Sam pushed to her feet. From beneath her belt, she pulled out a charge and remote detonator. Time for Plan B. “Let's get to it."  

Chapter Text

10-21-2004, 14:52 OWT
10-21-2004, 13:52 Zulu
INSIDE THE CELLS

"It's just a couple of busted ribs, I'll be fine," Jack muttered. Assuming his legs would cooperate. They still felt several pounds too heavy, as much as he hated to admit it, and standing on them took more effort than it should have. The whole cracked side thing really wasn't helping either.

"I have no doubt you can, O'Neill," Teal’c said — and promptly gripped Jack’s arm and pulled it over his shoulder. "I intend to assist you anyway."

Jack scowled. This was ridiculous. "Thanks, T. But I can make it myself." 

"Yeah, well…" Daniel grabbed Jack’s other wrist and slid a hand around his waist. "I think Teal'c's point is that you don't have to." 

No, he didn't have to; because they were there. His Team.

Still his Team.

Somehow the thought didn’t make it any easier. Stubbornly — painfully — Jack tried to pull away. “Look, kids—”

"Due respect, sir, but you’re holding us up."

Jack stared at Carter. Her face was a careful mix of innocence and amusement. Interesting counterpoint to the intense emotion swirling in her eyes.

"Sam, what's… —ur status?"

She keyed her mic. "On our way." Lifting the remote detonator, Carter assessed the room. "Ready?"

Nick who had been standing in the shadows near the door, retreated several steps. He seemed to have regained his balance, moving steadily on his feet, and no longer relying on the walls to keep himself upright. 

Teal’c and Daniel bent forward, making themselves into a human shield for Jack. It felt… wrong. He was the one who was supposed to protect them. 

“Fire in the hole.” Adding her body to the human barrier, Carter hit the detonator. 

A slight jolt and the stench of burnt powder filled the air. 

Teal’c and Daniel straightened, but they never let go of Jack. Instead they gripped him tighter. 

It was wrong. They shouldn’t have had to come after him. Risk everything for him. But… Carter was right. Arguing would just hold them up. 

So, Jack swallowed. And allowed himself to grip them back. 

10-21-2004, 14:53 OWT
10-21-2004, 13:53 Zulu
INSIDE THE CELLS

With a firm grasp on O'Neill, Teal'c tread softly down the prison hall. Unarmed as they were, stealth was their best defense. 

Colonel Carter had assumed point, Nykii rearguard. 

The entrance to the stairway was in view, lights flickering within its walls. The murmur of voices and thudding boots carried on an echo. Someone was coming.

Colonel Carter ducked into one of the hall’s narrow side passages and signaled for them to also take cover. 

As one, Teal'c and Daniel Jackson fell into the shadows of the closest cell entrance, O'Neill still supported between them. 

Nykii advanced, positioning himself in the alcove directly opposite that of Colonel Carter.

They waited. The clamor of the approaching guards grew louder. 

In preparation for the impending battle, Teal'c released his hold on O'Neill and shifted closer to the passageway's outer edge.

Men's shadows stretched across the stone floor. The enemy had arrived.

Chaos erupted in the hall as Colonel Carter and Nykii attacked. 

Teal'c rounded the corner. A Royal Guard swung his staff high, preparing to strike Colonel Carter, and Teal'c charged. Hands wrapping around the enemy’s staff, he wrenched the weapon free and brought it around, landing a blow to the back of the guard's knees. The man went down instantly. 

Teal’c tucked his chin as an arm wrapped around his neck from behind. Widening his stance, he rammed an elbow into his opponent's side. The arm around his neck bucked, muscles unlocking just a fraction. Teal’c executed a second blow, gained some distance, and kicked. His boot connected with the guard's shin. Twisting free, Teal'c pulled a Zat'nik'tel from his opponent's belt and fell back a step. 

"Teal'c!" 

Responding to the call, Teal’c tossed the Zat'nik'tel behind him to Daniel Jackson, and gripped the staff once more with both hands.

Daniel Jackson began firing with abandon. 

Another guard charged him. Teal’c spun hard right, using the staff as a counterbalance, and brought his leg around for a solid kick to his attacker's chin. Pressing his advantage, he swept the guard's legs from beneath him and appropriated a second Zat'nik'tel. 

Teal'c turned and let the second Zat'nik'tel fly with a shout. "O'Neill!" 

Already in position, O'Neill caught the weapon and primed it.

The first guard Teal'c had overtaken emitted a guttural battle cry and leapt from the floor. A knife glinted in his hand. 

Teal'c deflected the attack with his staff, then angled the weapon downward and gave it a twist, driving the hilt into man's face. The guard stumbled back.

"Teal'c!"

At O'Neill's warning, Teal'c dropped into a roll. The attacker with the knife as well as another who had been advancing from behind fell to the ground, their bodies wrapped in threads of blue energy.

A heavy silence filled the corridor. Eight guards lay unconscious on the ground. Only the members of SG-1 and Nykii remained standing. 

"Okay, let's go." Colonel Carter snagged a weapon from one of the guards and moved toward the stairway. 

10-21-2004, 14:57 OWT
10-21-2004, 13:57 Zulu
INSIDE THE CELLS

Zat raised, Sam cleared the stairs and exited onto the Cells ground floor. Flattened against the center wall, she swept the area, Nykii at her back. She edged close to one of the four doorways leading to the Portal and listened. There were soft sounds of movement inside — far right corner, around two o'clock; mid-left wall, nine o'clock. 

She held up two fingers, pointed to her chest and jerked a thumb to the right; pointed to Nykii's chest and motioned left. 

Nykii nodded.

She mouthed the words 'on three'. Again he nodded. 

One. Two. Three.

She took the corner, Zat primed, and fired as she advanced. The two o’clock target went down. Sam swung wide, eyes and weapon searching for another target. 

Nykii mirrored her motions, nine o’clock target already lying prone at his feet. 

The rest of the room was empty except for the pile of weapons in one corner — their weapons.

"Clear." Lowering her Zat, Sam moved towards the pile. She grabbed her P-90, checked the chamber, and firing pin, then clipped it back onto its harness. 

Behind her, Teal’c and Daniel entered, the General once again supported between them. 

She reached for Daniel's Beretta. 

Nykii knelt on one knee and retrieved the metal strip from his boot to activate the Portal. "Whenever you are ready, Colonel Carter."

She made a quick assessment of her group, specifically the General. His eyes were alert, but his breathing was still much too shallow. Pale, face glistening with sweat, he stared at her. His gaze was unwavering. 

It was time to move. 

Passing out the last of their weapons, Sam looked at Nykii. "Activate the Portal."

10-21-2004, 14:59 OWT
10-21-2004, 13:59 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

The back alley unfolded in a blur of stone and plaster. Daniel cinched his hand tighter around Jack's belt and kept his legs moving as fast as he could. Alongside him, Jack and Teal'c kept pace, with Sam and Nykii covering their backs.

A shout went up. Someone was yelling Nykii's name. Instinctively, Daniel poured on a bit more speed.

The shout rang out again. "Nykii! Nykii, wait!"

"Stop." Jack fought to take a breath, legs already slowing. "Stop."

Fear clawed through Daniel. "Jack—"

But he just shook his head. "S'okay. Not… bad guys."

What? Glancing over his shoulder, Daniel saw a young man, teenager really, racing after them through the alley. 

Nykii was backtracking, hurrying to meet him. "Benn, what are you doing here?"

"I have been searching for you. The Royal Guard came to the house with an order for your arrest. They say you have committed high treason. I came to warn you."

The two met and immediately reached for each other.

Holding the young man — Benn — at arms length, Nykii bent to his eye level. “Has anyone been hurt?"

Benn actually smiled at that. "One of the guards tried to touch Te'ev and Saskia sliced open his tunic with a carving knife."

Sam shifted on her feet. "Commander, we don't have much time."

Nykii hesitated, staring past Sam to Jack, before once again looking at Benn. Briefly he touched the boy’s head, then his cheek. "Benn, go to the Guardian barracks in the village. Tell them the Goa’uld has arrived and they are to prepare the village for a ground assault. Go. Quickly."

"But what about you?"

"Do not worry about me. As soon as you have delivered the message, return home. Help Saskia protect the children. Do not leave them. Whatever happens, do not leave them. Promise me."

Squaring his shoulders, Benn nodded. 

A look of pride and fierce affection lit Nykii's face. He pulled away. "Be safe, Benn."

The boy’s expression wavered, just for a moment. He seemed desperate, lost, and incredibly young. In a rush, he pushed forward and hugged Nykii hard. 

Anxiously, Daniel scanned the length of the alley. Still clear — for now. He turned back in time to see Benn tear himself from Nykii’s arms and race away.

Without a second look, Nykii returned to Sam’s side. Emotion raged in his eyes. "Come, we must hurry."

10-21-2004, 15:04 OWT
10-21-2004, 14:04 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

They were out of the alley. Sam tracked the trail ahead of them with her eyes. It was steep, winding through the rocks up to the falls. Somehow the terrain hadn't seemed nearly so rough when they'd traversed it the first time. Of course, they hadn't had an injured teammate with them then.

Biting her lip, she started to climb. Her calves burned as she pressed herself for more speed. The drone of the waterfall was drawing closer, the light within the cavern fainter. Her boots skidded in loose rock. Recovering her balance, she kept moving. 

A horn began to sound. It played the same note over and over. Low, melodic. Its echo seemed to multiply as it traveled, drifting farther away yet gaining strength at the same time. 

"That doesn't sound good," Daniel said between puffs. 

"It is not a call to arms, if that is what you fear," Nykii answered. "The horns are a warning to our people. The call is carried throughout the mountains. When our people hear it, they retreat to the shelters."

Sam checked their back trail. Still no signs of pursuit. Her eyes caught on the village street, following it deep into the cavern. "How far into the mountains does this place go?"

"As far as the range itself."

The range that had circled the edge of the horizon, going on, seemingly, forever. If that were true, Nykii's people must number well into the thousands. Even the tens of thousands.

A Zat blast struck the cavern wall, just missing Nykii. 

Sam pivoted on her heel, dropped low and fired. Her shots sprayed dirt and chipped the rocks at the enemies' feet. They fell back, diving for cover. 

Sam again started climbing. 

10-21-2004, 15:05 OWT
10-21-2004, 14:05 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

Spray from the waterfall made the rocks slick. Daniel slipped, then caught his balance. Jack’s hand spasmed around his wrist and he heard his friend grunt. 

They kept moving. 

The terrain was pitched downward, rocky and uneven. But, trusting Teal'c to keep them on point, Daniel risked glancing away from the path to Jack. Head down, eyes closed, he looked almost unconscious. But he wasn’t — far from it. The lines of concentration cutting deep across his forehead and around his mouth testified to that.  

Sam broke through the falls behind them. "We've got company. Fifty yards back, ten maybe fifteen guards. Nykii, trade places with Teal’c. Teal'c, you’re with me."

Daniel took on a bit more of Jack's weight as they made the switch. The moment Nykii was in position, he started them down through the rocks again. 

It was a juggling act: the need for haste versus the need not to hurt Jack. Two goals Daniel was rapidly deciding were mutually exclusive.

They took a steep drop, and Jack started gasping.  

Throwing a look over his shoulder, Daniel spotted Sam and Teal'c a few meters above them. The enemy wasn’t in sight — not yet. Which meant they could stop. Just for a second. 

"Hold up." Daniel twisted in front of Jack, one arm supporting his shoulder, the other his quaking chest. "Easy, Jack, easy. Slow breaths, c'mon."

Squeezing his eyes shut even tighter, Jack suddenly curled forward coughing. 

A spray of dark flecks dotted Daniel's sleeve. Blood. "Oh, no, no, no. C'mon, Jack, c'mon."

Nykii murmured something in Jack's ear and began rubbing circles across his back. 

"What’s wrong?" 

Daniel looked up at Sam's call. "It's, Jack. He's coughing up blood." 

"M'okay." Jack tugged at Daniel's sleeve. His eyes fluttered open. "M'okay."

"No, Jack. No you're not." Daniel used his bandanna to wipe a smear of blood from his friend's lip. His hand shook.

Sam skidded to the edge of the rock above, then dropped down beside them. Facing Jack, she pressed her fingers against the side of his neck. "His heart is racing."

Teal'c dropped into a crouch on the upper ridge. "Colonel Carter." He pointed up the mountain. The first guard had just cleared the waterfall. 

Sam moved her hand to the side of Jack’s face. "Sir?"

His mouth twitched. " 'M holdin' us up again… huh, Carter?"

A staff blast exploded against the rocks. Daniel ducked, bringing his arms up to shield Jack even as Nykii did the same. 

Dirt showered down on them. 

Sam pulled back, already raising her weapon. "Go, go!"

10-21-2004, 15:08 OWT
10-21-2004, 14:08 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

Staff weapon primed, Teal'c spun and fired. Repeatedly.

The rattle of Colonel Carter's P-90 added to his steady stream of cover fire.

The enemy scattered, seeking shelter.

"Go, Teal'c!"

Vaulting over the ridge, Teal'c sped down the path. Rocks gave way to tree roots and loose soil. 

Shouts from above and gasps of staff weapon fire filled the air. Teal'c turned, peppering the mountainside with flames. 

Jacob Carter's voice crackled over the radio. "Sam?"

Letting up on her trigger, Colonel Carter started running. Teal'c followed.

She pressed her radio. "Go!"

"Gliders coming in, four o'clock."

Wind screamed through the trees. Heavy beats of fire impacted the ground, each pounding closer than the last. 

“Take cover!” 

Teal'c plunged toward an outcropping of rocks, Colonel Carter a pace behind. Their knees hit the dirt. 

The earth shook. Again and again. 

When the last of the tremors faded, Colonel Carter pushed to her feet. "Let's go."

Smoke streaked through the forest. Severed tree trunks clogged the path, their remains smoldering. 

Forging a path among the debris, Teal’c searched the area for signs of the others. He spotted them several meters ahead. Their forms sifted in and out of view amid the smoke as they stumbled forward.

"Get outta there now!" Jacob Carter's order barely registered.

10-21-2004, 15:10 OWT
10-21-2004, 14:10 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

Their boots hit the grass. In front of them, the field stretched out flat and and wide open. Daniel lengthened his strides. If the gliders came back before they reached the ring zone, there would be no place to hide. 

Jack stumbled. Daniel bent with him to keep from jarring his injured ribs, but kept running. 

Just a few more meters. 

Winged shadows skidded across the edge of the field — gliders setting up for their second run. 

Daniel swung his head around. "Sam!"

"Keep going!" She shouted back, then immediately keyed her radio. "Dad!"

"I'm on it." 

The Al'kesh's cloak fell away. Gobs of fire snapped out of its cannon. 

Direct hit. 

Swallowed in flames, the lead glider spun out, hurtling toward the moon's surface. Power ripped through the ground on impact and grass and sky suddenly cartwheeled. Flat on his back, ears ringing, Daniel blinked up at the sky. The second glider jerked into view, left wing wrapped in fire. 

Daniel stumbled to his feet. Less than an arm's length away, he saw Jack — face down in the dirt. He'd landed on his chest. “Jack!” 

A rush of movement and Nykii materialized from wherever he’d been thrown. 

Daniel barely saw him. He rolled Jack onto his back and once more threaded an arm around his waist. With Nykii’s help, they soon got him standing. More or less.

Sam and Teal'c converged on their position, Sam once again circling around to face Jack. "Hang on, sir. And that's an order." 

The hovering Al'kesh slid forward. It fishtailed, coming dangerously close the edge of the mountain. But when it settled, they were directly under the rings. 

A fraction of a second and the world disappeared in a curtain of white light. 

10-21-2004, 15:12 OWT
10-21-2004, 14:12 Zulu
AL’KESH RING ROOM

The rings fell away. 

Jack's chest was heaving. Daniel gripped the front of his friend’s shirt and lowered them both to the floor. "Jack, hey, hey… breathe slow, okay? Jack?" He straightened out Jack's legs when he started to list on his knees.

Without asking, Nykii wedged himself behind Jack, elevating his chest like they had in the cell. It didn't help.

Jack started gasping, harsh and shallow. He reached out, hands clawing at whatever they touched.

“Dad,” Sam called into her radio. "We need you back here stat!"

The Al'kesh shuddered violently. It veered to one side and shuddered again. 

They were taking fire.

"I got six gliders on my hands—" Jacob's transmission cut off as the ship shook under the force of two more hits. 

Teal'c shot to his feet and raced through the door. 

"Teal'c's on his way, Dad."

"Understood."

The fingers of Jack's left hand found Daniel's arm and flexed tight, digging into skin. 

Desperate, Daniel gripped back. If contact was what Jack needed, what he was fighting for, if it helped…

Gasps turned into near sobs. Jack ground out a cry.

The sound cut right to Daniel's heart. He gripped back harder. "Jack!" 

Chapter Text

CORVEE’ AIRSPACE
10-21-2004, 14:13 Zulu
ON BOARD THE AL’KESH

The lights in the Al'kesh corridor flickered as the ship bucked under another round of fire. Teal'c's balance faltered, pitching him toward the wall, but he kept running. From behind him he heard the faint sounds of a cry. 

O'Neill. 

Steeling his jaw, Teal’c pressed himself for more speed. The entrance to the pel'tak came into view. With a shake, the ship lurched left. 

Teal'c braced himself against the wall, then stumbled across the threshold. Through the cockpit glass he saw no less than four gliders approaching. Regaining his legs, he made it to the pilot's seat. 

Jacob needed no urging to relinquish the controls. Already on his feet, he clapped Teal'c on the shoulder and sped towards the door. 

Grasping the steering globe with both hands, Teal'c banked the Al'kesh hard right and dropped into a dive. Glider fire skimmed the left shield. The rest of the shots went wide. 

Black mountains screamed past the periphery of the windshield as grass and charred earth rushed toward him. Three gliders dogged his trail, three others circled above. 

Teal’c pulled the Al'kesh's nose upward, full forward thrust. The engines whined. Smoke and wind curled off his back tail. Two of his pursuers were caught in the back draft. One went into a spin, coughing smoke. The other flipped, colliding with the mountain wall. 

A round of fire impacted the Al'kesh from behind as parallel streams strafed down from above. 

Forward shields holding at forty percent. Rear eighteen. 

One more direct hit and the rear shield was going to fail.

CORVEE’ AIRSPACE
10-21-2004, 14:14 Zulu
AL’KESH RING ROOM

The General's hand was like a vice around Sam's arm; his knuckles bleached white. Sam covered them with the fingers of her free hand, first rubbing, then just holding on.

Her arm was throbbing. It was a good distraction for the pain that stabbed through her chest every time the General gasped. Her eyes blurred.

"Okay, I'm here," 

Sam felt more than saw her Dad push in beside her. The hum of the healing device in his hand was reassuring; the horrified murmur that fell from his lips anything but.

"Dad?"

The muscles along his jaw rippled. "Broken rib has punctured his left lung — it's collapsed. We don't have much time." Hands tightening around the healing device, Dad closed his eyes. 

With another cry that faded into a desperate heave, the General arched against Nykii's chest. He let go of Sam and Daniel, only to stretch his hands out even farther and grab hold again. His fingers found Sam's shoulder. 

She laid both of her hands over his and tried to grip him back. But it was as if she wasn't even there. He gasped again, body twisting. 

Sam bit her lip. Hard. "Dad!" It was a question, a demand, a plea.

"I'm trying, Sam." 

The ship rocked under three successive blasts. The power flickered. 

Sam’s world blurred into overwhelming noise. The rasp of her own breathing; the echo of explosions against the Al'kesh's hull; the agonizing sounds coming from the General's throat. 

"Colonel Carter, I am in need of assistance."

The radio call registered like broken pieces of glass; scattered and sharp. She blinked.

"Colonel Carter!"

She had to go. 

Wrapping her fingers more tightly around the General’s, she leaned close. "Live, sir. That's an order!" 

Grabbing a handful of Nykii's shirt, Sam pulled him toward her and into range of the General’s touch. "Hold him."

Nykii responded immediately, prying the General's hand from her shoulder and sliding forward to take her place.

The ship shook, throwing Sam off her balance as she struggled to stand. She rolled onto her hands and knees, shoved to her feet. And stopped dead in her tracks as the General let out another sharp cry. She locked eyes with Daniel.

He gave her a quick nod. "Go!"

She ran. 

CORVEE’ AIRSPACE
10-21-2004, 14:15 Zulu
AL’KESH COCKPIT

Teal'c banked the Al'kesh left, dropped her nose into a steep dive, pulled out, and swung wide right. The maneuver saved them from a direct hit to the Al'kesh's tail section, but cost them a singed left hull. 

Colonel Carter entered the pel'tak. "What've we got, Teal'c?" 

"Four gliders remain."

"We need to make the jump to hyperspace."  

"I have been unable to do so." Lines of fire arched towards the Al'kesh. Teal'c circled left, cutting a straight path along the gliders' rear wake.

Colonel Carter activated the weapons control. "Canon primed. Line us up."

He spun the Al'kesh three hundred and sixty degrees. "Gliders are in range."

"Target acquired. Firing canon."

A round of incoming fire hit them full force, even as one of the gliders exploded in a ball of flame. Teal'c adjusted his control. "Forward shields thirty-eight percent."  

A voice carried forward from the ring room. Daniel Jackson calling out O'Neill's name.

Teal'c tightened his hold on the guidance globe and forced his attention to return to the digital display. The three remaining gliders had assumed a triangular formation in preparation for another attack.
 
He rotated the globe, sending them into an upward climb. "Colonel Carter."

She slammed against the console where she stood, but did not respond. 

"Colonel Carter?" 

She answered this time, voice  firm. "Canon primed. Preparing to acquire target."

CORVEE’ AIRSPACE
10-21-2004, 14:16 Zulu
AL’KESH RING ROOM

Jack wasn't breathing. 

The realization left Daniel cold.

He tightened his hold on Jack's arm. Jack didn't grip back. "Jacob? Jacob, he's not—"

"It’s okay, Daniel." 

Okay? Nothing about this was okay. Jack was too still. Too… lifeless. Numbly, Daniel stared at his friend’s loose, unresponsive hand.

Jacob pulled away the healing device. "The lung has re-expanded. He's breathing on his own."

"What?" Mind reeling, Daniel held the back of his fingers close to Jack's nose and lips. Soft puffs of air brushed over his fingers. 

"Is it true?"

With a jerk, Daniel looked at Nykii. He'd forgotten the man was even there. He'd forgotten everything except—

"General O'Neill — is he breathing?" Nykii pressed.

"He is." The words were slurred, hoarse, and so undeniably Jack.

Daniel pulled his fingers away as if they’d been burned. "Jack? Jack—" He cut himself off with a breathy laugh. It wasn't as if he knew what he was going to say next anyway.  

Jack's eyes fluttered open. "You've been… hangin' out with Carter." His mouth twitched into a smile. "No giggling. 'Member?" 

The Al'kesh vibrated under another hard hit and Jack groaned, curving in on himself. 

Hands skimming over his friend's side, Daniel threw Jacob a panicked look. 

But Jacob just shook his head. Gently holding Jack's shoulders, he eased him back to the floor. "Easy, Jack. Lie still."

"Jacob, what's wrong? I thought—"

"He's okay, Daniel." Jacob sank back on his heels. "Ribs are still broken and there's some minor internal bleeding, but he's out of danger."

"Well aren't you—" 

"Yes, Daniel," Jacob promised. "I am. Selmak just needed a rest. I'll take care of—"

The ship's power failed, plunging the room into darkness.

CORVEE’ AIRSPACE
10-21-2004, 14:17 Zulu
AL’KESH COCKPIT

"I've diverted all power except for life support to the shields,” Colonel Carter announced.

Teal'c nodded his acknowledgment. "One glider remains."

"Okay, level off and prepare for the jump to hyperspace."

Performing the maneuver, Teal'c directed the course of the Al'kesh away from the binary moons. "Entering coordinates for P3X-575."

"That's perfect." Sam left her post at the weapons control and assumed the co-pilot's seat. "Let's go."

"Hyperspace window activated." The world outside Teal'c's window blurred, dilating to thin waves of color and light. A moment later, the view filled with black velvet sky. 

They had arrived at P3X-575.

P3X-575 AIRSPACE
10-21-2004, 14:17 Zulu
AL’KESH RING ROOM

A thrum ran through the floor. The lights blinked, flickered, then came on full force. 

The world fell silent.

"We made it," Daniel whispered.

Jacob listened for a moment, then nodded. "They must've made the jump to hyperspace." 

Daniel's grin of relief was cut short by a shaky hand wrapping around his wrist. Hovering on the edge of action, ready to do whatever Jack needed, Daniel looked down at his friend. "What, Jack? What is it?"

"We have to go back." Jack's voice was still laced with pain, but his eyes were clear. He knew exactly what he was saying. "I have to go back." 

Accusingly, Daniel looked straight at Nykii. A host of emotions were playing across the other man's face — emotions Daniel had no interest in interpreting. Not now. He worked his jaw. Jack's hand tightened around his wrist. 

"Daniel… I have to."

Why? That's what he wanted to ask. To demand. Why did Jack have to go back? Why him? Why after everything he'd gone through—

"Just hang tight, Jack," Jacob said, unintentionally derailing Daniel's mental tirade. "You're still hurt. We'll talk about going back when you can stand up under your own power."

There was a rush of footsteps in the hall. Within seconds, Sam and Teal'c appeared. 

"Dad, how is he?"

Jacob gave Sam a tired smile. "He's out of danger."

For the moment. Daniel chewed the inside of his cheek, even as he felt Jack's hand suddenly go lax. "Jack?"

Jacob had noticed the change, too. But after checking Jack's pupil reaction and pulse point, he relaxed. "It's okay. He's just unconscious. C'mon, let's get him off this floor." Jacob pushed to his feet. "There's a pallet in the forward chamber. He'll be more comfortable there and I can finish him up."

"I will carry him." Teal'c's voice was little more than a soft rumble. He knelt at Jack's side as Nykii backed away, silently relinquishing his hold on Jack's arm. 

Swallowing, Daniel also backed away. 

P3X-575 AIRSPACE
10-21-2004, 14:20 Zulu
ON BOARD THE AL’KESH

Daniel stared at the forward chamber door. He'd been kicked out. Well, they all had. Jacob had wanted some privacy for his work. And it wasn't like Jack was still in any danger. 

"O'Neill is in capable hands, Daniel Jackson."

“Teal’c’s right,” Sam murmured. Her fingers brushed across Daniel’s shoulder in quiet reassurance. “The General’s going to be fine.”

"I know, it's just…" Wrapping his arms around himself, Daniel shrugged. "It was just close, you know?" 

Teal'c's eyes were bright. "Indeed."  

Across the room, Nykii cleared his throat. "How… how long will it be before General O'Neill is fully recovered?" 

The question was phrased tactfully, with just the right about of reluctance, but it still hit Daniel wrong. The figurative salt on his all too raw emotions. "Jack almost died!" The words snapped off his tongue before he could rein them in. 

And hit Nykii full in the face. His expression twisted into something close to anguish.

Daniel looked away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"No, it is I who am sorry. I should not have asked. I, ah…" Nykii faltered. He rubbed a hand over his forehead, then his mouth. 

"You're worried about your people." Sam said it as a statement of fact.  

Nykii lowered his eyes, the muscles along his cheeks pulling taut. 

Sam’s voice softened. "That boy, the one who stopped us — Benn? He was your friend?"

"My brother."

His brother. What was left of Daniel’s anger evaporated. He’d been so focused on getting Jack out of there, little else had seemed to matter. Not Nykii, not his people. They’d hurt Jack and were willing even now to use him. They were the enemy. Simple as that. 

Until now. 

Two simple words and suddenly those Daniel had judged enemies, became humans. Ones Jack had been willing to risk his life to save. 

Daniel squeezed the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily. He looked at Nykii. "You said your people called that device the Wadjet?"

"Yes."

"That name wasn’t referenced in any of the texts I saw."

"It is not mentioned in the texts we have. The name was passed down by verbal legend from my ancestors."

Daniel edged closer. "Not in the texts we have? You mean there are others?"

"There were. The chamber where the Wadjet was originally found bore script on all four of its walls. Each wall was meticulously duplicated by Ra’s Jaffa and brought to Iunu for his slaves to study. But during my people's flight from Se'shat, the text of the fourth wall was lost. That is why the Royal Guard was sent to De'nama."

Sam's eyes widened. "They were looking for the missing portion of text."

"Yes. They hoped it might tell our people how to activate the weapon. But they were unable to find the original chamber described by our ancestors. From what I have been told, the Royal Guards were already on the planet when your team, SG-14, arrived through the Chappa'ai. As they appeared to be familiar with the temple and the race who built it, the Guard kept them under observation. They hoped your people would possess the knowledge needed to unlock the Wadjet.” 

Daniel listened as Nykii talked, but his mind refused to do more than half-attend. The other half was much too busy cataloging fresh facts and using them to postulate new theories. 

His inattention must have showed.

Sam touched his sleeve. "Daniel, what is it?"

"It’s the name, 'Wadjet'. It's part of Egyptian mythology." Pacing away, Daniel sifted through his memory of Wadjet. There was so much: history, myth, fact. "Wadjet was one of the Egyptians’ original deities. His symbol was an eye — the left eye of Ra, sometimes called the Eye of Horus or the Lunar Eye. It was a symbol of protection. A talisman, a good luck charm. They used to paint it on the bows of their ships for safety." He couldn't help smiling as all the elements fell together. For him at least.

The others in the room just stared at him — attentive, but frowning.

He frowned himself as another thought jarred the mental pieces slightly. "Of course Wadjet also symbolized royal power from the deities and was considered by some to be part of the Eye of Ra." He winced, words rushing together as he added, "Which we all know was a weapon of mass destruction, but — the point is, that the majority of the time, Wadjet is associated with protection and safety. I don't know, it just doesn't seem like something you'd name a weapon meant to wipe out all of humanity." He rolled his shoulders, searching for a more clarifying argument. "I mean, it— it'd be like naming the atom bomb after a four leaf clover or a rabbit's foot."

Sam’s brow furrowed. "So, the Wadjet might not be a weapon at all. It might actually be some kind of… shield maybe?"

"If that is so, why did the chamber walls warn against its use?" Teal'c asked.

"But it didn't.” A slow grin spread across Sam’s face. "It just said the device had great, unimaginable power. It didn't say we shouldn't use it."

Eyes glazed, Nykii recited in soft tones, " 'The power herein contained has never yet been measured. It expands to endless depths and defies natural bounds. Unquenchable. All consuming.' " He stared at each of them in turn. "General O'Neill believed that since the Wadjet required a human element to activate, there must be a way for that human element to control its power — no matter how strong the force."

Teal'c arched an eyebrow. "Did O'Neill know how this control was to be exacted?"

"I do not believe he did. He wanted to speak with the members of SG-14 about the matter." 

Folding his arms, Daniel cocked his head at Nykii. "Yeah, about that. Where are they exactly?" 

"They are with five of my Guardians in a secret chamber — beneath the ruins of Iunu."

IUNU AIRSPACE
10-21-2004, 15:33 Zulu
ON BOARD THE AL’KESH

Jack woke in slow stages. The absence of noise made it hard to discern sleep from wakefulness. He tested his fingers, his neck, his toes with small movements. 

A hand touched his chest.

"Jack?"

After a short battle with his eyelids, Jack managed to open them halfway. The world was hazy and seemed to be more liquidy than he remembered. 

"Jack, you with me?"

He blinked, forcing his eyes to open just a fraction wider. A face swam into view above him. He blinked again, and the familiar lines fell into focus. "Jacob?"

The man patted Jack’s chest again with a grin. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

That sounded kind of… dramatic. He rubbed at his head, trying to remember what had happened. SG-1. They'd been there. They'd gotten him out. They'd been running… gliders, explosions. "My team?"

"They're fine, Jack. A little shook up, but that's understandable." Jacob sat back, hands scrubbing at his face. There were dark circles under his eyes. "We almost lost you, Jack."

He spotted the healing device in Jacob's lap and swallowed. "How long have I been out?"

"A little over an hour." 

"What happened?"

"You pierced yourself in the lung with a broken rib."

"Ouch." 

Mouth kicking up just a little, Jacob shook his head. "At least." 

Fractured memories of what had felt like fire searing his chest from the inside out flew through Jack's mind. He remembered reaching out, clawing, grabbing. He'd been desperate. Anything to make it stop. 

"Jack? You okay?"

Meeting Jacob's eyes, he nodded. "I owe you. Big time."

Jacob smirked. "I'll send you my bill."

Jack laughed causing his side to hum with a kind of dull ache. Sore, but not really painful. He traced a hand over the ribs, fighting the natural urge to touch. 

"Still hurt?"

"Nah, just a little sore."

"Then don't touch it." Jacob pulled Jack's hand away. "I've repaired the damage, but your body suffered major trauma. You need to give yourself a chance to rest."

The words sparked another memory. Daniel. He'd been talking to Daniel — about going back. "Where are we?"

"Iunu."

Jack shoved himself into a seated position against the wall. "What?"

Jacob smiled. "We're just picking up a few friends, Jack."
 
The familiar sound of rings activating had Jack pushing himself even higher against the wall. Once, twice the rings activated. Then came a round of cheers and excited voices. He stared at Jacob.

"SG-14, Jack."

10-21-2004, 09:36 MDT
10-21-2004, 15:36 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 27

Even after months of being stationed in Washington, the sounds of Stargate Command were still as familiar to George Hammond as breathing: the scuff of boots on concrete, the hum of electronics, the occasional thump and pop in the walls — ‘structural settling’ they called it. Through the years, he'd often found comfort in the constant patter of noise. It calmed his thoughts, centered his focus. 

But not always.

George stared at the door in front of him, eyes mindlessly tracing the name plate: Brig. Gen. J. O’Neill. He knocked.

Sergeant Harriman opened the door and briefly stiffened to attention. “Sir.”

Behind him, Colonel Reynolds stood from his seat at Jack’s desk. “Good morning, sir.”

“Sergeant, Colonel. Any word?” 

“I’m not sure, sir,” Reynolds said, “the Sergeant was just about to give me an update. Go ahead, Walter.”

There was a file folder in Harriman’s hand. His fingers tightened around it. “There’s been no word from SG-1 or the Tok’ra, sirs, but…”

“But what, Sergeant?” George asked.

“Well, sir, everyone on base is talking about General O'Neill. They're saying he's gone after SG-14 against orders. And that he could be charged with being AWOL. Is that true?" 

Trading a brief glance with Reynolds, George nodded. “Yes, son, I'm afraid it is."

Harriman pursed his lips, eyes falling to the folder in his hands. 

Reynolds circled the desk. "What's on your mind, Sergeant?" 

"I was in here earlier, sirs, looking for those daily reports you wanted. I noticed a paper sticking out from under General O’Neill’s blotter. I thought it must have slipped under there by mistake, so I pulled it out.” Harriman hesitated, then held out the file. “You may want to see this.” 

Chapter Text

NUN AIRSPACE
10-21-2004, 15:52 Zulu
AL’KESH COCKPIT

The pel’tak was crammed full: SG-1, Jacob, Nick, Czachowski and his crew, plus the five Guardians they’d picked up along with ‘14. The geeks in the crowd had just finished geeking out over their latest theory regarding the Wadjet and stood staring at Jack with wide, eager eyes. He rubbed his forehead. "Okay, so you're saying this pedestal thing isn't a weapon at all?"

“That’s right, Jack.” Daniel dipped his head to one side. "At least we think there’s a strong possibility it’s not."

"And we think this because…?"

Jacob hooked an arm over the pilot’s seat. "You really want him to explain it again, Jack?"

A deep breath, an unnecessary moment of thought, and Jack exhaled. “No.”

"I didn't think so." Shifting forward, Jacob started flicking switches on the Al’kesh’s console. "We took some damage during the fire fight. Nothing serious, but the integrated display for the heat sensors is off line."

Which meant who knew what. Chin in one hand, elbows propped on the center hub, Jack waited. “… And?”  

"Basically, sir, the sensors are registering positive life signs, but without the display we can’t see how many or where they are.” Carter winced in apology, then held up her finger. “But, just relying on visuals, I can tell you there have been at least six different guards — not Jaffa — coming in and out of the Wadjet chamber over the past ten to twelve minutes. Other than that, there have been no discernible signs of movement."

Jack pointed out the cockpit window. "What about the mothership?"

"As far as I can tell," Jacob said, "she hasn't moved since we left. I don't think she knows we're here — so far. The Iunu ruins are on the opposite side of the moon from Corvee' so our exit from hyperspace shouldn't have been detected. And Teal'c got us close enough to the moon's surface during the two ring transports, that I doubt we have anything to worry about."

"Between atmospheric interference and the density of the moon's core, it would have been almost impossible for them to pick up anything definite," Sam confirmed.

"Exactly." Jacob turned back to Jack. "Unfortunately, the Wadjet's chamber is not so well shielded and sits on the side of Nun that faces Corvee'. No matter how close I get, as soon as I de-cloak for the ring transport, that mothership will have us on her radar. Might as well put a target on our backs."

Or not. Jack straightened, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Not necessarily. Klorel’s not gonna hit us with too much fire power so long as we stay near the chamber. He’s gone to too much trouble to get his hands on this thing to risk blowing it up.”

Lips twisting down just a little, Carter nodded. “Makes sense, sir. But what about the Al’kesh?”

“Shouldn’t take more than a few seconds to ring us onto that rock. Three runs — thirty, forty seconds tops. And as soon as we’re clear, Jake can head for the hills.”

“I can what?” Brow arched, Jacob stared at Jack like he’d grown an extra head — or maybe more like he’d simply lost the one he had.

“I believe O’Neill’s plan is sound.”

“Thanks, T.” Smirking, Jack clapped Teal’c on the shoulder. “There ya’ see, Jacob? You take off, give us half an hour, then come back, pick us up. Piece of cake.”

Jacob’s mouth screwed into a frown. “What flavor?” 

With another smirk, Jack clapped his hands together. “Excellent. I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

"What about the rest of the Goa'uld's fleet?” Nick asked. “We do not know the range of the Wadjet’s power. What if it cannot reach them?" 

"My guess is it won't have to," Jacob answered. "Apophis' fleet was absorbed by the other System Lords after his fall from power. Which means his son, Klorel, would have had to start from scratch. And he wouldn't have been able to recruit enough Jaffa to man an entire fleet without making some serious waves. Our Tok'ra operatives have been keeping very close tabs on all of the System Lords for months — Klorel hasn't even been on the radar."

The muscles along Nick’s jaw bunched and he swallowed. 

“Klorel was supposed to be contacting his fleet every hour right?” Receiving a nod, Jacob shook his head. "I monitored that mothership for over two hours while you guys were on the moon’s surface. She never sent out any long range communications."

Daniel shuffled his gaze from Jacob to Jack and back again. "So… it was just a bluff?"

Jacob shrugged. "Unless he's found some way to communicate telepathically." 

"What about the hologram he used with the Chancellor?" Jack asked.

"Holographic projections have a limited range, Jack. Anything farther away than the moon’s surface and he would have had to piggy back the signal on a long range communications wave." 

"Which you would have been able to get a reading on," Carter said with a nod. "Sir, I think Dad's right."

Teal’c inclined his head. “As do I.”

Satisfied, Jack turned to Nick. "It’s your call."

Muscles unlocking just a fraction, the kid lifted his chin. He nodded. "Do it."

10-22-2004, 09:01 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:01 Zulu
OUTSIDE THE WADJET CHAMBER

The rings retreated. 

P-90 pressed to her shoulder, Sam made a quarter sweep — right, then left. At her back, the General, Teal’c, and Daniel did the same. 

The jagged rocks around the Wadjet's chamber were free of fog this time, improving visibility. The portions of the ground not covered in stone, were soft with moisture, making it easy to spot points of disturbance. There were none.

Catching the General’s eye, Sam nodded. Clear.

He acknowledged her, then directed each of them to move forward and take cover, assuming guard around the ring zone. 

Four steps ahead, Sam dropped to one knee. 

Behind her, the rings descended in a crash of bright light and retreated. Czachowski, Jennifer, Nyan, Marco, and Nykii were left standing in their wake. Sam kept the new arrivals in the periphery of her vision as they fanned out through the rocks. 

Marco took up guard opposite her and held position as she advanced. 

Five steps this time. The rings sounded again. Checking back over her shoulder, Sam assessed the status of the last load — the Guardians. Even as she watched, the five men shifted into the rocks and all but vanished from view. 

Like they were never even there. 

Dad’s voice crackled softly on the radio. “Mothership just deployed two gliders. Headed your way, eleven o’clock.”

The General responded, voice just as low, “Copy that. See you in thirty.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

There was a heavy beat of silence, followed by the whine of charging engines. 

A faint brush of wind ruffled Sam’s hair and tugged at her BDUs. Back draft. She didn’t have to look up to know the Al’kesh was gone. 

Centering her focus, Sam scanned the area. A few meters to her right, she could just make out the glint of the Portal's frame. On the General's cue, she cut closer. With one hand, she snapped open her vest pocket, pulled out a block of C-4, and pressed it against the base. Blasting caps set, she fell back to her former position. 

They were advancing in two teams. General O'Neill had command of the first. Teal'c the second. 

Czachowski, Marco, and the Guardians were with Teal'c. As one, they rose from among the rocks and circled toward the far side of the chamber. They had three minutes.

One hundred eighty seconds.

Sam chewed the inside of her cheek and waited. The hum of approaching gliders rippled through the air.

10-22-2004, 09:04 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:04 Zulu
OUTSIDE THE WADJET CHAMBER

The enemy Gliders circled wide, swept low, and vanished.

The maneuver left Daniel’s ears ringing from the scream of their engines, but other than that…

He checked his watch. Team two still had ten seconds. 

Weight shifting from one bent leg to the other, he waited. Sweat slid between his fingers as he tightened them around his Zat. 

Six seconds. 

Up ahead, Jack held up his hand, fingers ticking down the remaining time.

Five.

Four. 

Three.

Two.

One.

Daniel got to his feet. Less than ten meters and the chamber entrance was in view. Across from them, he caught flashes of movement as Teal'c and his team worked their way through the rocks. 

Voices drifted on the wind. They were coming from inside the chamber. 

Back against the wall, Jack edged toward the first window. 

Daniel licked his lips. Catching Sam's eye, he nodded, motioning her forward. Bent low, she cut through the rocks, and fell in behind Jack. Daniel followed.

On the opposite side of the door, Teal'c and Nykii mirrored their movements. 

Without a sound, Jack pulled back from the window. He held his hand up forming an ‘O’. 

Ten inside.

Jack swung his pointer finger in the direction of the Guardians, Nykii included, and made a fist.

Hold positions.

Lastly, Jack pointed to himself, then made the signs for SG-1 and ‘14. Hand flat, he executed a chopping motion. 
 
On my lead, advance. 

Daniel nodded. Ahead of him, Sam pulled out the C-4 detonator.

10-22-2004, 09:05 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:05 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

The explosion rumbled like thunder. The stone wall at Teal'c's back trembled. 

From within the chamber, there came a chorus of shouts. Six of the ten men O'Neill had spotted raced into the open. The Guardians cut them down in a hail of Zat'nik'tel fire, even as Teal'c and O'Neill entered the rock passageway. Daniel Jackson and Colonel Carter moved in behind them.

Crossing the threshold, O'Neill went right, Teal'c left. Blue lightning streaked from their weapons. The four remaining guardsmen fell to the floor.

Colonel Carter, Daniel Jackson, and the members of SG-14 poured through the entry passage and spread throughout the chamber. 

"All clear, sir," Colonel Carter reported.

"Right. SG-1, Hailey, Nyan, you're with me. Czachowski, Marco, get Nick and set up a perimeter. I want this place sealed."

"Yes, sir," the men responded in unison, already turning toward the door. They never reached their destination.

10-22-2004, 09:05 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:05 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Sam swung toward the entryway at the sound of a shout. 

"General O'Neill!" It was Nykii, his voice all but lost in a spray of Zat'nik'tel fire.

Rushing to the chamber window, Sam's heart plummeted. The Guardians were being overrun — by Jaffa. "Sir!" Weapon already raised, she took aim and fired. 

The report of Zats, staffs, P-90s, and Berettas melded together as her team and '14 joined in the chamber's defense. But the Jaffa kept coming.

There was a dull cry from the doorway and Nykii's weapon went silent. 

Twisting away from the window, Sam made a move toward his position. 

Nyan beat her to it. Arms wrapped around Nykii's chest, he dragged the Commander to safety. A staff blast clipped the edge of the doorway, missing them by inches. 

Reaching the corner of the passage, Sam resumed firing. Flames and streaks of Zat fire pelted the rock walls in return. 

There were too many of them. 

10-22-2004, 09:06 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:06 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Jack cursed. The Guardians were being overrun, Nick was down, and the Wadjet wasn't glowing. 

Which meant he couldn’t do a dang thing to stop any of it.

"Jack?"

"I don't know, Daniel," he ground out. “Captain?”

"I don’t understand, sir,” Hailey yelled back, her voice barely carrying over the weapons fire. “It should have reacted to your presence the moment you came in."  

Jack thumped the pedestal with his open palms. Nothing. He kicked it. Nothing. 

"Sir, I don't think that's going to do it." Hailey dropped to her knees at the pedestal's base. "I'm going to try a power reset."

"Go for it." Jack pulled out his Beretta. He wanted to shoot something and from the sounds of it— 

"Sir, it's gone!"

Turning on his heel, Jack cut back towards Hailey. She was holding what looked like a stone plate in her hand. There was an empty hole at her knees. “What’s gone?”  

"The ZPM — the Wadjet's power source, sir. Someone's taken it!"
 

10-22-2004, 09:06 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:06 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Sam adjusted her stance, angling for a more effective line of fire. It didn’t help. Teal'c joined her in an attempt to keep the entryway secure. But even with his help, the assault didn’t seem to be easing. 

The Jaffa were charging in waves. As soon as those in front of them fell, others surged forward from behind. They just kept coming. And coming. The blasts from their staffs turned the entryway into a ball of flame.

Sam pulled back, heat from the fire singeing her hair. Smoke billowed into the chamber. It was impossible to see. Impossible to breathe. 

And then it was over. 

A body plowed into hers. She went down, knees and left forearm hitting solid rock. A quick roll carried her onto her back and she raised her weapon, but didn’t fire — she didn’t have the chance. A primed staff weapon sizzled in front of her face. The pulse of its energy crawled across her skin. 

10-22-2004, 09:06 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:06 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

"Carter!" The name left Jack's throat the moment he saw her hit the ground. He lifted his Beretta, aimed, but never pulled the trigger. A sudden influx of moving bodies, coupled with the smoke made it impossible for him to get a clear shot. He vaulted over the pedestal. 

Ahead of him, Teal’c made a move on Sam’s attacker and was promptly tackled to the floor as two more Jaffa made it inside.  

After that, the floodgates opened. Jaffa materialized out of the smoke in droves. 

Bodies slammed into Jack. His back hit the wall. The force of the impact left him breathless. Hands grabbed him, wrenching away his weapon and capturing his arms and wrists. His captors’ knees connected with his lower legs, first driving them apart, then trapping them in place against the wall.

10-22-2004, 09:07 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:07 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Daniel locked eyes with an advancing Jaffa. His mind registered the enemy's body language, calculated his speed, and prepared for the attack in the span of a heartbeat. Feint left, cut right, was the plan, followed by a general intention to launch a counter attack — preferably something that involved introducing the Jaffa's head to the stone wall. Because only a diminished level of consciousness on the part of the Jaffa could possibly make this fight fair.

Daniel feinted, cut, and tried not to scream when the Jaffa's shoulder connected with his side and rammed him into the wall. Black dots floated across his vision, and for a moment, the world seemed distant. He blinked. A massive forearm pressed against his collarbone, just missing his airway. The pressure still made it hard to breathe. And harder to resist. It had him so tightly pinned to the wall, Daniel swore he could feel the stone's script etching itself across his shoulders and back.

His attacker said something — a command, a growl, something — and Daniel tried to focus. He found the enemy's face mere inches from his own. A mutilated tattoo that might have once been the brand of Apophis, decorated his forehead.

The chamber suddenly fell silent. The shouts, the relentless stream of weapons fire… all of it choked out in a matter of seconds. Since the enemy Jaffa was still staring Daniel in the face, he guessed it must not be because Jack had suddenly gotten the Wadjet to work.

With a grunt, the Jaffa yanked Daniel away from the wall and forced him to his knees. The muzzle of a staff weapon touched his neck and primed. The accompanying surge of heat and power singed his skin.

This was… not how they'd envisioned things going. At all.

10-22-2004, 09:07 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:07 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Sam was hauled to her knees. 

Beside her, Jaffa pulled Nykii away from Nyan and forced him to kneel under his own power. He wasn’t bleeding or burned as far as Sam could see, but there was a slight tremor to his hands. Zat blast must've been what took him down then. 

She looked around the room. Enemy Jaffa outnumbered them three to one. The General was pinned spread-eagle against one wall. Everyone else was kneeling, primed staffs trained on their backs. 

Outside all was quiet.

A familiar sensation stirred Sam. The hairs on her neck bristled and she felt a surge of panic. Her eyes flew to the General. 

He met her gaze, eyebrow arching in unspoken question. 

Before she could speak or somehow telepathically make him understand, the answer walked through the door — chest covered in gold, brocade cape flowing from his shoulders, and the gold tips of a hand device capping his fingers.

Klorel. The face of his new host was unfamiliar — albeit disturbingly similar to Skaara's in many ways — but between the wardrobe and the strong sensation of a Goa'uld presence, Sam knew she wasn't wrong.

Klorel was accompanied by a Jaffa; his first prime, judging by the gold inlay of his tattoo.

"O'Neill." The Goa'uld's face twisted with pleasure. "I have been waiting for you."

"Have ya' now?" The General's eyes narrowed, even as his mouth bent into a humorless smile.

Stalking forward, Klorel ran his gaze over the General. "When the Chancellor told me of your escape, I had no doubt you would return. The Tau'ri are such notorious fools. Tell me, how does it feel, knowing you have led all of your friends into my trap?"

The General's jaw shifted forward, but he held silent.

Klorel laughed; an ugly, mocking sound. He beckoned to his first prime. "Have them bring in the Chancellor."

Two more Jaffa entered, dragging a man between them. They discarded their prisoner at Klorel’s feet. Wrists chained, clothes torn, the man crawled to his knees. He never lifted his head.

“Laonides?” Nykii sounded horrified. His voice strained and hoarse. “Laonides!”  

Klorel whipped around, attention centering in on Nykii. "Ah, yes. You must be the traitorous Commander. The shol’va. Your Chancellor told me of you.”

At the Goa'uld's feet, Nykii held his head up defiantly. Anger snapped in his eyes. 

Klorel just smiled. “You should know, shol’va, that I have conquered your world. All of you are now my slaves, to do with as I wish." 

Nykii's face flushed. His entire body vibrated, muscles coiled tight and quavering. 

"Nick!" The shout bought General O'Neill Nykii's full attention. The two men stared at each other for a long moment, then the General said simply, "Don't."

"Still you try and protect this slave?" Klorel swung back to the General. His eyes flashed a dangerous amber. "What about your people, O’Neill? Your friends. How far are you willing to go to protect them? How hard will you try?" Klorel stepped closer, one gold tipped finger curving like a hook under the General's chin. "They are mine, O'Neill. All of them. And I shall kill them all… one by one by one."

Anger burned in Sam's chest.

"Unless…" With a shrug, Klorel pulled away. 

"Unless what?" The General spat back.

"Unless, you yield your power to me. Unleash the force of the Wadjet when and where I command. Starting with the homeworld of the Corvee'."

10-22-2004, 09:10 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:10 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Jack knew it was coming; before the yell, before the first move. He also knew that words couldn’t stop it. Not this time. 

Nick vaulted to his feet, body aimed straight at Klorel. For all the good it did him. 

The crystal of Klorel's hand device flared red and Jack felt a faint wash of power brush across his skin — a split second before Nick hit the wall. 

Without regard for the man he'd just knocked senseless, Klorel turned away.

Jack bucked hard against the Jaffa plastering him to the wall. It was pointless. They just tightened their hold. 

Klorel looked… amused. He waved a hand at the Jaffa. "Release him."

Jack curled his mouth. "You may not want to do that." 

Klorel just smiled. "Release him."

The Jaffa backed away. 

Arms falling to his sides, Jack bit back a groan. The sudden rush of blood through his veins felt like a thousand pins pricking his skin. 

Klorel motioned to his first prime. "Replace the power source."

Moving forward, the Jaffa pulled something the size of a thick coaster from beneath his armor. It was shaped like an octagon and seemed to be made of clouded glass — just like the Wadjet.

"As you undoubtedly discovered, I had the power source removed.” Klorel waved a hand over the pedestal. “I could not risk you successfully activating the Wadjet without my consent. Could I?"

Kneeling over the hole Hailey had uncovered, the first prime inserted the ZPM. Immediately, the pedestal began to glow. 

Muffled gasps and murmurs drifted through the chamber. 
 
"And now, O'Neill. You will demonstrate for me the power of the Wadjet."

Crossing his arms, Jack made no move to comply. "And what's to stop me from demonstrating its power on you?"

"The Wadjet is said to hold a force of ever-expanding power. Anyone or anything close to the appointed target will certainly be consumed. So, unleash it upon me and…" Klorel encompassed the room in a gesture. "Your friends will die at your own hands."

Jack clenched his fists. 

Apparently reading this as a capitulation, Klorel moved to stand in front of the Wadjet. "Shall we begin?"

Chapter Text

10-22-2004, 09:13 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:13 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Keeping his steps slow, Jack approached the pedestal. The Wadjet was their only chance. If it was designed the way they thought it was, this could all be over in a matter of seconds. If it wasn't and Klorel was right…

Jack stopped. The pedestal cast an innocent glow over his skin. Jaws clamped together, he worked the muscles until they ached. And placed both hands on the Wadjet. 

It hummed, a mixture of heat and energy tingling against his open palms. The yellow and blue lights intensified. 

With the other Ancient tech Jack had messed with, his thoughts had always been what controlled them. So, he took a deep breath and thought. 

Shield. Big, huge. Massive. 

The thrum of power beneath his hands softened. Fading.

Fear bubbled in his chest. Okay, so not a shield. Something else, something else… 

Debilitate the enemy. Debilitation is good.

The Wadjet's light started to fade. Jack's heart rate doubled. 

Okay, wipe out the enemy then. Just take them out. Simple. Effective.

The light disappeared.

No, no, no. Something else, okay, anything. Don’t wipe them out, just… work!

Klorel shifted, his robes brushing against the pedestal. "You try my patience, O'Neill. Perhaps you do not care for your friends as much as I had thought."

Jack grit his teeth. "Look, I'm trying."

"Are you, O'Neill?"

The question held a threat. Meeting the snakehead’s eyes, Jack felt fingers of ice wrap around his insides. He glared at the Goa’uld with pure, unadulterated hatred — and felt the Wadjet go cold. 

Pulse pounding, Jack stared at his hands. What had he done? 

Klorel turned. With an angry smirk, he pointed at Carter. "Shoot her."

"No!" Jack's world plummeted into a tailspin as a Zat blast hit Carter full in the chest. With a grunt she slumped to the floor. 

The Jaffa standing over her didn’t lower his weapon, but he also didn’t fire again.

She was okay. Carter was okay. He still had a chance to fix this. They could still all make it home, if he could just get this thing to work. Taking a deep breath, Jack closed his eyes. 

And shivered as a surge of warmth caressed his fingers.  

10-22-2004, 09:17 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:17 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Not good. Really, really, not good. 

Open mouthed, Daniel stared at Jack. Unlike Klorel, Daniel had no doubt Jack had sincerely been trying to make the Wadjet work. Given what they suspected about its true purpose, activating it now was their only hope. 

But it hadn't worked. 

Daniel was half-way through a very long and depressing list of the what-could-happen-now's in regard to their future when Jack finally returned his stare. And despite eight years of experience in reading Jack O'Neill, Daniel found himself completely at a loss. He had no idea what his friend was thinking or feeling. It was as if all the tension in Jack had eased. The lines of his face had smoothed. The formerly taut cheek muscles were lax, his lips slightly parted. He seemed struck with a kind of wonder. 

Which was just perfect, given that Klorel was inching closer to Sam by the second and spewing a whole new set of threats.

Threats Jack didn't seem to hear. It was as if he were frozen, focus wholly centered on first Daniel, then Teal'c.

Maybe that's why there were so many warnings on the Wadjet — whoever tried to activate it wound up like… this. Whatever this was.

Traces of a smile touched Jack's mouth. "It's okay, Daniel."

He sounded so certain. So calm. It defied the hard rise and fall of his chest. Jack turned away, gaze falling to Sam. She was just starting to stir.

Without another word, Jack bowed his head.

The Wadjet began to glow. Waves of energy rippled through the chamber, electrifying the air. The light became intense. 

Blood beat a heavy rhythm in Daniel’s ears; acute relief and all consuming dread pounding through his veins. 

A column rose out of the Wadjet's center. Without hesitation, Jack placed his hand on it. The sides of the pedestal immediately began to expand, reaching toward the ceiling and folding outward — encircling Jack. 

Daniel forgot to breathe. 

10-22-2004, 09:19 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:19 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

“Sir!” Sam rolled onto her side. Body still aching from the force of the Zat blast, she struggled to her knees. 

And stopped cold as the tip of a Zat pressed against her neck. She grit her teeth.

In front of her, the Wadjet continued to expand. Its sides were opaque walls of glass, burning with light. They stretched, then locked, sealing the General inside. 

She closed her eyes. 

The pressure on her neck eased. Around her the Jaffa began to shift, hands tightening around their weapons.

A soft gasp somewhere behind her, drew her attention. It was Nykii. He had regained consciousness, and was unsteadily pushing himself into a seated position against the wall. His gaze slid to hers — shaken, devastated.

His world could very well be in flames.

Sam looked away. 

Beneath her, the floor trembled.

10-22-2004, 09:20 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:20 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Still in a kneeling position, Teal'c spread his legs to better maintain his balance. The vibrations intensified.

Outside, there was a shout. Then another and another. 

The Jaffa within the chamber tensed. Several of them retreated, staggering toward the chamber entrance. Violently, the ground began to quake.

"Kill the prisoners!" Klorel ordered. "All of them."

One of the Jaffa at Daniel Jackson's back raised his weapon. Teal'c bent forward and threw himself into a tumble. His body connected with Daniel Jackson, knocking him clear as the staff weapon primed. 

The trigger clicked. 

Teal’c landed on his stomach. The blast intended for his friend should have struck him in the back — but it did not. 

It did not strike at all. Not on the ground, not on the walls. 

"Kill them!" Klorel commanded again.

Teal’c surveyed the chamber. All of the Jaffa stood frozen, poised to kill their prisoners. Their faces appeared perplexed and several shook their weapons. 

With an angry cry, Klorel raised his hand device. He aimed directly at Colonel Carter. She flinched in preparation for the strike — as did Teal’c — but it never came. The crystal at the center of the Goa'uld's palm remained inert. 

Teal’c hesitated on the verge of taking action. If the enemies’ weapons were without power— 

The light of the Wadjet funneled into a single, blinding beam. It flowed like liquid, slow and thick, stretching through the air; ever-expanding. Then in an instant, it flashed over the chamber.

Klorel screamed.

Teal'c closed his eyes against the light’s brilliance. Beneath his chest, he felt the chamber's stone floor crack. A deafening sound, like a rushing wind, split the air. 

The room thundered into silence.

10-22-2004, 09:20 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:20 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Uncovering his ears, Daniel risked lifting his head. The intense light from the Wadjet was gone. Its absence left the chamber in shadows. Daniel blinked. Light and dark slowly equalized, bringing the world back into focus. That’s when he saw it — or rather when he didn’t see it.

Klorel and his Jaffa were gone.

Daniel jerked upright. Legs pinned under Teal’c’s weight, he didn’t get very far. Blindly, he reached behind him, hands searching for his friend. “Teal’c?” His hands found a well muscled shoulder and he gave it a squeeze. “Teal’c, look.” 

In the far corner, he spotted the Royal Guards they’d taken down during the assault — the only enemy that remained untouched. Apparently, the Wadjet — or Jack — had opted to spare them. 

The man Klorel had called ‘Chancellor’ had also been spared. Frozen in an apparent state of shock, he sat exactly where he’d fallen, staring at his hands. The chains were gone.

Nyan and the rest of the SG-14 started climbing to their feet — movements slow, faces stunned. 

Daniel could relate.

Already standing, Teal’c extended his hand. “Daniel Jackson.” 

Accepting the offer, he gripped Teal’c’s arm and pulled himself off the floor.

Across from them, Sam knelt close to Nykii. Her hands moved along his head and torso, probing for injuries. But her eyes were less focused; they tracked her fingers, then darted to the Wadjet, Daniel, Teal’c, and back again. The looks were brief, but the uncertainty they carried was all too clear.  

“Should not the Wadjet once again reduce in size?” Teal’c asked. 

Daniel didn’t answer. He couldn’t. With barely a sidelong glance, he pulled away from Teal’c and stepped closer to the Wadjet. The seam where the sides had latched together formed a raised line. He touched it.

They couldn’t lose Jack this way. They couldn’t.

Dully, the Wadjet began to glow. A muffled chink sounded under Daniel’s fingers, followed by an unexpected quiver of power. He jerked back.  

With a rumble, the sides of the Wadjet pulled apart.

10-22-2004, 09:21 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:21 Zulu
WADJET CHAMBER

Jack was trapped. Drowning. Falling. 

Power and heat screamed through his veins, his mind, his hands. His Team, he had to save them. And the children. Little-Carter, Benn, Perrin… Charlie. He almost sobbed. No, not Charlie. 

Focus. For Carter. For Daniel. For Teal’c. 

For Nick. 

The power flowing through him surged. Heat became fire. Overwhelming, consuming.  

Then it stopped. 

The sudden loss of power made his body convulse. He fell to his knees. Awareness slipped, faded. The pull of unconsciousness was strong. He couldn't think of a reason to stay. Except…

A voice cut through the blackness. Deep, firm, demanding. It snatched Jack from the edge. Sucking in a breath — the first it seemed in a long, long time — he opened his eyes. Blobs of color snapped into perfect, familiar shape. "Teal'c?" 

The big guy grinned. Actually grinned. 

And suddenly Jack didn’t feel like he was drowning. "Did we win?"

"We did indeed."

Daniel pressed into Jack’s line of sight. His face had that giddy, sappy look. Grinning, he said, "Hey, Jack. Welcome back."

And maybe that sappy look wasn’t so bad after all. Jack swallowed. 

There was some shuffling and Carter appeared. Her fingers touched Jack’s neck at the pulse point, then pressed against his forehead. With a shaky smile, she sat back. "It's good to see you, sir."

He half-grinned. "Back at 'cha." 

"Jack…” Daniel hesitated, eyes searching Jack’s. “What happened?"

“The Wadjet worked. I guess.” Shrugging, Jack looked away. Planting his hands on the ground, he pushed to his feet. The world tilted a bit, his joints bending like rubber. Three pairs of arms reached out to help him, but the unsteadiness passed as quickly as it hit. He waved them off. “M’good.” 

"Jack?"

Or he would be if Daniel would just leave it alone. He shot the archaeologist a purposefully blank look. “What?”

Daniel sighed, briefly studying the ceiling before once again centering in on Jack. “The Wadjet shutdown. I saw it. And then— and then you just… the look I saw on your face... What happened, Jack?”

“I also am most curious, O’Neill.”

Carter nodded. “So am I, sir.” 

And they deserved to know. Jack owed them that much — and more. Swallowing back a groan, he blew out a breath. "Fine. It wasn't a shield, okay? It was a weapon, but…" Eyes trailing to the floor, he rubbed at the back of his neck. "Look, have ya' ever heard the saying 'a true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because—' " Jack broke off, exhaled, rolled his shoulders.

“‘But because he loves what is behind him’,” Daniel murmured. “G.K. Chesterton.”

“Sir, do you mean—”

“I don’t know what I mean, Carter. I just know I wanted that thing to wipe out the bad guys and it wouldn’t. It shutdown completely. But after you got shot, I…” Jack waved his arms wide, then buried his hands in his pockets. “I guess it decided what I really wanted was…” 

“To protect us.” Teal’c said the words for him.

And Daniel picked it up from there. “It must have been programmed to interpret the user’s motivations. Once it knew you were acting out of a desire to save, not destroy, it came back to life.”

An uncomfortable warmth flushed along Jack’s neck. 

Daniel kept talking. "That force, the all consuming power, without depth — that wasn't the Wadjet. That was you. That's why it couldn't be measured."  

"Explains why the ZPM was so small,” Carter said, her voice almost soft. “The level of power it reaches depends on the heart of the person using it."

And if that statement didn’t make this whole thing an emotional train wreck just waiting to happen, Jack didn’t know what did. He cleared his throat, hand practically rubbing his neck raw, and glanced around the room. Everyone was staring at him: his Team, SG-14, Nick. 

Nick. Striding forward, Jack looked the kid up and down. He was on his feet, one hand pressed against the wall, his face clouded with pain — pain Jack suspected had little to do with his physical condition.

Nick swallowed. “My family… did it reach them? Were you able to—"

"SG-1, come in."

Squeezing Nick’s arm, Jack keyed his mic. “Go ahead.” 

"Jack? What’s your status? ”

Jack craned his neck for a view out one of the chamber windows. All five of Nick’s Guardians were up and moving under their own power. He half-smiled. “All teams present and accounted for.”

"Good. Now, you want to tell me what’s going on? "

"What do you mean?"

"A band of white light just took out Klorel's mothership and shot into the Corvee’ mountains." 

"General O'Neill…" Nick’s fingers tangled in Jack’s sleeve. 

 He was way ahead of him. "Jacob, we have to get down there. Think you can hook us up with a ride?"

"On my way."

Chapter Text

10-21-2004, 17:28 OWT
10-21-2004, 16:28 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

The Al'kesh ride was short. The trek through the bombed out forest even shorter.   

Jack cleared the waterfall a pace behind Nick. They skidded down the rock slope together and hit the street at a run. The city had been ravaged. Overturned carts cluttered the streets. Fences had been torn down, the houses partially burned or destroyed. Jack recognized the pattern: house to house search and destroy. 

The one thing Jack didn't see was the people. A handful of Guardians and Royal Guardsman could be seen wandering through what was left of the city's structures. Some of them were wounded, but most just looked confused. Listless. There wasn't a woman or child in sight.

Nick raced ahead. His home was at the top of the next hill — what was left of it. 

"Saskia!"

Smoke curled through the windows. Nothing else stirred. 

Jack kept running. His calves burned as each of his steps fell harder than the last. 

"Benn! Perrin!" Nick ran up the pathway. He bypassed the house and went straight for a yawning opening in the cavern wall just beyond. 

Jack had vague memories of Nick talking to SG-1 about some kind of shelters. This must be one of them. It certainly hadn’t been visible the first time Nick had brought Jack home.

It also hadn’t been scorched black from staff fire.

Bracing his arms against the stone opening, Nick yelled out again. "Saskia!"  

The silence pierced Jack's heart. He stopped running. No — no, no, no. He wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs.

Nick staggered back from the cave. “Saskia!”

The name echoed back at them. Over and over. 

Then Jack heard it; soft, out of place, but there. Movement.

Nick froze, shoulders going taut. He'd heard it, too. 

There was a crack of timber slapping against rock. 

“Nykii?”

"Saskia," Nick whispered the name, hope and disbelief in the same breath. “Saskia!”

From behind the ruins of what had once been Nick’s home, a figure stepped into view. Her dress was torn, there was a bloody knife in her hand and soot smearing her face, but she was alive. Saskia saw Nick, stabbed the knife high into a charred support beam and started running.

Nick was already in motion, covering the distance between them in moments. He caught her in his arms. Fingers tangling in her hair, he kissed her deeply — desperate, hungry. A dying man suddenly finding breath. 

A shadow separated itself from among the ruins where Saskia had appeared. It was holding a staff weapon. 

Jack reached for his Beretta on instinct, then stood down as he caught his first clear look a the newcomer. It was Benn. 

Around the kid’s legs more shadows took shape: Joss, Te’ev, Little-Carter. Perrin stepped clear last, baby Jaya clutched to her chest. 

Holding on to his wife’s hand, Nick knelt and opened his free arm wide. And just like before, the kids enveloped him. 

Jack diverted his eyes. He looked at the rocks, the burned out house, the dirt. But his gaze kept straying back to Nick and his family. Saskia was the only one who noticed him.

Tucking her head, she hurried down the path, wrapped Jack in a hug, and whispered, "Thank you." 

He swallowed. And gently laid a hand on her back. "For what?"

Something that sounded like a sob turned into a laugh and she pulled away. 

At the same time, small hands started tugging at his pant’s leg. It was Little-Carter. Crouching down to her level, Jack brushed a hand over her curls. "Hey, sweetheart."

Her big, blue eyes stared at him — very serious and very wide. "You brought Uncle Nykii back to us."

"Yeah, well, I had a little help." Jack glanced over his shoulder. They’d left the Guardians behind to take care of the Chancellor and his men, but all of Jack’s people were there — SG-1, ‘14, Jacob. 

With a smile, he turned back to Little-Carter. 

Face still serious, she bobbed onto her toes and reached both hands around his neck. 

Jack scooped her up without a second thought. Her legs wound around his waist as he stood, and her arms gripped him just a bit tighter. 

"O’Neill."

Shifting Little-Carter onto his hip, Jack pivoted to face Teal'c.

Wordlessly, his friend pointed him toward the cavern wall — and the gaping openings appearing one by one. Cave after hidden cave.  

“They are opening the shelters,” Saskia said. 

Jack arched an eyebrow. “They?”

Saskia smiled and gestured back to the cavern wall. 

It took him a second, but then he saw it: people. Everywhere. Men, women, children — all seemingly melting out of the darkness. Hundreds of them.

"Jaya was crying," Saskia murmured. "That is how the Jaffa were able to find us. They broke through the shelter’s seal. If it had not been for the light that came…" With a toss of her head, she wrapped an arm about her waist. “You saved us, General O’Neill. All of us.”

EIGHTEEN HOURS LATER

10-22-2004, 11:15 OWT
10-22-2004, 10:15 Zulu
CORVEE’ HOMEWORLD

They’d spent three hours helping the Corvee’ tend to their wounded, and five hours effecting emergency repairs to their streets and homes. Seven hours of rest; two hours spent eating breakfast with Nick’s family and playing with the children; one hour packing all of the artifacts the Corvee’ scientists had insisted on giving the SGC’s geeks; and fifteen minutes to walk out of the mountain.

Jack slowed his steps. The open field beyond the trees was in view — so was the Al’kesh. It hovered low in the sky, ready for them to ring aboard. 

Several meters ahead, Jacob and SG-14 crossed out of the forest into the open. 

Jack stopped. His Team, Nick, and Saskia stopped with him. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he rocked onto his heels. "So, Nick, what happens now?"  

“We rebuild.” Nick smiled, one arm curving around his wife. “The Corvee’ are a giving and resilient people, General O’Neill. Our future will be good.”

Saskia leaned into Nick’s touch. "Laonides has stepped aside as Chancellor. The Guardians have already begun petitioning the Council to appoint Nykii in his stead."

"All right," Jack grinned. "That's great."

Eyes trailing to the horizon, then to the ground, Nick shrugged. "I have never considered the possibility of leading our people in that way. I do not know that I am the right choice."

"Are you kidding?" Jack thumped the kid’s — man’s — shoulder. "Leader of the Guardian Forces, I think you'd make a great Chancellor." 

Nick shook his head, but the corners of his mouth kicked up just a little. "Thank you for all you have done for us."

“You’re welcome. And, hey, don’t forget this,” Jack pulled out one of their radios and handed it to Nick. “If you ever need any help, just make it to a Stargate and give us a call. Carter rigged this up with a Naquadah battery, so it should be good to go for, oh, at least a decade or ten.”

Fingers wrapping around the handheld, Nick looked straight at Jack. "And if we call, you will come back?"

Something twisted in Jack’s chest, but he nodded. “If I can.” He skittered a glance over his Team. “I, ah, have a feeling I may be… reassigned after all this. But someone will come.” His eyes tracked back to his Team. “So…”

Carter and Daniel shifted, gazes falling to their boots.

Teal’c stood tall. And promptly changed the subject. “Now that your people are aware of the Wadjet’s ability and its functions, it may be possible for you to cease living in secrecy.”

“He’s right,” Carter said, latching onto the change of subject with enthusiasm. “The Ancient gene isn’t as rare as you might think. Someone among your citizens probably has it."

"Several someones, even," Daniel added. "And if you need some help or want to learn more about the technology, like Jack said, just give us a call. We’ll be glad to help.”

Nick nodded. “Thank you. We will.”

With a bow, Teal’c turned and headed for the Al’kesh. Carter and Daniel followed.

Jack didn’t move. Staring after his teammates, he just… lingered.

Nick clasped his forearm. "Be safe, General O'Neill.” 

Jack gripped him back. "Be safe, Commander Nykii." The correct pronunciation earned him an arched eyebrow and a laugh. Pulling away, Jack smirked. “And, Nykii, the name’s Jack.”

Nick grinned a bit wider. "Be safe, Jack."

“Yeah. You, too.” Waving good-bye to Saskia, he smiled at them both, and walked away.

CORVEE’ AIRSPACE
10-22-2004, 10:30 Zulu
ON BOARD THE AL’KESH

Carter walked into the Al’kesh’s forward chamber, a smudge of grease on her cheek. "Sir, there's a problem with the hyperdrive. Teal'c's keeping us on course traveling at sub-light for now, but it may take us a couple of hours to reach PR9-296."

"PR-what?"

"PR9-296. It's the closest unoccupied world with an active Stargate. Captain Hailey and I have been trying to get the hyperdrive back online, but several of the crystals are completely burned out."

Seated on the floor, arms propped on his knees, Jack gave her a tired smile. "No hurry, Carter." They could even go backwards for a while, take the scenic route. A few extra hours of freedom wouldn't bother Jack a bit. 

Carter must have read his thoughts. Her face clouded. "Sir—"

He strengthened his smile and waved her off. "You've got an engine to fix, Colonel."

Lifting her chin, she nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Jack watched her leave. Resting his head against the wall, he closed his eyes and listened. The voices of his other teammates and the rest of SG-14 drifted in from the cockpit. Daniel and Nyan were having an intense discussion about Ancient Egypt's Neolithic period. Czachowski and Marco were swapping plans about what they were going to do first when they got home. Teal'c could be heard rumbling an 'indeed' from time to time, though exactly which conversation he had embroiled himself in, Jack couldn't tell. The big guy had a steal trap for a mind. It wouldn't surprise Jack if he was actually attending to both exchanges at the same time.

Jack heaved a contented sigh. The traitorous image of a dozen MPs waiting for him when he stepped through the 'Gate shook his contentment. 

Hungry for some kind of a distraction, he reached for his pack. He’d left it on board the Al’kesh during his first trip to Iunu’s surface and — despite how the rest of his life seemed to have been turned upside down — his pack had somehow managed to stay put. Main compartment unzipped, he fished inside for something interesting. Yo-yo, pack of cards, crossword puzzle, anything. 

What he found was a legal pad. And a pen. He stared at them. 

The constant murmur of his friend's voices babbled in his ears. Marco was laughing. 

"Jack?"

He looked up to find Daniel hovering in the doorway. "Tired of Egypt’s Neolithic period already?"

As usual, Daniel ignored his question. He stepped closer and dropped down onto the floor. “So, G.K. Chesterton.”

Jack bristled. “What? I read?”

Smiling, Daniel leaned back against the wall. He slanted his eyes toward Jack. “You doing okay?”

"Yeah sure. Great. Why?"

Nodding in a way that suggested he didn’t believe a word Jack said, Daniel propped his arms on bent knees. "You know, we didn't come all this way just to bring you back for court martial. We'll find a way to stop this."

Jack drew in a deep breath. He’d broken enough rules to have himself shot. Twice. But maybe… he rolled the pen between his fingers. 

"What's the legal pad for?" Daniel asked.

Jack uncapped the pen. Sparing his friend a glance, he bent over the pad and started writing. "A long shot, Danny. A very long shot.”

10-22-2004, 07:13 MDT
10-22-2004, 13:13 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 27

George Hammond drew himself to his full height. As expected, Arthur Kingman had returned before the allotted seven days. And he hadn't come alone. Two MPs stood at his side. 

With a snap of his wrist, Kingman unfolded a piece of paper. "I have a warrant here for General O'Neill's arrest."

"On what charge?" Reynolds asked.

"Not charge, Colonel. It's charges." Adjusting his glasses, Kingman read a few of the warrant’s highlights. "Being absent without leave, misappropriation of government property, willful disobedience of superior officers. And I have a feeling once we find O'Neill we will be able to add a few more violations to the list." 

"We told you, General O'Neill went to the Alpha site," Reynolds said.

“Yes, where he conveniently became ‘unaccounted for’. Now, please do not misunderstand me, gentlemen. I am in no way accusing either of you of collusion. General O’Neill is your comrade and I sympathize with your desire to, shall we say, present him in a more desirable light.” An apologetic smile crossed Kingman’s face. “But let’s be honest — this trip to Alpha was never about their inspection tour. General O’Neill left that planet under his own power after rendezvousing with what I think we can safely assume was a representative of the Tok’ra. You know it and I know it.” Expression narrowing, Kingman studied Reynolds, then George. His polite, almost caring, pretense slipped. “Take heed, gentlemen. Further loyalty to a man such as O’Neill may prove detrimental — to you both.”

George shifted his eyes to Reynolds. The man appeared to be contemplating an act of violence on Mr. Kingman's person. He wasn’t alone. Add conduct unbecoming and assault and battery to that possible list of detrimental side effects — for them both. 

Before the situation could come to a head, Walter's voice sounded over the PA. "Unscheduled off-world activation! Repeat unscheduled off-world activation. Colonel Reynolds to the control room." 

Reynolds brushed past Kingman and bolted toward the stairway. George followed. He came off the stairs at a near run and immediately started scanning. The iris was closed, a handful of SFs stationed around the ramp's base. 

Boots clanged on the staircase behind him. He spared a backward glance and pursed his lips at the sight of Kingman and his MPs. 

"What've we got, Sergeant?" Reynolds asked.

"Receiving IDC now, sir. It's SG-1." There was an edge of excitement to Walter's usually monotone voice. 

“Open the iris.” Reynolds keyed the intercom. “Stand down.”

The SFs complied, lowering their weapons as the wormhole was exposed. A cast of pale, blue light spread across the Gate room. The event horizon shimmered.  

Hands knotting into fists, George waited.  

Colonel Carter stepped through the wormhole. Behind her came Doctor Jackson and Teal'c. They scanned the control room, then exchanged tense looks. They’d spotted the MPs.

The puddle fluctuated and Jacob appeared. His gaze locked onto George. With a nod, he flashed a thumbs up. 

Something tight loosened in George's chest. 

The surface of the event horizon stilled, then broke into a series of competing ripples as four people walked through the ‘Gate.  

A murmur of excitement and a few dozen intakes of breath shivered across the control room. 

"What is it?" Kingman asked. "Who are they?"

Looking the man in the eye, George said, "That, sir, is SG-14."

Kingman blanched. Face and voice turning critical, he demanded, “If that is SG-14, where is General O’Neill?”

“We have one traveler still incoming, sir,” Walter answered. 

One more traveler. George stared at the open ‘Gate. It fluctuated quietly, then shimmered yet again. 

General Jack O'Neill stepped onto ramp.   

Cheers erupted in the control room. Reynolds and Walter pumped their fists, and someone threw papers into the air. The impromptu confetti sifted down moments later, peppering Kingman and his MPs.

George just grinned. His people — and they were still his people — had made it home. All of them. Safe.   

Clapping Reynolds on the shoulder, George led off down the side stairs to the Gate room.

10-22-2004, 07:16 MDT
10-22-2004, 13:16 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 28

Jack moved down the ramp. His Team surrounded him, pressing in close. Their presence made his gut churn a little bit less, even knowing what was coming. Those MPs in the control room — they were there for him.  

The Gate room door opened. Hammond and Reynolds rushed in, followed by the MPs and a guy in a tailored suit. 

Tailored Suit spoke first. "O'Neill? General Jack O'Neill?" 

Something in the man’s tone made Jack tense, but he kept his face neutral. "You got it." 

The response earned him an almost amused twitch of the lips. Tailored Suit held up a paper. "In that case, General O'Neill, I have a warrant here for your arrest." 

Around him, Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c stiffened. Tension vibrated off of them in waves. 

And they weren’t the only ones. From behind him, Jack heard the members of SG-14 shift further down the ramp. 

"What are you talking about?" Czachowski's temper was already flaring. "General O'Neill saved our lives." 

Tailored Suit remained impassive. "I have no doubt that is true, Major. But the fact still stands that in doing so, General O'Neill violated direct orders given him by his superiors, misappropriated government funds, went AWOL — I could go on."

"Sir, is that true?" Captain Hailey asked, managing to sound both grateful and horrified.

Jack didn't answer her. He kept his attention trained on Tailored Suit. The guy was a smarmy shrub, but he was also right — and he knew it. Jack was guilty. Maybe if he hadn’t been, he could have faced his people. Could have handled hearing the shock in their voices, the upset. 

Jack stepped off the ramp and shouldered his way past SG-1's line of defense. His gaze skittered over Reynolds, then Hammond. He handed his weapon off to an SF hovering nearby, unclipped his pack, and nodded at the MPs. "Let's go." 

"Hold on, Jack." Hammond blocked the MPs’ path with a hand, then turned to Tailored Suit. "Mr. Kingman, before you execute that warrant, I think there are a few facts you should be made aware of."

"I have been thoroughly briefed on all of the facts, General, including O’Neill’s somewhat colorful record. By all rights, he should have been discharged years ago — at the very least. You cannot expect the Joint Chiefs to continue to overlook such blatant misconduct." Kingman again held up the warrant. “I’m afraid this time General O’Neill has broken one too many rules.” 

Widening his stance, Reynolds folded his arms. "Has he?" 

It was more of a challenge than a question, and Jack wasn't sure what to make of that. So far, he couldn't honestly disagree with anything Kingman had said. 

But apparently Hammond could. He called up to the control room. "Sergeant?"

Nodding, Walter hurried away from his station. 

Jack watched him go, then looked back at Hammond. "Sir—"

The man silenced him with a glance. Addressing himself to Tailored Suit, Hammond said, "I think you'll find, Mr. Kingman, that General O'Neill was on personal leave as of eleven-hundred hours, October nineteenth."

Jack felt his world rock. What? 

"That is impossible,” Kingman said, “There is nothing in the record to indicate—"

Walter trotted through the Gate room door, folder in hand. "Here you are, sir." 

Taking the document, Kingman spared Hammond a narrowed look. He opened the folder. A vein along his temple bulged. "This cannot be." 

Craning forward, Jack saw a single sheet of paper — a personal leave form — with his signature on the bottom. 

"I'm sorry, sir," Walter said. "The triplicate copies were evidently never passed through the proper channels after General Jumper approved the original — this one."

“Which, as you can see, was dually signed,” Hammond tapped the lower portion of the page, "on August 29th of this year."

General Jumper?  Jack had gone to him over two and half months ago with that request, but the dates...

Hammond continued. “I think you will agree, Mr. Kingman, that this alters the situation.”

“It does — to a point.” Mouth tightening, Kingman carefully closed the folder. “But it does not excuse O’Neill’s behavior in purposefully misleading those under his command, specifically Colonel Pierce. This absurd fabrication of going fishing—”

"Was true. He and I went together." Jacob smirked, first at Jack then at SG-14. "Caught just what we went after, too."

With a hint of irritation, Kingman arched his brow. “And you are?”

"General Jacob Carter United States Air Force, retired. Currently serving as Tok'ra ambassador to Earth."

Kingman inclined his head, wordlessly backing down a step — just a step. "Be that as it may, Ambassador, we are still left with the fact that O’Neill traveled to the Alpha site — utilizing government property and funds — under the guise of performing an official duty. An official duty he never intended to execute.”

The Alpha inspection tour. The one thing Hammond, Reynolds, and Walter had apparently not been able to account for. 

Jack cleared his throat. And slowly unzipped his pack. The motion attracted the attention of the MPs, but he just held up a non-threatening hand and passed the open bag to Hammond. “There’s a legal pad on top, sir. I believe Mr. Kingman may be interested in seeing it.”

Accepting the pack, Hammond took out the pad. He glanced over the front sheet, shared a quick smile with Jack, and handed it to Kingman.

“It’s all there,” Jack said. “Full report. Needs to be typed up, of course, and there are a few things I’ll need to go over with Colonel Pierce, but other than that…”

Kingman flipped through the sheets, page after page. His face flushed a subtle shade of red. "As convenient as all of this is, gentlemen, we are still left with O’Neill’s intentional violation of a direct order. Positive though the results may have been, such flagrant disregard of the military chain of command cannot be overlooked."

"Perhaps,” Hammond said. “But an officer can hardly be found guilty of violating an order he never received. And, if you will recall, Mr. Kingman, you never officially delivered that order."

Lips bending in a rueful smile, Kingman nodded. He handed the legal pad back to Hammond, thumbed the warrant one last time and tucked it inside his jacket. "This isn't over."

Hammond offered a smile of his own. "Oh, I think it is."

Eyes narrowing behind his glasses, Kingman turned on his heel and left the Gate room. The MPs followed suit.

The cheers that erupted this time drowned out the sounds of their footsteps.

TWO HOURS LATER

10-22-2004, 09:17 MDT
10-22-2004, 15:13 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 27

Jack walked down the hallway. In spite of everything he wasn't particularly tired, but his steps were slow all the same. 

The medical team had prodded and poked him with every instrument, needle, and penlight they could find. They'd gone over SG-14, too, of course. Apparently, finding out alien devices had been implanted and then removed from their patients’ spines was rather upsetting. But it was the little tidbit about Jack ripping a hole in his lung and almost dying that had really set them off. After a couple hours of diligent searching, though, they'd finally given him a clean bill of health. No apparent side effects. Go figure.

The briefing room door came into view. Hammond was inside, seated at the head of the table. Flashbacks of the few hundred times he'd seen that same sight through the years hit Jack in an instant. He reached the doorway, hesitated, then knocked. "Sir?"

Hammond looked up with a smile. "It's George now, Jack. Remember?"

Wincing, Jack snapped his fingers. "I'll have to work on that." He stepped into the room and took the chair next to Hammond. Arms propped on the table, he drummed his fingers. 

"What is it, son?"

He tapped the table top, something between a frown and a smile warring for control of his mouth. He locked eyes with Hammond. "That form." 

The man huffed a laugh. "I can't take credit for that."

"Walter?"

Hammond nodded. "General Jumper did say you could take that week of leave any time you wanted. Sergeant Harriman merely took the liberty of filling in the dates for you."

Only slightly shocked, Jack shook his head. "I am going to have to write that man into my will."

"At least." Hammond leaned back in his chair. "What were you planning on doing with all that leave, Jack?"

Attention fixed on the table, he arched an eyebrow, shrugged. "I, ah, I've been thinking of asking SG-1 up to the cabin. Thought we might do a little fishing. I’m not sure if they’ll want to come or not, but…" 

"They’ll want to come, Jack."  

He lifted his head. "Ya' think?"

With a grin, Hammond patted Jack's arm. "Welcome home, son."

Chapter Text

THREE WEEKS LATER

11-05-2004, 13:16 OWT
11-05-2004, 11:16 Zulu
PR5-381

It had taken four Team nights, three pizzas, two packs of Guinness, and one very large cake, mixed with lots of begging by a certain archaeologist, but the General had finally agreed to give PR5-381 a look. Too bad all that bribery hadn't miraculously endowed Historic-Dust-Bowl-Whatever with any new virtues.

Sighing, Sam let her gaze drift from yet another monotonous stretch of desert to the pale sky overhead. The planet's twin suns had reached their zeniths. Not a breeze stirred the air.

The stillness made every word ring clear like cut glass.

"It's weather, Daniel."

"No, Jack, it— it's history."

"Oh c’mon. It's the weather channel in long hand. Who even does that?"

"I admit the subject matter isn’t the most intriguing or relevant, but—"

"They didn't even take down the commercials."

"Jack."

"Those are the best part."

"Jack."

"What?"

"One team. That's all I ask. We can have these stones tagged and cataloged in a day."

"Yes, and why are we supposed to do that again?"

"Because these texts are... amazing."

"Amazing."

"Yes."

Silence. The first moment of silence they'd had since stepping through the 'Gate. Sam couldn't believe her ears. Had Daniel just won? Turning away from the horizon, she locked eyes with Teal'c. 

He arched an eyebrow. 

Together they looked toward their teammates. 

One hand rubbing at the back of his neck, Daniel stood in hopeful anticipation. 

Across from him, the General cocked a hip. Propping an arm on his P-90, he stared down at the tiles. His head tilted left, then right. 

More silence.

Daniel shifted on his feet. “Well?”

"Nope. Not seein' it, Danny."

With a huff, Daniel flew into a series of protests, arms gesticulating wildly. 

Sam grinned. 

So did Teal’c. With a slight nod, he turned his attention back to the horizon.

Sam followed suit. "You know, Teal'c, some things just never change."

"Indeed."

Grin widening, Sam took a deep breath. The stale air entered her lungs, heavy and thick. She kept grinning anyway. 

"Daniel, it's a checkerboard. A giant, weather scribbled checkerboard. Somehow I don’t think we’re gonna find the ‘meaning of life’ here."

"Oh, I don't know. We might." 

"Aw, for cryin' out loud."

"No, no really, I mean, it's possible. Not probable, but that’s beside the point. The point is, it could be here.”

"Daniel, so help me—"

Sam tuned out the General's threat and stared once more at the sky. For all its monotony, there were things about this planet she was starting to like. Maybe Daniel’s theory wasn’t so improbable after all.

THE END