Drowning.
By Sealie
I’d
like to dedicate this to Celeste who beta’d it stringently.
Rating:
PG15
Daniel
absently polished his glasses, buffing them on the edge of his t-shirt as Jack
O’Neill ran through his pre-mission warm up of jokes, insults and diatribes.
Daniel was fairly sure that he had the colonel pegged in the few weeks they had
been teamed; Jack O’Neill hid a soft centre behind a clownish façade. But
protecting the soft centre was a bulkhead that you needed grappling hooks to
get over. The thought of scaling it gave him a headache sometimes, even if Jack
had given him the climbing equipment necessary.
"Contact
lenses would be so much easier."
Jack
had turned away from tormenting Teal’c and unerringly sought a softer opponent.
Daniel withheld a sigh, his allergies were giving him Hell, he wanted to go
through the ‘gate to the promised coastal ecosystem where there were no blooming trees or flowers, or whatever it was that
was making his sinuses ache.
"Jack,
what is the most defining thing about me?" he asked tiredly.
O’Neill
leaned closely. "Geek?"
"Apart from that."
"Sneezy geek?"
Daniel
nodded as if teaching a rather stupid freshman. "I mean think about it – you’re
sneezing, you feel like your head’s been caught in a vice, you’ve got what
feels like dry sand in your eyes and your chest feels like you’ve got a bucket
of wet sand on top of it. And you want me to stick pieces of plastic
in my eyes?"
"You’re
no fun." Despite the jocularity of his words, he peered closely at the
archaeologist. "You want to sit this one out? It’s just a geological
survey."
Daniel
blew his nose like a trumpet. "No, the antihistamines will kick in soon.
Janet’s given me some new ones – fenox-something or other. I should have
grabbed a shower before kitting up; that would have helped."
"Chevrons
engaged!" The announcement came over the loudspeaker.
The
team automatically stepped back as the wormhole engaged, the event horizon
momentarily destabilising and kawooshing out into the embarkation room.
"Here
we go, campers." Jack cast an assessing glare at
Daniel. The linguist shrugged and set his floppy Boonie hat firmly on his head
before trooping up the ramp after Teal’c. Exhaling, he stepped through the
horizon. He could have sworn that he felt his body disintegrating into its
component particles, even though Sam swore that conscious thought wasn’t
possible in the wormhole. If conscious thought was not possible, how was he
thinking…?
Hot
air hit him in the face as he was spewed out of the event horizon. Flailing his
limbs, he twisted, rolling down the Stargate’s rocky pedestal. He was just
about to roll off the pedestal when he came up sharply against an immovable
object. Teal’c leaned down and picked him up. Amazingly Daniel’s hat had
remained on his head. He sneezed resoundingly, feeling as if he was really
clearing out his tubes.
"Bless
you," Teal’c said as he set himself up to catch the other members of their
party as they emerged.
"Whoa."
O’Neill was flung out of the wormhole and rolled head over heels down the stony
incline. Sam followed with an unladylike squawk. Teal’c caught the captain as
Jack rolled off the pedestal and disappeared out of view.
"Jack!"
Daniel crawled to the edge and peered over. The colonel lay flat on his back a
meter below pillowed on damp sand. "Are you all right?"
"For crying out loud! Why didn’t you say that his damn thing was on
its side?"
"Sorry, sir. It must have subsided since the MALP came
through."
The
MALP sat peacefully on top of a rock that was now several body lengths away
from the Stargate.
"Jack,
are you all right?" Daniel asked.
"Yes,"
he snapped and rose deftly to his feet, his weapon ready.
Relieved,
Daniel finally took stock. The Stargate sat on an off kilter pedestal that
overlooked a golden, sandy cove. The DHD was on another rocky outcrop separated
from the Stargate by a rift filled with sand. Judging by the seaweeds and
jellyfish growing near the edge, when the tide came in it brushed the channel.
But it was the stretch of sand that drew the eye. A natural rock pier
projecting into warm blue waters, bracketed the sandy cove.
"Wow."
Jack turned in a circle. The sky, arching overhead was a pure blue and low on
the horizon binary moons beckoned. "No trees."
Daniel
craned his neck, looking at the bluffs overhead. The narrow ribbon of beach met
sheer cliffs, which rose thousands of metres above their heads "I bet you
that there’s trees up there."
"Carter,
check the DHD, if this thing’s shifted we may have lost a connection or two or
three."
"Yes, sir." Sam was already picking her way down the jaggy rocks
to the DHD. The rocks were covered in green algae and a small crustacean
scurried out from under a rock. "Yuck."
Daniel
jumped down beside her. "What’s the matter?"
"Ugh,
I hate sea things." She pushed it aside with the toe of her boot.
Daniel
crouched down to peer at it as Sam continued picking her way over to the DHD,
climbing up the other side of the channel.
"It
looks like a crab, but it’s bright blue." He
picked it up by its shell and held it up for Teal’c to see.
The
Daniel
showed the crab to Jack, who was inscrutable behind his sunglasses.
"Daniel, put it down; it might be poisonous. The most poisonous things are
found in the sea." By the cant of his hip and the way he held his gun,
Daniel could see that Jack was serious. He set the crab on the sand it scurried
sideways into the rocks.
"Sir,
the DHD isn’t working," Sam reported as she depressed the first symbol.
"Damn."
O’Neill clambered up to join her. "What’s wrong?"
"Must have happened when the Stargate
shifted."
"That’s
helpful," Jack said laconically, "…but you can fix it, right?"
"Yes, sir." Already she was levering out the centre crystal.
Jack
scanned the area taking into consideration the off kilter Stargate, which only
the day before had rested on a flat pedestal. "Must be a
lot of earthquakes around here."
"Many
coastlines are characterised by fault lines. If you factor in erosion, that’s
one of the reasons why you don’t generally find evidence of habitations or
civilisations on the coast, even though, in general, humans gravitate to large
water bodies ...uhm," Daniel trailed off.
"Thanks,
Daniel."
"I
concur, Colonel O’Neill. We are in great danger here. The activity of the two
moons will also exacerbate the tides of this planet."
"Captain?"
"Sorry,
sir," Carter said from the depths of the DHD. "It will take time –
I’ll have to figure out what’s wrong."
"Okay,
when we don’t report in they’ll open the ‘gate and we’ll use the MALP to
contact the SGC. Can they send through a power source strong enough to power
the ‘gate?"
"No,
sir," Carter said decisively. "I’ve been working on plans for a
portable reactor which we could take to ‘gate without DHDs but we need a supply
of the ‘gate element, naquadah. And I’ll have to figure out how to make one.
Perhaps General Hammond can send a large generator through the ‘gate. It may
take awhile."
"Or
we fix the Stargate on this side or we need another lightning blast," Jack
summarised.
"Yes, sir."
"Sweet." Jack stood tall. "Okay, Daniel, Teal’c, find us
a place to set up a base camp. We want to be above the tidal water line. If we
are going to experience earthquakes, we want to be out in the open but we don’t
want to be on the sand."
"Why?"
Daniel asked, his natural curiosity aroused.
"Sand
can go thixotrophic; act like liquid when it vibrates," Carter lectured.
"During earthquakes it can turn into quicksand."
"Oh."
Daniel looked at the sand underfoot. "I think we need to find a rocky
plateau."
Teal’c
stepped off the pedestal and dropped onto the beach. "We will go this
way." He started walking towards the natural pier.
"I’ll
go this way." Jack jerked his thumb over his shoulder, to where the sand
continued to the edge of the horizon. "Check in every 15 minutes."
"I’ll
stay here." Sam bent over the DHD.
Daniel
caught up with Teal’c, slipping and sliding across the sand. He kept up with
the
"You
told us once that the Goa’uld terraformed planets for human use."
"Indeed."
"No
trees."
"Trees
do not grow on sand," Teal’c pointed out.
"True,"
Daniel nodded and bent down to poke in a rock pool. Little minnows swam to hide
in the shadows. Using his staff, Teal’c picked his way sure-footedly over the
rocks. Daniel plucked a handful of green seaweed that looked like tissue paper.
A seahorse darted behind another clump of seaweed.
"Teal’c."
"Yes?"
Teal’c immediately stopped and turned.
"I’m
an Egyptologist, an archaeologist-cum-linguist, not a marine biologist… but
I’ve pottered around on a lot of beaches all over the earth—and *that* was a
seahorse, and *this* is a sand dollar," he came to a stop as if his point
had been made. Teal’c raised one eyebrow, indicating that it had not.
"…I’m trying to say that, okay, there are no terra-formed trees here, but
this is just like being on the equatorial coast on Earth. Like, around
"You
believe that the Goa’uld have been here."
Daniel
shrugged. "Maybe… yeah."
He
watched as the
Daniel
scrambled to his feet. "If we can get up onto the cliff, maybe we’ll find
some signs up there."
"We
do not have climbing equipment."
"When
General Hammond dials us up, we’ll get him to send us some ropes and
stuff." He blanched at the thought. The bluffs were very high and sheer.
They
rounded the edge of the cliff face to be greeted by the next cove. There was
another half moon stretch of golden sand.
"I
think we’re going to be camping on the sand, even if it does turn into
quicksand."
"Perhaps the next cove."
Daniel
shifted his heavy backpack, it was difficult walking
on the shifting sand. "I don’t think Jack will want us to wander too far
from the ‘gate."
"There."
Teal’c pointed with his staff.
Daniel
pushed his glasses up his nose to better focus on whatever Teal’c was
indicating. A splash of water cascaded down the cliff face, falling into
another swath of rocks. The waterfall gushed from a crevice half way up the
bluff face.
"It’s
a waterfall." Daniel said, stating the obvious, but failing to make any
connections.
"The
water will be filtered by the rocks, it will be pure."
"Ah,
Jack will be interested."
Daniel
jumped off the natural pier onto the sand. Again slithering and sliding, he
scrambled up the shore to the plunge pool. A natural bowl of rocks, the lip of
the pool was slightly higher than his head. The rocks were pitted and eroded by
tides plus grazing limpets, so finding ample foot holes, Daniel climbed up. One
large boulder formed a natural pedestal. The incautious would find it hard to
resist; it was the perfect diving platform. Daniel scrambled on top as Teal’c started
to climb. Water drained at one far end into a natural channel that drained down
the sand and fed into the sea.
"Looks good." He crouched at the edge and inhaled. "Smells fresh."
Teal’c
stood over him, watching the uninhabited beach. Daniel pulled the requisite
water quality tubes from his technical vest and filled the pH test tube. He
gave it a thorough shake. The results were positive. Holding the vial up to the
sun, he squinted trying to interpret the colours against his calibration cards.
"Well,
we can’t look for bacteria and viruses, but it’s
neutral pH maybe a little alkaline. I bet it’s fun to
swim in." He checked the water for heavy metals with the matching glass
vials as he had been taught in basic training 101. "No heavy metals – only
trace elements."
"I
believe that we have found our base site."
"I
think you’re right. Shall we walk a little further along?"
"One moment, DanielJackson." Teal’c switched on his VHF. "Teal’c
to Colonel O’Neill – over."
"Yeah, Teal’c – over."
"I
am checking in as prearranged. We have found a suitable base camp. There is an
adequate supply of fresh water – over."
"You’ll
never guess what I found – over," Jack said teasingly.
"I
cannot guess – over," Teal’c said with an almost inaudible sigh.
"Ah,
you’re no fun. Put on Daniel."
Daniel
was at the
There
was no answer.
"He
is waiting for you to say ‘over’ and release the send button." Teal
indicated to the offending button, which Daniel still held down.
"Oh,
I forgot; it’s only the second time I’ve used it." He released the button.
"Over!"
"They’re
either chicken scratches or someone’s left a letter."
"I’m
on my way." Daniel jumped down onto the sand and skidded over the sand to
the pier. He clambered back over the rocks and down the other side, no longer
distracted by the marine life.
Sam
looked up from the innards of the DHD as he rushed by the pedestal. "Where
are you going, Daniel?"
"Jack’s
found some runes," he called out as he sailed past.
"Have
fun." She smiled at the
There
was no sign of the Colonel on the southern beach.
"Jack!"
Daniel continued along the shore. "Jack?"
"Here."
As if by magic, Jack suddenly appeared.
"Oh."
Daniel came to a complete halt. Jack had stepped out of a neatly camouflaged
crevice. It was only visible head on, from an angle the crevice seemed to meld
seamlessly with the cliff face.
"They’re
written on the wall." Jack stepped aside.
Venturing
in, Daniel was inexplicably reminded of the crashing rocks braved by Odysseus.
One tiny little earthquake and you might resemble strawberry jam. The opposing
faces of the rock face were about arms width apart and it was as black as the
darkest night.
Daniel
fumbled for the flashlight in one of the many pockets of his vest. The
illumination from his flashlight picked up smoothed walls and a patina of old
flaking paint. Large portions of the mural were missing, the quartz stone
beneath had been polished until it shone like a black mirror. Fossilised
creature swum timelessly in the stone. But it was the writings that drew
Daniel’s eye. He had never before see their like. Turning on the spot, he aimed
his flashlight upwards. The writings reached as far as the light shone. They
went as far back into the crevice as he could see.
Already
engrossed, he pulled out his notebook and started to work. "The swirling
lines are repeated in stanzas of three. If the pattern was culminate, it might
mean that…"
~*~
Jack
stretched. "Well, the kids are happy." He looked over his shoulder at
the crevice and then to the captain who had her head stuck in the DHD.
"Indeed."
"How
far do you think that the tide rises?"
Teal’c
set his staff in the sand. "The debris half way up the beach may indicate
the highest point." Flotsam and jetsam formed a pale line along the length
of the beach. "But close to the edge of the cliffs there is evidence of
erosion – whether or not this is a sign of high tides or tidal waves from the
earthquakes, I do not know."
"You
found fresh water?"
"In
the second cove there is a potable water. It is both defensible and the highest
point we have found."
"Hopefully
General
Teal’c
raised a deliberate eyebrow, implying that Jack was attempting to teach him to
suck eggs. The colonel waved his hand in absent acknowledgement and then
wandered down to the edge of the water.
"I
wonder if there’s any good fishing?"
"I
do not know."
"We’ll
have to get Uncle George to send us some tackle." He chanced a glimpse at
the
"I
will go and see if I can assist Captain Carter in repairing the DHD."
"Knock
yourself out."
Teal’c’s
brow furrowed in question, but he did not ask.
"Help
Captain Carter," Jack finally translated.
Teal’c
bowed and left to pad through the sand to Carter’s side.
‘Boring,’ Jack thought. ‘Boring.’
Carter
might get the DHD fixed in the next ten minutes or maybe in the next ten years.
It was a picturesque sort of place, but he didn’t want to spend the rest of his
life sitting on a beach, trying to avoid earthquakes. The surf washed over his
feet; the tide was coming in.
"Teal’c!"
he called.
The
"I’m
going to check on Daniel."
"I
will keep watch."
Jack
saluted, and then wiggled through the gap into the crevice. He could see a
flashlight bobbing ahead. His own light showed Daniel’s backpack abandoned on
the floor. He stepped over it, shaking his head as he did so; the man should
know better than to leave his kit lying around. The walls closed in on him.
Jack didn’t think that he was subject to claustrophobia, but there was
something very oppressing about the weight of the rocks on either side of them
coupled with the threat of an earthquake. Ducking under an outcropping of rock,
he brushed against a flake of paint – it came off in his hand.
"Be
careful."
"I’m
all right."
"Not
you; the images. Try not to breathe on them."
Jack
raised his eyes heavenward. Daniel was peering at the picture, face screwed up
in concentration. The kid’s glasses kept slipping down his nose.
"This
is fascinating. I wish it was outside so I could see the whole thing, but if it
was outside I wouldn’t be able to see the whole thing because it would be
washed away. It’s like looking at the Bayeux Tapestry through a pinhole camera.
Come back here."
Daniel
caught his shirt cuff and began to drag him further back into the recess. As
his backpack caught on another rock, Jack realised why Daniel had dumped his
supplies. He released the straps on his backpack, dropping it to the sandy
floor.
"See
where the quartz gives way to granite – the images change. These are less
sophisticated, I believe older."
"What
does it say."
"I
don’t know. C’mere … Bend down and cup your hands together… Give me a boost up.
I need to see that pictogram."
Mentally
cursing bossy archaeologists, Jack braced himself and offered Daniel his body
as a ladder. Daniel had already removed his boots. He resisted the temptation
to tickle the bare foot in his hands. "One, two, three."
Daniel
launched himself upwards, his other foot came down on Jack’s shoulder.
Wobbling, Daniel balanced on his shoulders, one hand resting on the rock face.
Their balance was precarious, Daniel didn’t seem capable of keeping still when
faced with such an interesting artefact.
In
addition to the fishing rod, Jack added a ladder to his list of ‘much needed’
items. "What are you doing?"
"Flashlight
– I put it in my pocket. Keep still, Jack, I’m trying to memorise this
glyph."
"Keep
still, Jack," O’Neill mimicked. "Stop moving around, damn it."
"I’m
not too heavy for you, am I?" Daniel asked suddenly.
"Just
stop moving around."
Of
course, Daniel promptly disobeyed him, twisting to see the other side of the
rock face. "The drawings and the mural are only on one wall."
"So?"
"I
don’t know. We really need to date these images. And I wish I could see the
mural all at once," he moaned, frustrated.
"Daniel?"
"Yes,
Jack?"
"Have
you seen what you wanted to see?"
"Yeah."
"Do
you want to get down then!"
"Sorry."
Daniel suddenly realised his predicament. "How?"
"Jump."
Daniel
inexpertly jumped off his shoulders to sprawl on the sand in the bottom of the
crevice. Jack hauled him to his feet and brushed him off. "So, Daniel,
what have you found out?"
"Well,
I’m not entirely sure, it would just be conjecture on my part."
"Spit
it out."
Daniel
caught his cuff again and dragged him back to the mural. His light picked up
one image. A massive figure stretched up the wall his head far out of reach of
the poor illumination of the flashlight. Only fragments of the image remained.
The circle of light unerringly showed the details of sumptuous fabrics and
swirling jewellery with interlinked motifs. Daniel finally brought the light to
rest on the figure’s right hand – it was dressed in silver.
"It
doesn’t look like a ribbon device. It looks more like a glove," Jack
noted, following Daniel’s train of thought.
"The
glow around the hand looks very familiar to me," Daniel contradicted.
"I’ve been on the receiving end."
"What
about the one-eyed critters?" Jack’s flashlight picked up scaly monsters
dripping in slime. Those with one eye glared balefully from the montage. Some
only had one foot and others only had a clawed talon. Smaller figures,
pot-bellied and pale white creeplets, danced around the one-legged fiends.
"I’m getting a Chthulu vibe here."
"Oh,
my… God." Daniel drifted closer to peer at the figures.
Used
to his ways, Jack let Daniel mutter to himself as he scrutinised the smallest
monsters, his nose a mere hairsbreadth from the scene. "Look, a bag!"
Daniel’s finger jerked at a midget carrying a sack.
"And
what does that mean?"
"They’re
firbolg."
"Oh,
I’ve heard of those." Jack rubbed his face. "Something that my
grandma told me. Fairy tales?"
"Yes,
they’re mythological characters. The first inhabitants of
"The Wee Folk?" Jack had vague recollections of his
great-grandmother, hauling him onto to her lap and telling him old tales of the
old world.
"No,"
Daniel said quite absently, his fingers traced the images. "The wee folk
were the Sidhe, the inheritors or perhaps the lower court of the Tuatha De
Danann."
"Really?
That’s clear as mud."
Daniel
continued, ignoring the baiting. "The large figure is, I believe, Nuada
Airgetlamh." Daniel turned his bright gaze on Jack. "Nuada of the
Silver Hand, do you see where I’m going?"
"Goa’uld?"
"Goa’uld,"
Daniel confirmed. "Nuada was an important god in the panoply of Celtic
Gods. He led the Tuatha De Danann, who invaded
"Is
there a point to this lecture?"
"Only
in that if Nuada was a Gou’ald and he retreated to the other world of Tir Nan
Nog, we’ve found another incursion by the Gou’ald on our planet. I wonder how
the human Sons of Milesius defeated the aliens?"
"With
a little bit of imagination your Formory-guys could be Unas."
"So
could any ogre," Daniel dismissed his idea. "If the ‘gate was buried
10 000 years ago – and the carbon dating could be off – how come we find
evidence of other cultures after the burial of the ‘gate?"
"They
occasionally flew by in ships and grabbed people who were dancing around
maypoles?"
"So
why didn’t they…"
The
earth shifted sideways inducing stomach-churning nausea. A rumbling growl of
thunder echoed along the crevice.
"Go.go.go.go.go.go.go.go.go.go."
O’Neill pushed the younger man before him. They bounced off the shaking walls.
Daniel tripped over his discarded backpack and Jack fell over him. Jack’s
flashlight went out, and Daniel’s was trapped under his body.
"Shit!"
He couldn’t see anything. He pushed off what he knew was the small of Daniel’s
back. The kid collapsed beneath him. A stone bounced off his shoulder and an
intensifying growl above their heads made the skin on the back of his neck
crawl.
Fumbling,
half standing on Daniel, Jack found his feet. Staggering forwards, he banged
his head on a jaggy rock. For a moment he saw stars.
"Jack!"
Daniel hit him from behind propelling him forward. "Go!"
Arm
in arm they careened off the rocks, Jack dragging and Daniel pushing. The
southern wall grated towards them, forcing them to turn sideways.
"Shit!"
Jack burst out onto the beach dragging Daniel after him. They collapsed on the
seething sand, riding out the sand waves
The
world twisted around them moving like a boat tossed in a rough sea. Jack
grabbed Daniel by the collar as a surge of sand washed over them.
Then
the sudden absence of shuddering was almost as great a shock as the earthquake
itself.
They
lay, revelling in the fact that they were still alive. Daniel sat up, spitting
out sand as Jack struggled onto his elbows. He was sure that he had sand in his
ears. But it was better than being crushed between the rocks.
"You
all right, Daniel?"
Daniel
was on his hands and knees hacking up sand. Wheezing up a storm, he collapsed
on his side. Jack reached out and was sideswiped by a wave of dizziness.
"Sir!"
Carter skidded to a halt beside them. "Are you all right?" She
dithered between the two of them, unable to decide who required immediate
assistance.
Daniel
waved her towards Jack, as the colonel grated out, "Check Daniel."
Teal’c
came running through the surf to their side. He had ridden out the waves of the
earthquake on the pier between the DHD and the waterfall. Sand churned beneath
his feet, as he ran up the beach.
"DanielJackson."
Deftly, he manoeuvred Daniel into an upright position, supporting him against
his side, allowing him to cough and spit and wheeze. In between his gasps for
breath, Teal’c unhooked his water bottle. As Daniel’s coughing eased, Teal’c
held the bottle to his lips, letting him take tiny sips of water.
"Sir."
Carter distracted him from watching Teal’c and Daniel. She winced on his behalf
as she examined his forehead. Tentatively, she reached out to touch his
eyebrow. "I think you’ll need stitches. This is a deep cut."
"We
should get off the sand," Teal’c advised.
"Ya
think?" Jack struggled to his feet with Sam’s help as Teal’c drew Daniel
upright.
Jack
leaned on Carter, while Teal’c slung Daniel’s arm over his shoulder, helping
the archaeologist along. Teal’c lifted Daniel bodily onto the DHD’s pedestal.
He looked a little disgruntled at the manhandling but was coughing too much to
protest. Teal’c looked as if he was going to help O’Neill but decided against
it. Sam climbed onto the pedestal, and couldn’t resist giving him a hand. Once
she had her patient settled, she hauled out the first aid kit out of her
daypack.
"Damn,
this is nasty, sir."
"Just
tape it up. " Blood was clotting in his eyelashes. Ignoring him, Carter
pulled out the antiseptic wipes and went to work.
Keeping
his bruising eye closed, he squinted at their other team members. Daniel was on
his hands and knees coughing raucously as Teal’c gently patted him between the
shoulder blades. After a particularly violent bout, Daniel sat back on his
heels. There were tears in his eyes. He gratefully accepted Teal’c’s water
bottle.
"Word
to the wise," he wheezed, "don’t ever try to breathe sand."
"Ya
think? Damn it, Carter, what are you doing, digging in there for rocks?"
He twisted away from her ministrations.
"Sir."
She caught him by the chin. "I have to get the sand out."
"Are
you injured, DanielJackson?"
"Just
bruises." He rubbed his chest painfully. Exhausted from coughing, he
slumped against the DHD.
"That
was a ride and a half," Jack noted. "How did you two ride out the
‘quake?"
"The
DHD remained stable; I was lucky. And the Stargate only moved a little
bit," Sam reported.
"I
was on the pier. It too remained stable."
"Right,
when
"What
else is on it?" Daniel wheezed.
"Fishing
rod and ladder."
"Order
me some chocolate chip cookies."
Jack
held up a finger. "Noted."
"Oh,
and a new pair of boots." He wiggled his bare toes. "Somehow I kept
my glasses on."
"Shit,
our daypacks," Jack remembered; they had left them in the crevice.
"Secure
yourselves," Teal’c grated out.
Jack
followed his line of sight out to the beach. The sea had drawn back beyond the
low water mark revealing creatures rarely uncovered and long strands of seaweed
and what looked like a giant bulwark spanning the cove. Further out to sea,
water was swelling into a veritable wall.
Tidal
wave.
"Ring
around the DHD," O’Neill ordered. There was nowhere else to secure
themselves.
"Rope?"
Carter asked.
"No
time."
Teal’c
caught the coughing Daniel by the scruff of the neck and plonked him on the
opposite side of the DHD out of the immediate threat of the incoming water.
Carter was already scrambling to Daniel’s left hand side. They joined hands,
linking them as if trapeze artists. Jack caught Daniel’s right wrist in the
same grip. Daniel’s long fingers encircled his wrist. The
"Incoming!"
Teal’c
took the brunt of the blow. Water buffeted them like a giant hammer. They rode
out the storm, holding onto each other. The air was crushed from Jack’s lungs.
He opened his eyes but could only see a wash of bubbles. The curtain parted and
he saw Daniel, cheeks puffed out as he held his breath, holding on for all his
worth. His glasses had long since gone.
The
sea subsided, dropping them back to earth. Water drained away, gushing back
into the bay, down the rocky cove. The sea swelled again but this time only
reached their chests, battering them against the DHD. The next wave only
reached the top of the pedestal, swirling around their legs.
Jack
released his grip. "Report," he grated out.
"That…~cough~
could have ~cough~ been ~cough~ so much ~cough~ worse," Carter grated out.
"Injuries?"
Jack demanded.
"I’m
fine." Daniel rolled over onto his back, coughing heavily. He managed to
eventually gasp, "You?"
Jack’s
eyebrow was bleeding anew, and he knew that he had a nice crop of bruises
developing on his chest.
"Fine.
Teal’c?"
"I
am merely bruised, Colonel O’Neill. "My symbiote will heal me most
efficiently."
"More
info than I really needed there, Teal’c. Carter?"
"I’m
fine. We were very lucky, sir. Did you see in the water?"
"Did
I see what?" Jack blotted the blood with his shirtsleeve, but knew that he
was merely spreading it around.
"When
the water drew back, I saw buildings – more like constructions on the bottom of
the cove. They were like bulwarks, paralleling back – one after another – as
far as I could see. I think they were what cut down the force of the incoming
wave. We should have been dashed to death."
"Instead
of just feeling like we’ve been dashed to death," Jack said sarcastically.
"I hate this planet."
Carter
stumbled into a standing position, weaving. She braced herself on the DHD,
patting it absently. "I lost my tools. Put them on the list, sir."
Her
daypack had been washed away too. Only Teal’c had his supplies. He was already
hauling out his medical kit and advancing on the colonel. Jack submitted to
Teal’c’s care, he had a defter touch than Carter, probably because he was less
tentative about the potential of hurting his patient.
"I
am adept at stitches, Colonel O’Neill."
And
that was all the warning he had, as the first bite of the needle bit him. Jack
kept very still. It took five stitches to close the wound. The
"Thanks,
Teal’c."
"You
are most welcome." Teal’c bowed. "DanielJackson, do you require first
aid?"
"Whrr?"
The linguist lifted his head, disturbed from what was obviously the beginning of
a doze. He coughed lightly as he patted his chest. "No, I’m fine."
Adding credence to his words, he struggled upright. "I’ll go see if our
packs are still in the crevice."
A
delicate aftershock refuted his plans.
"Maybe
not." He plumped back down on his rump.
"Good
idea," Jack drawled.
"Yuck."
Eyes turned to Carter as she fetched a crab out of the DHD and slung it aside.
She stared back at them defensively. "So I don’t like them. Shoot
me."
Daniel
crawled over to her side and stuck his head into the toadstool. He lifted out
another crab and set it carefully on the pedestal. "All clear." He
smiled.
"Thank
you." She continued to poke at the DHD’s circuits with her Swiss Army
Knife.
"I
hate this planet," Jack moaned.
~*~
The
shimmering wormhole stabilised and the MALP shifted, its tracks aimlessly
turning in mid-air. The MALP had been tossed this way and that after the wave,
ending upside down on the sandy beach. Daniel crawled forwards on his hands and
knees and peered into the camera squished under the MALP. He waved his fingers
sheepishly.
"Colonel
O’Neill?"
"General
Hammond, sir."
"What
is the situation? We expected you back hours ago."
"Slight
problem. Seems like this oasis is subject to earthquakes and the tidal waves
are a blast. The DHD is broken and we’re looking at a possibly long stay on
Planet Rollercoaster."
Daniel
raised an eyebrow in question, Jack shrugged. He thought that the name was
appropriate.
"Do
you require medical assistance?" Janet Fraiser demanded.
"Nothing
we can handle, just cuts and bruises. Anyone coming through might have to say
awhile," he dismissed the offer.
"Do
you require any supplies, Colonel O’Neill?"
"Oh,
yes…" Jack drawled. "Top of the list is chocolate cookies. Seriously,
we require the following: portable seismograph; tools for repairing the DHD; a
lightening rod would be very useful as a back up; climbing equipment -- pitons
and several hundred meters of rope; full med kit; ALICE rucksacks for four and
don’t forget the cookies. Oh, and a big portable generator would probably be a
good idea."
"Fishing
rod," Daniel reminded him.
"Oh,
yes – fishing rod."
"General
Hammond," Daniel butted in. "Can you send me a book entitled Celtic
Myths? You should find it in my lab, it’s in my closet, and any other material
pertaining to Celtic mythology."
The
silence on the other end of the line was deafening.
"We’ve
found evidence of the presence of a culture stemming from the Celtic
world," the linguist explained, "a mural of Nuada Airgetlamh and
firbolg and formorii. But it’s been ages since I’ve read my Celtic
Mythology."
"I’ll
get an airman to dig through your lab."
Jack
smiled at the unintentional joke.
~*~
Daniel
was curled over one of his books, dabbling his feet in the sea. He was scanning
through the pages with a speed that left Jack invariably breathless. Sam and
Teal’c were prodding and poking in the depths of the DHD. They had made some
progress – but they had only managed to get one of the chevrons to engage. With
Daniel researching the firbolg and formorii, that left Colonel O’Neill to set
up camp. He did so with alacrity, near the DHD, working on the principle that
the cove with the waterfall did not have the wave breaking bulwarks. Back-up
supplies were riveted to the base of the cliff as were numerous pitons allowing
them to secure themselves against the cliff face if another tidal wave engulfed
them.
"Sam?"
Daniel padded barefoot through the sand to their side. He had dispensed with
his heavy BDUs and stripped down to shorts. However, he still wore the tactical
vest and Boonie hat. Teal’c had stripped down to his t-shirt and wrapped a
bandanna around his head. Sam wore her t-shirt and shorts. Jack had let them
get away with it.
"Yes,
Daniel?" Sam stood and wiped perspiration from her brow. The sun had risen
to its apex and the dry heat beat down upon their heads.
"The
constructions you saw in the water, were they man-made or maybe the sea bottom
ruffled up or something?" He had been tucked behind the DHD; he had seen
nothing.
Sam
pondered, glancing to the side as she thought. "They were definitely built
– interlinking large stones."
"Thanks."
Daniel trotted over to Jack.
The
colonel looked up from the tarpaulin he was stringing across the rift between
the DHD pedestal and the rock supporting the Stargate.
"Jack,"
Daniel began, "did General Hammond send through any scuba equipment?"
Jack
fixed a leery eye on him. "Everything but the kitchen sink and
scuba equipment."
"That’s
a pity," he griped and scanned the cove.
"Why?"
Jack drawled.
"The
formorii were sea gods. When they were defeated in battle they retreated into
purgatory beneath the seas and lakes. Sam said she saw buildings out in the
cove."
"You
think we’ve got sea monsters out there?"
"Well,
I don’t know about sea monsters, I mean, that is a preconceived notion based on
the legends I’ve told you. But if the Gou’ald Nuada Airgetlamh banished the
formorii to this world they would have retreated to the sea."
"And
you want to go swimming out there?" Jack pointed out the gaping problem in
his plan.
"Oh."
Jack’s
lip twisted sarcastically. Earthquakes, tidal waves and now sea monsters.
"I hate this planet."
"It
would be nice without the earthquakes and tidal waves," Daniel said
ingenuously, reading his mind. "I wish it was safe enough to go back in
that cave. I’m sure that there were two distinct forms of writing. There was
definitely a triad function to the pictographs but the mural was much more
advanced. It indicates that they’re two different cultures or that the mural
post-dates the pictographs, considerably. I can’t tell without carbon dating.
Are you sure I can’t go back in that cave?"
"Yes,
Daniel."
"Yes,
I can go back in the cave or yes, I can’t?"
"You.
Cannot. Go. Into. The. Cave," Jack enunciated.
"What
about after Sam gets the seismograph up and running?"
"We’ll
discuss it then."
Daniel
pushed his hat back on his forehead. "If I can get into that cave, I could
probably answer…"
"No,
Daniel."
~*~
Sighing,
Daniel padded back to the sea edge and sat down. Jack was such a stick in the
mud sometimes. The books that
‘But
why protect the land?’
Daniel
rubbed his chest; his lungs felt horrible, he didn’t know if it was his allergies
or the sand or a combination of both. The constriction was making him wheeze.
"Daniel?"
"Yeah,
Jack?" He didn’t look up from his book. The firbolg and formorii were ugly
buggers. Another example of demonising the conquered?
"Can
you give me a hand?"
"Oh,
sorry!" He grabbed his books, not wanting to leave them at the water’s
edge, and dragged his feet back up to the campsite. Jack had hammered pitons
into either side of the crevice and hand strung a tarpaulin between them.
"Grab
that end and pull."
They
raised the tarpaulin, forming a canopy between the rocks. It made a rather good
tent.
"Hey,
that’s good."
"I
do have my uses," Jack said as he tied off his line. Daniel watched and
then secured his rope. Jack began to haul their supplies under the canopy.
Seeing his work was done, Daniel reached for his books.
"Ah,
a, ah." Jack wagged his finger. "Time for a break."
Obediently,
Daniel dug out the MREs from one of the backpacks. "Hey, look."
Holding up a paper bag of cookies, he grinned.
"Share."
Jack held out his hand.
"You
don’t want to spoil your dinner," Daniel admonished, and passed him a
chicken broth MRE.
They
worked in silent camaraderie as they prepared food for all. Daniel in charge of
the camping stove, boiling the water for coffee and Jack preparing the MREs.
Neither of which they could really damage.
"Food’s
up, kids," Jack called to the workers. "Get out of the sun for an
hour."
"But,
sir."
"That’s
an order, Carter. Giving yourself heatstroke won’t help us."
"Yes,
sir," she said reluctantly.
Teal’c
accepted his broth with a bow, his nose curled up at the slop, but he made no
verbal comment. No one could be as expressive as Teal’c with the mere lift of
an eyebrow.
"So,
Daniel thinks that there might be sea monsters out in the cove," Jack said
conversationally. "You ever seen sea monsters, Teal’c?"
"Yes,"
the alien answered succinctly.
"You’re
kidding.
"I
do not kid." Teal’c set aside his broth half tasted. "Legend has it
that the Gou’ald came from the primordial ocean."
"Yeah,
but they’re not sea monsters," Jack protested.
"What
then is a sea monster?" Teal’c asked.
Jack
stopped just before he could launch into a rebuttal. He started to tell Teal’c
just what a ‘sea monster’ was and then shook his head. "Good point,
Teal’c."
The
Jaffa bowed his head and an expression of satisfaction crossed his face
fleetingly.
"Jack’s
thinking more of the level of human-sized organisms that live in the sea,"
Daniel said helpfully. "We have legends on our planet of sea sprites,
mermaids, selkies, all manner of faeries that live in the sea and are
intelligent and interact with us. The formorii were the sea gods of Irish
mythology.
"I
have heard tell of Poseidon but I have not met him. He was a Goa’uld System
Lord but retreated into the depths of the Galaxy into oblivion. There are
planets which are inhabited by intelligent life in the seas – the Goa’uld use
them as they use other slaves. However, I have not heard tell of a sea being
used as a host, they appear to prefer to use humans."
Daniel
coughed introspectively. "Ra told me that the human body was easy to heal.
I guess if that’s the case we make pretty good hosts."
"Sweet,
I’ve always wanted a claim to fame." Jack rubbed his bruised eyebrow.
"Humans
also breed easily," Teal’c announced. "One female can have in excess
of ten children in a lifetime."
Daniel
ducked his head, hiding a blush as Carter frowned at the alien.
"I
meant no disrespect," he said evenly. "I merely point out that it is
in the interest of the Goa’uld to take slaves that are fecund."
"It’s
okay, Teal’c." Sam smiled precisely. "We’re also intelligent."
Teal’c
bowed. "Indeed."
~*~
Daniel
sat on the sand watching the setting sun. This was certainly a nice planet if
you forgot about the earthquakes and tidal waves. He allowed the golden sand to
trickle through his fingers. If he looked to the cliff face and ignored the
sea, he could almost pretend that he was back home on
He
concentrated on his book as his thoughts threatened to overwhelm him, he could
almost feel the brush of her hair against his skin, the warm scent of her musky
perfume and her hands running over his body.
It
was easy to lose himself in his dreams. He needed to do something to distract
himself.
"Daniel,
where’re you going?" Jack drawled as he stood.
"Just
along to the cave," Daniel muttered into his chest.
"No,
Daniel."
"Jack,"
he began.
"Don’t
‘Jaaaack’ me," the colonel mimicked. "You can’t go into the cave
until Carter’s got the seismometer up and running."
"But…"
"No."
Jack gazed out from his perch on the rock as he watched the world around them.
"Crashing rocks are bad for the health."
"Can
I at least walk along the coast a bit?"
"I
will go with DanielJackson." Teal’c rose to his feet as impressive as the
Colossus.
"No,
we’ve set up a secure point here to withstand tidal waves and there’s no where
along the coast where you can get off the sand if an earthquake begins."
"We
can’t sit on a lump of rock on the off chance that something nasty is going to
happen," Daniel protested. "We’re a field team, we’re supposed to
look around."
Jack
snorted. "Now you’re interested in rules and regulations. Fact, Dr.
Jackson, we’re at a good vantage point to observe the lay of the land and scope
out any incursions from the sea or above." He pointed with the barrel of
his MP-5-a1 at the cliffs. "Our priority is to get the wormhole up and
running."
"I
can’t help Sam, I can barely wire a plug – but I can walk along the beach and
look for additional signs of civilisation."
"No,
Daniel."
"How
about if we take some rope and pitons? If there is another tidal wave we can
secure ourselves to the cliff face."
"And
if an earthquake happens?"
"I
figure if we went into the water it could buffet the effects."
"I
don’t think that’s wise," Carter piped up from the innards of the DHD.
"If the water swamped you, you’d drown."
"Come
on, Jack, I’m willing to take the risk."
"Daniel,
not until Carter has the seismometer working."
"Why
can’t we switch on the seismometer?"
"I’m
fixing the DHD, Daniel. I’ll look at the seismometer when I need a break,"
Carter said helpfully. "I’ll have to show you how to read the monitor and
we need to set up probes and drill censors into the rock – it will take
time."
Sighing,
Daniel flopped back onto the sand and picked up the next book.
~*~
Teal’c
stood watch. As a
Colonel
Jack O’Neill had a colourful way of speaking, Teal’c noted.
His
commanding officer had lain down, planted his baseball cap over his face and
immediately started snoring. Captain Samantha Carter was snuggled up in her
sleeping bag, until only her blond hair peeked out. DanielJackson had curled in
a ball and was wrestling with his sleeping bag. The occasional muttered word
reached Teal’c’s ears. Daniel spoke to himself in many languages. Teal’c only
caught the gist of his speech, names of false gods and of his wife, Shau’ri.
Daniel suddenly coughed violently, a deep, hoarse chest tingling cough.
Half-choking, he woke and reached blindly for his water bottle. Teal’c thrust
it into his questing hands. Gasping, he spluttered and tried to drown his
coughs in water.
O’Neill
peeled his baseball cap off his face and sat up. "You all right?"
"Frog
in my throat." Daniel waved him off.
"Do
you require assistance?" Teal’c asked alertly. He had seen no amphibians
on the seashore.
"It’s
figure of speech, Teal’c, not an actual frog."
O’Neill
fixed a piercing gaze at the archaeologist then slumped back to sleep. Teal’c
knew that while for all intents and purposes the unobservant would have thought
that O’Neill was asleep when he spoke to Daniel, the warrior had in fact been
awake. The
"Are
you unwell, DanielJackson?"
Daniel
sniffled again, dabbing a tissue against his nose, he muttered, "Dunno, it
could be a cold or allergies. Janet’s pre-mission check should have picked up a
cold, though? Maybe it’s a bit of both. I guess inhaling that sand didn’t
help."
Teal’c
listened closely, the linguist’s breath was laboured, wheezing in his lungs.
"You
are ill."
"No,"
Daniel shook his head and popped a couple of antihistamines out of his tablet
pack. "Good sleep and then I’ll feel better."
But
he didn’t lie down and settle for the night, but remained slumped beside
Teal’c, peering into the darkness.
"Is
there something on your mind, Daniel Jackson?"
"Whrrr?"
He sniffed noisily drawing mucous into the back of his throat before
swallowing. "No nothing in particular. Just thinking."
"Of
what are you thinking?" Teal’c persisted.
"I
had a dream," he said, his tone dismissive. "Just stuff, it doesn’t make
sense now."
The
archaeologist had been dreaming of Shau’ri, Teal’c had overheard him speaking.
But the young man would not speak of his wife. Teal’c bowed his head, shadowing
his eyes. DanielJackson appeared introspective as he stared out into the cove.
"Looks
nice doesn’t it." He nodded at the moons casting their reflected light
onto the gently lapping water.
"It
is indeed restful."
"What
do you suppose that is?"
Teal’c
followed Daniel’s pointing finger. Far off at the end of the natural pier, a dark
ball bobbed in the water.
"I
do not know." Teal’c stood.
Daniel
joined him, hovering at his elbow. He pushed his spare glasses up his nose.
"Should
we wake Jack?" he asked ingenuously.
"Colonel
O’Neill," the
An
experienced solider; O’Neill woke instantly. With an easy movement he rolled to
his feet, his weapon ready.
"What
is it?"
"DanielJackson
saw movement in the water, as did I. Look to the end of the pier, it still
moves."
"You
know." Daniel moved forward a step. "It’s not a ball or something
floating; it’s too steady."
"I
concur. It is attached to something beneath the water."
"You
mean it’s a head, don’t you."
Teal’c
nodded solemnly.
"Wow,
do you think it is a formorian?"
"Sea
monster?" O’Neill checked the clip on his MP-5.
"Well,
we don’t know that," Daniel protested.
Carter
joined them. "We’re being watched?"
"I
believe so," Teal’c tipped his staff in the direction of the watcher in
the water.
"So
what are we going to do?"
"I
could go down to the water’s edge and talk to them." Daniel took a step.
O’Neill
reached over and grabbed the back of Daniel’s jacket without looking. "No,
you don’t. They can come to us."
The
black ball was joined by another shiny jet-black ball. As they watched another
head joined the other two. Slowly they counted another eight heads, one after
another surfacing.
"Two
to one," O’Neill said lightly.
"Why
is it always about confrontation with you?" Daniel snapped.
"Now’s
not the time, Daniel," O’Neill retorted.
"They
haven’t done anything, they’re just watching us."
"Do
you see me shooting?" Jack rapped curtly.
Daniel
subsided.
One
head separated from the cluster and moved along the pier. A flash of dark flesh
broke the surface of the water.
"Incoming."
The
figure paralleled the beach, moving through the water smoothly. A limb
occasionally broke the surface with barely a splash. Daniel stepped forward,
but was stopped by O’Neill’s hand lying on his forearm. They stood together
watching as the swimmer came to a stop directly in front of the team. The water
lapped gently against the shore, a soft susurration.
"Another
two have joined the others," Teal’c reported.
The
waters separated like Moses parting the
Ponderous
out of the water, it marched up the beach.
O’Neill
shifted his MP-5 in his hands and it stopped three body lengths from their
camp. It spoke. Its words were strange, choppy and melodious.
"Ah!"
Daniel held up his finger. "It’s a variant of Gaelic, sounds similar to
gohelic-q."
Daniel
responded with words that bore no similarity to English. Words tripped easily
off his tongue, speaking another language with an ease that never failed to
amaze the casual listener.
The
being bristled, the heavy sensory hairs around his mouth standing tall.
"Oh,
I’m sorry," Daniel blurted. "I didn’t mean to insult you."
"What’s
he saying, Daniel?" O’Neill asked tightly.
Daniel
abruptly stopped speaking, almost leaving almost a vacuum between his words. He
blinked, quickly and then blurted, "Yes, he is a formorian. His name is
Balor. He is the leader of his… clan… people… no tribe."
Without
taking a breath, he switched back to Gaelic, leaving the other members of his
team standing aimlessly in the sand.
"His
people have been here thousands of years. They were defeated in battle and cast
through the ‘
"What
about the Goa’uld?" Jack interrupted.
"Goa’uld?"
Balor fixed his single eye on the colonel.
"No.
no. no. no." Daniel bounced up and down. He spoke again in the language,
his zeal making him stutter.
The
formorian stepped backwards, spitting rancorously.
"He’s
really pissed, Jack," Daniel said unnecessarily. He tried again to appease
the being.
"Be
careful, DanielJackson." Teal’c shifted, preparing to defend the linguist.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see O’Neill carefully lifting his MP-5.
"I’m
not to sure what the matter is," Daniel said rapidly, wheezing as he
spoke. "I’m not getting everything that he says. I don’t even know if he’s
affiliated with or against the Goa’uld."
The
formorian hissed and pointed at the Stargate.
"No,
we’re not desecrating the altar. It’s a… a … Stargate… a gate between worlds.
Oh…darn, wrong language." Spluttering, he repeated the words in whatever
variant of Gaelic he was speaking.
Balor
took a deep breath, Teal’c saw pale liquid draining into its mouth from deep
within its body. He spat and Teal’c reacted. The
"What?"
Daniel did not have time to move away.
The
venom burnt through Teal’c’s utility vest, searing his skin. Rounds hissed past
his ear, as O’Neill opened fire. His skin was going numb. The sound of the
weapons fire was increasingly distant. With a disturbing sense of clarity,
Teal’c knew that he was going to pass out. Slumping forward, he knew that the
hands attempting to hold him belonged to Daniel. The smaller man could not
support his unwieldy, larger weight. Teal’c’s legs went numb. He went down,
pinning Daniel against the sand.
His
last conscious memory was of the final report of Carter’s M-9 beretta.
~*~
"Teal’c?"
Daniel whispered, he had no free air to speak properly. Teal’c’s head rested
heavily on his cheek, forcing his own head into the sand. The
His
heart in his mouth he managed to wriggle his hand out from underneath Teal’c’s
chest to fumble for his pulse. The faintest of heartbeats fluttered against his
fingertips.
The
sudden report of a pistol, shocked him back into here and now. He couldn’t see
what was happening. He could hear Jack swearing loudly.
"Shit.
Fuck." Jack’s swearing was short and to the point. "Desist,
Captain."
The
shooting stopped. Wriggling at bit more, Daniel managed to twist his head. They
were surrounded. All he could really see were legs, but they were outnumbered
by ten to one.
::Formorii,
Kree!::
‘Goa’uld.’
The
golden light of a Goa’uld personal force field filled his vision.
::Who
are you?:: The reverberating tones
were unmistakably Goa’uld.
Jack
reacted to the tone rather than the words. "Colonel Jack O’Neill, SGC. I
am in command."
"Bring
them," the order was succinct.
Teal’c
was ripped from his grip and cast aside by a muscular formorian. Daniel could
not fight; he had no air. His diaphragm spasmed, trying to draw a breath as he
lay in the sand.
The
massive formorian leaned over him, poisonous, pungent air washed over him. His
lungs twitched, seizing, trying to cough. The paroxysm rocked his body, winded,
coughing and wheezing he couldn’t move even if his life depended on it. The
formorian dragged him to his feet.
::Carry
him:: The Goa’uld spoke in q-variant Gaelic.
Daniel
was tossed over a solid shoulder further winding him. Draped over the
formorian’s shoulder, he could only gasp for breath. Water brushed his hair.
They were wading into the water. Burning, salty water flooded his nostrils as
they were submerged. He was going to drown.
::No.
Give him here::
The
formorian stopped. Daniel’s world twisted nauseatingly, as he was hauled
upright. He had a fleeting glimpse of Sam, in another, larger formorian’s
clutches as he held by the scruff of his neck before the Goa’uld.
Imperious
eyes racked him from head to foot. Tall, almost elfin, the Goa’uld stood at
least at seven foot. The alien wore his golden hair long and deliberately
tousled. His face was framed by thick sideburns that bled fine lines into his
heavy goatee.
Daniel
could only cough and wheeze but there was something in the Goa’uld’s gaze that
made his soul freeze.
::To
me::
Daniel
was passed unceremoniously to the Goa’uld. He was pinned to the alien’s chest
by a lithe, muscular arm. Daniel’s face was mashed against a silk covered layer
of armour. With his hand free, the Goa’uld triggered his personal force field.
The golden light shimmered around them as they stepped into the water. Although
seriously winded, Daniel’s breath caught in his throat as he realised that they
were submerging. They were walking underwater. The field only illuminated the
immediate surroundings; he couldn’t see the others. If the formorii held them,
they would drown. Had the Goa’uld only wanted him as a hostage? Daniel drew in
another breath and started coughing anew. His vision was splotchy, blackness
threatened to overcome him. Fish darted against the force field, attracted by
the light, and bounced away. A dull clank heralded the next step of their
misadventure.
Artificial
illumination flooded an enclosed grotto. Formorii swam throughout the hall. Two
held Jack and Sam. They struggled weakly in the formorii grasp, massive slimy
hands covering their faces. The light passing through the water changed. The
water was draining away. At a gesture from the Goa’uld, the formorii holding
the humans swam to meet the dropping surface. Daniel remained clasped against the
Goa’uld’s side, fighting for breath in the ambient air captured by the force
field. The last of the water drained away, leaving puddles on the stone floor.
Sam
was limp in the grasp of one of the formorii, coughing badly. Jack was awake
and annoyed. His eyes flashed angrily. The formorian holding him had a tight
grip around his neck, a step away from breaking it. The Goa’uld twisted,
reaching over Daniel to deactivate the force field. The archaeologist expected
to be thrust into the hands of one of the formorii, but the Goa’uld interlaced
cold fingers in his hair and pulled his head back. Daniel gazed into
disconcertingly amber eyes.
‘Oh
god, he’s going to kiss me.’
A
silver encased hand filled his vision. Set in the centre of his palm a red
jewel glowed ominously. White-hot pain engulfed his mind.
::Who
are you?::
::Where
are you from?::
::Are
you are a host-to-be?::
Shock,
lack of air and pain cascaded together and unconsciousness beckoned.
Chapter
Two.
~*~
Daniel
folded backwards over the golden Goa’uld’s arm, boneless in his
unconsciousness.
"No!"
Jack jerked forwards, yanking against the rubbery black aliens gripping his
arms.
The
Goa’uld turned to regard them, preening in his glory. He seemed to revel in the
image that he presented.
"Who
is your Lord?" the reverberating Goa’uld voice made the skin on the back
of Jack’s neck crawl. "Who is your Lord?" he repeated.
"A
bald guy from
"I
do not understand." The light flared in his eyes. "Who is your
mother? Who is your father?"
"Now
you’re getting personal."
The
golden man let Daniel Jackson fall to the wet floor as he stalked into Jack’s
personal space. Jack didn’t move a muscle as the Goa’uld leaned close. He met
the amber stare with his own dark implacable gaze.
"You
have not been absorbed. You are a host-to-be. Who sent you here? Or…," he
turned to Carter and beckoned.
She
planted her heels to the floor, to no avail, as her captor thrust her into the
Goa’uld’s arms. He lifted his hand towards her.
"Back
off, you bastard!" O’Neill grated.
But
the Goa’uld simply caressed the side of Carter’s face with the back of his
hand. "Charming. You too have not been absorbed. And you speak the
language of the Chaa’pai? Have the Sons of Milesius survived on the
plateau?"
The
doors at the far end of the domed hall swung open. The Goa’uld penchant to
grandiose displays seemed to be genetic. Two formorii entered and bowed deeply.
Unlike the sea beings they had met at the beach, these wore dull black hammered
breast plates and a short skirt of leather strips over a black suit of scales.
A silver hand was embossed on the centre of the armoured plate.
A
silent message was passed by the simple bow of a pearly black head.
"House
them; I will deal with them later." With a flamboyant turn, he swept out
of the Hall. Balor cowering obsequiously at his heels.
~*~
"I
don’t like the sound of his breathing." Sam leaned over the unconscious
archaeologist, her ear plastered against his chest.
Jack
prowled around the confines of the sumptuous suite. The opulent room was
windowless and filled with still air.
In
the wake of the Goa’uld’s exit, one of the formorii had picked up Daniel and
dragged him along the floor to their prison. Jack had protested, but the
formorian had carted Daniel along like a sack of flour. They had been thrown
into the suite and the door locked with a mocking *snick*. A large, plush bed
dominated the room. Together Jack and Sam had moved Daniel to the bed. He had remained
unconscious throughout their manhandling.
Laboured
breathing now echoed through the enclosed room. Jack rifled through the pockets
of his tactical vest. Their weapons had been taken but the formorii had left
their other belongings. Jack flipped through his medical sachets and selected a
broad-spectrum antibiotic. Carter watched him curiously as he mixed the powder
with a draft of water from his bottle. Jack shuffled across the enormous bed to
Daniel’s side.
"Charlie
used to wheeze like that when he was getting a chest infection," Jack said
by way of explanation, when Carter peered at him curiously. "Look, I don’t
know; it won’t do him any harm. Prop him up on some pillows; he’ll breathe
easier if he’s not lying flat."
Sam
tucked more pillows behind the ailing archaeologist’s head.
"Higher."
Jack balanced the medicine precariously on the mattress and then dragged Daniel
into a sitting position. Together they managed to get Daniel set to Jack’s
satisfaction. Daniel lolled to the side, deeply unconscious. There was a nasty
burn rising on his forehead, courtesy of the Goa’uld’s ribbon device. Sweat
beaded his furrowed brow.
"Damn
Goa’uld," Jack swore.
"What
about Teal’c? Is he alive?" Sam asked.
"I
don’t know. With any luck Junior will heal him. I don’t think Golden Boy saw
his tattoo – or he would have known that he was a
"That
venom looked pretty lethal."
Jack
didn’t answer as he tucked himself against Daniel’s side and held the cup to
his lips. He carefully dribbled a fraction of the liquid into Daniel’s mouth
and massaged his throat.
"This
is going to take hours."
"You
got anything better to do, captain?"
By
the time he had, in drips and drabs, managed to get the antibiotic into Daniel,
the linguist had still not regained consciousness.
Daniel’s
eyelids suddenly fluttered. "Jaaaa’ck?" he croaked.
"Hey,
how are ya doin’?"
Daniel
swallowed uncomfortably. "Head hurts."
"Not
surprising; you had a run in with a new variation of the ribbon device."
"Teal’c?"
Daniel managed.
"They
left him on the surface," Sam informed him.
"Alive,"
Daniel muttered.
"What?"
Jack leaned forwards. "Teal’c was alive?"
"Felt
his pulse." Daniel breathed harshly. "Felt his breath."
"Well,
that’s one mark in our favour."
"Yes."
Daniel suddenly sagged backwards, his head tipped back on the pillows. Each and
every breath was an effort which almost brought tears to his eyes. Physically
trembling, he took a deliberately deep breath and then stopped.
"Daniel!"
Jack shouted. Both officers reached for his throat, their hands meeting. Sam
backed off, allowing him to feel for pulse. It hammered against Jack’s fingers
as the heart laboured.
"He
can’t breathe properly."
Daniel’s
eyes opened a hairsbreadth as he took rapid and painful breaths. His entire
being was focused on breathing. The door was flung open. Jack reacted,
reflexively reaching for his missing weapon. A tall willowy woman, as elongated
as the golden haired Goa’uld, and swathed in the same luminous robes, stood at
the threshold. Her face was hidden in an enfolding hood.
"Come
on in," Jack drawled.
Arrogant,
she tossed her head back revealing the perfection of a Goa’uld. "I am the
Daughter of Cecht."
She
entered, behind her loomed two formorii, gleaming resplendent, their black
blubber oiled. Jack couldn’t help but stare at the single unblinking eye in the
centre of their fat, smooth faces. The formorii were unarmed; belatedly, Jack
remembered their venomous breath. He jerked his head at Carter, indicating that
she should retreat. Despite disagreeing with his orders, she obeyed.
The
Goa’uld looked down at the almost unconscious archaeologist draped over the
pillows. Daniel’s eyes were glazed, caught in an enfolding web of fever and
lack of air.
"Did
he inhale the Breath of Searbhan?"
"What?
Searrievan? Huh?" Jack demanded.
"I
think she means the formorian’s venom," Sam said helpfully. "He
wasn’t spat on, but he was in the vicinity."
Cecht
raised her arm and her sleeve fell back. In the centre of her hand a round
device glowed.
"No!"
O’Neill reached out to grab her hand.
The
formorii bristled, their sensory hairs around their mouths standing proud. The
larger one began to inhale.
"Sir,
I think it is a healing device." Carter’s sharp words stayed his attack.
"It
is." Cecht lowered her hand and played it a hand span above Daniel’s
labouring chest. "He has inhaled the breath of Searbhan. His reaction is
unusual."
"Daniel
suffers from allergies."
"I
do not understand. Allergies?"
Carter
leaned forwards earnestly. "I don’t quite understand the reasons, but his
body overreacts to substances. They can be food or particles in the air."
"I
do not know if I can heal this." Cecht’s smooth brow furrowed. "It is
of interest, however."
"That’s
all well and good. But have you got some sort of anti-venom?" Jack scowled
at the Goa’uld rankled by her dispassionate interest.
"To
the breath of Searbhan?"
"Yeah,
I think it will help, you know."
"Yes."
She canted her head to the side, with the same sort of deliberate action that
Teal’c could display. She spoke in a discordant language. The formorian at her
side nodded, and then lumbered away. Concentrating, she once again began to
wave the healing device over Daniel’s chest. The linguist’s breathing was
sounding increasingly difficult, fresh beads of perspiration rose on his
bruised forehead.
"This
‘allergy’ is part and parcel of what he is."
"Sneezy
geek," Jack said then winced apologetically.
"This
will kill him. He will drown in his own mucous," Cecht said
dispassionately. "He would not make a good host." Her hand fell away.
"Keep
healing him." Jack grabbed her wrist.
"Release
me."
He
never saw the blow. The formorian punched him in the side of his head. Stunned,
he rolled off the bed.
"He
is of no use except for experimentation. I would know more of these
allergies." Her words sounded like a sentence of death. "With me,
Rhadha."
Jack’s
head was ringing as Sam helped him to his feet. "Fuck, where did she
go?"
"She
left with the formorii."
"Daniel?"
O’Neill scrambled back on the bed.
Hard,
fast, shallow breaths did little to help the linguist. Daniel strained for each
and every breath. His eyes were open a mere sliver; he was in another place,
lost in the web of fever and pain. The other formorian lumbered into the room,
he held a bowl in his hands. Flummoxed by the fact that the Goa’uld had left
the room, he stopped.
"Ah,
the medicine." Jack darted forward. "The…lady told me to take
it." He snatched the bowl from the monster’s hands. "Off you
go."
Befuddled,
the formorian bowed and then exited.
Jack
peered at the contents of the bowl. A small well of oil oozed in the bottom.
How the hell was he supposed to administer it? It was a large bowl and held a
small amount of liquid.
"Sir?"
Carter asked hesitantly.
"What
do we do? Does he drink it? Do we blow it up his nose with a straw?"
"Oh."
Suddenly scientific, Carter joined him. "It’s an oil. It’s probably
volatile." She looked back to Daniel, whose lips had taken on a distinct
bluish tinge. They had little time to spare; any delay would be fatal.
"Carter!"
"Uhm,
the site of the problem is his lungs – I think we have to administer the drug
to his lungs – inhalation." She pondered. "Unless of course it is
systemic then maybe he should swallow it. I don’t know if the digestive enzymes
will inactivate it."
"You
mean steam? Like eucalyptus with hot water?" Jack scanned the room looking
for a source of heat.
"The
formorian didn’t bring hot water."
"So
there’s some in here." Jack rapidly and confidently began to search the
suite. "Get some of the oil into his mouth, just in case."
Carter
accepted the bowl solemnly. Hesitantly, she knelt at Daniel’s side and,
gingerly, she dabbed a little on his lips.
Jack
started on the far wall, scanning the scenic panelling until he came to a
decoratively camouflaged unit. He methodically pushed every protrusion. A hiss
heralded the wall retracting to reveal a bathroom unit as opulent as any other
Goa’uld chamber. It seemed obvious that the projection above a porcelain bowl
was for water but what turned it on? Jack resorted to the tried and true method
of pushing every button he found.
"Sir?
Have you found anything? I can barely hear him breathing."
Hot
water gushed from the tap. "Success!"
Carter
pushed him aside and tipped the bowl under the tap. Pungent fumes wafted
upwards. A heartbeat later she was fretting over Daniel trying to figure out
how to dispense the medicine.
"There’s
no time for finesse," Jack said sharply. Daniel’s lips had turned a dusky
violet, blue at the edges. His nostrils were flared and the skin around his
nose and ears was grey-white; he was suffocating. Jack slipped off his jacket
and flung it over Daniel’s head creating a tent. Carter anticipated his actions
tucking the bowl under the makeshift blanket, balancing it on his knees.
"Now
what?" he asked.
"We
wait."
‘Shit.’
Jack
hated waiting. Time for a reconnaissance of the room, try and find an exit, an
escape and a method of attack. Carter stayed, kneeling at Daniel’s side. Her demeanour
was stiff with worry. As ever, she tried to be professional and in control. But
her wide eyes had taken on an anxious cast. The sound of struggling, wheezy
breathing filled the room, not even muffled by the tent. How could someone
breathe so harshly? It was as if the very flesh of his lungs were formed of
glass shards.
Jack
focussed on his search, he could do little to help Daniel. It all depended on
whether or not the medicine worked. The hieroglyphs that normally decorated the
walls of Goa’uld chambers were missing, instead more murals and intricate knot
work decorated the room. When Daniel recovered he would have a field day. The
door was fairly standard and locked. There was another intricately camouflaged
unit beside the door. But aimless pushing of the buttons did not open the door.
He should have taken out the formorian who had brought the medicine and tried
to escape.
But
then Daniel would be dead – suffocated as the passages in his lungs swelled
shut.
"I
think his breathing’s getting easier," Carter reported.
Jack
left his search and settled opposite his subordinate.
"Daniel?"
He laid a gentle hand on the archaeologist’s heaving shoulder.
Daniel
started, jerking away from his touch.
"Easy,
easy," Jack cajoled, as if gentling a horse.
Daniel
coughed raucously, drawing in massive gulps of air. Sam grabbed the bowl as
Jack eased him into a reclining position on the cushions. He arched his spine
and heaved in another hideously wheezy breath. Unintentional tears tracked from
the corners of his eyes, spiralling into his hair.
"Daniel,
Daniel, calm down it will make your breathing easier."
The
archaeologist was sufficiently conscious to fire a venomous glance in Carter’s
direction. He alternated between wheezing and coughing. But, as Jack reassured
himself, he was getting in enough air to cough. Daniel’s fingers were
scrabbling over his shirt, plucking aimlessly at his pockets.
Jack
finally twigged. "His allergy tablets."
"The
antihistamines," Carter said simultaneously.
Jack
found the blister pack of orange tablets. The prescription leaflet said
one-a-day. Jack poked out two from their plastic pockets.
Daniel’s
coughing had eased, he was draped over the pillows looking like a washed out
rag, wheezing tightly. He watched Jack through slitted eyes, fingers drumming
on the mattress.
They
were hard little tablets. How was Daniel going to swallow them when he was
barely able to breathe?
"We
should crush them, sir. It will make them easier to absorb. They’ll get into
his system faster." She patted down her vest, aimlessly looking for
something with which to mash the tablets.
Pragmatic,
Jack tossed them in his mouth and chomped down on the pills, grinding them into
a mush. They tasted foul. Carter watched him, horrified, as he spat out the
orange paste on to his fingers.
"Open
wide, kid."
Daniel
was in no condition to disobey but his eyes widened at Jack’s intentions. Since
his mouth was open as he gasped for breath, Jack proceeded to finger feed him
the medicine which might save his life.
Even
if the antihistamines simply coated his mouth, they might help? Nicotine from
chewing tobacco entered the blood through the mouth, would the allergy
medicine? Phlegmatic, Jack continued finger feeding his friend. His throat
worked as he struggled to swallow the mushy tablets.
"Water."
Jack held his canteen before Daniel’s eyes before carefully dribbling a tiny
swallow into his friend’s mouth. He licked his lips chasing after the moisture.
Jack could only guess at the dryness of his throat from gasping and coughing
for breath.
"Again?"
Daniel
nodded and accepted another dribble. His eyes closed once, twice. Jack watched
amazed as his friend slipped into an exhausted sleep. Daniel’s breathing was
easier, his face didn’t look as pinched and he drew in a longer breath. His
next exhalation was noticeably less noisy.
"Crisis
over," he couldn’t resist a crack.
Carter
sighed, sagging as her bones turned to jelly. "He could have died,
sir."
"Ssssshush!"
Jack hissed. "Instead of at the hands of the Goa’uld, his lungs turn to
shit on him."
"Well,
to be accurate, sir, the breath of Searbhan triggered the reaction."
Ignoring
her, Jack clambered off the bed and continued searching the room. He wanted to
punch someone out, preferably that damnable Daughter of Cecht. Simply
dismissing Daniel as a medical anomaly, suitable only for experimentation – she
deserved to rot in Hell.
Scrabbling
outside the door caught his attention. He dropped into a defensive crouch as
the door swung open.
~*~
Teal’c
opened his eyes as the first sun of the day peeked over the horizon. Every bone
in his body ached. The larvae within his womb was curled in a ball, exhausted
by the demands of healing. It was no longer even capable of swimming within the
nourishing mucous that sustained its life.
The
Their
supplies were intact, left abandoned in their camp. Teal’c deftly repacked
their belongings, breaking up their camp and securing their supplies against
the mountain face with O’Neill’s pitons and rope. He stalked back to the water’s
edge. Myth and legend said that the larval Goa’uld was capable of breathing
underwater, but for a Jaffa to survive he would need to enter a deep state of
meditation. He could not swim and siphon oxygen via the larvae. His dilemma was
simple, how could he breathe underwater and rescue his comrades? The whoosh of
the Stargate’s wormhole disturbed his contemplations. Impassive, but the cant
of his shoulders spoke of deep unease, he stalked back up to the damaged MALP.
"O’Neill?"
General Hammond’s voice sounded tinnily over the speaker.
"General
Hammond, this is Teal’c," the alien said unnecessarily. "We have been
overrun by creatures that DanielJackson called formorii. They have taken
Colonel O’Neill, Captain Carter and DanielJackson. I believe that they were
taken underwater."
Teal’c
waited patiently as General Hammond processed his information.
"Was
Captain Carter any closer to figuring out the DHD?"
"I
do not know, but the DHD is still broken."
"I’m
sending through a team to assist you."
Teal’c
leaned forwards. "That is not necessary. I merely require the Tau’ri’s
equipment for breathing underwater."
"Scuba?"
"I
do not know of this word ‘scuba’. Send the underwater breathing devices and
instructions."
"It’s
not that simple, Teal’c. Siler has a plan which we’re going try. We’re going to
disengage the wormhole. We’ll call you back in twenty minutes."
There
was no one around to see Teal’c bottom lip jut out in dismay.
~*~
Jack
pulled back from delivering a killing blow to the pasty greenish-white troll that
waddled into their cell. It wasn’t the tiny goblin that stayed his attack but
the two looming formorii behind him. Jack guessed that the figure was one of
the firbolg from Daniel’s mural. If he remembered correctly from his grandma’s
tales they had been enslaved by the Lords & Ladies – who he figured were
the Goa’uld. But unlike the mural on the wall it had two legs and two eyes and
it didn’t carry a bag. Jack couldn’t help but snigger; Daniel’s myths had got
it wrong. The firbolg held a tray piled with food. As he accepted the heavy
tray from the being, he couldn’t help but note the bruises and welts on its
body.
"Thank
you," he said kindly.
The
firbolg scurried out of the room when the formorian grunted. Jack scowled at
the bully. He noted the heavy ring in its nose and the heavy lowering brow over
the single eye. He would recognise him again.
"Should
we wake Daniel or let him sleep?" Carter asked.
The
younger man slept the sleep of the exhausted, flaked out on his back, arms
outstretched. Jack could still hear wheezing as he breathed shallowly. They
could have lost Daniel just because he had pissy allergies.
"Yeah."
"Yes,
sir. What are we going to do next?"
"The
door’s fairly easy to jimmy."
"But,
sir, where are we going? The Stargate’s non-operational. We’re stranded."
"It’s
better than staying here with the Gou’ald version of Mengele who wants to
experiment on Daniel. We pick the lock. Quick run back to the entrance hall.
We’re only seven to ten meters underwater; so we can easily swim to the
surface. Then we sustain a holding action at the ‘gate. SGC can keep us
supplied."
Since
their last check, Daniel had turned over onto his side, and had curled up into
his normal protective ball. The kid always slept as if he expected to be kicked
in the stomach. His hair was twisted into sweat spikes. The wheeze was still
discernible; would Daniel be able to swim even one meter let alone ten? They
had been supplied with food. They weren’t in a torture chamber. Obviously they
were touted as hosts. How many humans had came through the Stargate since the
old gods had been banished? And Daniel was slated for experimentation.
"Daniel?"
He shook the linguist’s shoulder.
The
younger man opened a bleary eye, he coughed delicately as if afraid of hurting
himself further.
"Jack?"
he whispered with a voice hoarse from coughing.
"Hey,
Daniel, you wanna get up?"
Despite
his half-dead demeanour, Daniel read between the lines. Time was of the
essence; they had to move. If he didn’t get up he would put his team at risk.
"Sure,"
he croaked. "I guess I fell asleep."
Jack
levered him into a sitting position. "Sure looks like it."
Carter
supported him on the other side. "How are you feeling?"
"Like
I’m wearing a tight metal vest. I don’t suppose you’ve got any coffee on
you?"
"Coffee?
You think now’s the time for coffee?"
"Caffeine’s
a broncho-dilator – it relaxes the muscles in the lungs," Carter said with
her scientific hat displayed for all to see.
"Too
much information," Jack snapped. "You going to make it?"
Daniel’s
peered up at him from under his sweat twisted fringe. "I will," he
said determinedly.
"Right,
let’s quit ditch this gilded cage."
"Gilded
cage?" As he allowed Jack pull his arm over his shoulder, he looked
curiously through their cell. He immediately honed in on the decorative
paintings. "Are those murals?"
"Later,
Daniel."
"But,
Jack."
"Seriously,
Daniel," Sam said determinedly. "I don’t think it’s a good idea to
stay around here – more so than normal."
"Really?"
Daniel fixed his owlish gaze on the Captain.
"I
really think so."
They
propped Daniel beside the door as Jack worked on jimmying the lock. He didn’t
have his lock picking tools, but all he needed was the splinter of metal tucked
in his left boot for just such circumstances. Daniel was immediately attracted
by the murals like a moth to a flame.
"This
is a curious sort of cell," he whispered.
"I
think this is where they keep people before they make them hosts."
"Oh,"
Daniel stuttered apprehensively. "How’s that lock coming?"
"Open,"
Jack announced as the door swung open.
Jack
took point, poking his head out of the door. The corridor was empty. He though
it curious that they had no guards. Surely, the Goa’uld couldn’t be that
arrogant that they thought they wouldn’t be able to escape from such a simple
cells? But the Goa’uld were arrogance personified. Daniel staggered along at
Carter’s side. She kept a supportive hand resting under his elbow. The
archaeologist stayed upright by pure force of effort. The next corridor was
empty, once again heavily ornamented with statues and inlaid decoration. Taking
point, the colonel darted ahead, rapidly moving along the wall to an
intersection. After taking a furtive glance around the corner, he announced,
"Clear."
Corridor
by corridor, sweating buckets, they crept towards the airlock room. Jack was
following his nose, but he had been gifted with an astute sense of direction,
and he remembered their route.
"Sir,"
Carter whispered. "I’m worried."
"What?"
Jack snapped, focussing intently on their team mate. Daniel was as white as a
sheet and his eyes had taken on a definite glassy cast, but he was keeping up
with their stealthy progress. The linguist leaned against a statue of a formorian,
which if he had been in better health he would have studied.
"Why
haven’t we been intercepted?" Carter hissed.
"Goa’uld
arrogance? They never seem to think we can escape their clutches. I don’t think
they’ve heard of surveillance." He dismissed her concerns; there was
little that they could do about it. "You okay, Daniel?"
The
linguist simply nodded, half supporting himself on the wall as he staggered
after them.
~*~
Daniel’s
lungs felt like raw bags of piss.
He
could feel fluid gurgling in his lungs. There was a sore spot deep in the
centre of chest, which almost felt as if it were bleeding. He hurt all over.
There was a vague deep ache somewhere inside his head, making thinking very
difficult. All in all, he was desperately allergic to something on the planet.
His jacket caught on a damnable statue. Damnable because he neither had the
time or energy to study the damn things. Although the one beside Jack looked
remarkably like Apophis.
"Daniel!"
Jack beckoned imperiously.
He
nodded tiredly and freed his jacket from the statue’s outstretched hand. The
air around him tasted of the musty odour of abandonment. He was familiar with
the reek, it felt like a newly uncovered mausoleum.
"Jack,"
Daniel coughed. He paused, bending forward to brace his hands on his thighs.
"You
okay?" The colonel was instantly at his side.
"There’s
something weird here."
"Apart
from the formy guys and the little green trolls?" Jack scanned the area as
he spoke.
"No.
We know the Goa’uld; they’re ostentatious, flamboyant and given to grandiose
shows." He pushed out the next sentence before Jack could interrupt.
"This place might be all of the above, but it’s also stale. They haven’t
been here long or they don’t use this part of the building."
"That’s
interesting."
Jack
grabbed him by the elbow and towed him along at such a rate he could barely
grab at breath to jog let alone talk. At least they hadn’t clambered up any
stairs. Jack said that he knew the way out, but how were they going to get to
the surface? Sam, ahead of them, held up her arm gesturing for them to be
quiet. She raised one finger.
‘One
formorian or Goa’uld?’
"Stay
here," Jack mouthed and pushed him forcefully into a deep alcove.
Daniel
growled inwardly, vituperative phrases dripped off his tongue. Benched because
of his vile allergies. It was school all over again – he was the automatic
handicap to any team.
"Sir!"
Sam yelled.
The
thud of a body hitting a wall was unmistakable.
Galvanised,
he ran out of his hiding place. Jack lay in a sprawled heap on the floor, he
had been thrown clear along the length of the corridor. The golden Goa’uld held
Sam in the grip of a ribbon device.
"Leave
her alone!" Daniel flung himself onto the alien. Light flared and Sam fell
away. Daniel yanked back on the Goa’uld’s arm, bashing the controls on the back
of the unusual device against the wall. Crystal shards fell with agonising
slowness to the ground. Daniel followed their path; surprised the devices were so
fragile. The Goa’uld’s casual backhand caught him across the face. It was a
weak blow by Goa’uld standards, almost as if he were chastising a child.
"You
dare touch me." The host’s eyes glowed malevolently.
‘Oh,
shit.’ A large hand encircled his
throat, evidently the alien preferred to play cat and mouse.
Jack
smacked into the Goa’uld hitting him low, a perfect block. They all sprawled on
the floor. Somehow Daniel ended up under the two men. Jack got his knee in,
grinding it against the alien’s ribs. A dull sound of knuckles hitting flesh
echoed in Daniel’s ears.
Jack
thudded his fist repeatedly into the Goa’uld’s bearded face. "I hate you
people, you’re all shit." Again and again, Jack pummelled the golden man.
Blood splattered his fists. His fist smashed into the alien’s chin and he
flopped bonelessly.
"Jack,
Jack," Daniel wheezed, "I think you’ve succeeded."
"Whoa,"
the older man rocked back on his heels. "You all right?"
Daniel
wiggled his fingers encouragingly.
Unceremoniously,
Jack rolled the Goa’uld off him. Daniel gratefully accepted his help, rising to
his feet.
"You
did a number on him."
"How
long do you think it will take him to heal?" Jack shifted, antsy, on the
balls of his feet as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Dark eyes scanned,
looking for another threat.
Daniel
shuffled away from the incensed colonel to Sam’s side. Crouching, Daniel tried
to assess her condition. She blinked up at him half conscious, a line of blood
trickled from her nose.
"Are
you okay?" He waved his fingers in front of her eyes.
"I’m
fine, Daniel." She wiped her face, spreading the blood over her cheek.
"If
I chop his head off, do you think that a sarcophagus will heal him?" Jack
held up a short, golden sword acquired from the unconscious Goa’uld.
"You
can’t do that!"
"Why?"
Jack asked as he tested the edge of his blade with his thumb.
"No,"
Daniel said passionately, he stood and bounced into Jack’s personal space.
"The host did nothing wrong. You can’t decapitate him."
"Daniel,
there’s no Thor’s Hammer here." Jack raised the blade above his head.
"Desist!"
Lightning
arched across the corridor. A bolt caught Jack high in the chest flinging him
away from the Goa’uld’s side. The edge of the blast sent Daniel to his knees.
Jack tumbled head over heels, fetching up against a statue. Daniel shook the
cobwebs from his brain. The Daughter of Cecht held a ribbon device. On either
side of her stood a reptilian formorian, both in their black scaled armour, the
clenched fist symbol upon their chest. One held an unfamiliar weapon, almost
like a handheld staff weapon. Lightning arched at its point.
"Nuada!"
"Oh,"
Daniel said irrepressibly, "you are from Celtic Mythology. Is Lugh
around?"
That
was his only question. The Daughter of Cecht brought her hand down in a high-handed
gesture. Lightning discharged from the small staff weapon and Daniel’s mind
went blank.
~*~
"Whoa!"
Spluttering, Jack was abruptly, perfectly, one hundred percent conscious.
Rapidly, he took stock. He was once again back in their gilded cage. But this
time his comrades were missing. The last thing that he remembered was
threatening to chop off the Goa’uld’s head.
He
rolled off the bed, determined to find out where his friends were. Only then he
realised that they had taken his BDUs; he now wore for all intents and purposes
girlie clothes. He had seen ghastly clothes like these on Sara’s Sunday
afternoon movie marathons – he wouldn’t look out of place in ’Alexander the
Great.’ They had put him in a dress of all things. He was wearing a short dress
that showed his knobbly knees. Angling his head, he examined the big golden
broaches on his shoulders that secured folds of material across his chest. If
any one saw him; he would die. First peering suspiciously around the room, he
lifted up the hem of his short skirt.
‘My
god, I’m was wearing pantaloons.’
Plus
he felt fine, he didn’t hurt, even his clamouring knee didn’t hurt. Slowly he
realised that the Daughter of Cecht had healed him.
’God
damn, the bitch; why can’t she help Daniel?’
Furious,
he paced the length of the room. Since they had been stupid enough to put him
back in his cell, he knew how to escape. Before he reached the door it was
flung open. The golden Goa’uld stood at the threshold.
"Hey,
Golden Boy, how’s the face? I see all the bruises have been healed," Jack
said flippantly.
The
Goa’uld’s eyes flashed.
"Why
is it you guys do that? The eye thing?" Jack waved his finger under the
alien’s nose. "And how do you do it?"
"I
am Nuada Airgetlam, I am your lord and master."
"Ya
think?" Jack centred his weight on his back leg, moving into the offensive
pose, fully prepared to go for the Goa’uld’s throat.
The
Goa’uld reacted in kind, he raised his hand. The jewel in the palm of his
ribbon glove began to glow. "We have healed you."
"Why
thanks," Jack drawled. "I thought those things were just used to melt
your brains."
"The
Daughter of Cecht is the healer."
"Really,
I thought she was more likely to poke probes up places where the sun don’t
shine."
"Those
who will harbour our children will enjoy perfect health."
"Well,
you see that’s where I’m not playing with you."
Nuada
spat haughtily. "You will come with me to the place of absorption."
"And
if I say no?"
"Balor
and Ghuin will simply drag you there." The two massive formorii stepped
into view.
"Well,
if you put it like that."
They
still grabbed him. Firm hands encircled his biceps lifting him off the floor.
"Hey,
Golden Boy, the condemned man gets a last request."
The
Goa’uld raised a leery eyebrow. He folded his arms against his armoured chest.
Jack couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Old Nuada Airgetlamh certainly took the
cake when it came to ostentatious; gold armour, complete with fancy gold
epaulettes and a gold cape. Daniel would probably be able to tell him why –
apart from appalling bad taste.
"Aw,
go on – it’s not as if you don’t have anything else to do being trapped on this
planet." Jack smiled ingenuously. "Aren’t you curious what my last
request will be?"
Nuada
waved an absent hand.
"I
want to see Daniel and Carter."
A
malevolent smirk graced the Goa’uld’s face. "Yes, you may see your
comrades."
~*~
"Daniel!"
Jack stamped on the glass surface beneath his feet. The younger man was folded into
the corner of a white box-like room. His arms were tucked against his chest,
displaying his deep unease. Daniel had not been dressed up like a storybook
doll, he still wore his black t-shirt and heavy green trousers. Both of which
were looking the worse for wear. There was no obvious entrance. Jack stood
looking down through the transparent ceiling.
"He
cannot hear you." The Goa’uld even smiled like a snake.
"What
he doing in there?"
"The
Daughter of Cecht is most interested in him." He dismissed Daniel with a
wave of his wrist. "She is interested in the wheezing noise that he
makes."
"Allergies.
They’re hardly unusual. Lots of humans have them." Jack would have blacked
the Goa’uld’s eye anew if it hadn’t been for Balor and Ghuin watching him.
"Cecht
has her own enjoyments – I leave her to them." He stalked away. "Say
goodbye to your friend; you will not see him again."
"Daniel!"
Jack stomped hard on the glass.
The
linguist looked up, his brow furrowing as he squinted at the ceiling. Planting
a hand on the wall, he forced himself to his feet.
‘Jack?’
he mouthed.
"She’s
gonna experiment on you!" O’Neill hollered at the top of his lungs. Before
he could get out another word, Balor planted a paw firmly between his shoulder
blades and forced him away.
~*~
"Experiment
on you." The voice
was Jack’s but the words made no sense.
"Experiment
on me?" He tried the words out for size. Who was going to experiment on
him? The Lady Goa’uld? Daniel ground his teeth together as he thought. He
vaguely remember the Goa’uld coming into the suite. Things had been rather
desperate at the time, he’d been more concerned with breathing and Nuada’s
ribbon device had given him a wicked headache. She had introduced herself as
Cecht? Actually that made sense. Cecht was the Celtic God of Healing.
A
Goa’uld who Healed. That actually had some creepy connotations. Experiments?
Suddenly his skin felt clammy.
A
cold north wind walked up his spine.
Jack
had been above him. Daniel craned his neck. He’d searched the room thoroughly
when he had first regained consciousness, but there was no exit, unless an
entire wall moved. The walls glowed with a bright white light but the ceiling
was dark. Maybe he was in a giant gift box?
‘A
gift for Cecht.‘
Shuddering,
Daniel shuffled back to his corner. He slumped down, giving in to the feeling
of malaise eating through his bones. His chest hurt, he was still wheezing and
there was a dull throb reverberating between his ears. He needed to get out of
the box and find his friends, but enfolding exhaustion was overriding any
thoughts of action. There was too much they didn’t know. Why did air breathing
Goa’uld live underwater? He answered his own question: because the unstable
nature of the planet made living topside precarious at best. That begged another
question: why hadn’t the Goa’uld left such a hazardous planet? Three possible
reasons sprung to mind: they somehow avoided the earthquakes under water and
were comfortable (although given the sense of the abandonment that didn’t feel
right); two they were after something on the planet and, finally, they couldn’t
leave -- the DHD had been broken a long time. He liked the last idea. Legend
had it that the Tuatha de Danaan had retreated to Tir Nan Nog or lived beneath
lakes and mounds, evidently they’d managed both. So they had been defeated in a
war and cast away. The Egyptian cadre of the Goa’uld had forsaken them?
‘They
must be bored out of their snaky little minds,’ Daniel thought that quip was worthy of O’Neill.
The
wall shimmered. Daniel was sure that he saw the wall shimmer. Curious, he
tottered to his feet and stumbled over. As he touched it, it withered away.
"Ooops!"
He jerked back, almost falling over.
The
Daughter of Cecht stood before him with her ever present looming bodyguards.
She was certainly beautiful, but she was abhorrent; simply a Goa’uld who wore
the body of a human woman and changed simple loveliness to soulless, haughty
perfection. The two formorii grabbed him.
"You
know, you just had to ask and I would have walked with you." Daniel’s toes
only just brushed the ground. "Excuse me, would you mind telling me what
you’re going to do to me?"
"Silence."
Head held high, Cecht strode ahead. She was the epitome of arrogance, she even
allowed her golden cape to unfurl dramatically behind her. All in all, she made
Daniel’s bile rise in disgust.
"Why?
Will it make any difference to your plans?"
"Your
babbling effects my concentration."
The
corridors were a direct contrast to the suite and the route to the entrance hall.
There was no ornamentation, just simple unadorned grey walls. But the corridors
echoed with silent steps.
‘Where
do they normally live?’ Daniel mused, as always easily distracted.
Cecht
stopped at a seemingly blank wall, she raised her hand and passed it over a
recessed gem. Daniel recognised it as standard Goa’uld technology. He was
suddenly struck by the changes he had seen in the Celtic Goa’uld he had seen.
Ra had forbade change for several millennia. Teal’c spoke of a thousand years
of unrelenting consistency under the dominion of the System Lords. Nuada wore a
different form of ribbon device. They did not have Jaffa but had formorii.
Suspended between the ancient beings, he craned his head to look at their naked
stomachs – there was no cross shape breach to a larval womb. Jack thought that
they had been slated as hosts. Jack was a fairly competent person, but by no
stretch of the imagination could he be considered perfect. He could see why Sam
had been touted as a host. But if they wanted Jack they were not what you call
discriminating. They had been forced into this situation. Abandoned or
sentenced to this planet they would have been forced to adopt change merely to
survive. The Goa’uld on this planet coped with change. The Goa’ulds’ unrelenting
lack imagination was one of the few advantages they had over the aliens who had
taken the role of the Egyptian and Greek Gods. These Celtic Goa’uld could be
significantly more dangerous. They did however, share the same obdurate
arrogance. Daniel realised that his thoughts were wandering or more likely he
was trying to distract himself from the new veil of horrors he had to face.
The
raised pedestal in the centre of the room was large enough to support a man
lying supine.
~*~
"Sir!"
Carter exclaimed. She too was wearing something out of the renaissance. The
captain looked as uncomfortable as sin. They had dressed her as some sort of
Greek beauty. Her hair had been twisted high upon her head sculpted into curls
and locks. She wore a long scarlet shift, gathered at the bosom with another
golden broach, with a white, sheer shift beneath. For all intents and purposes,
to Jack untutored eye, she was wearing a couple of negligees. But,
incongruously, she still walked as if she wore leather boots and carried a MP-5.
The formorian beside her sported a bruised nose. Carter’s skin was notably
devoid of any ribbon bruising and the blood had been washed from her skin.
"Nice
outfit."
"Yes,
sir. Have you seen Daniel?" Carter said with her customary directness.
"Daniel’s
with Cecht," Jack said through gritted teeth.
"What?
No? What she doing to him?"
"What
do you think?"
Carter
gnawed on her bottom lip nervously. She started to say something, but trailed
off mouthing words uncertainly. Finally, she blurted out, "Why are we
here?"
Their
fate was obvious; in the centre of the opulent hall was a witches’ cauldron,
carefully scrolled with interlocking snakes. They could see the water churning
as the larvae moved beneath. Dull scaly skin occasionally broke the surface.
Jack
turned angrily on Nuada. "Any Goa’uld coming anywhere near me is going to
have its head bitten off."
The
Celtic Goa’uld was unimpressed with his display. With a characteristic click of
his fingers he directed his prisoners’ formorii bodyguards to frog-march them
to the edge of the cauldron.
"I
would know where you come from. I think perhaps you came through the Chaa’pai
rather than surviving on the plateau for aeons," Nuada said
conversationally. "While the Daughter of Cecht would gain these answers through
torture and intimidation, I will merely wait until one of my children conquers
your memories and tells me all."
"Sir,
I don’t think that they’re mature. They look ill."
"You’re
not making me into a Goa’uld." Jack dodged right and planted his elbow in
formorian’s solar plexus. Fighting dirty, he brought his knee up, slamming it
up against the other guard’s genital sac.
The
formorian reacted perfectly; folding over. Carter was darting back in forth in
front of her foe, planting hard punches on his chest and avoiding long,
ponderous arms.
The
formorii were incidental – the main bad guy was Nuada. Jack flung himself at
the Goa’uld. Deliberately the black ops Colonel caught Nuada by his chin. His
momentum sent them both crashing him to the floor. Nuada’s head cracked against
the ceramic tiles with the sound of a melon dropped from great height.
Jack
rolled smoothly to his feet and with something akin to glee jumped on Carter’s
formorian.
~*~
"You
know you really don’t want to do this," Daniel said hopefully. "The
fact that I’m allergic to things is really of no interest," he finished
gamely.
"These
allergies would preclude you from becoming a host. We have a grave need for
hosts." The Daughter of Cecht held up a finger nail daubed with Daniel’s
bright red blood before her eyes. "Your immune system overreacts to things
of no consequence. It is likely that a newly matured child would find your
infestation a chore."
Daniel
craned his head to look at the seemingly young woman. He could only move a
little bit, secured to the pedestal by white ceramic clasps around his arms,
legs and neck.
"I’m
really broken up about that."
"Yet
otherwise the code of your life is… charming."
Daniel
withheld a gag as she stared at him coquettishly. He’d seen that expression on
Hathor. This was… Daniel struggled to think of an appropriate word,
intolerable? Unendurable? Excruciating? Blood still trickled sluggishly from
the wound in his bicep from which she had drawn her blood and cell samples.
Torture made the bitch lick her scarlet lips and her pupils widen until they
completely eclipsed fathomless sapphire irises. If she came closer he was going
to cough mucous on her.
"If
we can correct this aberration you will make a perfect host." She picked
up a probe, a good long foot in length. "But then I would miss out on a
learning opportunity."
Daniel
screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.
~SG:1~
Teal’c
viewed SG:2 with a raised eyebrow. Makepeace sat by the DHD stripping down
Colonel O’Neill’s sand encrusted MP-5. The two other US Marines stood on guard,
Lieutenant Keel watching the plateau and Captain Applegate watched the calm
sea. Satisfied that they were competent, Teal’c crossed to the massive power
source that General Hammond had sent through the Stargate. It sat directly in
front of the now quiescent Stargate. Too heavy to move, it would only allow
them once chance to escape, since when the event horizon formed it would
disintegrate the heavy generator. There would be no more communication with the
SGC, until they opened the Stargate, planet side.
In
his hand, he held the instructions on how to jump-start a Stargate. The massive
crocodile clips would bite the naquadah inner circle and over time, the ‘gate
would absorb the energy from the generator. Teal’c glared up at the pure blue
expanse of sky overhead; there would be no lightning to charge the Stargate on
this world. The instructions stated that it would take an unknown amount of
time for the Stargate to reach critical mass. Teal’c clamped on the clips and
started the gas-driven generator. For all he knew, in the next minute there
would be another earthquake and, potentially, the Stargate or generator would
be damaged. The text that Teal’c had obtained from the SGC did not say for how
long the naquadah would remain charged. The generator vibrated, a soothing low
note, which reminded him of the chanting in the temple of the gods. His first
goal achieved, Teal’c secured the final supplies from the SGC. General Hammond
had sent first aid supplies, food, water and the underwater breathing
apparatus. Stoic, logical and calm, Teal’c began to read the instruction with
the SCUBA device, starting with a physics lecture regarding something called
Boyle’s Law.
~SG:1~
The
crack of vertebrae snapping a spinal cord echoed through the Goa’uld absorption
room. O’Neill let the formorian slide sideways to sprawl, dead on the floor.
Breathing hard through his nose, he moved onto his next prey. He kicked the alien
in the back of the neck pushing him off Sam to smash face first into the
ground. Venom oozed puddling beneath his head, burning the marble floor.
"Sir?"
Carter pulled herself out from under the dead formorian.
"You
all right, Carter?"
"Yes,
sir." Efficient, she bent picked up a discarded knife and then sliced off
the long flowing skirts that threatened to hamper to her movement. Jack’s brow
furrowed. Carter: skirt? He drew in a deep breath and looked away.
‘Carter’s
got legs.’
"Sir,"
Captain Samantha Carter of SG:1 announced, reading his mind, "I have
always had legs."
"Let’s
get Daniel."
The
venomous formorii did not possess any weapons, but Nuada had a jazzy looking
sword. O’Neill took it as a souvenir and a deterrent. He spared a final glance
at the brain splattered host and turned away without another look. The Celtic
Goa’uld would rue the day that they messed with Jack O’Neill. The Daughter of
Cecht had Daniel; Jack wondered if her neck would make that same satisfying
crunch. Carter grabbed a spear from a statue with a canted hip. Jack was sure
that Daniel would be able to tell him from which epoch it originated, or
something.
"Do
you know where Daniel is?" Carter said.
"Golden
Boy took me to some cell; Daniel might still be there. It was north by
north-west."
They
sneaked along the gaudily decked corridors, ducking behind statues as slabby
formorii passed. One of the tiny firbolg staggered by, laden down by a mess of
laundry.
"Kree!"
Jack stepped out from behind the statue.
The
drone stopped dead, bleaching to a new level of terrified paleness, it dropped
the laundry. Jack drew himself up as haughtily as any Goa’uld. It tried to
speak but could only whimper.
"Take
me to the Daughter of Cecht, kree." Jack shook his hand aimlessly in the
firbolg’s face. "Kree. Now!"
Eyes
bugging, the firbolg left the clothes on the floor and scuttled, still bowing
frantically, down the corridor.
"After
it," Jack ordered.
The
poor little thing was so upset it could hardly walk straight.
"Do
we even know if we’re going to Daniel?" Carter asked sensibly.
"Have
you got a better idea?" Jack picked up the pace to walk alongside the
distraught firbolg. "You can stop bowing."
The
firbolg froze. The critter stared up at him with fried egg eyes.
"I’m
a progressive sort of Goa’uld," Jack said pithily. "Tell me about
yourself. Those formi guys they treat you badly, don’t they?"
The
firbolg’s mouth fell open in consternation. ::Lord?::
"Well…
you serve the Goa’uld and the formi guys. One of you little dudes came into our
cell before and he’d been smacked around." Jack leaned forwards. "You
guys speak English?"
"English?"
the being ventured.
"You
can speak?"
It
nodded frantically. "I can speak the tongue of the Altar of the
Gods."
"Daniel
first; take us to Cecht."
"Now?"
it asked pathetically.
"Yes,
now."
Almost
wailing, the being darted away. The two members of the SG:1 team hurried to
keep up. Faster than its legs indicated, it almost outpaced them. Jack couldn’t
help but think that time was of the essence. That glint in Cecht’s eye hadn’t
boded well for their fellow team member.
The
firbolg led them in a darting dance down ornate corridor after ornate corridor.
They overran the transparent white cells embedded in the floor. The cell was
empty. Other cells stood side by side. A couple of firbolg cowered in one
corner.
Their
guide led them down a marble staircase to a danker, more humid level. The walls
were grey and devoid of the decorations above.
The
firbolg stopped dead outside a plain door with one of the Goa’uld crystals. In
a smooth motion, it dropped to the floor on its knees and genuflected.
"The
Daughter of Cecht’s chambers, Lord and Lady."
"Is
she--" Jack said with strained humour, "--alone?"
Carter
took her place at the opening crystal. Jack brandished his stolen sword.
"On
three," she mouthed.
"Three!"
Colonel
O’Neill barrelled through the door. He registered that Daniel was lying on a
ceramic table, distantly. Cold as ice, he launched himself at the nearest
formorii. He buried his sword up to the hilt in the alien’s side, taking him
down without warning. With a banshee’s howl, Carter threw herself at the other
-- her foot impacting with the formorian’s genital sac. Jack winced even as he
turned on the Daughter of Cecht. Ichor dripped from the short sword. The jewel
in the centre of the Goa’uld’s hand glowed.
"Bring
your hand up and I’ll show you the pointy end of this sword," Jack vowed.
Cecht
sniffed and poked her nose in the air, but the glow subsided. Carter brushed by
O’Neill making her way to Daniel’s side. His eyes opened a sliver and he stared
up at her. Sweat had slicked his hair into twisted spirals.
"Hey,"
he tried through cracked lips, "you made it. Just in time."
The
ceramic manacles were moulded without seams. Carter could see no way to release
them. "Sir." She indicated the bonds.
Jack
dragged the Goa’uld over by the scruff of her neck. "Release him," he
ordered.
"You
will not let me manipulate my gauntlet." She smirked.
"Carter?"
O’Neill rounded on his subordinate.
"I
don’t know the technology, sir. You might have to be a Goa’uld to make it
work."
Jack
twisted around behind Cecht, holding her firmly and laid the blade against her
throat. "Any funny stuff and I’ll slit your snaky neck."
Carter
stepped to the side as Cecht waved her hand over the manacles. They retracted,
moving seamlessly into the pedestal. Daniel immediately brought his arms up,
hugging his chest. Blood streaked down his arm, staining his t-shirt.
"Don’t
move, Daniel, until I check you out," Carter beseeched.
"She
hadn’t…" Daniel coughed, "really started."
Viewing
the visibly injured archaeologist, Jack could only raise an eyebrow.
"Ow."
Shaking
her head, Carter ripped off one of the slips from under her shortened gown and
bound up the wound on Daniel’s bicep.
"She
wanted my code of life." The tips of Daniel’s ears blushed red. "I
think I prefer that she did it that way than the other."
"Can
you walk, Daniel?" Jack asked as he dragged Cecht to the open doorway. The
colonel came up sharp by the entrance and craned his neck to peer around the
corner. "Clear," he reported.
"Yeah,
sure," Daniel wheezed, but he didn’t move a muscle.
"Daniel?"
Carter’s eyes widened with consternation.
"Sorry,
I can’t feel my legs. I think it was the sample she took."
"What?"
Jack couldn’t help but demand of the Ice Queen.
"It
is of interest," she supplied haughtily.
Jack
stabbed her upside the abdomen, angling for her heart. Her eyes bugged, the
blue in them flaring like summer lightning. She froze, only held up by the
piercing blade. Jack let his arm drop and she slipped off the short sword to
fall heavily to the floor. The colonel stepped over her, with casual contempt,
back to his comrade’s side.
Daniel
lay on the pedestal, watching mutely, his arms still crossed defensively.
"What
did she do?" Carter’s hands froze a hairsbreadth above Daniel’s chest,
afraid to touch in case he broke.
"Spinal
fluid. I think." Daniel’s pupils were constricted with pain. "She
kind of gave me an epidural first. Least ways… I think it was an epidural, it
hurt a bit." His lips pursed.
O’Neill
flashed Carter a shocked look. The astrophysicist submerged her fear under
professionalism, turning to the vials beside the pedestal. She flipped through
the sample containers. "Yes, blood and—" she shook a vial containing
straw coloured fluid, "—spinal fluid."
"Is
that all?" Jack asked.
"It’s
enough, don’t you think?" Daniel said with something close to ire.
Jack
nodded curtly, before turning back to Carter. "We can move him, can’t
we?"
"I
don’t think we can stay here, sir."
Jack
carefully gripped his wrists and unfurled Daniel’s arms, which were still
curled defensively over his chest.
"What
ya doing?" he coughed.
"This."
Jack pulled Daniel smoothly into a sitting position. Carter had already started
to pull his legs around, pre-empting his thoughts.
Daniel
let out a startled grunt as Jack hauled him into the classic fireman’s lifting
position. "Aren’t I too heavy?"
"Yeah."
Jack shifted his shoulders. "I can manage."
Long
fingers gripped at his waist frantically. He had carried heavy weights over
longer and more gruelling distances; he could carry Daniel. Jack shifted
Daniel’s weight fractionally, hooking the back of one leg with his arm as he
pulled on Daniel’s undamaged arm. Carter bent down and scooped up the short
sword, she took point, moving through the door to the first junction.
"Damn!"
she yelled.
"Carter?"
Jack picked up his marching pace.
Carter
was trying to pull the diminutive firbolg to her feet. "It…She was
crouched by the doorway, waiting for us."
"Show
us to the… what the hell do you call that place?… the room that filled with
water… the docking room."
"Airlock,"
Carter supplied.
"You
mean the entrance hall?" the firbolg asked innocently.
"Yes,
the entrance hall," Jack directed, jerking his chin down the corridor.
"Now."
"My
lord." She genuflected until her forehead touched the ground.
"Quit
with the bowing. Take us to the hall."
"Sire."
She bowed once more.
"Now!"
Jack yelled.
Terrified,
the firbolg jump onto her webbed feet and scurried away. She was halfway down
the corridor before Jack could blink.
"Hey,
wait up."
~*~
Jack’s
golden shoulder brooch was digging in a very delicate portion of Daniel’s
anatomy. But he was trying to keep very still, so as not to tip over the
colonel. He felt strangely cold, with icy perspiration beading on his brow. It
had been so close, another heartbeat and he didn’t like to think what Cecht
would have done. And he also felt hollow, as if Cecht had scooped out his
innards with a spoon. Barely grunting – where did he get the strength? – Jack
tromped up a flight of stairs out from Cecht’s icy domain. Abruptly, Jack
shifted sideways hiding behind a pillar.
"Ow!"
Daniel grunted as his head hit a wall.
"Shush."
"Sorry,"
he whispered.
Jack
twisted and suddenly blood rushed from Daniel’s head to his feet as he was
propped back against the pillar. His legs gave way and Jack braced him tighter.
Daniel twisted his head sideways to check on Sam. She was hiding behind the
next pillar down, clasping a confused looking green thing with great big googly
eyes to her legs.
The
sound of marching feet filled his ears. A phalanx of formorii marched past --
twenty pairs, each carrying a long golden spear. Balor marched at their head,
naked, his black rubbery skin glistened if freshly applied with oil.
"Have
you seen any other Goa’uld?" Jack mouthed, deliberately over-emphasising.
‘Two.’ Carter held up her fingers.
"Two?"
Daniel whispered. "Only two Goa’uld?"
Jack
peeked out to scan the surroundings as the final two formorii turned a corner.
Garbed in white shiny scaly armour they were markedly different to Nuada’s
black slabby guards. Before they could move they heard another troop of heavy
aliens. Hand clamped over their firbolg’s mouth, Carter sank behind her pillar.
Daniel watched entranced as an astoundingly tall, black haired, porcelain
skinned Goa’uld strode along the corridor. But what drew his attention was the
white flowing robe with the giant sunburst on his chest. A group of tall elven
humanoids marched a discrete distance behind their lord, beating drums and
playing pipes. They too wore the giant sunburst, but instead of robes with
intricate knot work they wore tabards which stretched from neck to knee over
crimson tunics.
"Lugh
Samildanach, the High King, the Celtic Sun God. Also known as Lugh Lamfhada,
that is, Lugh of the Long Arm," Daniel whispered in Jack’s ear.
"Daniel,"
Jack hissed.
"This
amazing, look at his retinue. I think that one who was on his left…" Daniel
craned his neck to look better, before Jack pulled him back to safety.
"Did you see him, they shared the same long dark curly hair and pointed
chin? I think that must be Cuchulainn."
Jack
clamped his hand over Daniel‘s mouth. "Are you trying to get us
killed?"
Daniel’s
eyes widened in feverish consternation. "Sorry," he whispered against
Jack’s palm.
Jack
pushed into him, creating the smallest target as possible. But the parade of
Goa’uld and formorii were noisy. The nazi-like stomp of the jack-booted
formorii and the minion Goa’uld armed with bodhrans and pipes, announcing the
approach of their King and God, kept the SG team safe.
Once
the coast was clear, the irrepressible Jack O’Neill couldn’t help but say,
"And they say Scottish Bagpipes are bad."
"It’s
cultural," Daniel protested automatically.
"Can
you walk?"
"Yes,
of course." Daniel‘s legs, predictably, gave way. Jack caught him before
he could drop an inch.
"Ups
a daisy."
"Oh,"
Daniel managed before he found himself once more strung across Jack’s
shoulders. He had a good view of Jack’s knees, and Jack was right; they were
knobbly.
Sam
was cajoling the firbolg who was quivering with indecision. The tiny denizen
was painfully trying to understand what was happening. Her pupils expanded and
contracted with consternation.
"Lords,
Lady, the Shining One has descended, all feuds are to be set aside. We should
go to the Great Hall to bid him welcome."
"No,
take us to the entrance hall."
"But,
my Lord, the Shining One…"
"Has
descended, we heard. Come on, Bug Eyes, we want the entrance hall."
"But…"
Caught between a rock and a hard place, it was almost painful to watch the
thoughts scroll across her mobile face. "Your feud with the High
Chancellor, Nuada Airgetlamh, is no more. We must pay homage…"
"Little
one," Daniel said huskily. "We serve The Morrigu, she awaits us, only
then can we meet with the High King."
"Your
Lady awaits us at the entrance hall?" The firbolg latched onto the excuse
with a sigh of relief. "Come, come." She hurried out into the corridor
with Carter on her heels.
"Nice
one, Daniel."
Daniel’s,
head hanging upside down, screwed up his face deflecting the praise. "The
Celts are a passionate people, their fervour for revenge is well
documented." He grabbed a breath and managed to finish, "In an
immortal race it stands to reason that the thirst for blood feuds would be
curtailed by rules otherwise they’d kill each other."
Jack
glanced sideways at him before continuing doggedly on. "Who’s this Morri
guy we’re supposed to follow?"
"The
Morrigu is the Irish Goddess of Death." Daniel coughed lightly.
"She’s often seen as a crow or a beautiful woman."
"Right,"
he drawled. "Only you…"
Jack
plodded resolutely onwards, one foot in front of the other. The intricate
architecture caught the archaeologist’s eye, opening new windows on a mythology
he had only browsed. Was Cuchulainn Lugh’s son by both birth and by
infestation? The age old ‘chicken or egg’ question of the Goa’uld’s history –
what came first Man’s ancient gods or the invading aliens? – demanded to be
answered, but he never had sufficient information. The pieces of the puzzle
were falling in to place. Lugh was on a royal progress, visiting his Lords and
Ladies. Had Nuada Airgetlamh, Nuada of the Silver Hand, been banished to this
decaying mausoleum? There was so much to figure out, but Daniel doubted that
Jack would let him find out.
Gingerly,
Daniel tried to wiggle his toes, and felt a distant movement. ‘Good,’ he
thought hollowly, ‘soon I’ll be able to walk.’
The
cold relief made his guts clench. The Daughter of Cecht could have permanently
paralysed him when she had taken her sample. The pain had been excruciating.
"You
all right, Daniel?" Jack huffed out as he stomped along the corridor.
"Feeling
is coming back."
"Whooo
hooo," Jack said lightly. "How’s the cold?"
"I
don’t think it was a cold," Daniel answered too quickly, "…stopped
wheezing. The anti-histamines have kicked in."
Carter,
at the far end of the corridor, moved her hand in a short, sharp cutting
movement. Jack darted, for all Daniel’s mass, behind one of the ever-present
pillars standing proud of the main walls. Daniel braced himself as he was set
on his feet. He could feel the cold marble stones through the soles of his bare
feet. His knees threatened to give way, but again Jack clasped him firmly
against his chest and pushed up against the stone pillar.
"No
archaeological analyses, okay?" he hissed.
The
marching pace sounded slow and deliberate. Tucked between Jack and the pillar,
Daniel’s could see little around Jack’s bracing arms. But between the pillars
and the wall as the formorii turned the corner, he could see the reptilian
formorian carrying a byre, with a cloth draped figure. Jack’s eyes widened,
with self-satisfied glee.
"Nuada,"
the colonel murmured.
"You
killed him?" Daniel whispered.
"He
deserved it."
"Have
you seen a sarcophagus?" Daniel asked softly.
"No,"
Jack said with something close to delight.
Daniel
raised a chastising eyebrow.
Jack
gave an unrepentant shrug. "The Ice Queen’s got some sort of handheld
healing device."
"You
killed her too."
"Yeah."
Carter,
further along the wall, hidden in a recessed alcove was making desperate
shushing gestures. Chastised, both subsided. Amazingly, the procession passed
by without noticing them.
Jack
bent grabbing Daniel’s arm in preparation to lift. As he was folded over Jack
shoulder, he couldn’t help but protest, "Can we try walking?"
"Next
time we duck into an alcove."
The
firbolg was rocking from foot to foot. Carter held her by her hand, to prevent
her from running off. But she was completely taken aback that a Lady had
touched her, her mouth widen open, displaying a veritable forest of tiny,
pointy teeth, that it was unlikely she would run away.
"How
far?" Jack demanded.
"Come
on." Carter smiled gamely at the little servant.
"Ahead,
my Lady."
The
team went back to their careful sneaking through the labyrinthine corridors of
the Celtic Goa’uld stronghold. Twisting corridor after twisting corridor;
Daniel suspected that a warped and out of shape mind had designed the fortress
"Jack,
let’s try; put me down." Daniel finally cajoled as Jack turned a deep
shade of puce.
Jack’s
only answer was to bend forwards, planting his feet on the floor. Daniel locked
his knees and was proud when he stayed up and stable. Jack made no comment as
he hauled Daniel’s arm over his shoulder. On wobbly legs, Daniel made his way
to the next intersection. Concentrating on staying upright, he let Jack guide
them onwards.
~*~
"It’s
a good thing the Goa’uld are into these knick-knacks." Jack waved his free
hand at yet another corridor framed by ostentatious, glittering statues on
pedestals.
"Huh?"
Daniel lifted his head, from where he was regarding every careful footstep as
Jack dragged him along.
"’Cos
if they weren’t, we’d have nowhere to hide."
Daniel
half snorted, a curtailed sort of coughing laugh. "Always look on the
bright side."
"Who’s
that?" Jack demanded.
Daniel
peered intently at the figure, foiled to a certain extent by the loss of his
glasses. "Uhm… No idea."
"Wow,
I’m gonna make a note of this day."
"Celtic
Mythology isn’t my field," Daniel protested. As he was dragged passed the
fabric draped figure, he hazarded, "Guinevere?"
"You’re
just guessing."
"Maybe."
Daniel looked away avoiding the colonel’s intent gaze, but he knew that the man
was smiling.
"Sir,"
Sam said cuttingly. "We’re here." She stood by a doorway twice their
height, barred by a massive metal capped wooden tree trunk slotted through iron
wrought ridges.
"The
entrance hall, Lords and Lady." The firbolg smiled shyly.
"Thank
you," Sam said softly, "you’ve been very helpful."
"It
might be a good idea, for you to run off and finish your laundry," Jack
said magnanimously.
"Yes,
my Lord." She bowed deeply, until her head almost touched the floor.
"Your wish is my command." With a final obeisance, she padded off on
bowed legs to continue her work.
"I
hope you two were taking notes. That’s the way I want my subordinates to treat
me."
"You
wish," Daniel sniffed. "Anyway, I’m not your subordinate."
"Sir,"
Carter interrupted, completely ignoring the banter. "We need to open this
door."
Both
men looked up at the heavy log. "Any ideas?" O’Neill asked Sam.
"Brute
strength; there’s no mechanism. The formorii must move it." The log slid
into slots on one side of the door. They had to push it from right to left.
Jack
moved to set Daniel aside, but he protested, shifting away from Jack’s grip to
reach up and add his strength to moving the tree trunk. The colonel took a
stance on Daniel’s left and Carter on his right.
"On
three," Jack instructed. "Three."
Strained
grunts echoed down the corridor as the log shifted a bare foot.
"And
again. Three."
Daniel
swore through gritted teeth as they forced the trunk another few inches.
"Three."
Perspiration
darkened Sam’s gown and Jack informed everyone that his vertebrae were
compressing as they levered the trunk a foot length.
"Garrr,
I wish Teal’c were here." Jack blew out heavily.
"Three,"
Daniel snapped and they shifted the trunk another foot.
"Almost
there," Sam cajoled. "Just another foot."
By
dint of bone breaking effort they managed to push until the right hand door was
free of the barring log. Sam stretched up on her toes and peered at the locking
mechanism.
"Anyone
got a nail or something?" she asked.
Both
turned to Daniel who was the only one wearing SG:1 issued clothes rather than
gloriously impractical silk gowns. The linguist patted his many BDU pockets.
"Er,
no, I…uhm… Ah!" Rifling through the pocket on his left hip, he pulled out
a fountain pen and offered it to the captain. "Here."
Sam
held it before her eyes. "You’re not attached to it?"
"Not
especially no."
Twisting
it, she unscrewed it into two parts, and shook out the long metal ink
cartridge. "This might do; it’s a big lock."
"Go
for it," Jack directed half his attention on the door the other half on
the long corridor that led to the chamber. They had nowhere to hide if someone
turned the corner.
Sam
leaned into the door putting all her concentration into the effort. Eyes half
closed, she concentrated on the locking mechanism, probing this way and that.
"Carter,"
Jack began. Daniel waved him into silence.
"Ah,"
Sam froze and then moved the pen nib infinitesimally. They all heard the click.
Sam smiled brightly and opened the door.
"Move."
Jack ushered them both through before the door had swung halfway open. Once
inside, the colonel leaned straight back into the door and slammed it shut.
Stepping back, he squinted at it, trying to see the lock.
"Guess
you can’t lock it from the outside," Carter noted.
Looking
around, Jack could see nothing to bar the door on the airlock side.
"Okay--" he pointed to the spaghetti mess of pipes, fluid-filled
balls and Goa’uld jewels on the far wall, "--that must be the
controls."
"Oooh."
Intrigued by yet another new mystery to solve, Sam darted across the tiled
floor.
"Uhm,
look." Daniel pointed to a Goa’uld jewel embedded in the wall at the side
of the wooded doors. "A second locking mechanism?"
"Looks
that way." Jack waved his hand over the ruby jewel. The force field seemed
to jump out of the floor, rocketing up to the ceiling to form a golden
shimmering wall.
Daniel
shared a knowing glance with the colonel. "If the hall fills up with
water, a barred wooden door isn’t going to stop water escaping."
"But
the force field will." Jack extended a finger, golden spider webs cascaded
where he touched. "That’s locked up good and tight."
Daniel
turned away, arms hanging loosely at his sides, to gaze down at the floor in
the centre of the hall. "I didn’t spot that when we came here."
Jack
sauntered along the edge of the mosaic Daniel was studying. A mermaid swam in a
timeless ocean of tiny turquoise shards of stone. "You did have a big
hairy Goa’uld in your face."
"It’s
rather stylised. I wonder who made it." Daniel bent forwards and squinted.
"Humph, you didn’t happen to see a library during your explorations?"
"No,
Daniel." Jack rolled his eyes heavenward, before moving over to aggravate
Carter.
Daniel’s
lips curved in a smile as he settled down crossed legged to study the intricate
mosaic. He sagged forwards, leaning his elbows on his knees.
"You
all right, Daniel?"
Daniel
craned his head, Jack stood over him bouncing uneasily on the balls of his
feet.
"Yeah,
I was just looking at the--" Daniel grinned, "--pretty
pictures."
The
humour hit the right spot. But Jack segued instantly into seriousness.
"When Carter gets the airlock moving this place is gonna fill with water.
We’ve got five or six meters to swim to the surface. You gonna manage?"
"I’ll
have to, won’t I." Daniel shrugged. He inhaled deeply and started off a
chest tingling cough.
"Yeah
right." Jack crouched and tentatively patted him between his shoulder
blades.
Daniel
blinked at him through cough wrought tears.
"Tell
you what." Jack rocked back on his heels. "We’ll tread water as this
hall fills. When Carter tells us too, you just hold your breath, best you can,
and let me do all the work."
"I…"
"No
arguments, Danny Boy. You’re not one hundred percent. You’re not even fifty
percent."
"Sir?"
Carter turned away from the melange of controls. "I think I’ve got it
figured out. It’s fairly simple. It’s not really an airlock. What we have here
are a series of pumps. We fill the entrance hall with water and then open the
door to the sea." Sam pointed to the mosaic on the floor. "We swim up
through the floor."
"How
long will it take?"
"We
can’t open the pumps too fast or we’ll be dashed against the walls." Sam’s
expression turned abstracted as she calculated dimensions and area. "Five
minutes. One of us will have to swim down and open the door when the water
pressure is equal, that is, when the hall is practically filled with water.
There should be an air pocket at the ceiling. It’s a good thing really that
it’s not a pressure system to keep the water at bay, otherwise our lungs would
burst before we reached the surface. We’d have to exhale on the way up."
She flashed a concerned glance at the coughing Daniel.
"Do
it, Carter. You get the door mechanism. I’ll help Daniel."
"Sir?"
"Do
it, Carter."
She
released the mechanism, spinning a wheel clockwise. The mosaic dropped a mere
inch and water rushed in to cover the circular design. Jack drew Daniel upright
as the seawater sloshed over their feet. Carter spun the wheel another notch
and the water gushed.
"I’ll
open it fully when I can’t hold my breath anymore. I’ll then swim up and join
you at the ceiling," Sam yelled over the rush of water. She had pulled off
her overlying gown and cast it and a mess of jewels and brooches aside.
"’K."
The
water hit slapped the colonel’s bare legs and he winced. The Goa’uld tunic that
he wore would probably go transparent when wet, the pinnacle of his
embarrassment. Daniel shot him a sheepish grin reading his mind. The
archaeologist wiggled his bare toes against the wet tiles.
Inexorably,
the water level rose. Icy cold they all shivered. Carter began to tread water
first, followed by Daniel. Jack waited until the water reached his nose, before
lightly kicking off the floor.
"Okay,
Daniel?" he asked easily.
Daniel
simply nodded concentrating on treading water and breathing. Jack’s gown
billowed around him, threatening to hamper his swimming; he belted the sash
firmly around his waist. Gamely, Daniel continued swimming, gently moving his
arms and legs. Jack was an old hand at swimming and could not resist the
temptation to coast through the water like a porpoise to Carter’s side. She was
swimming up to the surface to grab a lungful of air. Jack reversed his stroke,
neatly turning on a pin and arrowing for the surface. They emerged together.
"Everything
okay, Carter."
"Yes,
sir. I’ll wait up here until the last minute and then swim down and open the
hatch enough for us to escape."
Daniel
was doggy paddling and looking up at the ceiling at the same time. He came to a
stop under a domed part of the roof.
"Your
air pocket, I guess."
"Sure
looks that way."
Daniel
simply nodded and returned to the bare minimum of effort need to stay with his head
above the surface. Jack trod water between his two team members until just over
a foot lay between the water and the ceiling.
"Now,
Carter?"
"Yes,
sir." With a curt nod, she ducked under the water, brushing by Jack with
wide, practised strokes. Jack watched her plunge down to the bank of controls.
Daniel
was gamely paddling as he flicked a cowlick of wet hair out of his eyes. His
furrowed brow asked a question.
"Carter’s
opening the door," Jack answered.
Daniel
nodded mutely. He took in the deepest breath he could without setting off a
coughing fit. He didn’t hold his breath, but took another, and another trying
to thoroughly oxygenate his system.
Sam
bobbed to the surface and dashed the water from her face. "I’ve opened it.
Shall I go first, sir?"
"Knock
yerself out."
She
nodded and ducked down, slicing through the water. Jack began to count under
his breath, at five he nodded to Daniel, who only smiled.
Almost
as if rehearsed, Jack turned his back to Daniel, allowing him to grab his
shoulders. For one inexplicable moment, Jack remembered playing with his son,
Charlie, at the beach.
"Now."
Daniel’s
hands squeezed his shoulders. Jack took a final, deep breath, exhaled a
mouthful and then dove. Daniel kicked in time with his strokes. The mosaic
beneath them had somehow dropped and retracted into the wall revealing seaweed
incrusted steps. Sam swam ahead, her legs gleaming whitely in the greenish
fluorescence emanating from anemones dotted along on the wall. A stream of
bubbles rose to the surface.
The
urge to exhale was almost irresistible.
Jack
swam on with easy strokes, focused on getting to the surface as quickly as
possible. Carter disappeared through the mouth of the tunnel in a swirl of
silk.
‘Just
a couple of more yards,’ Jack
thought. Once outside they could simply swim straight up to the surface. They
were almost there; one more body length. Daniel’s fingers clenched
compulsively. With one more full armed stroke, Jack and Daniel cleared the
tunnel and met open water. A bare foot caught Jack in the side of the head.
Surprised he lost a mouthful of air, the bubbles spiralling upwards. Daniel no
longer held his shoulders, but flailed around him, seemingly grabbing water.
Silk obscured his vision then smooth black, glossy skin.
‘Formy!’ Carter was held by a large formorian. She
struggled weakly in its arms, half dead with lack of oxygen.
Jack
kicked forwards, fingers held like blades as he aimed for the being’s eyes.
Squishy flesh gave way and the high pitched scream echoed through the colonel’s
bones. A long muscular arm caught him around his waist, pulling tightly and
forcing the air from his lungs. He whooped loudly and instantly choked. The
formorian clasped a webbed paw over his mouth and nose. Daniel flashed before
him swimming madly for the surface. A formorian swam lackadaisically in his
wake, playing with his prey. Daniel’s arms churned, barely moving him through
the water. The formorian grabbed him by the ankle and yanked him backwards.
Again – obviously practised with air breathers – the formorian sealed his mouth
and nose with a large hand.
Jack
kicked pointlessly, half blinded by growing black spots before his eyes.
~SG:1~
Chapter
Three.
Daniel
was dumped onto the cold tiles of the entrance hall. It had been so close; but
they had failed to escape. He could barely move and his wheezing lungs didn’t
seem to be able to drag in oxygen from the damp air.
::Who
are they?:: The ringing
tones of a Goa’uld made Daniel finally lift his head.
Lugh
Samildanach, the High King, stood over him, his retinue of white garbed
formorii at his back. Daniel cast about: Sam hung over a naked formorian’s arm,
wan and coughing; Jack lay face down on the floor, water draining from his lax
mouth. Finding reserves that he didn’t know he had, Daniel crawled over on
hands and knees to Jack’s side. A pulse beat against his fingertips as he
pressed against Jack’s throat and he could hear wet breaths.
::They
are not of the Family:: Lugh’s smooth brow furrowed. ::They are
hosts-to-be::
::Sire::
Nuada began.
::Where
did you find them?::
::They
were found on the plateau::
Lugh
ignored his cohort, simply dismissing him as one dismisses a truculent child.
Teeth gritted with pure effort, Daniel stood, putting his body between the Goa’uld
and his friend. The High King looked down a long, fine nose at the smaller man.
Daniel met his gaze one on one. As arrogant as all Goa’uld, Lugh tossed a veil
of glossy black hair over his shoulder and unfurled his cape. Daniel met the
grandstanding head on, brow furrowed, eyebrows together and clean blue gaze,
seething with passionate anger.
::Who
is your mother? Who is you father?::
"I
am Colonel Jack O’Neill, of the SGC. I’m in command." Jack was on his
knees, dragged back to consciousness, when his team were threatened.
Mechanically, Daniel grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet.
"You
okay?" Daniel wheezed.
"Yeah,
let me handle this, Daniel."
Lugh
peered at them. "You speak the language of the Chaa’pai?"
::Our
forefathers taught us:: Daniel
interjected in Lugh’s tongue earning himself a fiery glare from the colonel.
::And
you are?::
"Daniel
Jackson."
"Jack’s
son. And this…" Lugh gestured with a silver garbed hand at Jack, "is
your father?"
Jack
bristled angrily. "I know that I have a splattering of grey at the
temples…"
"Yes,"
Daniel interrupted, "this is my honoured father and my beloved sister,
Niamh." He glared Jack into silence.
Clearly
not liking the situation, Jack zipped his mouth shut. Poised on the balls of
his feet he was ready to attack.
"So
the Sons of Milesius survive upon the plateau?" Lugh asked with a decided
Goa’uld flare in his eyes.
"We
are the last." Daniel coughed miserably, dredging up a noisome rattle.
"The code of life runs weakly."
"Huh?"
Jack demanded.
Daniel
muttered out of the side of his mouth, "Go along with it. I’ve figured
something out."
::Three
hosts-to-be:: Lugh moved
into Daniel’s personal space. He endured as Lugh rested a hand upon his head.
The cold silver of the Goa’uld’s ribbon device burned. ::My children will
fight long and hard for the honour::
"This
one is diseased!" Nuada bellowed as he pointed at Daniel. "I gave him
to the Daughter of Cecht."
Lugh
spun on his secondary. "You squander a rare and valuable host by giving
him to the madwoman? And you call yourself my counsel?"
Nuada
bristled, "I intended the father and the daughter as a gift for you,
Shining One." He folded his hands, brought them to his chest and bowed
fractionally.
"You
have formorii on the plateau looking for the remnants of their Clan?" Lugh
asked.
Daniel
quietly retreated, backing into Jack, and whispered, "Lugh doesn’t know
about the ‘gate. Nuada does."
"Ah."
Jack drew himself straight, despite the condition of his clothes and bright red
face. Sam hung limply against her formorian, but her fists were clenched and
her eyes open and weighing all the words.
"Aye,
my lord. We have found none of their ilk."
"You
are the last?" Lugh turned to Daniel.
"My
mother was some years older than my father, she died giving birth to Niamh and
myself," Daniel said quietly.
Nuada’s
golden eyes darted uneasily, but that was the only indication of his agitation.
Daniel’s mind raced, his guts told him to go along with Nuada’s deception. Hosts
were obviously beyond rare, a resource to be hoarded and given to the best of
the Goa’ulds’ offspring.
"I
will have them." Lugh’s mouth smirked.
"Would
it not be more sensible--" the Daughter of Cecht strode into the room,
haughty in her perfection, "--to breed them?"
"Brother
to sister? We know what happens, look at the Egyptians; diseased minds beget
diseased minds. You mock me, Daughter of Cecht." Lugh turned his back on
her.
The
woman seethed, eyes flaring brightly, but the Goa’uld signature was then
eclipsed by the hatred settling on her face. Her madness was almost contagious,
as if she diseased tendrils on those within her touch. Daniel saw the sickness
in the Goa’uld in Tir Na Nog and wondered upon it.
‘I
need to know how and why.’
"I’m
never gonna be a host!" Impulsively Jack caught the Goa’uld around the
neck and in a blindingly fast movement grabbed the Shining Lord’s sword and
brought it to his throat. "Behind me," he exhorted Daniel.
Daniel
stood opened mouthed and then moved into his shadow.
"Release
Carter, or this guy dies."
Nuada
simply laughed. "Your daughter dies if you don’t release the High
King." He sauntered across the floor away from the group, plainly
unconcerned by both possibilities.
A
flare of light took then all by surprise. Jack was flung backwards, smashing
against the wall with a backbreaking crack. The burn of the hand gauntlet
continued to char inwards, the energy discharge holding him half way up the
wall. The smell was indescribably sweet. Abruptly, the lightning crashed and he
slipped down the masonry, to lie dead on the cold marble floor.
"Jack!"
~*~
Daniel
paced back and forth along the length of the sumptuous room. His mind was a
blank desert of denial. They had killed Jack. His friend was dead. He had lain
there, and it was obvious to all that Jack was dead. No living human body could
sprawl in so disconnected a manner.
His
friend was dead.
"They’ll
have a sarcophagus." Sam’s eyes were wide, demanding that this had to be
true; that her commander was alive. "They’ll put him in a sarcophagus.
They have to."
"That’s
Egyptian," Daniel blurted. "It has to be Celtic."
Sam’s
face crumpled, but the tears were not harvested. "Colonel O’Neill killed
Nuada Airgetlamh. There is a sarcophagus." She was resolute; her chin held
high. Jack’s death wasn’t for forever, he would be revived.
"They
will," Daniel vowed, he planted his fists into the barred door. "They
will."
Jack
had said that he had killed the Golden Goa’uld; there had to be a sarcophagus
somewhere, when Jack killed someone he didn’t pull any punches.
"What
if they don’t?" The scientist in Sam couldn’t help but ask.
"They
have to." Daniel turned haunted eyes on the captain. "They have to. I
mean, we’re valuable. We’re host-to-be, they won’t—" he fairly spat his
disgust, "—they won’t squander a valuable resource. They have to."
He
folded his arms against his chest and folded his heart against his soul.
~*~
Jack
swam, held within his mother’s womb. Consciousness was a chore. Abruptly aware,
he surfaced from a well of gunk. He was in a large vessel, floating in a
gelatinous ooze. His hands sought his stomach, but his guts no longer spilled
from his stomach. He had been healed. His hands ranged lower and he felt
nothing but intact skin.
The
room housing the strange sarcophagus was empty. Jack swam to the side and
hauled himself out of the vat. He fell inelegantly to the floor. He simply lay
there in a puddle of mucous, taking stock. The curve of the vat above his head
was ornate. Carved warriors lined up, moving towards an intricate cauldron.
Each warrior bore the wounds of war: severed limbs; open wounds and gaping
guts, yet when they emerged from the bowl they were hail and healthy.
He
had been healed.
His
next step was escaping from this prison with his team mates. But first he had
to find his feet and then his toga. There was no way he was going to traipse
around this mausoleum naked.
"Damn,
Goa’uld," he muttered, flexing his toes. "No one’s going to make me a
snake head."
"Hello,
Jack." The Daughter of Cecht knelt in a swirl of robes at his side.
"And how are we feeling today," she said with false solicitousness.
"Peachy.
I’ll feel better if you get the Hell out of my sight."
"I
don’t know about that." Her fingernails danced over his bare ribcage to
twirl his gel covered chest hair into peaks. "I think we have something to
discuss. Maybe we’ll talk about… say… revenge?"
~*~
"Jack!"
"Colonel."
O’Neill
emerged from the dark corridor and was summarily thrust into their cell. The
door snicked shut behind them.
"You’re
all right." Daniel couldn’t help patting the colonel down through his new
silk toga. "You’re alive."
"Sure
looks like it." Jack preened. It had the desired effect and Daniel backed
off, a blush tinting his cheeks.
"They
have a sarcophagus, sir?"
"Actually
no." Jack flung himself onto the gold, tasselled draped king sized bed
that dominated the room. He bounced with a delighted sigh. "They’ve got a
big vat filled with snot."
"Oh?"
Daniel focussed on him. "Can you describe it?"
"Yeah,
It’s a big vat, filled with snot."
Daniel
shot him a look.
Jack’s
hands cupped to illustrate a bowl. "It’s bronze and big enough for a man.
There’s lots of pictures on the side, lots of body parts."
Daniel
vibrated with eagerness, making the connections. "It must be a Cauldron of
Rebirth. There was one in Annwn that was guarded by nine maidens. Bran’s
cauldron brought forth dead warriors alive but they were dumb. I think that one
was guarded by a giant. You know, the Holy Grail was probably a cauldron. There
was also Cauldrons of Plenty. These things had to be big, otherwise how did you
get a warrior in it? Fascinating imagery… wounded warriors lining up to be
dipped in the cauldron by a giant. Healed warriors walked forth. It’s sensible
when you think about it."
"Well,
yeah, that’s very interesting," Jack said dismissively cutting him off
mid-lecture as Daniel started wheezing. "But we’ve got something else to
talk about."
"Yes,
sir?" Carter asked.
"The
Daughter of Cecht has a proposition." He linked his hands behind his head
and settled back on the pillows.
"A
proposition?" Daniel coughed uneasily.
"Not
that kind." Jack winced. "She healed me. And then she offered us
freedom if we killed Lugh."
"What?"
Carter’s eyes widened with consternation.
"We
kill Lugh. We go free."
"Yes,
sir," Sam responded tightly. "I understood the first time. Does the
Goa’uld have a plan?"
"They’re
going to take us to the capital, that’s where the juvenile worms are. We’re supposed
to take Lugh out as they take us to the transport. There’s a statue or two with
a sharp scythes we’re supposed to use."
"What
about the vat that Nuada showed us? That held Goa’uld larvae; why take us to
the capital? Where’s the capital?"
"Really?"
Daniel interjected. "That doesn’t make any sense."
"Yes,
there was a tank of Goa’uld. Nuada took the me and the Colonel there to be
infested. It was similar to Hathor’s tank."
Daniel’s
mouth fell open in a soft ‘O’ of dismay. "I’d got the impression that the
hosts were very rare on this planet, so it stands to reason that they’d keep
the number of larval births down."
"That
depends on how long the adult Goa’uld can survive without a host. We know that
a Goa’uld can survive in a human host for millennia with a sarcophagus. Maybe
they just swim in a vat until a healthy host comes available."
"Ah,
but they need a ‘queen’ to propagate. I suspect they're rare otherwise we would
be dominated by Goa’uld."
"Unless,"
Sam countered, "the ruling Goa’uld – the System Lords – regulate the
Goa’uld to reduce competition or there’s another form of attrition. There’s so
much that we don’t know about them."
"We
don’t know," Jack said acidly. "You can theorise to your hearts’
content when we’re out of here. Nuada has juvenile critters. But they’re not
Lugh’s spawn, otherwise we would have been given to them, wouldn’t we?"
"They
didn’t look very healthy," Sam said slowly.
"Oh,
new stock? Clones?" Daniel suggested.
"One
of Cecht’s experiments probably," Jack said.
"Ah!
We’ve go…go... got all the clues we need," Daniel stammered in his
eagerness. "The Celtic Goa’uld were cast through the Stargate with only a
few hosts. And we know what happens when you breed closely related family, the
recessives come through, so they couldn’t breed hosts anymore past a certain
point. Maybe a host and a host can’t procreate? I imagine genetic manipulation
of the human genome only took them so far."
"That’s
why you said we were related," Sam said unnecessarily.
"Yes,"
Daniel nodded. "For some reason they forgot or lost the ‘gate or it was
broken beyond all repair. Oh… that doesn’t make sense. Ra – or someone
else—maybe sent a bomb through and buried the ‘gate. The earthquakes, uhm…
planetquakes… revealed it fairly recently, I’d guess. Mythologically, Nuada was
the first leader of the Tuatha De Danann, he’s been trying to get back into
power and to do that he needs followers. Cecht and Nuada have been trying to
repair the ‘gate and breed Goa’uld for their cause."
"Seems
logical." Carter nodded.
"Cecht
wants me to chop off Lugh’s head. Split that snaky Goa’uld in two."
"And
bury the separate parts on either side of the planet probably."
"The
question is, can we trust Cecht to set us free if we do?"
Jack
and Daniel considered her words for a heartbeat. "Nah," they said
simultaneously.
"So
what are your orders, sir?"
"Easy,
we take them all out. Cecht’s given us the weapons."
"We
have another concern," Daniel interjected.
"Yeah,
right, what?"
"We
have to stop the Goa’uld using the Stargate to escape this planet."
"Why
don’t we blow up that bridge when we come to it?"
"Just
thinking ahead," Daniel said abashed.
"Whatever.
I’ll take out Lugh. These snake heads get all bent out of shape when you attack
the leader. Carter, you deal with Nuada. Daniel, guard our backs. Our goal is
the transport. In the confusion after killing Lugh, we’ll make our way
there."
"What
about Cuchulainn?"
"Who?"
Jack snapped.
"Lugh’s
son. A warrior of the Red Branch. If the legends are true, he’ll probably be
the one to go for."
Jack
rolled his eyes heavenward. "So it will be difficult, so what else is new?
I’ll take out Lugh and Cuchulainn."
"Actually,"
Daniel began, "I might have an idea. The Celts are a fond of their
traditions. You can call him out..."
~*~
They
were out numbered three to one as they were conducted from their room to where
they assumed was Lugh’s underwater vessel. In addition, each member of SG:1 had
an entourage of firbolg to cater to their every whim. As hosts-to-be they were
to be cherished whether they liked it or not. Daniel smiled at his two
servants, unlike Nuada’s slaves they appeared well cared for.
"Do
you require something, master?" his most ornately dressed firbolg asked.
"How
are we travelling to the capital?" Daniel asked ingenuously.
"In
the Shining One’s Chariot of Light."
"Oh.
How does it work?"
"At
the Shining One’s command."
"Thank
you," Daniel said tightly, actually that was probably very helpful.
Jack
was eyeing each statue with an intent that was on par with an archaeologist in
front of an ancient pot sherd. None of the statues held a scimitar. The
corridor opened up into a large hall. A large manta shaped ship, similar in
design to the smaller attack vessels that they had seen on Chulak, rested in
the centre of the circular hall. Water draining into large puddles where its
wings touched the floor. Jack grinned ferally. A giant porthole opposite them
shimmered. The swirl of light mimicked the event horizon of the Stargate; a
large force shield held back Celtic Sea. The Daughter of Cecht had lied; there
were no statues with swords. With bated breath, Daniel waited for Jack to make
his move. It did not deter the colonel. As Jack wrenched a spear from one of
his guards, Daniel hit the formorian on his left, pushing him into another
white garbed sea being. Carter let out an almighty yell as she drop kicked one
of her guards. Revising their plan on the spot, Daniel raced towards the ship.
::Open!:: he yelled in Goa’uld.
The
ramp in the base of the vessel dropped down. Daniel could feel a formorian on
his heels. It loaned him extra strength. Metal clanged beneath his feet as he
sprinted up the ramp into the bowls of the ship.
::Door
close. Emergency!::
The
formorian howled as he was crushed. Daniel emerged in the main deck behind an
open cockpit. He squirmed between the pilot and co-pilot seats and scanned the
pilot’s console, wheezing heavily. Teal’c had given them a breakdown of the
working and innards of Goa’uld spaceships. The aliens’ tendency for ringing
statements meant that they liked voice control mechanisms and that was in the
linguist’s favour. The crystals were a lot more difficult to use.
::Main
viewer on:: Daniel
ordered, his voice harsh. The screen flickered, momentarily strobing before
settling down to show that hall. Jack fought tooth and nail with Cuchulainn.
Lugh was sandwiched between two of his guards who were watching the battle with
intent eyes. Daniel couldn’t see Sam. Feverishly, he continued frantically
scanning the console and there in the centre, between the pilot and co-pilot’s
seats, was the weapons control Teal’c had described. He palmed the top most
crystal of a mini dolmen and felt the whole ship shudder. He didn’t care if
Jack was fighting an honourable battle with the Warrior Lord, Cuchulainn, he
was going to end the fight now. Laser fire strafed the hall, scattering
Goa’uld, formorii, firbolg and humans to the floor. Daniel slapped the crystal
again scattering the people anew.
::Door
open::
There
were no weapons immediately to hand. Daniel ducked away from the cockpit back
to the entry hatch ready to kick the first Goa’uld up the ramp in the teeth.
Blood and guts caked the bottom of the slope; the formorian had indeed died
when the ramp raised. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, Sam ran up the incline.
Bouncing lightly over the gore, she held a spear.
"Guard
the door," Daniel ordered. "I’ll get us started."
"Go."
The
archaeologist squirmed back into the main cockpit. Just for luck, he hit the
fire button again. He had no idea how to change the inclination of the lasers
on the wings, but it was for the best since they were firing high above Jack’s
head.
::Engines
on:: It didn’t work. ::Initiate
engines::
"Why
doesn’t it come with an instruction manual?" he asked rhetorically. He
found the hand control to manoeuvre the wing lasers and changed the angle just
a hairsbreadth so the Jaffa-formorii did not become too complacent.
"Daniel,
how are you doing?"
"Jack?"
Daniel yelled back.
"No
sign yet," Sam called. "No… here he comes. He’s got Cuchulainn."
The
colonel backed up the ramp into the area behind the pilots’ seats. He had a
knife pushed deeply into Cuchulainn’s neck, threatening both Goa’uld and host.
"Daniel,
close the doors."
"Uhm."
::Doors close::
"You
know how to fly this thing?" Jack asked.
Daniel
gestured at the joystick. "I haven’t figured out how to get it started,
though. I’ve got the lasers working."
"Carter?"
O’Neill directed. The younger officer slipped into the pilot’s seat displacing Daniel.
"I’m
not fluent in Goa’uld." Her fingers danced over the various crystals and
buttons.
"Ooh,
the ship’s force field." Daniel leaned over Carter and slapped a crystal.
The image through the viewer was now tinged with a golden glow.
Jack
sawed at Cuchulainn’s neck until blood surged sluggishly along the length of
the blade. "How do you start the ship?"
The
taller Goa’uld stretched out a be-ringed hand. Daniel automatically shied away
from his gesture.
"Try
anything," Jack threatened, as he yanked off the Goa’uld’s jewellery with
one hand, "and I decapitate your host and gut you in the same
stroke."
Jack
passed over Cuchulainn’s jewellery to Daniel, who accepted the potential
weaponry with a wince. Not knowing what to do with the Celtic ribbon device and
the torc, he stuffed them in his BDU trouser pockets.
"The
bank of standing crystals situated before the pilot," the host’s voice
reverberated.
Carter
squinted at them, head cocked to the side as she thought. "I assume you
press them in a specific sequence. But there are nine crystals, so there are
362,880 possible combinations."
"Cooky?"
Jack prompted.
Cuchulainn’s
eyes flared angrily. "Gold, gold, bronze, ruby, gold, emerald, gold,"
he grated.
Sam
tapped out the order as he spoke, and Daniel crossed his fingers hoping that it
wasn’t an auto-destruct sequence. The hum of the engines shook the floor
plates. Unaware that she was chortling under her breath, Sam settled into the
pilot’s seat and gripped the joystick.
The
ship jumped up as she pulled back on the stick.
"Carefully,"
Jack grated, "pretend it’s a young…"
"Yes,
sir," Carter interrupted his instructions.
The
ship nosed towards the porthole. Pulling the knife free, Jack then manhandled
Cuchulainn away from the cockpit, throwing him down onto the deck. He stripped
off the Goa’uld’s belt and secured his hands behind his back. As the ship’s
protective shield touched the porthole, force field sparks coruscated. Daniel
winced away from the lightning jumping from jewel to crystal across the control
panels.
"How
do we shut off that force field, Daniel?" Sam asked as she moved the ship
back from the shimmering wall.
"I
haven’t a clue, but--" Daniel’s long fingers rotated the weapons’ control
crystal, "--I know how to do this."
Laser
fire arced across the hall, scattering formorii and firbolg anew. Daniel didn’t
aim for the porthole, but the masonry above. Bricks and mortar shattered under
the impact. The porthole’s force field fell and a wave of water inevitably
rushed in behind it. Sam struggled with the joystick as the ship was buffeted
by water. Tossed back and forth, the ship ricocheted around the hall. Cushioned
by the force field, the occupants were unharmed. Supported by the bubble of the
field they floated on top of the surging water, until they hit the ceiling.
Only then did the water begin to seep through the field.
"Oh,
that’s interesting," Carter observed, "penetration through the force
field seems to be inversely proportional to the energy of the thrust…"
"So
we’re not going anywhere if the force field’s switched on?" Daniel
interpreted and leaned over Sam to drop the ship’s field. The ship fell several
feet down into the water. A cacophony of grating noise filled the ship as the
engines struggled with the mix of air and water.
"There
must be a way to set the engines to water mode." The captain scanned the
console along with Daniel. "Is this is glyph for ‘water?" Sam pointed
to a lever with a symbol etched beneath. It was in the ‘up position’ obscuring
another symbol.
Daniel
squinted at the writings. "Yes, water." He craned his head to better
look at the top symbol. "And it’s currently set for air."
"We
haven’t got anything to lose, Carter," Jack said practically.
Sam
pulled the lever down, the change in the engine dissonance was immediate. The
deck plates and bulkheads thrummed as the engines worked easily.
"Go!"
Jack pointed to the hole Daniel had made. Cracks were beginning to form in the
ceiling and a clump of marble plummeted through the water.
"Yes,
sir." Sam pushed the joystick forwards and the ship jumped at her command.
Streams of bubbles obscured their vision. They moved through the curtain of
foam. A formorian plastered against the view screen and then fell away in a
tangle of limbs. Heavy stonework felt against the ship as they burst out into
the ocean proper. Shafts of light from the Goa’uld citadel illuminated the
world around them. Deep blue, the light scattered making the water glow.
"Look!"
Daniel pointed out into the open sea.
Jack
barrelled up beside Daniel, craning his head to look. An enormous submarine
hung in the water. The mother ship was strewn with lights, shining like a
Christmas tree. Unlike the Mesopotamian born Goa’uld, the submarine was animal
shaped, drawn in organic lines, smooth and curved. The skin was marred by
angular growths, with lights and antennas and hatches.
"Look
at the size of that motherfucker."
"You
know," Daniel said conversationally, "I thought this ship was a bit
small for Lugh Samildanach. I guess they’re expecting us to dock."
"Get
us the Hell out of here, Captain."
The
ship lurched as Sam angled away from the mother ship. A new set of lights
flared on the port side of the submarine. Tubes, unmistakably gun ports,
blossomed in the metal fittings.
"How
do you work these lasers?" Jack asked.
Daniel
relinquished the co-pilot’s seat to the colonel, pointing to the weapons
crystal. "Rotate it and the cross hairs show up on the main screen. Tap it
to fire. Tap and hold for continuous fire."
"Cool."
Jack tapped and held for continuous fire.
The
barrage of fire that greeted their attack was a fly swatter to their biting
gnat. Carter, swooping their ship to the side, avoided the majority of the
blasts. A single hit connected, shaking the ship and water spurted from between
plates in the right bulkhead.
"Get
to the surface!" Jack yelled as another onslaught sent the ship spiralling
down to the seabed. Sam fought with the controls, pulling the scout ship up as
it brushed the sandy floor.
Daniel
tumbled backwards fetching up against the bound Goa’uld. Shivering with
revulsion, he moved away from Cuchulainn, back up to grasp the back of Jack’s
seat. They arrowed through the sea, light brightening as they approached the
surface. They burst out into bright sunlight, the ship leaping like a dancing
dolphin. It sailed through the air, rising to the apex – engines cavitating as
they sucked in air – before plunging back into the water. A new onslaught of
projectiles greeted their plunge.
"And
again, Carter."
Another
blast separated the structural plates on the starboard side of the ship. Water
gushed in. Sam pulled back on the joystick and sent the ship back to the
surface. Jack leaned over ready the pull the switch which enabled the
air-function when they emerged. Another blast rocked the ship, plates giving
away under the barrage. They broke the surface, one manta wing trailing the
sea. Jack pushed the lever up. The whole ship shuddered as water spewed from
the wing intakes on either side of the view screen. The engines hiccuped, threatening
to die, and then roared into life.
"Whoa,
nelly!" The scout ship limped into the sky.
"Force
field?" Daniel asked. At Jack’s nod he initiated the field.
"Sir,"
Carter nodded at the bank of red lights, "we’re in trouble."
"Get
a fix on the plateau, it must be close."
The
scout ship listed to the right as it struggled for elevation. Carter was tense
as she egged the ship on. Daniel stood between them, arms resting on either
seat, scanning the flat sea for the plateau.
"Turn,
Sam, we can’t be too far from the Stargate."
"I’m
trying, Daniel." Sam babied the vessel to no avail. But the ship turned
infinitesimally to starboard, the stronger left engine overpowering the
struggling right engine. Slowly, gratingly, they curved.
"There!"
Daniel pointed.
The
plateau loomed into view; they were close. The only land for miles it seemed to
reach the sky. Trails of mist enclosed the summit.
"Try
and take us down close to the beach."
"Yes,
sir, I will try." You had to listen very carefully for the sarcasm.
The
engines stuttered and the ship dropped a body length. Jack swore volubly.
Daniel settled on gripping the back of Sam’s chair, as the engines suddenly
caught and then continued its forward movement. The surface of the sea seemed
to be coming up incredibly quickly.
"You
want to pull up?"
"Yes,
sir."
"Daniel,
brace yourself." Jack pointed to the footwell between his co-pilot seat
and the console. "Get yourself in here, and adopt the crash
position."
"Oh,
no!" With Carter’s exclamation the engines cut out. They plummeted like
the proverbial stone. Daniel’s stomach lurched as he seemed to rise from the
deck. The ship tumbled sideways, Daniel grabbed frantically and missed Sam’s
chair. The manta ship sliced sideways and belly flopped, the smack of the fall,
driving Daniel face first into a bulkhead. Stunned, he fell back, sprawling on
the deck plates.
~*~
Jack
picked himself up out of the footwell where he had tried to stow his
archaeologist. There was a lump the size of an egg in the centre of Jack’s
forehead. Elbows planted on the console, he found his feet. Their force field
finally bent, sending fractured circles across the golden field. As the field
crumpled the ship sank, slowly slipping to the depths, canting to the side. The
view screen was neatly divided by the boundary of air and water.
"Daniel?
Carter? Report."
On
the right hand side of the vessel, the captain popped up like a
jack-in-the-box. Her hair was in spectacular disarray, plastered in swirls
against her head. Her Grecian gown hung off her shoulder, displaying pearly
white flesh. Cater yanked the folds across her chest back into a semblance of
decency. Jack pulled down his own sopping wet toga against his body, making
sure he was covered from neck to knee.
"Fine,
sir. Daniel?"
Jack
struggled out from in front of the co-pilot’s seat. As they sunk further, the
water continued rushing in. It was at hip height. Daniel, head hanging down
between his shoulder blades, braced himself against a support post -- coughing
violently. The Goa’uld sat tight against the back bulkhead, smirking at Daniel
as he hacked badly enough for watery bloody mucous to drain from his mouth and
nose like a tap.
"What
are you trying to do, drown yourself?" Jack said heatedly.
"Sir,
we’ve got to get out of here." Carter pulled one of Daniel’s arms over her
shoulder. His knees gave way, and both officers held him close. The water was
rising rapidly. It was cold and heat stealing. The ship lurched and slumped
further into the water. Through the view screen, they could now only see blue
water.
"Daniel,
get the doors open."
The
beleaguered archaeologist could only cough and wheeze. There was no air to
speak.
"What
did he say to make the doors open."
"Barada?"
Carter ventured.
The
ramp remained solidly closed. Arms still around the coughing Daniel, Jack
scanned the interior. Their best bet was to kick through the damaged panels
that were leaking water.
"Colonel."
Carter drew her superior’s attention to the view screen which, even though
water birthed sparks shorted out the circuits left, right and centre, continued
to work.
A
familiar figure treaded water before them.
"Teal’c,"
Jack crowed, "you turn up like a bad penny."
The
Jaffa read his lips and bowed his head slightly. Despite the scuba breathing apparatus
– d.v. – in his mouth, mask on his face, he smiled -- minutely.
"Teal’c,
get us the Hell out of here." Jack gestured maniacally to the ramp beneath
their feet. "We’re taking in water."
The
Jaffa seemed to bow and then effortlessly sliced through the water out of
sight. Jack grinned widely as Makepeace was next to swim into view. The marine
saluted lackadaisically, before jack-knifing and dropping beneath the ship.
"Release
me!" the Goa’uld ordered.
"Shut
up." Jack snapped, firing a venomous glare the alien.
Cuchulainn
sneered, and settled back against the bulkhead. "My father will be here
momentarily."
Jack
ignored the Goa’uld’s threats. "How did Makepeace end up here?"
"Through
the Stargate," Carter supplied.
"D’oh,"
Jack said at the obvious answer. Daniel still coughed violently between them,
unable to draw an easy breath. There was a clang on the side of the ship.
Evidently, Teal’c was working on lowering the ramp. The floor suddenly dropped
beneath the trio. Sam and Jack treaded water, supporting Daniel between them.
The Jaffa rose before them. He removed his d.v. from his mouth,
"O’Neill."
"Oh
boy, I am so glad to see you."
"As
am I, Colonel O’Neill." He slipped the facemask onto his forehead.
"The at’tu’rat is sinking rapidly, we should exit the
vehicle."
Makepeace
and Captain Applegate bobbed up behind the Jaffa.
"Nice
kit, O’Neill," Makepeace smirked.
"Buddy
breathing," O’Neill directed, regally ignoring his fellow colonel – he
would pay for that comment later. He pushed the ailing linguist through the
water to Teal’c. The Jaffa accepted his charge, clasping him against his chest.
"Daniel,
you know what we’re going to do?"
Still
too distressed to talk, Daniel grabbed Teal’c’s d.v. and held it up.
"I
will ensure that DanielJackson makes it to the surface."
"Carter,
you’re with Makepeace."
"Colonel,"
Sam acknowledged. She swam to the colonel’s side and allowed him to position
her under his arm where they could swap the air breathing apparatus back and
forth as they swam to the surface.
"Captain
Applegate, you’re with me."
The
red headed captain saluted before swimming to the colonel’s side. O’Neill
checked that his team were secure before giving the signal.
"What
about him?" Makepeace jerked his chin at the Goa’uld, who struggled to tread
water with his hands tied behind his back.
"What
about him?" Jack dismissed the snake with a shrug.
Carter
and Makepeace submerged first, two competitive over-achievers striving to get
to the surface before the rest of the party. Bubbles rose in their wake,
tickling Jack’s bare legs.
"DanielJackson,"
Teal’c began, "breathe at your own rate. The Goa’uld within me will
sustain me long enough to swim to the surface."
"No,"
Daniel wheezed. "You’ll need to breathe."
"If
it is necessary to ensure that we reach the surface safely, I will tap your
shoulder and use the d.v. momentarily."
"K."
Daniel nodded. The d.v. clamped between his teeth, the valve hissing air as
Daniel over-breathed, they sank beneath the surface.
Jack
and Captain Applegate found their own rhythm, sharing the air breathing
apparatus every five breaths. The at’tu’rat was sinking rapidly. Power
stroking they ducked around the dropped ramp to emerge into the blue world of
the deep. Applegate gestured with his thumb upwards. Jack needed no
instruction, but teamwork was the name of the game. The captain tapped his
watch indicating to Jack their rate of ascent to the surface. Already the ship
was sinking out of sight. Ahead of them, Daniel and Teal’c rose slowly, a
fountain of bubbles spiralling above their heads. Rising higher and higher they
expanded. Tiny bubbles raced the larger, all vying to reach the surface. Jack’s
own exhalations were a tenth of the pair rising above him. He passed the d.v.
to Applegate, remembering to exhale lightly while his buddy breathed. The ship
had sunk amazingly fast; looking down – the at’tu’rat was now a mere
pinprick in the depths.
‘Aw,
poor Cooky,’ Jack
thought insincerely.
Jack
continued swimming upwards without another downwards glance. He was more
concerned at the rush of air above him. It appeared as if the air was simply
escaping straight from the d.v.; neither Teal’c or Daniel attempting to
breathe. Jack jerked his thumb vigorously indicating a faster ascent. Applegate
counselled caution with a flick of his wrist. Jack knew the physics. However,
dancing at the edge, he kicked and swam faster. Daniel and Teal’c were in
trouble. The Jaffa’s great legs were churning water as he finished the last
metre to the surface. Daniel simply hung, his lungs finally giving in to the
abuse they had suffered. The Jaffa buffeted Makepeace and Sam out of the way as
he burst into the air.
Teal’c
was already flipping the archaeologist onto his back as Jack and Applegate
bobbed up beside them. Both teams tried to help. Daniel resembled a wax effigy.
Amazingly, a feeble pulse flickered against Jack’s fingertips; but no breath
stirred the body. Treading water, Teal’c supported their friend. Jack knew that
time was of the essence. He tipped Daniel’s head back over Teal’c’s arm,
pinched his nose shut and breathed into his mouth.
Fifteen
slow measured breaths as taught, and then a rest.
The
pulse still fluttered unevenly. Jack waited, counting the beats of his own
hammering heart as Daniel’s chest didn’t move. Concern flared in Teal’c’s
expressive eyes. Daniel didn’t breathe.
"He’s
not getting any air into his lungs."
"We
should attempt to reach the shore," Teal’c advised.
"Go!"
Jack directed. "Get the med kit."
Carter
sliced through the water in a perfect crawl stroke. They were close to the
plateau. The waterfall bay was directly ahead. Jack was close enough to see the
plunge pool overflowing onto the pearly beach. Lieutenant Keel watched from the
shore, binoculars at the ready. Seeing them he ran back up the beach to their
stored kit. Jack leaned over and breathed again – clamping his mouth over
Daniel’s. They had no time – they had to ensure sufficient air sustained the
archaeologist. Another hellishly long fifteen breaths and waiting but Daniel’s
chest did not move. Jack tried again.
And
again.
Stars
began to flash behind his eyes as he exhaled over and over to absolutely no
avail.
"Come
on, Daniel!" Jack ordered.
Teal’c
towed them both through the water. Makepeace was at their side, lending his
strength as they struggled. The surf pummelled them as their feet touched
sand-bottom. Carter met them as the waters ebbed. She held a cigar shaped
cylinder in her hand, the end of which she depressed against Daniel’s chest
through his t-shirt.
"What’s
that?" Jack demanded as she injected the contents.
Another
wave rushed over them, knocking them off their feet. Together Jaffa and humans
towed the younger man to the shore; Teal’c supporting the majority of Daniel’s
weight on his broad chest. As soon as Teal’c could stand, he swung an
unprotesting Daniel into his arms and forged through the surf to the beach
side.
"Epinephrine."
"He’s
drowned; not allergic," Jack protested.
"Maybe,
sir." Sam held Daniel’s legs as they finally made it onto the dry sand.
Keel
had the med kit out and was tearing open a sterile intubation tube. A
laryngoscope lay ready on the top of the box. There was no Celtic cauldron to
bring Daniel back from the dead on the sandy beach. Jack supported Daniel’s
head as Teal’c dropped smoothly to his knees. As one they lay him on the sand.
The pulse at Daniel’s throat nipped frantically at Jack’s fingertips.
"We’ve
still got a heartbeat." Jack leaned straight over and breathed into
Daniel’s mouth. There was finally a sensation of give, and beneath the sopping
wet t-shirt, Jack thought he saw Daniel’s chest move.
"Continue,
O’Neill."
Jack
shuffled on his knees to Daniel’s side. He tipped Daniel’s head back properly
leaving sand encrusted fingerprints on his cheek. It was easier; there was no
sensation of back flow and his chest definitely rose.
Carter
was rifling through the med kit for another ampoule of epinephrine.
"I
have an intubation tube." Keel, medically trained, made a concerted attempt
to shift Jack away from his position and failed.
"Epinephrine."
Carter slapped another auto-injector into Keel’s hand.
The
medic circled his patient’s wrist in his other hand. "Why do you think I
need epinephrine? I need information, Captain." He extracted his
stethoscope from his med kit and lifted up Daniel’s shirt. Patches of his torso
were flushed with a bright, sore looking red rash.
"Daniel’s
been suffering from allergies exacerbated by exposure to a venomous
substance." Carter explained as Keel planted the stethoscope over Daniel’s
heart. "We almost lost him once. Daniel also thought might be coming down
with a cold."
"Already
sensitive lungs," Keel mused out loud. "The salt water could have
triggered an asthmatic reaction maybe even anaphylaxis. Maybe he’s allergic to
something in the water?" The medic whipped out his k-bar knife and slit
open the fabric of Daniel’s fatigue trousers from knee to hip. He held the
auto-injector against Daniel’s thigh and injected the epinephrine intramuscularly.
Jack
paused in his artificial respiration long enough to order, "We’re going to
have company any minute, Makepeace, Goa’uld."
The
marine jerked his head at Applegate, who was already reaching for his MP-5.
Checking their weapons they moved down to the waters edge and held their
weapons. They made a fetching pair of targets.
Jack,
beet red, bent back over his friend.
"Allow
me, Colonel O’Neill." Teal’c gently laid his hand on O’Neill’s shoulder.
Realising that he was rapidly becoming only capable of little huffs, Jack
relinquished Daniel to Teal’c’s care. Jack sagged back, wheezing himself, as
Teal’c placed his lips over Daniel’s blue ones and breathed.
The
slightest of tremors stirred Daniel’s body, Teal’c froze mid breath and then
backed off a hairsbreadth. The Jaffa’s entire body was poised to listen. Daniel
coughed, a wet pathetic cough. The linguist gagged on the small amount of water
he had inhaled.
"On
his side," Keel directed.
All
hands moved to turn Daniel over. He retched, splattering Jack’s bare knees and
then he coughed and coughed as if heralding the end of the world. Keel pushed
up his patient’s t-shirt around his ribs and listened to his lungs with a
stethoscope.
"Lieutenant?"
Jack asked, as he gently patted Daniel’s shaking shoulders.
"We
need to get back to the SGC, Colonel O’Neill."
"Have
you got the Stargate working?" Carter asked.
"Maybe…
Let’s get Dr. Jackson to the ‘gate." The medic slipped a hand under
Daniel’s shoulders in preparation to lift.
"Allow
me, Lieutenant Keel." The enormous Jaffa squatted and slipped his arms
under Daniel. With an ease that left most members of the SGC in awe, he stood
and lifted. Clearly confused, Daniel struggled weakly. His breathing still
sounded raw and hard.
"Daniel,
we’re here. We’re going to the Stargate," Jack said, leaning over the
cradled form.
Daniel’s
brows drew together as he squinted at the colonel. "What?" he
slurred.
Jack
took his position at Daniel’s head, helping Teal’c to support his lanky length
as Keel took his legs.
"Makepeace,
we’re moving to the ‘gate; take our six. Carter, you’ve got point."
"Lieutenant
Keel," Sam asked intently. "What have you done to get the Stargate
going?"
"We
came through with the largest generator Sergeant Siler could cobble together.
We’re kind of jumpstarting it."
"How
long?"
"Hours,"
Makepeace supplied over his shoulder, one weather eye still on the still sea.
"Sir."
Sam turned to O’Neill. "I think it would be more useful if I went ahead
and started to dial out manually."
"Go!"
Carter
needed no encouragement. She set off, slipping and sliding over the sand. The
ridge of rocks had shifted since the last planetquake; half swamped, it was
less of an obstacle but it was still high. The captain clambered over and
disappeared on the other side the outcropping.
"We
have a sighting," Makepeace said calmly. He aimed at an at’tu’rat as
he backed up the beach. Another manta shaped ship rose out from the water,
hovering over the surface. They did not need binoculars to know that the
Goa’uld in the ship were aware of their presence.
"Move
it," O’Neill ordered.
Teal’c
hefted Daniel higher in his arms and set off at a fast lope over the sand.
Realising that he was incidental, Jack ran ahead, bare legs flashing. As he
clambered onto the rocks, he could see Carter at the Stargate manhandling the
inner circle. He turned to help Teal’c up onto the outcropping. But the Jaffa
found his feet doggedly, aware that the seaweed and small rocks made his way
treacherous. The report of MP-5 fire echoed around the bay. Makepeace had
finally let rip, firing ineffectually at the at’tu’rat.
"Faster,
Teal’c."
"I
am endeavouring to, O’Neill."
Conscious
of the fact that Daniel was stirring feverishly, Jack exhorted, "Keep
fucking still, Daniel, or you’ll knock Teal’c over."
"Huh?"
Daniel blinked owlishly and sank back into Teal’c’s arms, quietly.
As
a wave of laser blasts pulverised rocks behind them, Teal’c jumped down onto
the sand in the Stargate Bay. Keel, at his side, reached out and felt for
Daniel’s pulse. His face was stiff with the mask of the concerned medic.
"Damn."
Ducked low, Jack ran across the sand to the listing Stargate. The Goa’uld were
firing high, obviously trying not to damage their hosts-to-be beyond repair.
The falling rocks and ash were a danger all themselves. The captain had five
chevrons dialled and was grunting with effort as she moved the circle to the
next locking position. Despite the roar of the attacking at’tu’rat, Jack
could hear the thrum of the generator.
"Is
this going to work, captain?" he asked as he jumped on to the ‘gate
platform.
"It’s
our best plan at the moment."
Jack
bent to help his team mate move the inner circle. The sixth chevron engaged
with a flare of light along the whole perimeter of the gate.
"That
looked healthy."
Carter
ignored him. "Daniel identified the circle with the dash inside as the
planet’s symbol."
It
was, of course, the chevron opposite the final locking wing. Nails breaking,
they struggled to push the circle around despite the grating sand. The final
chevron locked into place and each light flared briefly in sequence.
"That’s
a tad different."
"Duck!"
"Ooops."
Jack ducked as the event horizon kawooshed out of the Stargate obliterating the
generator. The wave retracted with a snap back into the ring. Only the base
plate of the generator was left with a fragment of the right bottom corner, it
was as if a giant had taken a bite out of the equipment. "Wow."
The
event horizon quivered, waves lapping against the inner circle.
"Molecular
destabilisation," Carter theorised.
"Can
we go?" Jack cut straight to the crux of the situation.
The
manta ship swooped down the bay behind them. Hovering at house height, its
laser turrets twisted to point at the team.
"Incoming!"
Makepeace ran beneath at’tu’rat unfurling a hand-held rocket launcher.
The marine knelt directly under the guts of the ship. The blast of the launcher
blew sand around Makepeace’s ankles as the rocket was thrust upwards. At close
quarters it seemed to imbed in the at’tu’rat’s force field, hanging in
mid-air. Makepeace threw himself face first into the sand as the shell finally
exploded. The blast blew up and out, fragmenting the bottom of the manta ship.
Shuddering, the at’tu’rat seemed to hiccup before it flipped. Spinning
onto one wing, it spiralled through the air, engines screaming. It impacted
with the bluff face with a glorious explosion. Wreckage rained down on them,
forcing the teams to throw themselves to the ground.
Jack
sat up and brushed the sand from his face, "Marines," he said sarcastically.
Teal’c
ran across the sand, limbs pistoning, a pure force of energy to behold. The
medic sprinted in his wake. As the Jaffa leaped onto the Stargate’s pedestal
the wormhole steadied, the wavelets smoothing.
"Go!"
Carter urged.
Teal’c
needed no second instruction, without pausing a beat he bounded, charge and
all, into the wormhole. Jack jerked his thumb at his second-in-command. Carter
nodded and stepped sideways into the event horizon to be whisked away.
"Keel,
you next." Jack hauled the young medic up the rocks. He registered
startled green eyes as he thrust the lieutenant into the wormhole.
Makepeace
powered up from the sand, ducked low he ran, focussed on the Stargate. Jack
watched as the second at’tu’rat swooped up the bay. It hovered directly
before them. Nuada sat at the helm, his features expressionless, as he gazed at
them.
"Applegate?"
Makepeace demanded as he thrust his beretta into O’Neill’s hands.
"There!"
Jack gestured at the captain, who was firing futilely at the at’tu’rat. The
rounds from the captain’s MP-5 simply bounced off the manta ship’s force field.
The captain, tucked between two rocks, had to traverse the expanse of sand to
the ‘gate. Jack scanned the supplies he had tucked against the rocks. General
Hammond hadn’t sent any rocket shells with that shipment.
"Applegate,
now!" Makepeace ordered, as he attempted to lay down covering fire. The
rounds spanged off the manta ship’s force field.
"Tell
me you got another shell?" O’Neill demanded.
The
hum of the at’tu’rat’s lasers grew; the energy charging. Nuada smirked
as his hand was held poised over the weapons control. Jack sighted along the
barrel of the beretta and aimed directly between Nuada’s eyes. Hitting the
field, the round ricocheted upwards into the blue sky.
"If
he fires at us he’s going to hit the gate," Makepeace observed. "I
don’t think he wants to do that."
"Applegate,
get your butt over here."
The
captain shouldered his MP-5 and ran.
"Go,"
O’Neill told his fellow colonel.
"Not
until my man’s safe," Makepeace said tightly.
Nuada
fired directly at the rocks above their heads. A hollow resonance echoed
through their bones. The reverberation sounding like the roar of an
intensifying avalanche. Jack looked up at the rock face fragmenting above. Nuada
was going to bring the bluffs down upon their heads. Applegate clambered up
onto the pedestal. Makepeace grabbed his cuff and deliberately fell backwards
into the wormhole, hauling his subordinate with him. The rock face
disintegrated and came tumbling down. Still firing ineffectually at the at’tu’rat,
Jack backed into the event horizon. His last glance was of Nuada smirking.
~*~
A
gust of ash and stones pummelled Colonel O’Neill. He tumbled onto the metal
ramp, rolling head over heels until he came up against Colonel Makepeace and
Applegate.
"Close
the iris!" Carter yelled. The iris slotted together, cutting the raining
stones, ash and detritus off at the source.
Jack
smirked as he planted an elbow in Makepeace’s ribs and sat up. Military order
reigned in the embarkation room. The rangers on duty all ignored the newly
arrived teams, focussed on any potential threat from the Stargate. Medics dealt
with their patients. Daniel lay on a gurney, an oxygen face mask over his face.
Fraiser was directing her staff with terse comments. Keel, who was holding an
I.V. high, was imparting information in clipped sentences.
A
white garbed medic helped Jack to his feet. O’Neill shrugged off his assistance
and, preening, brushed down his silk toga – they had survived. General Hammond,
his welcome face flushed with concern, stormed into the embarkation room.
"Report.
Colonel O’Neill." Hammond’s pale gaze took Jack’s sopping wet toga.
"Hmm, yes, report, Colonel O’Neill."
Jack
tugged the silk skirt over his knees.
"There’s
no time for that," Fraiser interrupted as she guided Daniel’s gurney past
the rotund general. "O’Neill, Teal’c, Applegate, you’re with me; you’re
going in the decompression chamber."
"We
have a decompression chamber?" O’Neill asked.
"Yes,"
Fraiser said shortly. "Carter, Makepeace, report to the infirmary, Dr.
Warner will do your checks."
"We’re
fine," Jack objected, just because he could. "Why don’t Carter and
Makepeace have to go to the chamber?"
"We
came up at the correct rate, sir," Carter said helpfully.
"Hey,
we didn’t come up that fast. We’re all right," Jack protested.
The
exasperated glance that the doctor fired at him silenced the colonel. Jack fell
in behind the suite of medics as they rushed Daniel’s gurney out the
embarkation room.
"Intramuscular
diphenhydramine, stat," Fraiser ordered. "Nicolas, get me a support
kit, portable oxygen, I.V. Solumedrol, and albuterol med neb treatment and get
them to the decompression chamber asap."
"Ma’am."
Nicolas saluted, and ducked away from the gaggle of medics.
~*~
The
sort of controlled chaos that medics were famous for filled the decompression
chamber. Jack found himself tucked into the far corner, set on the lower tier
of a bunk bed with Teal’c and Applegate and told, firmly, not to move. A nurse
passed them blankets after asking if they had been hurt. Medical personnel
barrelled back and forth setting up EEG and ECG equipment next to the bunk
housing Daniel. Nicolas ran in, weighed down with boxes, a grunt behind him
held an oxygen cylinder and coils of tubing.
"You,
put that here," Fraiser pointed to the head of the bed for the non-com’s
benefit.
A
nurse squirmed between the grunt and Dr. Fraiser and began to set up the tank
to lie on the bunk alongside Daniel’s legs, out of the way of the other
equipment.
"Get
CBC with manual differential; Chem 7; blood culture times two; I want to see if
anything else is going on in there," Fraiser ordered another nurse, who
proceed to draw vials of blood.
"Ma’am."
Nicolas drew the doctor’s attention to staccato beat dancing across the ECG.
"Blood pressure’s 90/60."
"I
want…"
The
swarm of medics hid Daniel from view. The mess of medical shorthand firing back
and forth was like friendly fire, shocking, dangerous and unavoidable. It
sounded bad. Jack chanced a look a Teal’c but he was, as usual, aloof, having
nothing to offer to the medical staff; he kept out of their way. Applegate
crossed his arms over his chest and sagged back on the bunk.
Drugs
were called for, medicines and oxygen supplied. One nurse moved to the head on
the bunk, revealing Daniel momentarily until another nurse took her place, and
Jack thought he saw his team mate’s hand twitch.
"Epinephrine
again," Fraiser ordered. "And get the albuterol med neb treatment
started."
Then
with a suddenness that was shocking the medical team piled out of the
decompression chamber. The clang of the airlock door behind them reverberated
through Jack to his toes. Fraiser was the only remaining medic.
"What’s
up?" Jack demanded as he slipped off the bunk and settled on the floor at
Daniel’s shoulder.
"You’re
in the way of the ECG," Janet snapped, half her attention on the equipment
and half on Daniel’s laboured breathing.
Jack
shuffled sideways. "How is he?"
"He’s
responding to medication."
Jack
felt pressure on his eardrums, automatically he pinched his nose and blew. His
ears popped. Janet was already at the airlock, haranguing her staff to reduce
the rate at which the pressure was increased. Jack turned back to Daniel, his
friend had a mask over his nose and mouth, and a fine, cloudy mist swirled as
he wheezed. Daniel’s eyes flicked open, settled for a heartbeat and then roved
around the room.
"Hey,
we’re back in the SGC." Jack patted Daniel’s hand, careful of the I.V.
needle in the back of his hand. "Teal’c turned up in the nick of
time."
Daniel’s
attention flicked to the right, begging a question.
"I
am fine, DanielJackson." Teal’c joined Jack.
"Carter’s
fine too, Daniel. She’s briefing General Hammond."
"Daniel."
Somehow the tiny doctor shouldered Teal’c out of the way, making Jack fall
back. She leaned over her patient. Unable to complain, Daniel submitted to a
rapid examination, Fraiser listening to his heart and lungs. A quick check of
his blood pressure was followed by yet another injection. Daniel winced under
the mask.
"Don’t
talk. Not a word," the doctor ordered. "Just breathe in the
medicine."
Jack
picked up the remnants of Daniel’s black t-shirt, sliced off his body by a nurse
and cast aside. His BDU trousers were long gone. Jack shuffled around Janet to
get the folded up blankets at the foot of the mattress.
"Is
there anything I can do?" Jack held out the blanket.
"Thank
you." Janet snatched the blanket out of Jack’s hand and drew it up over
Daniel’s legs. "Now: out of my way," and she finished with a terse,
"please."
Jack
finished tucking the blanket around Daniel’s feet and then retreated back to
the other bunkbed. Applegate smiled at him, a bare curling of his lip and
shrugged. They shared a silent, disgruntled ‘Medics!’ Daniel turned his head
fractionally on his pillow and peered at them short-sightedly. The temptation
to wave was irresistible, so Jack waggled his fingers. Daniel’s eyebrows drew
together, furrowing his brow in question.
"It’s
okay, Daniel," Jack said.
"Yes,
Daniel, just keep breathing calmly and slowly." She patted Daniel’s bare
shoulder, before turning once again to the newly set up bank of monitors beside
the bunk. "Oxygen saturation 85%," she said absently.
"Is
that good or bad?" Jack demanded and was promptly silenced by the black
look she fired at him.
"It’s
fine and it’s improving."
"…what
happened?" Daniel croaked and promptly began to cough.
Jack
slid off the bunk to his side and patted his chest as it heaved. "We all
got out, Daniel. Don’t talk, just listen." Jack began to speak, rattling
on about the mission and Nuada, resisting the temptation to begin with: once
upon a time.
Epilogue.
Clean,
brushed, cleared by medical, SG-1 sat around the briefing table. All were dog
tired. Daniel’s breathing still hovered on the edge of a coughing fit, and he
had the glazed expression of the heavily medicated. They had spent eighteen
hours in the base’s decompression chamber, as the medics ensured that their
charges were would not suffering from the ‘bends’ – bubbles in the blood – due
to their rapid ascent to the surface from the drowned craft. Daniel listed
sideways in his chair, and O’Neill unobtrusively pushed him upright.
"So
these Goa’uld are not of Egyptian origin, Dr. Jackson?" Hammond asked
gently.
Daniel
shook his head, not wanting to speak in case he set off another coughing fit.
Carter
took up the space. "Yes, they were undeniably Celtic in origin."
"And
what is the ramifications of this discovery?"
"Different
cultural groups in the Goa’uld," Daniel ventured very quietly. "We
think that they had been exiled to Tir Nan Nog. Nuada – the Goa’uld Lord’s
colonel-in-chief –was keeping the discovery of the gate secret from his fellow
Goa’uld."
"Why
didn’t they just leave?" Hammond asked.
"Devil
you know? Devil you don’t?" Daniel whispered. "The DHD wasn’t
working, maybe it had only just been uncovered by the planetquakes? Or maybe he
had sabotaged the DHD so only his minions can use it, and they’re out looking
for information and hosts?"
"Well
now, they’re trapped on the planet." O’Neill interrupted Daniel as his
wheezing increased. "Nuada collapsed the rock face on top of the Stargate
as we escaped."
"Really?"
Carter asked.
"I
looked at him eye to eye as he pulled the trigger."
"Nuada’s
--" Daniel coughed very gingerly, "--hid it from Lugh, he just has to
dig it up."
"So
we have a new threat, a new race of Goa’uld out there?" Hammond settled back
in his chair, his expression was painfully sombre.
Carter
was wide eyed. "And he knows that we’re out here."
O’Neill
interlaced his fingers, turned his hands palm out and stretched. "We’ll
just keep dialling Tir Nan Noggy, and when the gate opens we’ll send a warhead
through." He smiled widely. "We have his number. We’ll deal with
Nuada next time he raises his snaky head."
Soft-hearted
Daniel, scowled at him. "What about the firbolg?"
"We
can’t save everyone."
"We’re
talking about beings that were on this world when we were young," Daniel
hissed passionately. "We could learn so much."
Jack
patted his shoulder insolently. "You’ll start coughing," he warned.
Daniel
scowled at him, his forehead screwing up, but he lapsed into silence, gagged by
his friable lungs. However, the purse of his lips argued eloquently that they
should help the tiny firbolg.
"Dr.
Jackson," Hammond spoke, "ending the threat of a new race of Goa’uld
outweighs the possible liberation of unknown aliens. We cannot win a war on two
fronts."
"So,
sir, we’ll add Tir Nan Nog to the regular dialling sequence," Carter said,
"and when the gate opens we’ll prevent them using it in the future."
Hammond
nodded regally. "Mission closed."
O’Neill
scowled into his mug of coffee. ‘Yeah right,’ he muttered sub-vocally.
Somehow, he doubted they had seen the last of Nuada and his cronies.
Finis
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