by Stargate
Fight it. Somehow, the Colonel's words came to her through the fire. Don't give them a goddamn inch.
I can t... The pain overwhelmed everything. The fire scorched it all away. No one could fight this.
Fight it! Brutal, uncompromising, his order floated in the maelstrom like a life raft. She clung to it with the last shreds of her sanity.
Daniel trailed a hand along the damp walls as they descended into the depths of Tsapan. His previous visit had been shrouded in a blinding headache, but this time his mind was clear and he could sense the ambience of the city as if it were a living thing. Opulence, extravagance, and death. Tsapan had known them all, layered one atop the other; the Kinahhi inhabitation of the city grafted over the decaying remnants of Baal's occupation. He'd had a chance to familiarize himself with the Kinahhi script while back on Earth and saw it now scrawled on many of the walls. Signposts, mostly, in this city of alleys and steep, endless stairways.
His fingers brushed over a raised pattern as he passed, and Daniel stopped. The shape of the cartouche was familiar. "Teal'c," he called softly. "I might have found something."
Teal'c retraced a few steps. "What have you found?"
"A sign." Daniel peered closer and wished he had a flashlight. "It's Kinahhi, the script is a type of cuneiform, although far more sophisticated. It says, roughly, `This way Judgment lies'."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow, awaiting further explanation.
"Judgment," Daniel explained, glancing up at his friend, "or, in Kinahhi, sheh fet."
Studying the narrow stairway, Teal'c readjusted his hold on the P90 he carried. "That path offers little cover, should we be attacked from above or below."
Daniel had to agree. "But it's the best lead we have."
"The sheh fet," Teal'c reminded him, "is nothing more than a security checkpoint."
Nodding, Daniel returned his attention to the cartouche. "You're right, but here," he pointed to the inscription, "the word sheh fet is, in effect, capitalized. As if to imply not `a sheh jet' but `the Sheh jet. "' He straightened, shivering slightly in the chill air. "Do you see what I mean?"
The blank look on his friend's face provided a silent answer.
Daniel peered down the shadowy stairway. "Jack and Sam are here as prisoners, to be judged. Right?" Teal'c acknowledged the point with a bow. "If it's nothing else," Daniel continued, "the Sheh fet - capital 'S'- is a place of judgment."
"I see." Teal'c shifted the gun in his hands again, perhaps missing the reassuring weight of his staff weapon. "Let us hope," he added in a low voice, "that it is not also a place of execution."
Daniel said nothing as he followed Teal'c down the narrow stairs. Up above, the wind whistled between the towers, their tops glittering brightly in the morning sunlight. Yet here, far below, all he felt was the damp chill of dread.
"Fall in," Commander Kenna barked, his voice cutting through the mesmerizing horror of the sheh fet and pulling his men back to their senses. Resolutely, they returned to marching formation, eyes fixed straight ahead. Most were grateful, he suspected, to be escaping the charnel house - and happy to forget the price Kinahhi paid for its security. "Move out." His men obeyed with alacrity, but Kenna hesitated before following. His gaze was drawn to the faces of the aliens by some emotion he dared not explore.
Major Carter's features were contorted into a grimace, as if frozen mid-scream. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut, limbs rigid. He could tell she was fighting, he had seen many try. None succeeded, and he believed their torment to be greater while they struggled against the inevitable. Weaker minds succumbed faster, and soon became insensible to their own suffering. So much the better for them.
"Oh...God..." The strangled cry came from above, startling the Commander from his thoughts.
O'Neill! He thrashed in his bonds, head battering from side to side. How was this possible? Could his mind be so strong? Kenna had never seen anyone resist the sheh fet enough to utter a single word. Taking a step closer, he stared at the man. O'Neill's face was wretched, the tendrils of the machine worming beneath his skin, and yet he moved, he spoke. He- opened his eyes.
Kenna stumbled back in shock, almost losing his footing. Dark, alien eyes stared at him, full of hatred and pain. O'Neill's lips moved, as if he would speak, but then he was seized in an agonized spasm, back arching and eyes rolling. His face stretched into the familiar rictus and for the first time Kenna tasted the true horror of the moment. He was watching the man die. A good man, a soldier.
He killed Saulurn...
A soldier. Fighting for his people, fighting for his life. Kenna had done as much in the name of his country. He had done worse. And this man, this soldier, did not deserve such a fate. Worse than the death of beasts bred for meat. Oppressed by sudden, heart sick shame, Kenna turned and fled. He fled from what he had done, from what his people were doing. He fled into the darkness of Tsapan and knew that there was no light to be found. No escape from the horror at the heart of his world.
Daniel's feet were wet. Not for the first time in the past seven years, he wondered how it was possible for the Air Force to be able to construct a ship as complex as the Prometheus, and yet be unable to supply a boot that didn't leak.
With a sigh he squelched on, keeping his attention locked on Teal'c. It was darker down here, in the pits of Tsapan's belly, and he didn't plan on getting separated from his friend. In this maze of decay, it would be-
Teal'c stopped suddenly, raising a hand to signal silence. Carefully, Daniel crept forward. He could hear it too; someone was coming up the steps. More than someone. Half a platoon, at least. Smooth walls lined the alley - no doors, no escape - and nothing but a turn in the stairway hid them from view. "This isn't looking good."
"It is not." Teal'c's eyes ranged higher, scanning the tower walls until he raised an arm and pointed. "There."
It was a small, dark window. And it was at least twelve feet above the stairs. "There's no way we can-"
"If we do not, we will be captured." Teal'c's dark eyes were intent. "I will not allow that to happen."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Unless you're planning to grow wings..."
"Follow," Teal'c said, taking the stairs two at a time until he stood beneath the small window. Below them, the marching sound grew louder. Bracing his back against the wall, Teal'c formed a cradle with his hands. "You must stand on my shoulders, Daniel Jackson."
Squinting up at the broken window, Daniel had his doubts. But, as Teal'c had pointed out, they were short of options. However, the real question on his mind was, "How will you get up?"
His friend's face remained inscrutable.
"Teal'c?" Daniel folded his arms, stubbornly ignoring the approaching soldiers. "I won't leave you here."
"If one of us escapes-"
Daniel shook his head. "Nope."
With a frown, Teal'c looked away, then back at him. "Very well. I did not suggest this, as it will hinder the speed of our escape. But, if I were to climb first..."
"You could pull me up after you. Sounds like a plan."
Teal'c looked unconvinced. "If the soldiers arrive before I am able to-"
"Then I guess we'd better hurry." Nudging him out of the way, Daniel braced himself against the wall and cradled his hands as his friend had done. "Come on, let's go."
With a final, serious look, Teal'c settled his foot in Daniel's hands. "O'Neill would not approve this plan."
"Sure he would," Daniel grunted, as Teal'c heaved himself up. The effort of supporting the man's weight yanked at the wrecked tendons in his left shoulder, shooting hot bolts of pain into his neck and down his arm. He grimaced. "No one gets left behind, right?"
Teal'c didn't answer. His other foot landed on Daniel's right shoulder, and he pushed up again. The hard sole of his boot bit into Daniel's collarbone, cold water soaking through his shirt as he staggered under the uneven weight. Damn, he was heavy! "You need to cut out the donuts," he hissed, wincing as Teal'c's other foot landed on his injured shoulder.<
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"I can reach the window!" There was triumph in Teal'c's voice, and suddenly the weight was gone. Daniel ducked out from beneath his friend as, slowly, Teal'c hauled himself up, feet braced against the slick wall of the tower, arms bulging with effort.
In the distance, Daniel heard a sharp bark. "Teal'c, hurry!"
Grabbing hold of the window frame, Teal'c braced one knee on the sill and then elegantly dropped out of sight into the dark room. Daniel edged closer to the wall, watching the stairs disappear around the corner. Waiting. Was there time? Teal'c could get away, and he'd have a good chance of finding Jack and Sam. Better than if-
"Daniel Jackson." Teal'c was leaning out of the window, one arm extended. But just as he spoke, the first ranks of soldiers turned the corner. With a shout, they started running up the stairs toward him. Their time was measured in seconds. "Climb!"
Daniel hesitated. "Go, you can-"
"Do not make me return to retrieve you, Daniel Jackson!"
Having no doubt his friend would do just that, Daniel took a couple of steps back - as far as the cramped stairway would allow - and ran, propelling himself into the air. His fingers clasped Teal'c's outstretched arm around the wrist, but the shock of the impact sent pain, like hot needles, driving through his left shoulder. Breath exploded from his lungs in a grunt of agony, but he held on. Can't let go. Cant let go! Feet scrabbling against the wall, he felt Teal'c start hauling him up like a sack of grain.
"This is insane!" he hissed, both hands wrapped around Teal'c's arm.
His friend couldn't answer. The tendons were standing out in his neck, face contorted with effort. Suddenly an explosion hit the wall, showering them both with grit.
"Halt!" a voice shouted from below. "Move no further!"
Daniel looked up, right into his friend's eyes. There was no question. Teal'c kept pulling. Another explosion hit, nearer this time.
"I said halt!"
But the window was getting closer, he'd almost made it and-
A hand seized his ankle and yanked. The extra weight was too much for Daniel's weak left shoulder; with an agonizing wrench it slipped out of its socket. His scream was unstoppable, holding on impossible. He let go.
"Daniel Jackson!" Teal'c seized his other arm with both hands. "Climb!"
Nausea clawed at his throat, the pain graying the edges of his mind. He couldn't focus, couldn't hear above the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Consciousness was ebbing away, he was falling backward... "No!" He kicked out, felt his boot connect with a head. There was a grunt, and he was free. "Teal'c," he slurred through the pain. "Pull!"
How long it took, he had no idea. Eternity. A few seconds. It all blended together into a red stream of pain, accompanied by angry shouts. A bright blast. Stinging grit in his eyes. And then rough hands seized his shoulders and he was dragged forward into damp, decaying darkness.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
he pain was unbearable, like fire or acid burning into his mind. Acid and daggers. Bright white light... Oh God, not there. Not there again. The memory surfaced and was swallowed. Washed away. No, this pain wasn't white. It was red. Fiery red, scorching, obliterating. He could feel its heat, as if standing before a blast furnace. From a distance. A fire, streaming past. Like lava. Lava streaming down the sides of the mountain as the moon bled to death, annihilating everything. Swallowing the Stargate, the kids, Carter
He jerked awake. Not there. He wasn't there either. His eyes opened, the stench of putrefaction and human degradation filling his mouth and nose. His arms and legs were pinned out, like a lab rat's. But his mind was clearing, the pain was receding. Acid neutralized. Cooperation will be rewarded. He cursed silently at the memory, pushing it back into the singed, tender parts of his mind. He felt raw, as if he'd left his brain out in the sun for too long. But he was okay, he knew it instinctively. He was himself. And if he was okay...
"Carter?" His voice sounded weak, and he cleared his throat. "Carter?"
Nothing. Turning his head, he tried to get a visual on her, but all he could see were the sinewy, half-dead faces of his fellow captives. He gritted his teeth, but didn't shy away. He'd seen death before, many times. His head was filled with images of humanity's inhumanity, and he filed this one along with the rest. Deal with it later. Or never. Whatever worked. What mattered now was getting the hell out of Dodge.
"Carter?" he called again, pulling fruitlessly at the metal clamps that held him in place. Damn it, why wasn't she answering? He hoped - prayed - that she'd gotten out already. Maybe she'd gone for help? Yeah, right. Gone for help where, exactly? Even his stubborn optimism had its limits. "Carter!" He yanked at his bonds again, but they were immovable and just bit deeper. There was no way he was going anywhere unless-
With a sharp metallic click the pressure on his arms and legs was gone. He had half a second to think Cool! before he started falling. The ten-foot drop was cushioned by numerous limbs, iron clamps and bits of meaningless machinery, and Jack hit the stone floor with a grunt. Today was just full of surprises.
Pushing himself into a low crouch, he glanced around cautiously. The room was empty, except for the victims of the Kinahhi's life-sucking fortune-telling machine. No soldiers. No guards. Who'd want to stay here anyway, watching people die like this?
Slowly he rose, wincing at the sharp pain in his right knee. He had no idea why he'd been released, although he half suspected Kenna was responsible. "Carter?" he called her name again, still hoping she'd already been freed. But there was no reply - in truth, he knew her too well to think she'd leave him trapped in that thing. At least, not if she had a choice.
Keenly aware of the sound of his footfalls in the quiet room, he started to circle the sheh fet. If she was still trapped in it, he had to know. He had to get her out. He didn't see the faces or the skeletal arms and legs; they passed by in a blur of nameless, shapeless revulsion. He wasn't looking at them, he was looking for something else. Someone else. The green of her uniform, torn and bloody beneath iron clamps, her hair falling lank against an ashen face, screaming in silent horror... "Carter!"
She was ten feet above him, back arched and mind lost. Thin red tendrils, like a spider's web, traced her cheeks and temple, spilling out and looping through the tangle of wires and cables, up into the vastness of the machine. Destroying her. Killing her.
He looked around for something - anything - to use to free her. There was nothing. Screw it. Doggedly blind to everything he touched, Jack climbed up the human machine. "Carter!" he barked, reaching past another rigid body to slap her face. "Come on, Carter. Snap out of it." Nothing. Not a flicker. Desperate, he turned his attention to the clamps on her arms. They wouldn't budge but were attached by cables no thicker than his finger. He grabbed one and pulled, yanking it ferociously, trying to break it. Nothing.
Perhaps if he could wake her? Shifting closer, ignoring the feel of clammy skin against his face, ignoring the putrid breath of the half-dead creatures that surrounded them, he reached out tentatively to touch the gossamer threads that had invaded her mind. "Crap!" He recoiled, the pain sharp as a bee sting. But not nearly enough to stop him. Ignoring the biting pain, he grabbed the spider's web and pulled.
Carter's scream curdled his blood. It was agonized, inhuman, and it didn't stop. He jerked back, lost his footing and slid down the side of the sheh fet. His boot grazed the face of one of the other lost souls, thin blood beading where the skin was torn. Jack backed away, horrified. What had he done to her? Carter kept on screaming, desperate as a trapped animal. And then the alarms started to wail, so loud he clamped his hands over his ears. Every damn soldier in the city had to be on his way!
Logic told him he had to leave. Go hide, come back later when he might have some chance of pulling her out of the nightmare. It went against everything he believed in, but he was soldier enough to do the right thing. Whatever the cost.
"Fight it!" he yelled, backing toward the door. "Fight it Carter. I'll be back. I swear to God, I'll be back."
&
nbsp; And with that he turned and ran, out into the decaying city.
Sirens wailed, a mournful note of warning loud enough to block out all thought. Teal'c crouched low beneath the window, shielding Daniel Jackson from the masonry blasted free by the energy weapons of the Kinahhi. His friend was unconscious, his left shoulder twisted once more from its socket. Teal'c cursed silently. He should have insisted that Daniel Jackson flee alone.
Beneath the window the soldiers still lingered, although the noise of the sirens masked their movements. It mattered little, for the alarm called all in Tsapan to alert. The Kinahhi would hunt them, and the advantage of familiarity in this alien city was all theirs. One thing was certain; he had to remain ahead of his enemy. Taking care to protect Daniel Jackson's shoulder, Teal'c carefully lifted him and rose to his feet. The burden was not inconsiderable. Unsure of the floor's strength, Teal'c stepped warily through the damp room and approached the door.
The corridor beyond was empty and dark, and he could discern a staircase leading downward. It was the direction in which he needed to travel, despite the likelihood of the Kinahhi waiting at the bottom. For a moment, he hesitated. But time was running away, like warm sand through his fingers, and soon the shield hiding the tel'tak would fail. The engines would have insufficient power to break free of the planet's gravitational pull, and escape would be impossible.
Shifting the limp form of Daniel Jackson over his shoulder, Teal'c pulled a zat'ni'katel from his waistband and headed resolutely down the stairs.
The rough and ready lights looping down the corridor led Jack back to the iron doors through which he and Carter had been dragged only hours before. Bracing a shoulder against cold metal, he heaved them open and gratefully slipped out into the fresh air beyond. But the stink of the sheh fet still clung to his clothes, reminding him of what - and whom - he'd left behind. As if he could forget.
