The Cost of Honor

by Stargate

  Cautiously, he studied the cramped staircase. Vast towers rose up on each side, gaping black windows staring down like blind eyes, concealing secrets. He wondered if they concealed snipers too. Moving as quietly as possible, sticking to the shadows, Jack began to climb the stairs and tried to formulate a plan.

  First he needed a weapon, which meant taking out a couple of Kinahhi the old-fashioned way. Then he needed to find out more about the sheh fet, and to figure out a way to free Carter. The memory of her scream echoed in his mind, mingling in his memory with the wail of the sirens that still rang through the empty towers. Was she still screaming too?

  Refusing to contemplate the answer, he kept climbing. Up ahead, the stairs turned and he slowed, flattening himself against the wall and peering carefully around the corner. His caution was justified. A little knot of soldiers stood staring up at a small, broken window in one of the towers. Their weapons were at the ready, and even from this distance Jack could see the scorched evidence of weapons fire around the window frame. Someone was up there. Or something. Clutching white fingers in the dark, coming out of nowhere... White, gristly fingers. Skeletal limbs. Cadaverous faces. Now he knew what they were, those things that had attacked him and Carter last time they'd visited Baal's pleasure dome. Escapees. Or rejects. Or survivors. Others, like himself perhaps, spat out by the machine. Only he'd been lucky; he was still human.

  Repressing a shudder, he forced himself to focus on the half dozen Kinahhi ahead. He figured he had a couple of options. Retrace his steps and find a way around them. Or take them out. He had no weapon, which meant disarming at least one of them in the cramped confines of the stairway, then taking out the others - at short range, hopelessly outnumbered. As plans went, it sucked.

  He ducked back around the corner. He needed to get off the stairs, to find an alternate route. There were no doors in the smooth walls of the towers, but there were windows. High windows.

  Thoughtfully, Jack studied the wall. Its smooth surface was cracking, rivulets of water seeping beneath and swelling the plaster into crumbling blisters. With one finger he tested it, pulled a clump away to expose rough stone beneath. Over the years he'd done his fair share of free-climbing and if there were enough cracks in the crumbling brick face... The closest window was a dozen yards back down the steps, perhaps twenty feet up from the ground. A short climb, but a nasty fall onto the steep stairs below.

  "Better not fall then," he muttered to himself, jogging down the stairs. He quickly removed his boots and socks, tied the laces together, and strung them through a belt loop. The bite of the icy water made him grimace, but without climbing shoes, bare feet would have to do. As long as they didn't go numb from the cold.

  Rubbing his hands against his shirt to dry them as best he could, Jack studied the wall. There were a couple of patches of exposed brick, others of rotting plaster that looked treacherous. Twenty years ago, he thought ruefully, it would have been a breeze. But the universe had been a different place twenty years ago, and not all for the better.

  Flexing his fingers, he spotted his first hand hold and reached for it. The stone was damp but coarse beneath his fingers, providing enough traction to pull himself up. Feet braced on the sliver of an edge between two exposed bricks, he let everything but the climb drift free from his mind and contemplated the next move.

  "Ow! Holy- Goddamn, ow!"

  Daniel shot upright, clutching at his arm, dizzy, disoriented and in pain. "What the hell...?"

  A firm hand seized his arm. "Do not move, Daniel Jackson. You are well."

  Teal'c? Vision blurred - why was his vision blurred? - Daniel peered through the darkness. A wailing noise, droning and muted, pulsed in the distance. It sounded like the keening of mourners. Confused he shook his head. Sunshine filtered into the room, indistinct shafts of light cutting through shuttered windows, glinting in Teal'c's eyes and making them glitter. "Where are we?" His memory was as blurred as his vision. The last thing he remembered was climbing...

  "We are within a tower on Tsapan," said Teal'c slowly, his gaze roving restlessly around the room. "Your shoulder slid from its socket while you attempted to scale the building."

  Ah. Yes. Daniel winced. "Right, it's all coming back to me now." Unfortunately.

  "I took the liberty," Teal'c added quietly, "of resetting the joint while you remained unconscious." He paused for a moment. "The pain has roused you, however."

  "Ya think?" He blinked again, rubbing at his misty eyes. Which was when he remembered he'd taken off his glasses. He fumbled for them in his pocket, relieved to find them still in one piece. Thank heaven for small mercies. Straightening the arms with his teeth, he slid his glasses one-handed onto his face. The world snapped into focus, and he realized they were sitting in a small room that would have been elegant once. The rotting remains of fabric sagged from the walls, graceful furniture lay scattered and broken on the floor. "Now what?"

  Teal'c studied his face carefully. "Are you able to walk, Daniel Jackson?"

  Good question. The pain in his shoulder was intense, radiating out in waves down his arm and across his back. Even breathing was difficult. Not that he had any intention of mentioning the fact to Teal'c. But his bravado didn't make him a fool. "My arm needs to be strapped."

  Teal'c considered the problem for a moment. Then, with a rapidity and efficiency born of decades on the battlefield, he tore a strip from the hem of his shirt. Silently he unzipped the front of Daniel's tac vest and, as carefully as possible, removed it. Even the slight motion sent agony shooting down Daniel's arm, but he gritted his teeth and made no sound. Fashioning a basic sling from the material, Teal'c tied it around Daniel's neck, then slid the tac vest back over Daniel's good arm. Wrapped around his injured arm, and zipped firmly shut, it did a good job of immobilizing the shoulder.

  "Not bad," Daniel approved.

  Standing, Teal'c offered his hand and pulled Daniel to his feet. The world spun queasily for a moment, but Daniel willed it to stop and forced a smile. He hoped it didn't look too sickly. "I'm okay."

  Despite the skeptical lift of an eyebrow, Teal'c let it slide. `Okay' was a relative term, and in this context they both knew what it meant. "I believe there are Kinahhi soldiers searching the building," said Teal'c, changing the subject. "Shortly after we escaped, the sirens began."

  Sirens. That explained the noise. "Because of us?"

  "Perhaps. The Kinahhi certainly know we are here. We cannot linger."

  "No," Daniel agreed. "So, which way?"

  "I had hoped," said Teal'c, "that you would know better than I."

  Daniel shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. But... down? We need to get back to that staircase."

  "Agreed."

  Moving past him, Daniel was almost at the door when Teal'c stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Daniel Jackson?"

  He turned. "Yeah?"

  "There is another matter." Teal'c looked at his watch, face serious. "There is little over an hour remaining before the shield cloaking the tel'tak will deplete the power supply to such an extent that escape from this world will no longer be possible."

  Daniel considered the information, sharing a long look with his friend. "I'm thinking," he said quietly, "that we're not leaving here without Jack and Sam anyway."

  Satisfaction settled over Teal'c's face. "I concur."

  "Good." Turning back toward the door, Daniel straightened his shoulders as best he could and said, "So let's go find them."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  mbassador Crawford stood in the large, airy office belonging to Councilor Tamar Damaris and took a deep breath. Beyond the tall windows, pale gold sunlight glittered against the drab buildings of Kinahhi. It lent the place a transient beauty; even the plainest of women looked lovely in the right light.

  At one of the windows stood Damaris herself, mind clearly preoccupied. The news he'd brought from Earth had not been well received, and she was endeavoring to recover her composure before resuming the conversation. At leng
th she turned back toward him, her colorless eyes sharp but veiled. "And you say these men escaped no more than a day ago?"

  Crawford inclined his head. "Yes, Councilor. They were traced to a world we designate as P3X-500, where they retrieved a stolen alien vessel. It is likely that they are on their way here."

  "I confess myself surprised that such a thing might happen," Damaris said coldly, moving away from the window. "Were they not held in detention?"

  An awkward question. "They were. However, we believe they were assisted by those within the SGC unsympathetic to our treaty." When Damaris's eyes narrowed, he hastily added, "You may be assured that the culprits will be apprehended and removed from the base entirely."

  "It is a little late, is it not, for such precautions?" Her smooth brow contracted briefly. "I understand why Senator Kinsey was keen to be rid of these troublesome people. However," she offered a thin smile, "if they attempt to land their vessel on this world, we will detect and destroy them."

  Crawford couldn't help but start. Destroy? "I believe Senator Kinsey wishes to-"

  "This is our sovereign territory," Damaris interrupted curtly. "Intruders entering without permission will be destroyed."

  "As is your right," he assured her, ignoring a cold squirm of doubt in the pit of his belly. The Kinahhi were a ruthless people, but that was no concern of his. Which brought him to another subject. "Senator Kinsey has asked me to pass on his thanks for the technology and expertise you have provided in regard to the sheh jet. The test is proceeding well."

  Relaxing slightly, Damaris nodded. "Yes, it is. We will soon be ready to expand the prototype. And in return..." Her head cocked to one side. "Has Senator Kinsey made any progress on the subject of our payment?"

  Payment? His confusion must have been evident, and he cursed himself for being taken by surprise. "I- Ah, he hasn't-"

  "The deportation program," Damaris prompted. "We have fulfilled our end of the contract, Ambassador, but have yet to receive any felons in return. Excepting Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter, of course."

  Crawford stared, entirely derailed for the first time in many years. "I hadn't- Forgive me, I'm not privy to the Senator's dealings on that matter, Councilor." Felons? One of the Kinahhi had mentioned the idea, but he'd thought it an idle comment. Deporting prisoners to Kinahhi? There was no way the electorate would buy that! What the devil was Kinsey thinking, promising such a thing? The Councilor's suddenly suspicious gaze made it imperative for Crawford to cover his confusion. "I will certainly pass on your question to the Senator and provide you with a speedy answer," he hedged. Damn it, if Kinsey thinks he can cross these people... He forced a smile, but knew Damaris didn't buy it. She'd always been able to read him like a book.

  "No," she said quietly, softly. "That will not be necessary. You can-"

  A man abruptly burst into the room, eyes wild with panic. "Councilor!" he blurted, heedless of Crawford's presence. "The sheh fet! There's been a disruption, the alarms are-"

  "Silence!" Damaris snapped the word like a whip.

  The intruder's mouth snapped shut with an audible click, his eyes fixed on Crawford. Tension filled the room like an electrostatic charge; Crawford could all but feel his hair standing on end.

  Calmer, Damaris raised her voice and called, "Chief Officer, please come in."

  A young, cold-eyed soldier appeared in the door, saluting sharply.

  "Escort the Ambassador to the guest quarters," said Damaris, with a hasty wave of her hand. "He will be staying with us."

  Crawford blinked. What? "I- That won't be necessary, Councilor. I must return to Earth and discuss-"

  Damaris ignored him, turning to face her anxious aide and talking to him in a very low voice. A strong, determined hand landed on Crawford's arm. "This way, please, Ambassador."

  He tried to pull away, but the soldier didn't relent. "Let me go! You can't keep me here!"

  "I believe we can," Damaris replied, sparing him hard look. "We will continue our discussion another time."

  Standing his ground, he demanded to know the truth. "Am I your prisoner?"

  "Not at all, Ambassador." She smiled with all the charm of a gecko. "You will be free to return home - as soon as we begin to receive payment for our services."

  A hostage! Stunned, Crawford found himself pulled into motion by the Kinahhi soldier, his mind reeling. He, Ambassador Bill Crawford, right-hand man of Senator Kinsey, was being held hostage!

  Heart thudding with fear, he was dragged from the room on shaky legs. A hostage? This was crazy. Kinsey would go insane. It would destroy the whole treaty, it would- It would make him a goddamn hero.

  He smiled, despite his erratic, panicking heartbeat. There was nothing the electorate liked better than a bona fide hero... And once Kinsey got him the hell outta here, sent in some of those crack troops the SGC was always boasting about and taught these skinny aliens what happened when you messed with the US of A, then the world would be his oyster.

  Former hostage, Bill Crawford. Hero. President Elect. His smile strengthened. Watch out Washington, here I come!

  It was always halfway up that the real fear set it. Too far to jump back down, muscles beginning to burn with the effort, and utterly vulnerable. One slip... Jack fixed his mind on the next move. Left, a small gouge in the exposed brick. Focus. He stretched, fingers finding purchase and pulled up.

  Once he was inside the building he'd stop to rest, figure out what to do next. Get himself armed. Damn, but he was thirsty though. If only he had some water.

  He found a corner with his right foot, but his knee was protesting wildly. He pushed up again, fingers reaching for an inadequate sliver of brickwork. Heart pounding.

  Don t fall!

  His fingers slipped, he scrabbled for something else. A rough patch of plaster. It crumbled beneath his touch. Something else! A crook of stone, just below the window. Too far to lunge. His right hand started to tremble with the effort of maintaining its tenuous hold, his right knee screaming.

  He was going to fall! If he could just reach the window...

  It was quiet in the tower as Teal'c led the way down the spiraling staircase. His senses heightened by darkness and adrenaline, he caught every sound. The sigh of a breeze through broken glass, the slow drip of water. The creak of a distant door opening.

  He froze, lifting a hand to halt Daniel Jackson.

  "What?" his friend whispered.

  Teal'c didn't answer, he just listened. Muted voices, their words unintelligible but the pattern of speech that of orders given and received. Then footsteps ascending. "Soldiers," he murmured.

  "That's not good."

  "It is not." Teal'c cast around for ideas. Many doorways led off from the stairway, but the Kinahhi would be foolish not to search them as they passed. "We must be ready to fight."

  Daniel Jackson nodded. "You'd better take this," he whispered, indicating the P90 strapped to his tac vest. "I can't use it with one hand. I'll use the zat."

  Below them, the footsteps drew nearer and the sharp slam of a door being kicked open reverberated up the stairwell, confirming Teal'c's guess. Each room would be searched. But they had time to prepare. "This way," he said quietly, opening a door and peering inside the room. Broken furniture was scattered across the floor. It would provide scant cover from the blast of a Kinahhi weapon, but at least it might afford them the element of surprise.

  "We must be cautious," Teal'c warned his friend as he quietly closed the door. "In such confined surroundings-"

  A faint grunt drifted through the shattered window.

  Daniel Jackson's head snapped around. "What was that?"

  "Perhaps they are attempting to scale the building?" If they faced attack on two fronts, they would have little chance of success.

  Daniel Jackson moved warily toward the window and pressed himself flat against the wall. Cautiously, he peered out. His eyebrows shot up and a wide, astonished smile split his face. "You're not gonna believe this!"

  He was cling
ing to life by his fingertips. Literally. His feet fumbled for purchase, the safety of the shattered window no more than a stretch above him if he could only get a foothold. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his face despite the damp chill. His hands were sweaty, trembling with the effort. He couldn't hold on, couldn't make it.

  Yes you damn well can, O'Neill! Get your ass up there, you useless piece of

  Growling, he jammed his grazed and bruised feet against the crumbling stone, willed them to find a ridge, anything, to brace himself There, under his left foot. Something, barely something. But his right hand was slipping anyway, and if he didn't move now...

  Using the scarce leverage under his foot, he pushed up and threw himself at the window. Plaster crumbled beneath his weight, his foot slipped, scraping down the brick. His fingertips grazed the windowsill but he couldn't grab hold. He hadn't made it. He was falling!

  No!

  And then a strong hand seized his wrist, fingers like iron, wrenching his shoulder but holding him firm. Saving him. Gasping for air, Jack squinted up at his savior, and found himself staring into the troubled face of Commander Kenna.

  "Damn it," Daniel hissed, pulling away from the window. "They've got him."

  Orders drifted up the stairs, accompanied by the brief sound of a struggle. A heavy weight fell to the floor. Jack? He'd looked battered and bruised, clinging to the wall like a bug in a storm. But he'd been close enough for Daniel to glimpse the look of utter defeat when Jack recognized his captor. "We have to get him out of there." Daniel skirted the overturned table and headed toward the door. "Come on, let's go."

  Teal'c seemed to hesitate. Considering the odds, perhaps. But it was only momentary. His face hardened and he took hold of his weapon with both hands. "I will secure the stairway," he declared as Daniel pulled open the door. "Follow me."

  Like a giant, stealthy cat, Teal'c crept out of their hiding place. The sounds of voices were clearer now, and Daniel thought he could make out the dry tones of Jack. Which meant, at least, that his friend was conscious. So far so good. Sticking close to the wall, Teal'c slipped silently down the stairs, Daniel on his heels. Another turn in the spiral hid the soldiers from view, and Teal'c slowed to a halt. Silently he motioned Daniel to stay where he was, while he slowly edged forward. Daniel barely dared to breathe, expecting an explosion of gunfire at any moment. The Jaffa stopped - the cat had sensed its prey - then gestured for Daniel to follow.