by Jamie Duncan
“We do not need your cooperation,” Sebek said, and gestured to Aris. “We do not even need you alive.”
“Do your worst,” Jack said. Sebek’s face contorted with rage and his fingers closed around Jack’s throat with a death grip. Daniel’s hands, but with unnatural strength. Jack felt the breath in his throat die, strangled out of him, and he grabbed at Sebek’s arm, twisting and prying. Like a solid piece of iron, his arm was locked in place. Jack’s vision greyed. His lungs burned.
A moment later, the fingers at his throat began to tremble, and their grasp weakened, easing the pressure by degrees until Jack was able to gasp in a breath. Sebek’s eyes were closed, and the rage on his face had changed to fear; sweat dotted his upper lip, and he turned pale. Jack wrenched Sebek’s arm away and shoved him back. Nausea hit Jack then, followed by the sensation that something was crawling inside him, burrowing into his neck, winding around his spine. Not again. He slapped at the back of his neck, half-panicked, and the feeling faded away, as suddenly as it had arrived. On the heels of it came a slow, rolling flow of images: running through a sparse forest at night toward a Stargate; standing before the Tok’ra Council shouting down Selmak’s latest ridiculous strategy; wrenching himself out of the body of the one called O’Neill before the Jaffa can arrive.
Jack pressed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes and growled with frustration. Not his memories. Not things he wanted in his head, and he would never be able to get rid of them. He hated Kanan with his whole body. Slowly, the tide of images pulled back, until he was able to breathe without them closing on him.
“Jack.”
He shook his head to clear it, because he was hearing the impossible, his own wishful thinking. That voice didn’t belong to Sebek. It was—
“Jack, it’s me. It’s really me. Listen. Please.”
He raised his head and stared at Sebek—Daniel—whoever it was. Daniel leaned against the far wall, hunched over and panting, as if he couldn’t stand under his own power. His words came out broken, raspy, as he said, “Jack, 1 don’t have much time. It’s too difficult to stay in control. You have to let us into that vault.”
“Daniel?” Jack shook his head again. It was like he had cotton padding around his brain. He had to get clear of the fog in his head. This was too easy a trap to fall into; hope was the worst of all. “If you were really Daniel, you’d never ask me to give a snake a weapon.”
“Jack, we don’t have any choice. It serves our interests, believe me. The weapon disrupts the Goa’uld hold on the host. It could be incredibly valuable to us. If Sam were here, she’d tell you the same thing.” Daniel—Sebek—stretched out a hand to him. “If you don’t open that door, he’ll kill you. He’ll kill us all, and he’ll still get in.”
“Oh, he won’t kill you,” Jack said hoarsely, and pressed his back against the wall. He had his breath again, and it was getting easier to speak. “He pretty much has to keep you around.”
“For now. But he can move to another host anytime.” Daniel doubled over, grimacing, then raised his head and said, “He’s weak, Jack. He’s insane. He’s one of Yu’s subordinates -he’s already contacted Yu. A mothership is coming to get the weapon, or destroy it, if we can’t get in. But we can’t let it be destroyed.”
“Why the hell not?” Jack said. “You seriously expect me to open that door and hand him a weapon?”
“We can take it back to Stargate Command.”
“Because that’s always worked out so well for us in the past,” Jack said, with all the sarcasm he could muster. He watched Daniel closely, watched his posture, as he clenched his fists and stared at Jack.
Daniel shook his head with that peculiarly frustrated look he sometimes got when Jack was being deliberately dense. “Think of all the knowledge I carry, things we don’t want our enemies to know. Things Sebek has already picked through. If we can get in there, maybe the weapon will destroy him and free me.”
“Oh, right,” Jack said, and now he was sure of who he was talking to, and the last bit of hope died inside him. He pulled himself all the way upright and jammed his hands in his pockets, casually. “Because the only thing Daniel ever thinks about is himself.”
A flash of gold in Daniel’s eyes, confirming Jack’s belief, and Sebek drew himself up to Daniel’s full height. With feral speed, he grabbed Aris’ knife from the holster at his thigh, shoved Aris away, and held the knife to Daniel’s throat, blade against the tender exposed skin there. Jack lunged forward, but Sebek pressed the knifepoint deep, drawing blood. Jack stopped short at the sight of red streaks running down Daniel’s neck. “We will end this now,” Sebek said, using his own voice again, “and take you as host. This host will bleed out slowly until he is a lifeless husk, and we will still have what we desire.”
Jack clenched his hands into fists and looked to Aris for any signal that he was ready to move—a nod of the head, a drawn weapon, anything to give Jack a reason to move on Sebek. But it wasn’t going to happen. Aris moved his hand to the hilt of his weapon, but didn’t unholster it. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jack said, staring at Aris.
“Whether he takes you, or doesn’t take you, I’ve got nothing left to lose,” Aris said. His hand remained on the butt of the gun.
Jack shifted his gaze back to Sebek. The knife was dug in now, and there was a broad cut, creeping too close to Daniel’s jugular. Daniel was going to die for nothing, here on this world none of them cared about, and Sebek was going to take him anyway, and there was not one damn thing he could do about it. “You son of a bitch,” he said, through gritted teeth.
“Your insults are meaningless to us,” Sebek said, pulling the knife another few millimeters over Daniel’s skin. “Open the door.”
“It might not work!” Jack said, desperate to stop the progress of the knife.
“We will soon see.”
Without taking his eyes off Sebek, Jack made his way to the device on the right hand side of the vault door. Here goes nothing. He stuck his hand inside. Nothing happened. Relief hit all at once, but it was short-lived when Sebek ordered, “Turn your hand.”
Jack sighed. Slowly, he moved his hand until it was palm down, and a bright white light began to glow in the small space. Jack yanked his hand out and stepped back. “You got what you wanted. Put the knife down.”
It seemed to take forever, but Sebek lowered the knife. He wiped its edge on his sleeve, smearing the t-shirt with Daniel’s blood. “We are already healing,” he said, with an ugly smirk. “But we are touched by your concern.”
The light began to creep along the edges of the door, then toward the center, filling and illuminating each individual glyph. Brighter and brighter, until Jack had to use one hand to shield his eyes. At last it winked out. The ground rumbled, deep vibrations in the earth beneath their feet, and the vault door began to slide open, shedding dust and dirt as it rolled over a long-abandoned threshold.
When the tremors stopped and the door to the darkness beyond stood open, cold sweat beaded across Jack’s face. Sebek was behind him now, and when he spoke, Jack could feel warm breath against the back of his neck. “Jack,” Sebek said, and laughed, a low, menacing sound. “You will lead the way.”
It took the Tok’ra less time than Hammond expected to send a representative, and when they did, it was Jacob Carter who stepped through the ’gate. Not alone, however: he had a second Tok’ra with him, someone Hammond didn’t recognize, a young-looking man with curly hair and a grim expression on the sharp-featured face. The eyes were narrowed, like he was reserving judgment but was certain all suspicions would be confirmed. The expression wasn’t unusual. In Hammond’s experience, the Tok’ra often seemed grim and disapproving, like they were waiting to be proven right. He conceded that millennia of fighting Goa’uld would have the same effect on him, if he were ever unfortunate enough to live that long. Although he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be quite so superior about it.
“George,” Jacob said, with a warm smile and a handshake.
“It’s good to see you again, even under the circumstances.”
“Good to see you too, Jacob.” Hammond’s friendship with Sam Carter’s father had been one of the most enduring of his life. He’d known Jacob for twenty years, and symbiote notwithstanding, he was always pleased by Jacob’s rare visits home.
Jacob scanned the room, looking for his daughter, as he always did. Chances for them to spend time together were few and far between. “Is Sam offworld?”
“That’s why we’ve called you,” Hammond said. Comprehension dawned at once in Jacob’s eyes, but Hammond continued on with the details, since the scraps of information they had might be useful in some way, if only to ease Jacob’s mind that they were doing all they could. “SG-1 is missing. Disappeared from P54-X3J during a routine meet-and-greet.”
“Captured?” Jacob asked.
“That’s the theory. We’ve got some intel to that effect.”
“Right,” Jacob said, processing the possibilities. He sighed, then nodded to the Tok’ra at his side. “This is Malek.”
“Of course,” Hammond said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Pieces from various mission reports slid out of memory and into place, providing him with the information he needed to deal with this man: Malek, the Tok’ra who had helped to solidify the fragile alliance between the Jaffa and Tok’ra, and who had defended the Queen, Egeria. He was a known quantity now that SG-1 had encountered him several times over the past year, but his name had stuck in Hammond’s mind because Teal’c’s opinion of him had been less than complimentary. He’d stopped short of calling Malek a coward, but his mission report had been clear about how he didn’t think Malek could be relied upon to assist in a close-quarters fight.
Malek inclined his head, a bit stiffly as was usual for the Tok’ra, and said, “It is an honor, General.”
Jacob squinted at Hammond. “How long has it been since you’ve had any sleep, George?”
“You mean, a full night’s worth?” Hammond answered, and a smile twisted Jacob’s lips.
“You know damn well what I mean. You don’t look so good.”
“I’ve been a little busy,” Hammond said. He gestured toward the door. “Let’s adjourn to the briefing room, where we can talk.”
Hammond found it comforting to have Jacob there as a sounding board, someone to run all the details by, to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He gave Jacob a copy of SG-14’s mission report, but verbally summarized the high points to spare him the trouble of paging through it. Malek, however, began reading as soon as Hammond set the folder in front of him, and continued in tense silence throughout the briefing, his head bowed over the document.
“SG-14 brought back one of the natives, the Relosians.” Hammond pointed at the file on the table in front of Jacob. “He tells us that a man paid him to lure one of the team members into a trap. We don’t think that, beyond this one individual, the Relosians are to blame here. They haven’t seen a Goa’uld in several generations, and we don’t believe they had any reason to harm our people.”
“You’re completely certain about that?” Jacob looked skeptical. “At least one of them had reason.”
“Internal politics. The man has some idea of becoming the leader, the…” Hammond thumbed the next page open in his file, “…the Princep of his people, and was interested in disrupting the incumbent’s alliance with us. He doesn’t seem to have had accomplices. He insists that SG-1 was taken offworld. Major Harper assured me that his team searched the area thoroughly. If SG-1 is still there, they’re hidden from sight, but my gut tells me they aren’t there.”
“So does mine.” Jacob folded his hands on the tabletop and was quiet for a moment. “If one of the System Lords has captured them, I think we might have heard about it by now. SG-1 is a big prize. Not something any glory-seeking System Lord would keep quiet, not the way the rivalries within their ranks are working these days.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Unfortunately, that doesn’t leave many obvious options.”
At that, Malek raised his head. “No. It does not.” He glanced at Jacob. “And we do not have the resources to spare to locate them.” Jacob met his eyes, and for a moment, a silent communication passed between the two of them. Clearly, there was some argument simmering here that had been put on hold before they’d set out for Earth.
“I’m not asking that you pull Tok’ra away from their assignments,” Hammond said. “Just that you give us whatever intel you can. We’ll take care of the rest.”
“There’s something else.” Jacob’s fingers tapped against each other, before he stilled his hands. “I know you’re thinking about their personal safety—hell, I am, too. But I also know you’re thinking about the threat they represent to your security here, if they’ve been captured.”
“It’s a threat we’ve faced before,” Hammond said. The long list of security breaches unfurled itself in his mind’s eye. This was not a new concern.
“Well, yes, but now there’s more to it. Ever since you’ve allied with the Tok’ra, every capture of SGC personnel has the potential to cause damage to our network as well. This is a… growing problem… for the Tok’ra.”
“Of course,” Hammond said. Malek shifted in his chair impatiently, giving a hint of what he was thinking. Hammond added, “This is why it was agreed between us that the SGC would never need specific information as to the whereabouts of Tok’ra bases or the placement of Tok’ra operatives. Despite the fact that we have shared information of a sensitive nature with you.” The pointed reminder wasn’t meant for Jacob, but for Malek, who zeroed in on it immediately.
“What you ask of us is problematic at best,” Malek said. “General, I am not unsympathetic to what you require, and I recognize you do not have the offworld resources to accomplish recovery of your team without our assistance. But you must realize, the Tok’ra nation is less than one quarter the strength it was when we first became your allies. The threat of infiltration and annihilation of the Tok’ra grows every day.”
“Your point being?” Hammond asked. Jacob was looking down at his tightly clasped hands. Hammond’s jaw set into a hard square, and his eyes narrowed. “Are you refusing to assist us? Jacob?”
“George…” Jacob looked up again, and when he spoke, Selmak had control of him, and spoke with the deep, distorted tones of the symbiote. “General Hammond, you must understand that it is not lack of willingness on our part. But there are those on the Tok’ra Council who would argue that if we were to locate Colonel O’Neill and the others, it would be more practical to quietly assassinate your personnel than to attempt a rescue that could expose an operative to suspicion.”
So that was it. No wonder Jacob had had difficulty articulating it. It fell to Selmak to represent the Tok’ra’s true concern. A flash of anger burned through Hammond—they’d sacrificed a hell of a lot to help the Tok’ra, the arrogant bastards, though the Tok’ra always seemed to think it was the other way around. He squashed the quick words of anger that rose to the surface, and instead said, “Selmak, I shouldn’t have to tell you that this is not acceptable to us. If you take any step in that direction, our alliance will be immediately severed.”
“Yes, General. I do understand. I have made this point to the others several times, but there are still many Tok’ra who believe we do not need this alliance—that the Tauri represent a greater hindrance than help to our cause.” Selmak stopped speaking, and Jacob’s head dropped down again.
This time, it was Jacob who spoke. “George, you already know I don’t agree. Obviously. Selmak doesn’t either.”
“Nor do I,” Malek said, though he still looked as though there was a great deal he was leaving unsaid. “However, I remain deeply concerned about the threat to our cause, and have been for some time.”
“If I remember correctly, we’ve sheltered your people at some great risk to ourselves,” Hammond said. “It would seem to me that the threat to your cause often comes from within your organization. Not from us.”
/> Jacob nodded. “That may be true. But, much as I hate to say it, our operatives are spread pretty thin right now. We don’t have a lot of leeway to spend time tracking down SG-1. Despite my personal connection to this… we can only do what we can do.”
“General, I should add that the Tok’ra cannot be summoned this way every time your personnel turn up missing. It is an unfortunate fact of war that some will be lost.” Malek paused, then said, “While I have the greatest respect for the members of SG-1, they cannot be held in higher esteem than the millions of others the Tok’ra fight to free.”
Hammond met Malek’s eyes and held that gaze for a long, long moment. Politics. Damn, he loathed the entire structure of threat, compromise, and rhetoric. When Malek finally looked away, Hammond said, “No disrespect intended, Malek, but I’m well aware of what’s at stake. I’m afraid you don’t understand our position here. The Tok’ra and the Tauri are allies. To us this means that when we make a request for assistance, we expect it to be answered in the affirmative.”
“You speak of requests when what you truly make are demands,”
Malek said. He lifted his chin. “Is this the way the Tauri treat their supposed allies?”
Jacob held up a hand. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. There’s no reason for this to degenerate into a pissing contest.” He tapped his copy of the mission report, still unopened in front of him. “Let’s go with the assumption that they’re not on P54-X3J and that, if they are, your people will handle it.”
“I’m with you so far,” Hammond said.
“And they probably haven’t been captured by a System Lord, so if they’ve fallen into the hands of a Goa’uld, he’s planning to use them for something else. Say, to get Earth’s security information out of them.”
“There are many other reasons SG-1 might prove useful to a Goa’uld,” Malek said. “It may be that their chief use is to provide the pleasure of watching them die slowly.”
Jacob winced. For a moment, Hammond could not stop the flood of images those words brought with them; he’d read Dr. Fraiser’s reports after the Colonel’s return from Ba’al’s fortress, as well as Teal’c’s report of torture by Heru’ur’s guards. And those were only a couple of the instances that came to mind. He knew the risks, and the horror of it.
