by Jamie Duncan
It was odd, standing inside the mountain that was so familiar to him while carrying on a conversation no one else could hear. The thought made Jacob smile, and it amused Selmak as well. Crazy old human, Selmak said fondly.
Not as old as you.
Malek glanced up at the open door and frowned as the SF passed by on his routine rounds of the level. “I do not believe we should remain here at the beck and call of the Tauri.”
Jacob quested gently to see if Selmak wanted to handle the conversation, but he was content to let Jacob continue. Unlike Malek, who usually dominated his host by mutual agreement, Selmak had no such presumption that his voice and presence were superior. Jacob wasn’t troubled when he encountered a dominant symbiote, but he was often grateful Selmak wasn’t one of them. “Only a few operatives have reported back, and none of them had any information.”
“But you believe they will.” Malek tilted his head and gave Jacob a calculating stare.
“I believe it’s possible, yes. I went through the list of old enemies George’s people drew up. There are a few leads there, but not much we can follow up quickly. It’s going to take time.”
“I do not intend to remain here until they are found,” Malek said. “I can be more useful elsewhere, engaged in the search.”
Jacob knew that for what it was—he’d been just as desperate to get out of various tunnels. Malek also wasn’t the type to sit on his hands. “George hasn’t asked me directly, but if we do get intelligence, I think he’s hoping we can do something about it.”
“And this after he said explicitly he did not expect such a thing.”
“To expect and to hope are two different things.” Not in the case of most Tauri, Selmak chimed in. Jacob ignored him. “At any rate, Selmak and I are agreed: if it’s possible, we’ll offer our help.”
“Your agreement is irrelevant, Jacob. Your desire to assist is commendable, but I doubt the Tok’ra Council will sanction it.”
“Your point being?”
Malek’s eyes narrowed. “My point is simply that the position of the Council has not changed, regarding what must be done.”
Jacob glanced up at the SF again, then pushed the door of their quarters shut. Malek barely had time to react before Jacob shoved him back toward the wall, one hand on his chest like a ten ton weight. A flicker of fear crossed Malek’s expression, swiftly replaced by disdain.
“That’s my daughter we’re talking about,” Jacob said softly, and shoved Malek again. “Do you understand that? I’m not going to let anyone kill her if it’s within my power to prevent it.” One more small push, and he closed his fist around a handful of Malek’s tunic. “Certainly not you.”
Restraint, my friend, Selmak said, and this time he was harder to ignore. Reluctantly, Jacob released Malek. Selmak eased away, satisfied that Jacob was able to control his temper.
Malek didn’t attempt to move away, but he squared his shoulders. “You were a soldier before you came to us, were you not? You have been a soldier with us, as well. You know what it means to protect our secrets.”
“Not before other methods have been tried.”
“Even if it means the death of your comrades?”
Selmak pressed up, demanded the right to answer. Jacob allowed it, let himself retreat into a corner of his own mind as Selmak took his voice and said, “Even then, Malek.”
“Selmak, I mean no offense,” Malek began, but Selmak turned his back. Jacob was acutely aware of Malek behind him, the heat of his host body, his proximity to the wall. “I only speak the truth.”
“You do offend me. You mean well, but you allow yourself to be blindly led by the Council.”
“At least I can still be led.”
Selmak returned control to Jacob, and there was a slide of possession; where before Jacob had been the passenger, he was now the driver again, turning, looking out of his own eyes and into Malek’s.
There was a rapping on the door, a pause, and then it opened.
“Sir.” The SF was standing in the doorway. Both Malek and Jacob turned to him, but the “sir” was a leftover courtesy to Jacob’s former rank. “General Hammond wants to see you now, sir.”
We would be better off if Malek were to be assigned duties which took him away from Earth, Selmak said. Jacob watched the stiff set of Malek’s neck, the unbending line of his shoulders as he walked toward George’s summons, and silently agreed.
They found George standing in front of the briefing room window looking down at the inactive ’gate, his hands clasped behind his back. “There’s been word from your operative on P44-211,” he said, without shifting his gaze. “The Tok’ra have been given intelligence that indicates SG-1 may have been captured.”
“Well, we were pretty sure of that before,” Jacob said. “The question still is, who’s got them?”
“Nothing specific,” George said. He turned then and looked Jacob squarely in the eye. “But they mentioned a bounty hunter. Someone who set out to capture SG-1 with a specific purpose in mind. And as it happens, SG-1 has previously encountered someone who fits that description to a T.”
“Aris Boch,” Malek said. Jacob glanced at Malek, who stiffened even more under his scrutiny. The SGC shared their mission intelligence with the Tok’ra on a sporadic basis as required by their formal treaty, but Jacob was truly surprised Malek had bothered to read it. Very few Tok’ra thought the information worth sifting through. “He was responsible for the rescue of one of our Tok’ra operatives several years ago.”
“Rescue?” George said, giving Malek a hard look. “Not quite the way I’d put it. SG-1 rescued him. Aris Boch planned to hand him over to the Goa’uld at his earliest opportunity.”
“Until Teal’c offered himself up in Korra’s place,” Jacob added. His mind raced. Aris Boch was as unpredictable as he was efficient, and if he had SG-1, it was unlikely he’d be stupid enough to leave a trail to follow.
Give our people time, Selmak cautioned. Do not allow Malek to use this to his advantage.
As if he had read those thoughts, Malek said, “Then we can do no more. You have the information you require.”
“Not exactly,” Jacob said. “We still need to know why. A little more poking around will probably give us the answer.”
“We have no idea where this bounty hunter has gone,” Malek said, turning on him with a flash of anger in his eyes. “Why do you continue to insist we waste our time in this manner?”
Jacob studied him. “Why do you continue to insist we don’t?” Malek’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t bother to answer. Score, Jacob thought, and was rewarded with a rumble of amusement from Selmak. “Listen, we’ve got nothing to lose by looking a little deeper, right? Maybe, best case, our people can figure out where he’s gone, or if he’s sold them, and where they’ve been taken: If that’s the case, we can help you mount a rescue.”
George wasn’t looking at Jacob, although Jacob was certain he’d heard every word. His attention was fixed on Malek, and on the distinctly uncooperative words that were still hanging over them in that room. “I’d appreciate that, Jacob,” he said, still staring at Malek. “I’d appreciate that a great deal.” Finally, he turned his head to meet Jacob’s eyes, with steel-grey resolve. “And I’ll take you up on it.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Damn, damn, damn,” Sam chanted to herself as she paced the small room with her hands tangled in her hair, torn between staying and going. Aadi watched her from his corner, still wrapped up in his shirt. She dropped her hands and thumped her thighs with her fists. Her available options were both lousy: stay, do nothing, and watch Teal’c die; or go find his tretonin and leave him here to be turned over to the first passing Jaffa with an extra ration of glue-food to offer. She made another turn around the room as Aris Boch’s voice rumbled in her head: choiceless.
“Damnit,” she spat and bent to grab the zat. As she tucked it into her waistband, an idea struck her—not something she was totally comfortable with, but better than nothing, and
it always seemed to work for Daniel. She took the last power bar out of her pocket and waved it at Aadi, forcing her face into a friendly expression. His eyes followed the bar like it was a pocket watch and he was being hypnotized. It was chocolate and nuts, and who wouldn’t risk his skin for chocolate and nuts? “If you take care of Teal’c for me, and come for me if anyone tries to get to him, this is yours.”
The power bar seemed like slim ground for bargaining, and Aadi could offer little protection for Teal’c, but time was a-wasting, as the Colonel would say. Besides, there was something about the kid that made her think he might be bright enough to see the advantage in helping them, not that she could have explained why she felt that way. He’d barely spoken since they made their escape. It was a gut instinct, and she trusted that feeling. She unwrapped the end of the bar so the sweet smell of chocolate could help her seal the deal. Aadi stared at it, and then at her, until his suspicious squint eased and he nodded. He held out his hand, but Sam put the bar back in her pocket.
“Teal’c’s okay when I get back, you get the bar. Deal?” He hesitated, so she squeezed the pocket a little to make the wrapper crinkle. Finally, he nodded again.
“I’ll be fast,” she said as she headed for the door, but the reassurance was more for her own benefit than for his.
She was ducking around the sheet of plastic when she found her way blocked by the solid bulk of Esa, the man from the laundry. He put a hand on top of her head and pushed her, not too roughly, back into the hovel. Sam retreated to give herself some room, then curled her fingers around the zat but didn’t draw it. It was really only a security blanket for her where these people were concerned, but at least it showed that she was willing to fight them if she had to. And it had to hurt, getting clobbered on the head with a zat. Esa’s pale eyes drifted down toward it and then back up to her face. They weren’t cruel eyes, but they were heavy with the kind of exhaustion that didn’t go away with sleep. The soot-filled lines on his face made him look sixty, but Sam figured he was probably twenty years younger than that. His head was shaved and showed scabs. He smelled like harsh industrial soap, like the inside of a hospital.
“I don’t want trouble,” Sam said levelly, letting go of the weapon and holding her empty hands out so he could see them. “I have to help my friend.”
Without answering, Esa took a step closer, and Sam automatically fell into a fighting stance, hands closing into fists, before she realized he was only making way for Brenneka to enter.
“Here,” she said, coming around Esa and dropping a bundle on the floor at Sam’s feet. “My brother gave this to me before he went into the mine.”
Sam stole a glance downward. The rough cloth knot had come undone when the bundle hit the tiles and some of the contents had spilled out, foil packets catching the light. With a quick look at Esa’s face to make sure he was still watching passively and not making any aggressive moves, she knelt and pulled the cloth away. Inside was a jumble of supplies from their packs: iodine pills for water purification, first aid packets and sterile bandages, Daniel’s antihistamines, Tylenol, and Teal’c’s tretonin auto-injector.
Sam threw everything but the tretonin back into the cloth and gathered up the ends. “Thank you,” she said to Brenneka, putting as much sincerity into it as she could.
Brenneka simply waved her gratitude away and went to stoke the stove. Esa squatted beside her, his shoulder brushing hers, and held his hands out to the glow.
Sam edged around them and back to Teal’c, who hadn’t moved at all. She shoved up his jacket sleeve and pressed the auto-injector into his arm. The knot under her ribs relaxed a bit at the sound of the drug hissing into his blood.
Then she looked over at Esa. “Could we have some water?”
With a brusque nod, he heaved himself to his feet using Brenneka for a brace. Her eyes still turned toward the fire, she reached up and squeezed his hand as he leaned on her shoulder, and a brief smile warmed her face as Esa shuffled out the door. Sam went back to pulling open Teal’c’s jacket and treating the wound. Her cold, stiff fingers gave her trouble with the wrappings of the bandages and she had to use her teeth. By the time Esa was back with the bowl, Teal’c’s wound was hidden behind white gauze and tape. Somehow, that seemed to make all the difference, as if he were healed already. Apart of her wondered why he didn’t sit up and get on with it. She took the bowl with a murmur of thanks, crushed two aspirin into it and stirred it with her fingers.
To her surprise, Aadi helped her prop Teal’c’s head up so she could tip the bowl at his lips. She was pleased to see Teal’c swallow and open his mouth for more.
“Easy,” she whispered. “Don’t choke.” His lids fluttered but didn’t open. His hands relaxed at his sides as Aadi eased him down again.
Sam scooted back against the wall, elbows on her knees, and rested her forehead on the heels of her hands. She closed her eyes, drained. The relief seemed to take more out of her than the tension and worry had. Aadi had to call her name a few times before she recognized it and looked blearily over at him.
“Can I still have the food?” he asked, almost shyly.
Wordlessly, Sam pulled the bar out of her pocket and tossed it over Teal’c into Aadi’s lap. He tore the wrapper off, bent his head low and measured the bar by laying his fingers across it. Then, with careful attention, he broke it into three equal pieces and scrambled up to give one each to Brenneka and Esa before crawling over Teal’c’s legs and back into his corner to eat his share. A small smile played across Brenneka’s face as she watched him. When both he and Esa were done, she broke her own piece in two and handed Sam half. Sam ducked her head in thanks. She put the morsel on the edge of Teal’c’s bowl, where it slid down into the unappealing paste.
The rain fell and the light turned bluer as the minutes passed, so that the three pairs of eyes watching Sam seemed white-pale and cold.
Eventually, Brenneka pushed herself to her feet and tapped Sam on the top of her head to get her attention. “Come with me,” she said, and turned toward the door. Sam looked from Brenneka to Teal’c, but didn’t move to get up. “He’ll be fine here with Esa,” Brenneka reassured her impatiently.
“If the Jaffa know you’re Aris’ sister, they’re going to come here looking for us.”
Brenneka’s smile showed a broken tooth at the spot where the scar puckered her lip. “They’ve already been to my house, on the other side of the city.”
“Then where are we?”
“The pest house,” she answered with that abrupt bark of a laugh. “No one will come here until they’ve checked every other possible place.” She turned again and slipped out the door.
Sam followed. “The pest house? As in disease?” she demanded as she stepped out under the awning and hunched away from the wind.
“As in the dead,” Brenneka strode out into the rain and headed off down the narrow alley.
“That can’t be good for Teal’c,” Sam said. “Or for you.”
Brenneka shrugged and disappeared around the corner. After a moment she leaned back around it and glared in Sam’s direction. “Are you coming or not?”
Casting a last look back through the plastic at Esa, who was still warming his hands at the stove, Sam pulled the collar of her jacket closed at the neck, then dashed out into the downpour after Brenneka. She tried to keep her bearings, counting lefts and rights, but she had to move fast to keep Brenneka in sight as she wove her way down the tight alleyways of the shantytown. There were few people in the open. Most of them drew back into doorways and shadows and watched Sam with hollow eyes as she passed. Sam wished she had some local clothing to wear. Any one of these people could tip off a Jaffa patrol that there was a stranger in the quarter, although they seemed too indifferent to be dangerous. No way to know for sure.
Mulling this over and trying to ignore the slither of cold, silty water down her neck, she rounded a corner and ran headlong into Brenneka, who pushed her back into the shelter of a doorway as three Jaffa tromped
by. Rain spattered on the crocodile-styled helmet of the leader. Brenneka leaned hard on her, shielding Sam with her back to the passing guards, elbows braced against a corrugated tin wall on either side of Sam’s head. Peering over Brenneka’s shoulder, Sam could make out the last Jaffa turning his head toward them, but, seemingly as incurious as the people, he looked away. They continued down the passage and out of Sam’s angle of vision.
Brenneka’s thin body relaxed, and she exhaled a sour curse into Sam’s neck before pushing away. They set out again into the rain, following in the Jaffa’s steps and then ducking down a side alley. While Brenneka could walk comfortably upright under the makeshift roof that ran the length of the passageway, Sam had to bow her head and turn her shoulders sideways to avoid catching herself on the rafters or the walls.
“There were a lot of people in that house who saw us,” Sam said, lagging behind. “How do I know that they won’t sell us out to the Jaffa?”
“Because they are members of the Order. They won’t betray you. Unless…”
Sam stopped. “Unless what?”
“Unless I tell them to,” Brenneka answered, without looking back.
Sam was about to protest more, but they suddenly stepped out into a tiny courtyard. Her hair snaking across her forehead and stuck to her cheek, Brenneka tilted her head back and pointed up at a small square of sky. Sam blinked up into the rain and followed the line of her finger to the tip of a silvery spire that leaned at a precarious angle against the clouds. It was impossible to judge distances in the Byzantine space of the town, but Sam guessed that the tower wasn’t far away and was quite tall, at least a couple of hundred feet. She could remember seeing it from the ridge above the city when they’d left Aris’ ship, one of the few spires still standing in the ruins. She had her bearings now, could place them within the tumbled geography of the city.
“It’s part of one of the great ships that brought us here,” Brenneka explained. “It never gets old. It will outlast the Goa’uld, I think.”
