by Jamie Duncan
Jack moved the beam of light around, left, then right, and saw what Aris had described: walls, angles, corners. Nothing more. No exit.
“I hope to hell Jackson knows something about the inside of this thing,” Aris said.
“That’s assuming he has any input,” Jack said. He turned back to look at Aris, who reached up and tapped the wall.
“Don’t forget, Sebek is getting the information from somewhere in Dr. Jackson’s brain.”
“And that counts as input,” Jack said dryly. “Right.” He clicked off his light and stowed it in his pants pocket, then sat down again. Daniel still hadn’t moved, and it crossed Jack’s mind that maybe Sebek was hurt in there, somehow, or that Daniel was—
“He’s not dead,” Aris said, then added, “Not yet.”
For the moment, Jack ignored the implicit threat. “So do you have some kind of plan?” Jack asked. The fact that he didn’t have one of his own sowed a tiny seed of doubt in the back of his brain. He should be thinking faster than this. He should be paying better attention, not losing it over tricks the snake was playing. It was as though his brain were mired in molasses.
“Other than killing him once we get to where we’re going? No.” He met Jack’s eyes. “There’s nothing you can do for your friend. Most men would welcome death rather than be host to one of those things.”
Jack was silent. He’d seen Daniel offer himself up as a host, once—on their first mission to Chulak—but that was before they’d really understood what it meant to be subjugated to a Goa’uld. Daniel had been desperate to be with Sha’re and half out of his mind at the time. Jack knew better than anyone how far from that moment Daniel had come on the subject; he didn’t want to be host to a snake, even on a voluntary basis. The first time the offer had been made, by the Tok’ra, Daniel’s quiet but firm refusal had struck a sympathetic chord in Jack. Not even the chance for a deeper understanding of Tok’ra culture had been enough to sway Daniel, and that was something Jack hadn’t expected. Daniel had always seemed open to new experiences, but that clearly wasn’t one he wanted to check off his list.
After the incident with Jolinar, Carter, too, had made her wishes clear: a quick kill, rather than a living death. Daniel had taken a little longer; maybe six months after Sha’re’s funeral he’d mentioned it, offhand, as though they were talking about what kind of pie to have for dessert. It had been a bad period for Daniel, so Jack had asked him again, a few months later. Just to be sure.
That’s not living, Daniel had said, with quiet grief in his voice. Think of the things they use the host to do, Jack. Don’t let a Goa’uld use me to hurt anyone else.
“There’s no chance that was your friend talking, back there,” Aris said, as if he thought Jack’s silence was a sign that his captive needed convincing. Maybe it was. Jack knew what Daniel wanted.
He knew what had to be done. His hands were shaking.
Daniel-Sebek stirred and moaned softly. Jack watched him until he lapsed back into unconsciousness, then turned his attention to Aris. “Why don’t you take your son and get the hell off this planet?” Jack asked. “You’re resourceful. You should be able to find a way, right?”
Aris took another swig from his canteen and capped it. “You have a simplistic view of the situation.”
“The kid is enslaved, and you’re a snake lackey. That about covers it.”
“I’m no one’s lackey.” Aris sat forward, staring at Jack. “I’m a businessman. A hunter. The Goa’uld trade with me because I make it worth their while.”
“Who makes it worth your son’s while?” Jack said. Aris’ eyes narrowed. “Or are you planning to live the good life forever while he rots in a cell somewhere, and make excuses about how you hope to buy his freedom someday?” It made him feel better, gouging a few verbal holes in Aris’ armor and twisting the knife down from heart to belly.
Aris set the canteen aside and picked up his blaster. “I don’t owe you any explanations,” he said. “Drop it now.”
Jack made a dismissive sound through his teeth and lay down on the cold ground. If there was a ceiling above them, it was completely concealed by the darkness, and Jack was unnerved by the way the chamber seemed to stretch out forever. A trick of the dark, but an effective one.
“It’s been one Goa’uld after another,” Aris said slowly. “Sokar, Apophis, Sebek. I thought one of them would do the honorable thing and let me buy my son out of slavery, but my reputation was already too great. They needed me to get things for them, to move in circles where they couldn’t function themselves.”
“And they held your son prisoner to make it happen.”
“They had him in the mines,” Aris said. “Every breath was killing him. It was Sebek who put him… in chains.” His voice wavered on the last words, then steadied. “Sebek promised me that your capture would more than equal his price, but he had no intention of freeing him. Even so, I had to try.”
If ever there was a motivation Jack could get behind, it was that one. With any luck, Teal’c had broken the kid out of jail and they were hiding somewhere in the city. Or maybe they had found a way off the planet. Even better. “Why do the Tok’ra think you lied about your family?”
“I lie when it suits me,” Aris said, chuckling. “Half-truths help me do my work. Besides, the Tok’ra intelligence is weak.”
“That must be where you buy yours,” Jack said, risking a wild stab in the dark. Aris said nothing, and Jack made a mental note to pass that along to Hammond. More confirmation of the leaks among their “trusted allies”. “Is Sebek in service to Yu?” Jack asked and, for once, he didn’t go near the pool of Yu jokes.
“Yes. And Yu already knows you’re here.” Aris paused, then added, “Not my fault. Sebek contacted him.”
“Of course he did,” Jack said. No chance they were going to catch a break at any point in this gigantic snafu. “And you still think there’s something in here that will help you do… what? Defeat Yu?”
“Hard to say. But I told you, I’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Yes, I heard you.” Jack had a flash of Charlie’s face in the darkness, and then Aadi’s. “But that’s not really true.”
“Fine. I have more to gain than to lose. How’s that?”
“At least it’s honest.”
A few minutes of quiet passed. Jack tried to rest his body, simple preparation for whatever fresh hell was coming next. When Sebek got up off the ground, things could only get worse. Aris’ voice, quiet and rough, broke into his thoughts.
“There’s only going to be one chance to rid my world of Sebek, and I’m going to take it.”
Jack’s memory slid off without his conscious will again, and he was there at Daniel’s deathbed, beside Daniel’s bleeding body, asking Jacob to let Daniel go. He allowed the memory to play out, then tucked it away where it belonged, in that place where he kept these things, stuffed down as deep as he could manage, so deep it barely existed anymore. He didn’t quite trust his own voice, but the words came out without a hitch. “When the time comes, I’ll be the one to do it.”
Aris nodded once, the acknowledgment of an agreement made. “When the time comes, if you don’t, I will.”
There was no answer to that, so Jack closed his eyes and made his mind a blank. It wasn’t hard; he wasn’t processing information well.
“He’s coming around,” Aris said.
As if in response to Aris’ prompt, Daniel stirred. His lips moved, and words whispered out in languages unfamiliar to Jack. Abruptly Daniel sat straight up, then turned his head to stare at Jack first, then Aris.
When he spoke, all pretense of being Daniel was gone, and it was Sebek’s imperious anger. “How dare you injure us?”
“You’re not hurt,” Aris said tiredly, and Jack felt a tiny—barely there—twinge of sympathy for him. “So get up and let’s go.”
“You do not give us orders,” Sebek said and lifted his hand. The ribbon device flashed golden in the dim light. “Or we will remind you of
your place.”
One corner of Aris’ mouth quirked up in a smile. To Jack, he said, “That one works on me. For future reference.”
“Good to know,” Jack said, ignoring the muted growl from Daniel’s throat.
Sebek got to his feet slowly and folded his arms across his chest. “We do not wish to delay further. On your feet.”
Jack rose, though his body protested the loss of the nice hard ground to rest on. Aris stood up beside him.
“You first,” Aris said.
Jack pulled out the flashlight and clicked it on, then got moving, passing Sebek without looking at him.
“I really have no idea where I’m going, you know,” Jack said. He stood at the juncture of two passageways and thought he might as well flip a coin; they were probably going to die in here, lost and starving to death, and that was such a pleasant thought.
Sebek’s hand landed on his shoulder. “To the right,” he ordered. Jack didn’t bother to ask why or if he was sure; it didn’t matter anyway, at this point.
When they rounded the corner, Jack allowed the flashlight to strike the edge of the wall. A fine chip appeared and dust silted down to the ground.
Not exactly bread crumbs, but it would have to do.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was singing that drew Sam from sleep. At first it sounded like a nursery rhyme she remembered from school, maybe, something she chanted while jumping rope. Apples, peaches, pears and plums. Jump right out when your birthday comes. January, February… But the words were all wrong, even if the rhythm was right. She peered into the darkness, straightening her neck and wincing at the crackle inside. It was night now, rain still pattering on the tarp over the lattice. Beside her, Teal’c was upright in his half-lotus. His eyes were pricked with light from the little stove as they met hers and then slid away. The room was, if anything, more crowded now; she could still feel the shift and press of at least a dozen of Brenneka’s kinsmen, a couple standing near the drifting plastic over the entrance, the others kneeling on the mosaic floor. Sometimes wavering and sometimes solid against the dim glow from the fire, their outlines swayed slightly in time with the barely vocalized chant. Closest to the fire, facing them all, Brenneka knelt, bowed over her clasped hands, Aadi close beside her. As if feeling Sam’s gaze on him, Aadi lifted his head and returned her stare. She couldn’t see what expression his face held. The firelight glowed through his spiky hair and made him seem like a lit match next to Hamel’s hunched and crooked form, his own fire long burned out.
“Some army,” Sam muttered as she pressed her hands to the floor and hitched herself up straighter against the wall.
“Indeed,” Teal’c answered. His voice thrummed just above a whisper. “A boy and an old man.”
“And a concussed Major and a wounded Jaffa. Don’t forget that.”
She could make out the tiny shift of shadows around his mouth that indicated an ironic smile. “No. I have not forgotten.”
“And a man on the inside,” she added. Unless the Colonel was dead. Calculating assets without proper intel was a pain in the ass. She stopped gingerly probing her black eye with the tips of her fingers. “Wait a minute. A boy?”
Teal’c nodded toward the circle of singers. “Aadi has agreed to assist us.”
“Why?”
“He wishes to help his father.”
“Isn’t he kind of young?” Sam cast Aadi a glance. He was still watching them.
“I began my training at a younger age,” Teal’c answered. “As did my son, once he was freed from servitude.”
Sam shifted uncomfortably. Aadi bowed low and leaned back to perform that gesture with the rest of them, an opening of his grubby, clasped hands as if he were setting free a bird. “He’s a kid.”
“This is war. There is no time for innocence.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No, it does not.” Teal’c inclined his head in sad acceptance.
Their prayers ended, the men rose stiffly to their feet. A couple of them slipped out through the plastic and into the rain. A few shuffled for position a little closer to the fire, hands held toward the heat, while the less lucky hunkered down again inside their long shirts and waited their turn. Here and there, Sam caught the cool gleam of roshna packets. The two who had left returned with stacked bowls of water—rainwater, Sam guessed, and grimaced to think what was washed out of the roiling air along with it—and the bowls made their circuit around the room. Once those present had emptied their packets into them and swallowed the contents, the room lapsed into a dull stillness, the bodies relaxed without much release of tension or pain. Sam was keenly conscious of her own muscles twisted tourniquet-tight around her bones. She leaned her head left then right, listening to the snap, crackle, pop. If Teal’c was good to go, then they had to go before her tendons snapped her neck in half.
As if hearing her body’s protests, Hamel craned his neck to look at her, then rose and weaved his way around the gathered bodies. With a sigh, he dropped to the floor beside her. He leaned his balding head back against the brick and closed his eyes. His lean face was slack with exhaustion and deeply shadowed in the shifting light. Sam couldn’t tell how old he was; he moved like an old man, but a life of hard labor could have aged him well beyond his years. She thought of her father and couldn’t help wondering if Jacob knew she was missing.
Teal’c didn’t bother to hide the appraisal in his eyes as he studied Hamel, the senior member of their army. Sam wanted to think of Hamel as the older man, but it was unlikely any of these people were older than Teal’c. She watched him tilt his head attentively toward Hamel and realized that maybe the years would start to weigh on him like they did on the rest of them, now that he didn’t have a symbiote to slow his aging process. Unless his genetic makeup was sufficiently modified for longevity—but that seemed a little too generous on the part of the Goa’uld. She thought of Apophis and his host dying in the SGC, thousands of years catching up with the body in hours. Teal’c looked the same as he always did. What did a century of life feel like? Hamel looked like he’d know.
“To whom do you pray?” Teal’c asked him.
Hamel offered a wry smile while he considered the question. “Don’t worry. Not to that worm, Sebek.” He made a small, sharp gesture with his fingers as if he were squashing a bug. The men within earshot did the same. “No, we remember the Nitori. Give thanks.”
Teal’c regarded him in silence for a moment, then said, “You have little to give thanks for.”
This time, the smile became a low chuckle. “We have this world. It’s not all ugly, you know.” He waved his hand vaguely toward some distant place. Sam wondered if he’d ever seen it himself, and if he ever would. “We have today. Maybe, if things go our way, we even have tomorrow.” He eyed Teal’c a little critically. “You were a slave. You should know what a gift that is.”
“I have since learned to hope for more.”
“Well,” Hamel said, pulling his scrawny legs up inside his shirt, “maybe you can teach us that, too.”
Sam leaned forward and looped her arms over her knees. “We have to get moving. It’s already been too long. How many of your people can you count on?”
It took longer for Hamel to calculate his answer than the final sum seemed to warrant. “Me. Aadi. One or two others here and maybe a few more in the mine.” When Sam sighed and dropped her head for a moment onto her arms, he added, “And more, if Brenneka can be convinced.”
“How many more?”
“Hard to say for sure, but maybe a hundred, if word spreads. If Brenneka can be convinced,” he repeated, although he didn’t look too optimistic.
Sam’s frustration came out in her voice, and she had to remind herself to speak softly. “This is what I don’t get. She talks about standing up to the Goa’uld, but she won’t help us do that. We have a better chance together than apart.”
Hamel picked at the tiles with broken nails. “She believes her brother will take care of Sebek, br
ing back the gift the Nitori left us. She won’t act until she knows that she can win. She doesn’t want our victory to be tainted by the interference of offworlders.” He flicked a bit of grout from his fingers and watched Brenneka gathering the bowls, stopping as she did to speak to each man still hunkered down on the floor. One by one they nodded and made that gesture again, a bird escaping. Aadi followed close behind, taking the bowls from her and carrying them in a wobbling stack he kept upright by bracing it with his chin. When she passed to the far end of the room, Hamel went on. “She and others in the Order believe that the Nitori will come back to us when we are worthy of their attention. This is a test of our will and our faith.”
Teal’c met Sam’s eyes. She answered his unvoiced question with a shake of her head, and his mouth thinned to a disapproving line.
“Do you believe that?” Sam asked.
In his lap, Hamel’s hands made the reverential gesture. “I’m a pragmatist,” he answered at last. “I’m not above inviting a friendly god to supper. Especially if he’s bringing the food. But I’m not going to sit and starve while I wait.” He shrugged. “It’s not much of a faith, but it’s better than no faith at all.” His grin showed a mouthful of blackened teeth. “Some pray and wait for grace. I say, pray while you’re running, meet the god on the road.”
Sam had to agree, but Hamel didn’t look like he was up for much running. “What would convince her?” she asked with a nod toward Brenneka, who was now in conference with Esa by the door.
“A sky full of Nitori, each one bringing a whirlwind and lightning.”
The rain intensified and hissed against the tarp and the cobblestones outside. No lightning, though. Sam considered their options, making sure to avoid Teal’c’s eyes. She knew what his response would be. With a curt nod to herself, she walked her hands up the wall until she was upright and steady, then stepped over the sprawled men, carefully making her way toward Brenneka. They needed more than an old man and a kid. They could probably sneak into the mine with a small party. But if it came down to a fight, they needed Brenneka’s army of believers.
