by Jamie Duncan
Sebek looked at Jack, and then back at the wall, and he used Daniel’s mouth to smile. Daniel knew then. Jack was not the guide.
Jack was the guinea pig, the test dummy. Daniel knew that Jack would be used, one way or the other.
When he surged forward, wrestling for a moment’s control, Sebek crushed him back, strangling his thoughts into silence.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hammond was beginning to think that if the mess sergeant could mix up a vat of coffee large enough, he might as well bathe in it and get it over with, since coffee seemed to be coming out of his pores. It was par for the course, but the stress of the search for SG-1 was beginning to tell on him, which was undoubtedly why Janet Fraiser had attached herself to him early that morning. Wherever he went, she seemed to pop up, bright and cheerful, urging him to eat, to sleep, and to rest—completely without subtlety. Hammond knew a lost cause when he saw it, which was how he’d ended up in the commissary, putting back a sandwich and some coleslaw as if he was actually enjoying it.
Janet passed by on her way out the door and eyeballed his coffee. “You really should cut back on that, sir.”
“Yes, I should,” he said, and pulled his cup a little closer, in case she had any ideas of saving him from himself and tried to kidnap his caffeine. She shook her head at him sadly, a promise of much lecturing to come.
“Mind if I join you?” Hammond looked up to see Jacob, tray in hand.
“Have a seat,” Hammond offered. “But watch out for rampaging doctors.” Jacob smiled in the direction of Fraiser’s retreating figure and set his tray down on the table. Hammond pointed at the greenery all over Jacob’s plate. “Not even a cup of coffee to wash that down?”
“Not that I didn’t want some, but Selmak revoked my free pass,” Jacob said. “At least if I sit with you, I can smell it. That’ll have to do.” He sat down and leaned closer, as if to take a whiff of Hammond’s cup. “I came down to tell you that there’s word from some of our outlying operatives. Aris Boch has been sniffing around on a number of the bigger Goa’uld trade worlds, trying to get information about SG-l’s recent missions. We’re fairly sure he was trying to track them down.”
Hammond set down his mug. He’d been expecting the Tok’ra to stop cooperating after his square-down with Malek—not that Jacob would refuse help deliberately, but he wasn’t the one with control of the information flow. “Do they know where he may have taken them?”
“Yes and no. Yes, in that they know where SG-1 isn’t, but no, in that they haven’t narrowed it down to where they are. Yet.” Jacob picked at his salad for a moment, pushing it around his plate without taking a bite. “I can give you some educated guesses, though, if you’re interested in speculation.”
“You know I am.”
“If it really is Aris Boch who has them, I’d say he probably took them to his homeworld, but we haven’t been able to get confirmation. We don’t have any operatives on that world—the Goa’uld running things there, Sebek, isn’t much of a power broker, so we don’t have time for him.”
“Any Jaffa operating on the inside?”
“We’re having some trouble getting concrete information out of the fifth column as well. They appear to be having some of the same issues we are, with security and trust. In their case, it’s trust of the Tok’ra.” Jacob took one bite of his salad, then said, “If you have any contacts among the Jaffa, you might want to try them.”
“We already did.” When Jacob gave him a wry smile, the one that said Jacob had expected as much, Hammond smiled back. “You didn’t think I’d sit on my hands and put my faith in Malek, did you?”
“I should hope not.”
Hammond shook his head. “They had nothing. Even less than your people did. Most of them are buried so deep within the ranks of the Goa’uld they serve that they don’t see or hear much of any use.”
“Well, it was worth a try.” Jacob glanced wistfully at Hammond’s cup, then sighed and said, “Sebek works for Yu, and though Yu’s never been especially interested in SG-1, that could change, given the current climate among the System Lords. They’re paranoid, and it’s hard to predict what they’ll do.”
“SG-1 would make a good bargaining chip,” Hammond said. “Even if Yu doesn’t care about them personally, he might have something in mind. A trade.”
“He’s certainly not above it, but it doesn’t seem like his style. And Boch has been keeping a low profile lately; it’s only because of the questions that we caught his trace. People remember questions about the Tauri.”
“Lucky for us,” Hammond said. Luck was, in fact, the only thing sustaining his hope that they might find SG-1 alive somewhere.
“You should know that according to our operative on Yu’s mothership, he’s on his way to Sebek’s homeworld, Atropos, at full steam.” Jacob set his fork down and pushed his tray away. “So whatever we’re going to do, we’d better do it fast.”
Hammond sat back in his chair; he’d already been ticking off options. But it couldn’t hurt to have a sounding board, and Jacob knew their resources well enough to be of help. “Can we ’gate to Atropos?”
“Maybe. There’s a ’gate there, but last time I had accurate intelligence, it was in Sebek’s palace and heavily guarded.”
“Too much risk to send a MALP or a UAV, then.”
“It’ll only tip them off that we’re nosing around.”
Hammond nodded. Without a MALP, he couldn’t risk sending any personnel. Four people was an acceptable threshold of loss to the program, no matter who those people were, but he wasn’t about to risk additional lives unless he knew there was a chance of success. Frustrated, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “We’re running a little short on solutions, Jacob.” Hammond tossed back more of his coffee, then said, “Give me something, here. Anything I can work with.”
Jacob sighed. “Listen, George. I’m going to lay it on the line. I can get a ship and go after them, but I don’t know anything about that planet or where Boch might be holding them. When you consider I’ve also got Malek nipping at my heels like a pit bull, things get a little tricky.”
Hammond looked at him steadily. They’d been friends far too long to play games. If Jacob was going to offer help, he’d do it without beating around the bush, but he seemed reluctant. At that moment, Jacob lowered his head and closed his eyes, and when he looked up, Hammond knew without hearing him speak that Selmak was in control. No matter how many times he saw it happen, it still raised the hair on his arms.
“General Hammond. You are an honorable man with much political experience, and I do not think I need to describe for you the danger of defying the Tok’ra Council. What Jacob is considering is dangerous for us, and for you. Malek will insist that he be allowed to come along, and so we must convince him to assist in a recovery rather than an assassination.”
“What do you suggest, then?” Hammond asked.
“We have no choice but to proceed. If we do not act, SG-1 will be lost. However, I must caution you that Malek’s agenda seems clear and certain, and if we fail to dissuade him from the course he has been set upon, he will carry out his plan.”
“I’m not going to give my sanction for it,” Hammond said, eyes narrowed.
“Practicality, General. This is the risk you will take if we proceed. Is this risk acceptable to you?”
“If you don’t go, they die. So, yes.” Hammond felt as though he’d been shoved over a barrel. Not Selmak’s fault, or Jacob’s either. Not even Malek was to blame. Hammond had participated in his share of dubious acts to ensure an operation’s security, and he understood even if he didn’t like it one damn bit.
Selmak bowed his head, and as soon as he raised it again Jacob said, “Okay, then. We go. I’ll talk to Malek.”
“Now’s your chance,” Hammond said. He nodded at the doorway, where Malek stood, looking uncomfortable as he surveyed the crowded room.
“Selmak has had a lot of practice dealing with stubborn Tok’ra,” Jacob said unde
r his breath, as Malek approached their table and inclined his head in greeting. “It’ll be all right.”
“General Hammond,” Malek said, with barely a glance at Jacob, “I wish to apologize for any offense I have given. I did not mean to be disagreeable.”
“I understand,” Hammond said, and though he meant it, the words came out a little harsher than intended. He gestured to the third chair at the table, without making an overt invitation. Malek looked as though he’d much rather leave, but he pulled out the chair and sat down on the edge of it.
“The Tok’ra’s numbers continue to dwindle, General. It falls to those of us to remain to preserve our brethren in any way necessary, so that we may continue the resistance that benefits your people, and mine. It sometimes causes me to be…” Malek paused, shifted his glance to Jacob, then back to Hammond. “Somewhat hasty in my judgment.”
“We all have those moments, from time to time.” Hammond watched Malek’s stiff nod and wondered if Malek had been directed to play nice by the Council, or if he had experienced some sort of perspective shift. It could be either, but it didn’t matter; he had settled the issue as much as possible with Jacob and Selmak, and soon it would be up to them.
“I’ve offered George our help,” Jacob said, his direct gaze fixed on Malek. “We should leave as soon as possible; we’ll need to gate to P32-119 and pick up some transportation.”
“I will not say it is a fool’s errand, but you understand I believe we have little chance of assisting your people,” Malek said quietly.
“I do,” Hammond said, and left it at that.
Malek stood up, waiting for a moment for Jacob to follow. “I will meet you in the embarkation room,” Malek said, and took Jacob’s half-smile as an answer.
When Malek was gone, Jacob reached over and sneaked a sip Hammond’s lukewarm coffee. “This is going to be a long trip,” he said, by way of apology. Hammond couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or at Selmak.
Sam stared down at the driving rain on the cobblestones and hunched her shoulders against the wind that whipped down the alleyway, blowing greasy water sideways into the meager shelter of the overhanging tarp. Above the wall on the other side of the alley, the clouds glowed red with the ha’tak’s reflected light, the towering remains of the Ancient ship slicing up into it like a faintly gleaming talon. Over the sound of the storm, she could hear the growing whine of a death glider doing its sweep over the city and instinctively she drew back further into the shadows, coming up against Teal’c’s solid presence.
“I didn’t lie,” she said at last.
“Only by omission.”
“My call.”
She had already let him off the hook—she was taking the rap for this one—but he wouldn’t let it go. She’d known he wouldn’t.
“You would use their faith against them. Let them trade one false god for another.”
She tilted her head back to stare up at the Ancient tower. What part of the ship was that? Communications? Command deck? Something she couldn’t imagine, probably. “Maybe,” she sighed, and closed her eyes. In her head she could hear the Colonel’s voice. You say false god I say potahto. “I don’t know. The Ancients can seem pretty godlike.”
“They appear to have abandoned these people. And in any case the writing on the door in the mine is not an invitation. It may be irresponsible to allow them to persist in their misunderstanding.”
She let the white noise of falling rain soothe the throbbing behind her eyes. What people hasn’t felt abandoned by its God? She squared her shoulders. This wasn’t the time for metaphysics, even though a part of her brain reminded her that this wasn’t a metaphysical argument at all. It was plain old human politics. Manipulation. Maneuvering. Tactics. She turned to Teal’c. “So, what? I’m supposed to let them kill Daniel and probably the Colonel, too, in the process?”
In the dim light from the Goa’uld ship, she could see his features soften for a moment and then resume that stony determination she knew well. “It is likely that Daniel Jackson will be killed in any case. Aris Boch—”
“It’s not his place.” She surprised even herself with the vehemence in her voice. When he made no reply, she jerked her chin toward the door. “Go get Hamel and whoever else will come. Not Aadi. It’s time to move.”
Teal’c hesitated, the argument unfinished, but did her the favor of obeying without comment.
“My call,” she repeated to the rain.
Once he was gone and the plastic had settled again behind him, she allowed herself thirty carefully measured seconds to listen to the rain with her eyes closed, to let it sheet across her mind. But even thirty seconds seemed too long now. Too much waiting. When she opened her eyes, the Ancient tower pointed up at the clouds and, somewhere behind them, the stars. It was time to get off this damn planet.
She ducked through the door, her nose wrinkling at the acrid, sooty bite of smoke and the heavy-sweet smell of unwashed bodies. No one turned to look at her, though. They were all watching Brenneka, still standing where she had been in the middle of the room, planted at the center of the swirling mosaic body of the Nitori. At her feet, Aadi lay sprawled in the curling embrace of the glass Ancient, his hand cupping his cheek, his eyes blazing.
“They lie,” Brenneka hissed at him, the force of her anger making her bend toward him, lashing out like a snake.
Aadi recoiled but didn’t scramble away from her. “It doesn’t matter!” he shouted back, his voice was thick with unshed tears. “He’s my father and I’ll—”
“They’ll kill him to save their friend!”
Sam shouldered her way through the people by the door. “That’s not true.” This time, she didn’t bother to hide her exasperation and her anger, but she saved at least some of it for herself. She nodded at Teal’c, who started to make his way toward her, keeping to the walls. No one, it seemed, wanted to get too close to Brenneka.
“Bren—” Hamel interjected from somewhere on the far side of the room.
Brenneka speared the old man with a furious gaze.
“What if they aren’t lying?” Hamel came forward, then bent to heave Aadi to his feet by the collar of his shirt. “If the offworlders are the Inspired—”
“We are the chosen of the Nitori,” Brenneka insisted. Sam flinched inwardly a little to see the disappointment and the denial struggling in her. “They will take what is ours. And if you help them steal our gift, the Nitori will—”
“What?” Hamel waved a bony hand at the scarecrows gathered in the room, the broken city outside. “Punish us? Leave us?” His laugh was ironic and bitter. “What if the Nitori have already done something, Brenneka? What if these offworlders are the gift?” A murmur of agitation rippled through the gathered men. After smoothing Aadi’s shirt and patting him gently on the side of the face, he raised his eyes to Sam’s, then turned to meet Brenneka’s sparking resistance. “Maybe it really doesn’t matter whose story is right. We can help Aris. And if they can get their man back, isn’t that a worthy thing? He doesn’t have to die, their Colonel, and weigh us down with his death. The other—” He shrugged. “If he is what she says he is, he’ll do for himself. And if he is what she says he is, maybe he’ll do for us, too.”
Sam ignored Teal’c’s low, dissenting grunt as he came to stand behind her.
Brenneka’s fists opened and closed at her sides, once, twice, before she looked down at the tendrils of light captured in glass at her feet. “Do what you want,” she said finally. “I believe in my brother. Sebek will die.” Shooting Sam a venomous look, she made that small, snapping gesture again. Most of the gathered men made it with her, but a few looked anywhere but at her, their hands hanging still by their sides or tucked up inside their sleeves. Sam was more than a little surprised to see that Esa was one of the latter. Apparently, Brenneka was surprised, too, because her face fell as Esa looked at his feet.
“We have to go. Now,” Sam announced. “We’ll take anyone who wants to help.” When Aadi stepped forwa
rd, she aimed a finger at his chest. “Except you.” Predictably, Aadi opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “You’re a kid, and a liability. No time to baby-sit.” Gathering Teal’c and Hamel up with a sweep of her gaze around the room, she ordered, “Let’s move out,” and left before Aadi could say any more.
In the alleyway, Sam hunched inside her jacket and counted the men as they filed out after her. In addition to Teal’c and Hamel, there were four others, two about Hamel’s age and two who were much younger. In the swinging circle of Hamel’s lantern, she could see that one of the younger ones had only one eye. Terrific. This was going to be a disaster.
Hamel must have seen it in her face because he raised the lamp higher and inspected the little group. “They know the city and the mine. They know the Jaffa. There’s more to war than fighting.”
True, except that there was fighting, too. Still, they needed someone to watch their backs, and these guys could shout a warning as well as anyone. And it didn’t take a lot of strength to fire a zat. Maybe, if things went well and they could do this by stealth, even that wouldn’t be needed.
“Thank you for agreeing to help us,” Sam said to the men. “We’ll all get what we need from this.”
His mouth turning up in a wicked grin, the one-eyed man, Behn, clapped his hands together like he was ready to get down to work. “Dead Jaffa!” he all but shouted, ducking a little when Hamel swatted him across the back of the head, but not losing the smile. The others nodded their agreement. Teal’c arched an eyebrow at them and the nodding lost some of its enthusiasm.
Okay, armies could run on vengeance and bloodlust if not on principle, Sam conceded with a barely suppressed sigh. They didn’t run well, but then again, nothing went well here. “Right,” she said. “Maybe. But the trick here is to not attract attention. You have to follow orders, lay low. Can you do that?” Another round of nods that was less convincing than Sam had hoped. One problem at a time, Major, the Colonel reminded her in her head. Torch the bridges when you get to them. Turning to Hamel, she asked, “Where are our weapons, Teal’c’s staff, the other zat we had when we escaped?”
