Stargate SG-1 & Atlantis - Far Horizons

by Sally Malcolm

  Hell, if anything, Fraiser’s death was fuelling this mission. Anubis was the latest in a line of sanctimonious megalomaniacs that needed to end. What better motive was there than wanting to hit that slimeball where it counted?

  The super soldier stomped across the marble floor, searching left and right. Jack sucked in a breath, leveled the disrupter, and waited for it to get a wee bit closer. He’d shoot the thing dead and get his team home.

  According to Jacob Carter, Anubis called them ‘Kull Warriors.’

  Well, kull this —

  Jack squeezed the trigger. The disrupter’s cobalt blue energy arc smashed into the drone straight on. The thing collapsed. A mechanical doll with its battery yanked out.

  “Plant the C4, Carter, and let’s get out of here.” He holstered the spent disrupter and stood up. He winced as a spasm twisted his guts, a reminder that, even with a few weeks off, his wound from the P3X-666 fiasco still wasn’t healed.

  “Daniel, Teal’c, grab whatever you can carry that’s useful —”

  “Useful how, Jack?” Daniel crawled out from under the tank. “There’s nothing here.”

  “There’s gotta be something.”

  Teal’c strode to a box beside the tank and slid the lid back. He pulled out a shiny red crystal as big as a baseball. “This central control crystal might aid Major Carter’s research.”

  “Now you’re thinking.” Jack turned toward Carter.

  She hadn’t budged from beneath the tank. If anything, she hugged her rifle tighter.

  “Carter. The C4?”

  “Sorry, sir.” Out came the C4, the receiver, and the remote transmitter.

  “You all right?”

  “Yes, sir.” A barely perceptible swallow.

  Jack took the C4 gear, knowing a lie when he heard one. They’d barely spoken since the funeral, and when they did, Carter would only talk about Cassie, not Fraiser. It was the proverbial elephant in the room; big enough that they couldn’t ignore it, too impossible to accept.

  He offered his free hand to Carter. “A hundred yard dash down the tunnel, Major. Last one through the gate buys dinner.”

  With a faint smile, she scrambled out from under the tank. “Dinner sounds good, sir.”

  While Carter packed up the crystal, Jack took care of unfinished business. He pressed the C4 against the tank, plugged in the receiver and pocketed the remote. “I’m thinking tacos —”

  A bolt of red plasma shattered the tank.

  Jack slammed his eyes shut, feeling more than seeing the tank explode across his face and hands. A shard nicked his left eyebrow, others sliced across his palms as he covered his face. Heart hammering, he dived under the tank stand, warm, wet liquid running down his face. He dashed the blood from his eyes, lacerated hands stinging as he grabbed for his P90 hanging from its harness. But the rifle slipped from his fingers, his hands slick with blood.

  Wiping them on his BDUs, Jack ignored the pain and raised his rifle. Repeated blasts erupted from the tunnel leading to the gate. Inside it, he could make out the silhouettes of at least five more super soldiers firing on the team.

  A bolt shot toward Daniel, but Teal’c pushed him out of the way just in time. He returned fire, but his staff weapon was barely keeping the enemy from closing in. Then another super soldier slipped in to their left, aiming his wrist-weapon at Teal’c’s back.

  “Watch out!” Daniel swung his P90 toward the drone, spending the better part of a magazine keeping the thing at bay.

  Jack’s neck felt wet. He should probably worry about that, but at the moment he was more concerned with how his two guys were covering each other’s backs but leaving themselves wide open to —

  Where the hell was Carter?

  “Colonel!” She dived under the tank, but not before letting loose a stream of bullets that could take down a stampeding…

  Elephant.

  But they weren’t fighting elephants.

  Or were they?

  Spots clouded Jack’s eyes. Even through all the plasma fire and bullet reports, he felt woozy. He needed a nap. “We need to get to the gate, Major.”

  “Not possible, sir.” Carter grabbed his left hand and pressed it against his neck. He could feel wet, sticky stuff seep through his fingers.

  Daniel and Teal’c joined them below the tank stand, both out of breath. The drones kept up their barrage.

  “The Stargate is unattainable, O’Neill.”

  “Yeah, I get that, Teal’c.”

  “And yet we continue to pursue that objective.”

  Fair point.

  Daniel ripped open a field dressing from his tac vest. “How you doing, Jack?”

  “Peachy.” Jack wrapped it around his neck. “Any of you know another way out?”

  The drones kept on shooting. Their shots hit the granite walls, sending rocks and dust down into the inner chamber. Unlike their recently deceased buddy, these drones just held their positions blocking SG-1’s retreat.

  “We’ll never make it to the gate!” Daniel shouted over the enemy fire. “There’s too many.”

  “Find a way,” Jack mumbled. God, he wanted to sleep. He wanted to get through that gate, eat a juicy steak, and take a long nap. “Can we backtrack around; dial home before they figure it out?” When no one said a word, he spoke louder. “Carter?”

  The major pulled out her scanner and turned a knob. Her eyes widened. “I can’t get us to the gate, but…”

  “For crying out loud, what then?”

  Another plasma bolt smashed into the neighboring wall panel creating a man-sized hole. Wires and tubes sizzled and sputtered inside. It was all too noisy. He just wanted to forget how the day had gone to hell in a handbasket and —

  “Sir, there’s an empty Tel’tak cargo ship down the tunnel behind us.”

  Jack didn’t want to ride in a stinking Goa’uld ship. He wanted to gate home.

  The view from under the tank slid sideways. Or rather, Jack did.

  Daniel pulled him back up. “Okay, well… The other tunnel seems clear, but Sam, you’re sure there’s no one on board?”

  Carter stuffed the scanner into her vest. “The power’s on, and there’s no discernible life-forms on board.”

  “And you don’t find that the least bit convenient?”

  Jack groaned. Since when had Daniel become so negative? “So… No elephants, I take it?”

  “Sir?”

  More plasma fire. He rubbed his eyes, but the fireworks kept on coming. “So… No Stargate.”

  “No, sir. No Stargate.”

  2. Anger (n): {psychology} — a strong feeling of being upset or annoyed at oneself or others because of something wrong or bad. Once in this stage of loss, the individual recognizes that denial cannot continue.

  Sam led the way onto the cargo ship, one eye on her scanner. Anubis’s super soldiers hadn’t followed their escape, but Daniel was right: the ship was too convenient. The drones had blocked the tunnel to the gate, firing into the chamber, but their shots barely ever came close. It really was too easy an escape. She knew better, but still… What choice did they have?

  And what had she been thinking, cowering under that empty Goa’uld queen’s tank like a cadet? She hadn’t even thought about her scanner until almost too late.

  That wasn’t like her.

  Teal’c laid Colonel O’Neill down beside an aft bulkhead. Sam hated seeing the colonel that way. Hated seeing him sprawled on the ground. That was how she’d found Janet during the battle on P3X-666. Stretched out. Dead. Gone.

  A glass shard had nicked an artery below the colonel’s jaw, but Daniel was already on it, using his trauma kit to clamp the small gash. He ripped open a clot pack and applied it to the wound, then a pressure bandage. Swift, measured. Of all
of them, he seemed to be handling their situation the best. He displayed no emotion. No anxiousness.

  No sign of the Daniel who once wore his heart on his sleeve.

  He administered a mild stimulant to keep the colonel alert. Sam silently approved. That shot would buy them enough time to travel to the Alpha Site and then gate back to the SGC where Janet could…

  “Damn it.” What was wrong with her? She knew Janet was gone. And she knew better than to have been knee-deep in that drone factory without monitoring their situation.

  Get a grip, Sam.

  Teal’c took the pilot’s seat and began the engine’s warm-up cycle. The ship responded with a steady hum. “Should we not insure the Tel’tak does not contain a recall device before — ?”

  “Just get us out of here.” Sam laid down her pack carrying the salvaged crystal and stormed to the central console behind the cockpit. Teal’c raised an eyebrow at her hasty response, but he was a big guy. He’d do what needed to be done.

  The thrusters rumbled to life. She grabbed a guardrail and held on as the ship lifted off.

  So far, so good. Unclipping her P90, she secured it beside the console and popped the side panel open. A dozen crystals pulsated inside, blue, yellow, and green ones as long as her forearm. Shorter white crystals, connected to spools of black wires, surrounded the larger brackets. Everything checked out.

  If she could avoid any more mistakes, they’d get the colonel home.

  She pulled out her scanner again and double-checked the internal wirings. No recall device, but also no cloaking mechanism. She glanced over at Daniel and his patient. The blood had been sopped up from Colonel O’Neill’s neck and, though his face had drained of color, his eyes were open. His chest rose and fell more steadily, too.

  The colonel would make it. That’s all that mattered.

  At Daniel’s urging, the colonel drank from his canteen. Daniel turned toward Sam. “At least he isn’t mumbling about elephants anymore.”

  “Good.” She snapped the panel back into place. “Keep him that way.”

  “Sam —”

  “Keep an eye on that wound, Daniel.” She knew he wanted to help, but unless he had a Stargate in his back pocket, he needed to focus. They all needed to.

  A glance out the forward canopy revealed they’d left orbit. The ship swept past two lifeless moons locked in a push-pull orbit around a cyan gas giant. The view was almost hypnotic, until the steady thrum of thrusters yanked her back to reality. “Teal’c, why haven’t you engaged the hyper-drive?”

  “I am attempting to do so, Major Carter.” Teal’c swiped down on the control interface. Nothing happened.

  “Come on!” Sam strode to the navigator’s chair and studied the HUD display. All systems appeared normal. “It should work.”

  Teal’c tilted his head. “And yet, it does not.”

  Sam slammed her fist down on the controls. “That’s not possible. You’re doing it wrong!”

  “Carter!”

  She spun around. Colonel O’Neill had managed to push himself up to a sitting position. His glassy-eyed gaze knocked her breath away.

  Through the silence that followed, the sound of the thrusters and her pounding pulse kept their grip on her, pushed her forward because SG-1 had to survive. They’d gotten into trouble; it was up to her to get them out.

  “Consider what you’ve been through. Eventually it has to take its toll.”

  She shoved away Janet’s voice. Now wasn’t the time to think about what she couldn’t change, only what she could. “Sir, what if —”

  “Take it easy, Major. We’ve gotten out of worse.”

  “I’ll take a turn piloting.” Daniel stood up and smiled. Almost. Thinly guarded, the corners of his mouth never really turned up. “Teal’c, why don’t you help Sam in the engine room?”

  Teal’c grabbed his staff weapon and was at her side in less time than Sam had to protest. She could do this alone. She didn’t need help.

  She hesitated. “What about the colonel?”

  “I’ll come with.” Colonel O’Neill pushed himself up.

  A moment’s wobble, a hand on the bulkhead. His face gray as stone. As happy as Sam was to see him upright, he’d lost too much blood.

  “No, you don’t.” Daniel nudged him back down.

  Sam looked away, unsure of what to do, what to think. How to feel. She wanted it to stop. All of it. No more deaths. No more loss.

  “Major Carter?” Teal’c presented her with her P90, and then strode toward the engine room.

  Sam clipped her P90 to her harness, torn between helping the colonel and fixing whatever kept them from jumping into hyperspace. She knew going to the engine room was the responsible thing to do, the rational thing to do.

  Daniel gave her an encouraging nod and turned his attention back to the colonel. “Come on, Jack. You can keep me company.”

  “And miss out on all the fun? Hey, Carter…”

  Sam’s stomach clenched, but she forced herself to look him in the eye. “I know, sir. Get a grip.”

  “Or not. Just… Stop looking down that rabbit hole so much.” She heard his unspoken words: stop thinking about Janet’s death. Move forward. Live here. Live now.

  If only it was that easy.

  “Sir…”

  “Go on, Carter. Play with the engines. You like that sorta thing, remember?” The colonel gave her a smile.

  The tightness in her chest loosened. Colonel O’Neill was right. With a nod to Daniel, she headed off for the engine room. She’d fix the hyper-drive and they’d get out of this mess. Like the colonel said, they’d gotten out of worse.

  She paused at the archway, glancing back as Daniel unzipped his pack and pulled out a paperback book and pencil. He handed them to the colonel. “That’ll keep you out of trouble.”

  From the archway, Sam couldn’t see the book, but, for the colonel’s sake, she hoped it had something to do with The Simpsons. Maybe Siler packed it as a gag gift.

  Colonel O’Neill stared at the cover, his smile dropping into a tight scowl as he tossed the book across the deck. “Don’t push it, Daniel.”

  It was a crossword puzzle book.

  “Major Carter!” Teal’c’s shout came from the engine room. It sounded like trouble.

  Releasing the safety on her P90, Sam dashed down the connecting corridor. She should have scanned the entire ship. Was there an intruder on board? What had she missed this time?

  She turned the corner into the engine room, weapon raised. Teal’c stood inside, his staff weapon aimed. Both the primary and secondary hyper-drive compartments were slid open. Black cables dangled from each drawer, leading to what had to be at least a hundred-gallon tank.

  Inside that tank swam another, more pressing puzzle.

  A fully matured Goa’uld symbiote.

  3. Bargaining (v): {psychology} — to negotiate or come to terms. A reaction to feelings of helplessness and vulnerability. This stage of loss involves the hope that the individual can somehow regain control in order to undo or avoid a cause of grief.

  Teal’c activated his staff weapon, its electrical charge a promise that the abomination inside the symbiote tank would soon be put to an end. He had gone to the engine room, hoping to allow his bone-weary soul a moment’s pause, and in doing so perhaps provide Major Carter with an opportunity to do the same. He knew she had felt Janet Fraiser’s death keenly, all of SG-1 had. The doctor’s funeral and subsequent memorial had been only a first step toward the healing they required.

  Eliminating the immediate threat so that they may return to the SGC was now a necessary second.

  “Don’t shoot it!” Major Carter stepped closer to the tank.

  Teal’c did not. Nor did he deactivate his weapon. He understood her need to grasp the situatio
n, but as O’Neill would say, one could never trust a Goa’uld.

  Even one thrashing as wildly as this. Metal spikes pierced its pale skin, two above the serpent’s head and more along its body. Wires from those spikes led to a knee-high metallic black box on the floor beside the hyper-drive compartments. Thick cables led from the box up into each drawer, where they were fused into the very brackets that controlled the crystals. In the wall above, a circular lens glowed blue.

  Clearly, there was danger here. He swung the staff weapon toward the black box. “At least allow me to disable its connection to the hyper-drive.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Major Carter approached the box and knelt. She pulled out her ever-present scanner. “Not until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  He knew precisely what they were dealing with: a false god without a host. Without a face by which to lure innocents to quench its all-consuming thirst for bloodshed.

  His thumb hovered over the staff weapon’s trigger. “Can you not determine its purpose once it is disabled and we have safely entered hyperspace?”

  “I wish it was that simple.”

  It was that simple. Why could Major Carter not see that? There were times Teal’c wished the Tau’ri would recognize their fragility. Dr. Fraiser’s recent loss should have served as a reminder. An indelible lesson that, yes, risks were worthy of the taking, but they should be calculated. Considered. Planned properly.

  Teal’c raised an eyebrow, taken aback by his musings. If he’d said the same aloud to Master Bra’tac, or even to O’Neill, they would have accused him of behaving like an old woman.

  “Ah… Sam? Teal’c?” Daniel Jackson called over the radio. “Everything all right?”

  “We are endeavoring to determine the situation,” Teal’c replied. He briefed their teammate on their condition. “Are there any enemies in pursuit?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Do you wish me to take over piloting?”