by Stargate
“In the shucking house today,” he said in a rich, melting baritone, “we finished shucking the last ripe corn and took it to the drying house. It will be ready in time for the next collection.”
“Good news, Jenc,” said Boaz, his voice light and even. “And is that all you did in the shucking house today?”
Daniel looked for Sam, and exchanged uneasy looks with her. If Jenc confessed he’d reported Mikah to Hol’c, what would the villagers do? And if he didn’t, what would Boaz do? What was Jenc’s game here—to strike back for a petty, personal grudge, or to cause a wider rift and perhaps see Boaz’s authority publicly challenged?
Jenc held Boaz’s gaze. Held it—held it—and broke. Staring at the floor he said, “That is all.”
Boaz nodded. “Your service today has honored our god. All service today has honored our god. Today we are reminded, most humbly, that not one of us may disrespect the god and go unpunished.” His hand rested, briefly, on Mikah’s bowed head. “Now let us set our trestles to one side and make merry, in celebration of all the good service done to our god this day.”
Under cover of bustling activity, Daniel took Sam to one side and said, “Hey. Are you okay?”
Her lips trembled, just for a moment, and her jaw clenched. Then she nodded, control restored. “Fine. You?”
“I nearly had a heart attack when the kids killed that snake,” he said. “They snuck up behind me and draped it round my neck. It’s a wonder you didn’t hear my scream in the babyhouse.”
She managed a small, tight smile. “Kids will be kids.” Then she flicked a look at Mikah. “He seems okay. I guess they’re used to it. Being brutally punished on a whim.”
“Is that something you get used to?” he wondered, and shook his head. “Listen. I’m going to sneak out of here in a few minutes. Make sure our fearless leader got back to the house in one piece.”
“I’ll come too.”
“No. You’d better stay. You’re a lot more conspicuous than I am. Have a dance with Boaz. Not that he deserves it. Ja—Joseph—copped what was owing to Mikah but the way he’s acting—”
“He got a bad fright,” Sam said. “And he had to watch that bastard Hol’c hurt his child. Listen—I don’t suppose you managed to sound out anyone on the chances of—”
“Yes. All the goats have volunteered to join us.”
She laughed, this time. “Yeah. Okay.”
“How about you? Any prospects?”
Sam turned her head, just a little, and nodded fractionally towards a stunning blond who was organizing Sallah and her friends into some kind of a leap-frogging contest. “Berez,” she murmured. “She’s a definite possibility. If I can only talk to her without Qualah hovering in the background.”
“Try,” he said. “I don’t want to leave this place without something concrete to show for it.”
She touched his arm. “Believe me, neither do I.”
They both turned, then, at the sound of drums, tambourine and triangles. The village band, striking up their brand of music to chase the day’s demons away.
“Incredible, isn’t it?” he said, touched almost to tears. “The resilience of the human spirit. That’s why we’ll win here, you know. That’s why the Goa’uld will be defeated. Because humans were born to be free and deep down, no matter how beaten we are, no matter how frightened, we know it.”
Sam surprised him, then, by folding him to her in a swift, fierce hug. By whispering in his ear, “Go see Jack. Make sure he’s all right.”
She hardly ever hugged him. She never called Jack ‘Jack’. Not any more. It told Daniel just how upset she was. How deeply this place was affecting her.
He hugged her back. “Going now. Hang in there, Sam. We’ll win this one. We have to.”
Nobody noticed him slip out of the hall; the need to wipe out the aftermath of violence and terror with desperate frivolity was overwhelming and universally human. Jack was no longer lying unconscious in the village centre. Daniel checked the bath-house but Jack wasn’t there, either. So he went back to Boaz’s house… and found him in the bedroom. Hiding in the eldritch shadows cast by a single lamp.
When the bedroom door opened Jack took one look and said, “Piss off, Daniel.”
In between waking and coming back here he’d found the strength to wash; he no longer stank like an abattoir or looked like an extra from a cheap splatter film. But he still looked bad. Chalky beneath a gloss of sunburn, and with some bleakly unpleasant thought or feeling in his eyes.
Daniel kicked the door shut behind him and sat on the floor. There was no chair, and sitting on the bed was out of the question. He didn’t feel the least bit intimidated by sitting below Jack’s line of sight. He’d stopped being intimidated by Jack years ago.
“Yeah,” he said, and folded his arms on his pulled-up knees. “Like that’s going to happen.” He glanced at the ceiling. “Have you checked in with Jacob?”
“Yes.”
“Is he still okay?”
Jack glowered. “Well, he and Martouf don’t want to kill each other yet, so what does that tell you?”
Mostly, that Jacob and Martouf weren’t Jack and Daniel. He let his head tip back until it rested against the door and, frowning, marshalled his thoughts. Then he recited, with meticulous accuracy: “No matter what we find when we get onto this moon, no matter how offended your sensibilities are by this whole slave farm thing, we do not rock the boat. This is not a rescue mission. We are not going there to free the slaves. We have a single objective: to recruit hosts and spies for the Tok’ra.” He smiled, brightly. “There’s more. Wanna hear? After that you said—”
“I swear to God, Daniel, I swear to God,” Jack interrupted, conversationally. “If you don’t stop with the photographic memory routine right now I’ll shoot you.”
Daniel thought about that. “Actually,” he said, after a moment, “it’s really more like perfect audio recall. And you can’t shoot me, Jack. You don’t have a gun.”
Jack’s glare was baleful in the extreme. “Daniel, there’s a smithy here. I’ll make one. And then I’ll shoot you.”
Daniel sighed. “Jack, what the hell is going on with you? First it was attacking Kinsey in the Pentagon in front of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and sundry other witnesses. Now it’s nearly getting yourself killed, practically blowing your cover—and mine, and Sam’s, incidentally—when you must be one of the most experienced behind-enemy-lines operatives in the US military.”
“Gosh, Daniel, who knows?” said Jack, with his trademark excoriating sarcasm. “Maybe I’m just having a bad day.”
Another sigh. “Jack, please. Don’t treat me like an idiot. Something is going on. You are the most emotionally detached person serving in the SGC. They call you Iceman O’Neill when they think you can’t hear them.”
A muscle twitched in Jack’s face. “They think wrong.”
“My point,” he said, sharply, “is that you are not me. Except lately you are. And to be perfectly frank, Jack, you’re scaring me. Iceman O’Neill I can handle. I’ve met him before. But Exploding Volcano O’Neill? Not enjoying his company so much. He’s a loose cannon. He’s going to get us into trouble. He’s not someone I want leading my team.”
“It’s my team, Daniel. And I’ll lead it however I see fit.”
“Yes, but you’re not fit, are you?” he pointed out. “You’re still hung up on what happened in Euronda. Okay. In the interests of full disclosure, so am I. But this is neither the time nor the place to get into that, Jack. We have bigger problems on our plate. More important fish to fry. And why is it that I’m the one having to tell you that?”
Jack looked at him with the kind of icy disdain that froze other SGC personnel solid. “I am not hung up on what happened in Euronda.”
Daniel snorted. “Yeah. Right. And I’m not an archaeologist.”
Another freezing look. “Daniel, drop it.”
“Drop it,” he said, scathing. “What am I? A dog? Okay. Maybe this is the
perfect time to get into Euronda. You’re not usually a captive audience, so what the hey. I’ll summarize for you, shall I? You were wrong, I was right, it pisses you off.”
“Want a newsflash?” Jack retorted. “You’re right again. This isn’t the time or place, Daniel.”
“Why isn’t it? You’re always saying I insert inappropriate personal commentary into every conversation. Why break the habit of a lifetime?”
Jack stared at him. “I don’t say that.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“Jack, you do.”
“Daniel, I don’t!”
Daniel thought for a moment. “Okay. Maybe you don’t. But you think it.”
“Which isn’t the same as saying it!”
“Oh, so you do admit you think it?”
“Daniel!”
He smiled. “Gotcha.”
They stared at each other in rueful, irritated, mutually baffled silence. Jack was the first to look away. “I apologized for being wrong in Euronda.”
“I know. But that doesn’t stop you from being pissed.”
“Yeah. Okay. I’m pissed,” said Jack, and looked back at him. “Do you want to know why I’m pissed?”
Ah! Progress. “Please.”
“I’m pissed, Daniel, because I’m still waiting for an apology from you.”
He felt his heart thud, hard. “I don’t owe you an apology for Euronda. I was right to ask questions. I was right to say slow down. I was right to halt you in your tracks and make you look at what you were doing.”
Jack nodded. “Yes. You were. I’m not pissed about what you did, Daniel, I’m pissed about how you did it. About how you always do it. You question my judgement and my authority regardless of who’s listening. And when you do that you undermine my leadership in front of people who have to believe that I am strong. That we’re strong. A single united front.”
“Jack, I had to over-ride you in front of Alar! You wouldn’t listen to me, you—”
“Oh, please,” said Jack, derisive. “When have I ever not listened to you, Daniel? When have I ever not taken a leap of faith when you’ve asked me to? I have trusted you over and over and over again. And all I ask in return is that you show me a little respect. I have never said don’t disagree with me. What I have said, more than once, is disagree with me by all means… just do it in private. But you never do. And you don’t even see it’s a problem. That is why I’m pissed at you, Daniel. Because at the end of the day you’re the one who’s arrogant. You’re the one who won’t get off his moral high horse. You’re the one who has to be right all the time, no matter what it costs. Or who you hurt.”
It was like being gut-punched. Zat-blasted. Kicked in the balls. “That is not true.”
Jack looked away. “Okay. Whatever.”
It wasn’t true. He didn’t ride a moral high horse, he just spoke up about the things that mattered, the inconvenient complicated truths the military just loved to ignore. “Jack—”
Jack closed his eyes. “I’m tired, Daniel. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”
He hadn’t come in here for this. To be raked over the coals when he’d clearly been in the right. He’d come to talk about the end of the Eurondan mission. Those final moments in the ’gateroom whose echoing reverberations were putting the team in danger now. “Jack, we have to talk about Alar.” He got up. Couldn’t finish this conversation sitting down. “About how what happened—how he died—why he died. It’s eating you alive from the inside out and compromising you and—”
“Daniel, I don’t have to do anything!” Jack retorted, glaring. “I especially don’t have to talk about Alar.”
“Yes, you do,” he insisted. “Because what happened to him is making you short-tempered and unpredictable and so long as my life depends on you in this crappy place I want you to—”
“And what I want, Daniel,” said Jack, moving with the speed of a striking snake, off the bed and into his face, “is for you to shut the hell up!”
Heart pounding, Daniel lifted his hands and took a step back. Bump, right into the door. “Okay, Jack. I hear you. I’m listening. I’m shutting the hell up.”
Slowly, too slowly, the murderous rage drained out of Jack’s face. He released a shuddering sigh then with a painful, visible effort, shifted his thoughts in a different direction. “How did you make out today? Did you find any potential candidates for the Tok’ra?”
Daniel let out his own unsteady breath. He was fairly certain the joke about the goats would go down like a lead balloon just now. “Not yet. Sam has.”
Jack flicked him an acid look. “Then I suggest you get your ass into gear, Daniel. We’re running out of time and so are these people.”
“Yes. Yes, I know.”
“I need some air,” said Jack, abruptly. Pushing him aside, he opened the door and stalked out of the bedroom. A moment later came the sound of the house’s front door opening and slamming shut.
“Okay,” said Daniel to the empty room. “That went well.”
And then he gave in to the promptings of his trembling knees and sat down hard on the bed.
Oh, God. Oh God, he prayed, meaning it more than usual. Help him, please. And then help us to get out of this mess alive.
Chapter Fourteen
Boaz let the games and dancing go on longer than normal, that night. After the horror in the village centre the people needed healing. Laughter, merriment, a surcease of toil; they were the best healers of a hurt spirit.
And spirits were always hurt hardest when Hol’c punished a child.
Seated at his head man’s trestle he watched the people—his people—slowly rediscover laughter. Watched Jenc, playing his drum, and wondered if the man was sorry, now, for letting the old spite, the nursed grudge, overwhelm his better judgement. They hadn’t spoken. They wouldn’t speak. What could Jenc say that he’d believe? It was an accident? I didn’t know?
Mikah was playing tag with the other older children, darting around and between the adults. He seemed no worse for his punishment. Stealing a corn cob? What a foolish thing to do…
His gaze drifted to Serena, who was being taught a new dance by Berez, and he felt his lips twist in a wry, self-mocking smile. If Mikah was foolish for stealing a corn cob then how much more foolish was Mikah’s father, falling in love with another man’s mate?
Falling in love with anyone. To love someone on a breeding farm was a curse, not a comfort. No man with any sense loved the woman he mated… or the babies born of that union.
I am a man of no sense whatsoever.
Worse still, he was not even mated with Serena. Might never be mated with her. She was Joseph’s, at least for now, even though Joseph gave no sign of wanting her. Was the man blind, then? Touched in the head? Who could see Serena, and not be moved to wanting her?
Joseph.
He was too tired to think of Joseph.
Serena was dancing with Mikah now, showing off her brand new skill. Mikah was laughing. He hadn’t laughed like that since his mother died. Serena would make a good mother. Qualah had told him, taking him aside after dinner, that the new woman had a clear heart for babies. He’d thanked her, swamped with relief. There were some women whose bodies quickened but not their hearts. Those women Lord Choulai disposed of into the ground for fear they’d contaminate the bloodlines.
Boaz looked around the meeting hall. The people were tiring. Children had dropped to the floor in corners and were drowsing on each other’s slumped shoulders. It was late, and time for bed. Dawn came too soon as it was.
He stood and rang his hand bell. It was all he needed to do; the music stopped, instruments were returned to the trunks against the wall. The trestles were put back in their places, ready for breakfast. Sleepy children were roused to stand, or picked up and carried. The hall emptied until only Mikah and Serena remained.
He lit a walking lamp for them, do
used the hall’s lamps, and closed its doors behind them. Serena held Mikah’s left hand. He took Mikah’s right and together they headed back to the house.
“David did not stay long in the hall tonight,” he said. “He should stay longer next time.”
Serena looked at him over the top of Mikah’s drooping head. “You didn’t stop him leaving.”
“He is new. I know that can be difficult but even so, he must stay longer tomorrow. If Hol’c suspects he might be trouble…”
“He was worried about Joseph,” she said. “I’m sure he will stay longer tomorrow.”
“And what of you, Serena?” he asked after a moment. “Are you worried for Joseph?”
Even with the burning lamp it was hard to see her expression. “Yes,” she said simply. “I’m very worried.”
“Do you love him?”
“What?” Now she sounded shocked. Flustered. “Boaz, I hardly know him.”
“That is true.”
“No,” she said. “No, of course I don’t love him.”
“Good,” he replied, staring straight ahead. “Love your babies if you must, Serena, while you have them. Love no-one else. That is how you’ll survive this place.”
“Is that how you survive?”
“It is.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It sounds so… cold.”
He looked at her then, as she turned her head to look at him. “It is,” he said. And said nothing else, during the rest of the walk home.
David had not gone to bed. He was sitting at the table waiting for them. He too looked worried. “You didn’t see Joseph out there, did you?” he greeted them as they entered the house.
“What?” Serena said sharply. “Are you saying he hasn’t—”
“No, no,” said David. “Sorry. He was here when I got back, but then he left.”
Now she was frowning. Apprehensive. “David, you didn’t—”
“No. Not exactly. Well, sort of,” said David. “You know.”
