by Stargate
There was a long pause, and he knew damn well what Daniel was wondering. In the end, being Daniel, he came out and asked. "Did they hurt-"
"Yeah." Jack looked away, out across the cloudy, rain-sodden sky. He heard Daniel's muttered curse, snatched away by the wind, adding another half-turn to the guilt that twisted inside. He should have gone after her right away, not hidden in the dark like a kicked dog. A whining dog. A whining-
Daniel's head snapped up. "Did you hear that?"
He did. A distinct whining sound, growing louder. Turning into a roar... "Get down!" Flinging himself at Daniel, they hit the ground in a tangle of limbs. A blast detonated a foot from their position, showering them with plasma-scorched stone. Death gliders. One screamed overhead, a second on its tail, strafing the ground. The first banked high, coming back around for another pass. Scrabbling behind the frail shelter of the grounded glider, Jack grabbed for the radio on his shoulder. He knew damn well what their target would be. "Teal'c! Carter! Scramble!"
Half on his back, Daniel raised his P90 and fired uselessly as a glider tore across the sky on its second pass. Shrapnel and smoke scorched the air, the noise so loud Jack barely heard the static squawk of his radio. "O'Neill." It was Teal'c. "Major Carter is not aboard. "
"What?" He risked a glance over the rusting metal. All he could see was the bulk of the tel'tak. "Where is she?"
"I do not know, I have not-"
Damn it. "Go!" he yelled. "Get airborne. Now!"
Teal'c didn't reply. But the tel'tak roared into life, taking off at an impossibly steep angle, twisting up into the sky with a scream of its own. Jack's radio crackled again. "O'Neill, hold fast. I shall return."
And with that, the tel'tak sheared off into the low clouds, drawing the death gliders behind it like a high-tech Pied Piper.
Jack felt a tug on his arm and shifted his attention from the sky. "Ah, Jack, I see Sam."
He spottedher instantly. She stood at the far side of the roof, revealed now the tel'tak was gone, eye-to-eye with a Jaffa who held her at the end of his staff weapon. Neither was moving.
Jack glanced at Daniel, then back toward Carter. His heart sank. "Crap."
Clouds whipped past the window as Teal'c pushed the tel'tak into a steep climb. The planet's wind buffeted the ship and its engines protested their misuse. But he paid their howls little mind; he knew their capabilities.
At last the clouds became ragged, their tattered edges fluttering as he emerged into bright sunshine above. He still did not soften the climb, heading beyond the blue to the dark of space. The tracking screen showed two gliders pursuing him, and he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. His friends would be spared until he could return for them. Had the tel'tak been armed, disposing of his opponents would have been easy. But the Goa'uld disliked any but their most trusted Jaffa to wield weapons, and so cargo ships such as this went unarmed.
Unarmed, but not unprotected. It was shielded, and if he so wished the tel'tak's stealth technology would render it invisible. However, his role as decoy would not be served by invisibility. Destruction, not evasion, was his mission. A sudden blast from his pursuers rocked the ship, jarring him hard against the controls and reminding him that it was a mission he shared with his enemy.
Just then, the atmosphere began to thin, shredding before his eyes until the bright stars and black void of space surrounded him. He felt more comfortable out here, away from the pull of gravity and buffeting of the atmosphere. He banked the ship up, tipping it backward into a loop and opening up the view of the pursuing gliders. The lead ship twisted up and back, rolling over as it headed straight for Teal'c, cannons firing. Fast, maneuverable and well armed, the death gliders were more than a match for the lumbering tel'tak. Strategy, not firepower, would win this battle. But Teal'c had an advantage over all his adversaries; he had served for seven years with O'Neill. He knew the value of unorthodoxy.
"I've seen him before," Daniel said, as he and Jack cautiously approached the Jaffa holding Sam hostage. It was the boy he'd encountered on the way to Baal's shrine. Disheveled and afraid, he radiated the anger and humiliation that defined adolescence; Teal'c had knocked him down like a child, and now he was out to prove himself. Sam, it seemed, would pay the price.
Jack cast Daniel an urgent glance. Deal with it. But he kept his P90 raised and his gaze fixed on the boy as he took a cautious step to his right. The kid was watching, and moved to keep Sam between them. "Come no nearer," he shouted. "Or she will die."
Carefully, Daniel raisedhis hands, keeping them clear ofhis weapon. "You know, this isn't going to work. Why don't you just let her go and we'll all walk away?"
Quick brown eyes flashed to his. "You are the enemy. No one will walk away."
"We're not your enemy," Daniel insisted. "We're not the enemy of the Jaffa."
"Ha!" the boy spat. "Then why do twelve of my brothers lie dead at your feet? Your words are as empty as those of the Shol'va."
Jack shifted. "You couldn't do it, you know. You make one move to fire that thing and you'll be joining your brothers over there."
The kid puffed out his chest. "Kalach shal'tek!"
"Victory or death," Daniel translated quietly; this could be going better. And then, just when he thought it couldn't get worse, it did.
"Those the only options?" The words came from Sam, clipped and bitter. "You know, I could have sworn there was another one. It involves knives. And acid. And a sarcophagus."
The Jaffa turned back to her, rattled. "Silence!"
"Or what?"
"Or this." The head of the staff sprang open, jabbing hard into her chest.
"Drop it!" Jack dodged sideways, looking for a clear shot. "Drop it now!" But the kid compensated, pivoting around Sam to shield himself from Jack.
The moment balanced on a pinhead. Even the wind seemed to still. Until Sam shattered it. "You little piece of shit."
"Carter..."
She ignored the warning. Instead, her hand shot out and seized the end of the weapon, muscles bunching as she pushed it up from her chest. She only succeeded in lifting it to her face, but didn't seem to care. "Let me go," she hissed in a voice Daniel barely recognized. "Let me go, or I'll kill you."
Fear and fury flared. "You are a fool! You cannot-"
"Can't I? You wanna see? You wanna see what I can do?"
"Carter, I can't get a shot!" Jack warned, urgently. "Back off."
Sam didn't seem to hear. "Why don't you see what happens when you don't have your victims pinned out like lab rats? You little piece of-"
"Has'shak!" The boy tried to wrench the weapon from her grasp, but she was too strong.
"Major! Back off!"
The staff weaved in front of her face, like a snake about to strike. "SAM!" Daniel yelled.
He was too late.
CHAPTER TWENTY
- ill Crawford sat next to Councilor Damaris at the wide, white conference table and immersed himself in a rare feeling of satisfaction. SG-1 were as good as taken care of, the treaty with the Kinahhi was signed, sealed and only waiting for him to deliver it to Senator Kinsey. Between those two events he had enough brownie points to ride all the way into the White House on Kinsey's ample coattails. Despite the irritations and delays, his time here had been profitable. His father would have approved. Time is money, he had often said. Spend it wisely. KT.___. ._11 ♦l.._♦ ,, __'A_ ♦l.,_ 4~.....I :_..:,..-:.__..__.,,
Now all that remained was to dispense with the final irritation and he could return home, to a world where the coffee was sweet and the food didn't send his stomach into spasms.
The final irritation chose that moment to present itself, quick eyes belying the avuncular features. Crawford rose as General George Hammond strode into the room, his uniformed lackeys trailing him like unappealing bridesmaids. "General," he smiled. "Any luck?"
"I'm not looking for luck, son."
Which is fortunate, Crawford thought, because you're fresh out, George.
Councilor Damar
is remained seated as she spoke. "Then I trust, General Hammond, that you are now satisfied with our evidence and that you will hand over SG-1 once they have returned to your planet?"
Hammond's face darkened, only serving to accentuate the sharpness of his eyes. "I'm afraid you can trust no such thing, Councilor. So far, I've seen no evidence whatsoever linking the stolen plans to SG-1. And I can assure you, even if I had, I would never hand over my people to you. We deal our own justice."
Oh, it was a joyous moment. Clearing his throat, Crawford turned to Damaris. "If you will allow me, Councilor?"
She graced him with a fleeting smile and granted permission by the slight inclination of her head.
Pushing the slim document across the table toward Hammond, Crawford could barely contain his satisfaction. "I'm afraid, General, that under section 3.4.1 of our treaty with the Kinahhi, any criminal offense that takes place within Kinahhi jurisdiction is to be subject to Kinahhi justice. And vice versa, naturally."
Hammond's expression turned thunderous. "Tell me you're not serious."
Crawford just smiled and revealed the winning hand. "It's a standard extradition clause, General. When SG-1 returns home, you'll be obliged to send them to Kinahhi to face the consequences of their crimes."
The look of outraged shock on the general's face was priceless. Crawford enjoyed it almost as much as he was anticipating a similar look on O'Neill's arrogant features. It would be like watching the wheels fall off the Homecoming Queen's float.
He was going to relish seeing them flounder in the mud.
The and surface of the planet's single, lifeless moon swept beneath Teal'c as he raced for its far side. The gliders were still in range, their continual bombardment rattling his teeth with every jolt of the ship. It would not be long before the shielding gave way. He must act now, or not at all. Sending a silent prayer into the void, he reached out and engaged the stealth device. Cloaked in invisibility, he dipped the ship into a steep dive toward the moon's surface, skimming along close enough to see its rocky craters before pulling up steeply and climbing out of its weak gravitational field.
The death gliders were banking, frustrated at having lost their prey. Soon they would return to base. He needed to keep them occupied for his plan to work. He slowed the ship, bringing it to a halt above the moon's gray surface, then slid from his seat and hurried toward the escape pods. Sealing one of the four, he hit the release and ran back to the cockpit. As the pod dived toward the moon, Teal'c fired his engines and came around in a slow circle. One of the gliders fired a few speculative shots at his last position, but, as he'd hoped, the other went in pursuit of the pod. Teal'c followed.
With a small puff of dust the pod hit the surface of the moon and the glider slowed, hovering like a vulture awaiting a kill. A brief, ironic smile twitched at Teal'c's lips. Carefully, he lowered the tel'tak over the glider, just getting close enough for his plan to work.
Freeing his zat'nikatel from its holster, he once more left the cockpit but this time headed for the ring transporter. While a transporter usually needed a corresponding set of rings to function, the tel'tak could retrieve matter located immediately below it as long as it was within the physical range of the ring mechanism. He hoped he was close enough.
Readying himself, he activated the transporter and found himself holding his breath. In seconds the rings returned, depositing a section of glider canopy and its pilot in a jumbled heap on the floor.
"Na'binim-?" the pilot began, pushing off the canopy and staring around in bewilderment.
Teal'c raised the zat and fired, sending the Jaffa twitching to the floor. He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. And, since he was alone, indulged in a little amusement. "Resistance," he told the fallen Jaffa, "is futile."
After hurriedly cuffing his enemy's ankles and wrists, Teal'c dashed back to the cockpit and watched as the glider, fatally breached, nose-dived into the moon's surface. Its mate, however, did not come to investigate its demise. Perhaps its pilot had seen the rings and sought to avoid a similar fate?
Sliding back into the pilot's chair, Teal'c studied the tactical scanner until he found the errant glider. It was far above him, and on a trajectory that would take it right back to Baal's fortress. To his friends.
Throwing the tel'tak into a turn he set out in pursuit. Unarmed, he couldn't bring the glider down, but perhaps he could pull his team out. If he reached them in time.
It happened in slow motion. Carter's face twisted with anger and her hands locked around the end of the staff weapon as it sizzled into life. Daniel screamed her name and the charge spewed from the mouth of the weapon. "SAM!"
Impossibly, she wrenched the staff to one side. The plasma bolt skimmed past so close Jack could smell her singed hair. With a roar of outrage, she yanked the weapon from the boy's hands and swung it viciously into the side of his head. He staggered and fell to one knee.
Stunned, Jack could only watch as she threw down the staff. "Not so tough now," she spat, kicking the Jaffa hard in the chest. He fell, sprawled on his back. Then she was on him, fists flying and rage spilling from her lips. "Not. So. Tough. Now!" She punctuated each word with a blow. "You. Little. Piece. Of-"
"Carter!" Jack lurched into action, grabbing her shoulder and trying to pull her back. But she was lost in a frenzy, reason gone. Straddling the kid's legs, he grabbed both her arms and yanked her back, hard. "Stop!"
Her weight toppled her backward and she landed on her ass, taking him with her. Squirming free, she sprang to her feet with an inarticulate growl and lunged for the Jaffa.
Jack was faster. Tackling her with a move worthy of the NFL, he brought them both crashing back to their knees. Pain exploded in his right leg and he cursed a blue-streak, but didn't let go. One arm clamped around her chest, the other around her midriff, he pinned her arms to her sides. "Don't!" he yelled around the pain. "Carter, stop!"
"Let go! Let me-"
"No." She bucked and struggled - and, damn, she was strong - but he didn't give an inch. "You don't want to do this!"
"Let go!"
Daniel dropped into a crouch in front of them. "Sam, listen to me." His hand hovered between himself and Carter, as if nervous of provoking her with a touch. "Don't do this. You'll hate yourself. He's just a kid."
Her whole body went rigid, and Jack could feel her gasps against his chest. But at least she'd stopped squirming He relaxed his arms a little, but didn't let go. "It wasn't him, Carter," he said quietly, close to her ear. "He didn't hurt you."
Breaths still coming fast and shallow, she shook her head and stared at the ground. Striving for control. When she spoke, her voice shook. "What they did to you..."
To me? Displacement; a classic psychological response, and he should know. Worry about someone else so you don't have to think about yourself. He glanced up, saw Daniel's eyes dancing away from him, and suddenly got it. Displacement or not, something had changed. They both knew; Daniel had seen the live broadcast, and now Carter had suffered her own personal taster. They both knew, and he hated how exposed that made him feel. He hated how real it made the memories. He hated how much harder it was to hide the truth. Cold and weary, he released her. She sagged away from him, hands coming to rest on the ground, head bowed. Her back rose and fell as she sucked in shaking breaths.
"It's over, Sam," he told her softly. "Let it go."
She turned, fixing him with a wretched look. "How do you do that?"
Bury it. Ignore it. Deny it. "You just keep going."
He held her gaze, trying to reassure her. She just shook her head and turned away, her eyes falling on the boy who lay bruised and bleeding on the ground. The reaction was instant, as if she was seeing him for the first time. Anger and color fled from her face, shoulders slumping and arms going limp at her sides. "Oh God." A hand pressed over her mouth. "Oh, my God."
Silently, Jack reached out and turned her away, his gaze meeting Daniel's in a mute appeal for help. He couldn't handle this; it struck way too c
lose to home. From the compassionate look on Daniel's face, he suspected that he knew all about it. A wave of shame washed up with the realization; had Daniel seen him crack like this? Had he been a non-corporeal witness to the hatred that had poured through his fists and beaten the nearest Jaffa to a bloody pulp? A witness to the same hatred ebbing from Carter, leaking out with every shallow breath.
Carefully, Daniel took her arm and drew her to her feet, talking softly. Reassuring. Daniel never judged, he always seemed to understand exactly how you felt. Even when you were blatantly in the wrong. Sometimes it drove Jack nuts, other times he envied him like hell. This was one of those times; Daniel always knew the right thing to say.
He stood up, wincing at the pain in his knee. "Find some place to hide," he called after them, falling back on the practical and leaving Daniel to deal with the rest.
Glancing over his shoulder, Daniel nodded. It was more than just agreement; there was a question in his eyes as he indicated the fallen Jaffa. Is he okay?
Acknowledging the request, Jack crouched, grimacing slightly at the kid's bloody nose and swelling left eye. Cautiously, he peeled open the other eyelid and saw the eye roll backward in his head. Then he felt for a pulse; it was strong, if a little slow. The kid would be fine, although he suspected his ego had taken a worse beating than his face. Getting your ass kicked by a girl probably didn't rank too high on a budding Jaffa's list of personal achievements. With that thought he stood up. "Let's go, kids, reinforcements won't be far away."
"Sir?" Carter turned, white-faced. "We can't just leave him-"
"No different from a bullet, Major."
"But I-"
"He would have killed you."
Her eyes closed slowly, then opened with harsh determination. "Is he dead?"
"Hope. Not even close. But he'll have one hell of a headache when he wakes up."
Relief washed over her in a shiver. "Thank God."
He actually found himself envying her that comfort. How sick was that? Squinting up at the empty sky, he pulled out his sunglasses and slid them on. The victim of his own fists had never woken up, and he didn't want her to see that in his eyes. She already knew too much. "Vow move it," he urged, taking the lead. "We need to find a defensible position until the cavalry arrives."
