The Drift

by Diane Dru Botsford

  “They believe they own Antarctica,” Teal’c said.

  “Not all Argentines think that way,” Paul explained.

  “Mostly just the upper-class.” Daniel decided Suarez probably belonged in that category. Unlike the other two who had donned simple cold-weather fleece pullovers, the Argentine diplomat wore an expensive cable-knit sweater. His black hair and beard were neatly trimmed, not a hair out of place.

  And from the way his hands waved, he enjoyed a good argument. Too bad Jack wasn’t around. There wasn’t anyone better at shutting down someone like that in a heartbeat.

  The third diplomat turned toward the door. She was Asian, not more than five-foot-three. Short-cropped black hair and bangs framed a face tattooed with what seemed a permanent scowl. She sat down at the table in the center of the room and sipped her coffee while the two men argued.

  “That’s Quing Zhu,” said Paul.

  “She desires something of value,” Teal’c observed.

  Daniel pulled back from the door. “Not that I’m surprised considering how little we’ve lived up to our end of our promise to share technologies from the program, but how can you tell?”

  “She remains separate from the other two,” Teal’c said. “Watch. She is impatient.”

  As if on cue, Zhu glanced toward the wall clock and frowned.

  “Maybe that’s just her nature,” Daniel said. “Guys, whether we like it or not, China’s a member of the Security Council. If President Hayes trusted them enough about the Stargate — ”

  “After last year’s diplomatic fiasco over Lord Yu,” Paul said, “I’m not so sure the president trusts anyone.”

  Teal’c’s frown only punctuated Paul’s point. Though Daniel had missed SG-1’s run-in with the Chinese government last year — mostly because he was Lord Yu’s prisoner at the time — he’d learned during his debriefing all about how the Chinese had unwittingly allowed Yu’s spy to infiltrate the SGC.

  A spy that China wouldn’t allow the Pentagon to interview.

  “So those are the players.” Paul dropped a hand to the doorknob. “Teal’c, you’re just here to observe, but — ”

  “I have pledged my allegiance to this world, Major Davis. I will remain silent.”

  Daniel grinned at his friend’s avowal, wishing he felt as confident. “I think what he’s trying to say is — ”

  “I am ready.” Teal’c lifted his chin. “This is merely a battle of a different sort.”

  “A battle of words,” Paul said with a nod.

  “It’s not a battle,” Daniel insisted. “We have to help these UN diplomats understand why the weapons chair — though technically in breach of the treaty — needs to stay put.”

  “Daniel Jackson, is not world peace the primary reason for the United Nations?”

  “Of course.” Grabbing the doorknob, Daniel silently prayed these negotiations would go far smoother than his last attempt.

  “Then is it not also true that if the chair’s removal causes it to malfunction, any hopes of such peace will be destroyed if the Goa’uld could attack again?”

  Stunned by the simple truth in Teal’c’s words, Daniel did the only thing he could.

  He opened the door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  EARTH

  50 years earlier…

  “You are certain?”

  “Lord Yu, the glyphs were correct. This is the land of the Tau’ri.” The cave’s bitter chill nicked at Huang’s face, the frigid air bit at his lungs. He had retrieved both cloaks from the dead Jaffa, but it was not enough. He needed to return home.

  “There is no dialing device,” he spoke into the communications device, his teeth chattering. “All that remains is ice and snow. Giza is no longer — ”

  “Impossible!” Lord Yu’s fist smashed down out of view, but Huang heard a table splinter from the impact.

  Gripping the frame, Huang raised the communications device above his head. “My lord, do you not see the ice upon this cave?” He panned the device across the snow-covered walls. “If this was once a land of sand and warmth, it is no more.”

  He lowered the device. “My lord, I must ask for rescue. Cannot an Al’kesh — ?”

  “No. You must find the Tau’ri.”

  Fear seized Huang’s heart. “No one could survive in a place such as this. Not even the Tau’ri.”

  “Do not presume to know about the Tau’ri.” Lord Yu’s eyes took on a distance gaze. “They are a formidable people. How else could they cast out Ra?”

  Lord Yu returned his gaze to Huang. Haunted eyes peered out from the silver sheen of the communications device. “Something is wrong. You must go forth. Discover who is responsible.”

  “My lord, I implore you. Without Shi…” He swallowed hard at the thought of his dead brother. “Without tools to — ”

  “Shi’s death is unfortunate, but he can be replaced. As for tools… Have you not the weapon of those Jaffa you killed?”

  “I do, but — ”

  “You have their clothes to reinforce your own. You have your wits. Your training. What more could you need?”

  Huang bowed his head. “A squadron of our Jaffa would make this more obtainable, my lord.”

  Lord Yu grunted. “Under your command, I presume?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And I suppose you seek the wénshēn so as First Prime you could command such a legion?”

  Huang dared not look his master in the eye. “I do, my lord.”

  “You are a fool!” The Goa’uld’s voice boomed throughout the cave. “You live to feel pure molten gold poured upon your skin so that you may carry my sigil. I seek the knife which will cast a far graver wound.”

  Huang recoiled in horror at the idea that he only lived to covet the wénshēn. “Forgive me, my lord. I meant only that — ”

  “Only the dead can be forgiven,” said Lord Yu with an imperious wave of his hand. “Is that what you wish? To die?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “Then, go forth. Contact me once you have seen what remains.” Lord Yu’s palm covered the display.

  The communications device winked off.

  Huang did as he was commanded, refusing himself the pity a lesser man might carry. If he was to be First Prime one day, if he was to prove himself worthy to Lord Yu, he could do no less.

  First, he stripped the armor off both Jaffa. Removing their tightly-woven black shirts proved simple and once he’d slipped them on, one over the other, his torso eased its shaking from the cold. He began to remove their chainmail leggings, but decided against it. Both pairs were too large, and adding metal leggings would only make it more difficult to move. He instead removed his own leggings, wrapped one of the cloaks around his lower limbs, and then slipped the leggings back on.

  And though the two dead Jaffa had been his enemies, he chose to restore their armor to their bodies. They had been mighty warriors and were due that respect. Though Huang was not Jaffa, he knew the legend of Kheb was core to their belief. If these two souls were to meet their paradise, they should do so in honor, dressed as befitted all warriors of any rank or race.

  Now warmer, he stowed the communications device in his satchel and searched the cave for some sign of a way out. In the direction of the Chappa’ai there was only a wall of packed snow and ice, but a faint amount of light came from somewhere. He only needed to find its source. He strode to the far other end and looked upward. There. A small crevasse at the top of a steep incline. If he was not mistaken, sunlight poured in from the sky above.

  Using two weapon staffs as poles, he egressed the sloping wall. The crevasse was too small, but he quickly widened the opening with his hands. More sunlight poured through.

  He glanced one last time at the cave below and trembled, but not from the cold. A thousand years had passed since Lord Yu had left Earth. It was very possible that Huang — and the Jaffa he had killed — were the only living beings that would ever st
ep foot through that Chappa’ai again.

  The thought sobered him as much as Lord Yu’s command to discover what had become of Giza and the land of the Tau’ri. He crawled through the opening, his feet seeking purchase as he went. Finally, he freed himself from the snow-bound cave and rose up to greet the changed land.

  Bright sunshine reached his face. Snow fell upon his brow.

  Stumbling further from the cave, he gazed down upon a world far different than his master had ever described. Desert flatlands were not what lay before him. Instead, he witnessed a frozen wasteland. Glacial cliffs. Soaring mountains. A rugged landscape impossible for any being to survive.

  And yet…

  In the distance, a great plume of smoke belched into the sky. Perhaps, a sign of life.

  Setting that as his direction, Huang set forth to serve his master’s bidding.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ANCIENT OUTPOST

  FERRAR GLACIER, ANTARCTICA

  18 AUG 04/1020 HRS MCMURDO STATION

  “Hey, Bill.” Sam nodded toward Dr. Lee as she entered the weapons platform chamber. Though General O’Neill was still in the outpost’s main area, she’d need to hurry if she wanted everything ready for the chair’s next test with a live subject. Namely, the general.

  “Be with you in bit,” Lee said from a monitor stationed by the rear wall. “I’m on a conference call with Dr. Rick Dale, an old friend of mine over at the Mount Erebus Volcano Observatory.”

  The Erebus Observatory was located on Ross Island, some twenty-seven miles away from McMurdo. Last Sam checked, the volcano hardly spat out anything past its inner caldera.

  “I’m just gonna…” She pointed toward the dual computer display monitoring the Weapons Platform.

  Lee hit a key and turned around. The word ‘mute’ flashed on his screen. “Prelims went off without a hitch.”

  “Thanks for doing that. He can’t see the chair, can he?”

  “Who? Oh, you mean Rick?” He turned back the screen. “Nope, I narrowed the camera’s view. Don’t worry, Colonel.”

  He tapped the keyboard again and the mute function disappeared. As Lee continued to chat with his friend, Sam slid onto a stool by the monitors and chafed her hands together to warm her fingers. The chamber was kept at a cool thirty degrees to insure the ice-covered cavern remained intact. A bit cold for bare hands, but wearing gloves while inputting the program she had planned just wasn’t going to get the work done fast enough.

  If everything went as planned, the Mark II would definitely power the chair. She’d designed the power system, run the simulations, and had even double-checked the math — which was no easy feat when having to convert from Base-10 to Base-8 so it could interface with the chair.

  While she’d told General O’Neill that a little faith went a long way that belief was firmly rooted in science. Most scientists couldn’t blend a religious belief and a scientific mind, but Sam had no trouble combining the two. Especially after all that she’d seen throughout the Milky Way. Just as she’d had faith the chopper would handle a bit of wind because of the laws of aerodynamics, she also believed those immutable laws were an extraordinary miracle.

  She entered a few keystrokes, calling up a system report on Dr. Lee’s preliminary test. The backup Mark II had kicked in for a few microseconds, but she had just the remedy to keep that from becoming a problem. Popping in her flash drive, she bypassed the system, and copied over its files.

  “Colonel Carter,” Lee said loudly. “What’s he doing?”

  Sam looked up from the monitor. General O’Neill was poking at the control gel packs on Ancient weapons chair’s armrests. His brow furrowed, his shock of silver hair still ruffled from his helicopter helmet, the general seemed lost in thought. Troubled, actually.

  Lee looked over at the general and then back to Sam. “Should I sign off?”

  “Give us a few minutes, and then yes, it’s probably a good idea to get back to work.” Without waiting for a reply, she hurried over to the general’s side. “We’re ready, sir.”

  He frowned. “Yeah. About that, Carter…”

  “It won’t take long,” she assured him. “We just need a live guinea pig in the chair for a few moments.”

  “A guinea pig, you say?” He turned toward her, his expression softened.

  Sam mustered up as much enthusiasm as she could. “Nothing wrong with being a guinea pig, sir.” She flashed him a smile, hoping it would pull the general out of whatever troubled him.

  It didn’t work. General O’Neill turned his attention back to the chair, his eyes hooded. Somber.

  “What was it like, Carter?”

  “Operating the chair? Sir, you’d know better than me, I don’t have the genetics.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t mean the chair. I meant back when that entity thing took over your body and stuffed you in that computer mainframe in the M.A.L.P. room.”

  “Oh,” Sam replied. “That.”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “To be honest, sir, all I remember was feeling like I had no control.” She shuddered, realizing how similar the sensation had been to Fifth’s attack, a thousand horrific images seared into her brain.

  “You must’ve had some kind of control,” the general said. “Otherwise, you couldn’t shout at us through every frigging monitor on the base.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” She closed her eyes, trying to shut the lid on any thoughts of Fifth. She knew it wouldn’t hold for long. Too many nights waking up in a cold sweat were proof-positive that Fifth had left a mark.

  “Carter?”

  “Right. Being in the mainframe was like…” She remembered the disorientation. The feeling as if she’d never get out. Was that how General O’Neill felt when he sat in the Ancient chair? “It was like being in a dark room without any door, but — ”

  “There’s always a but, isn’t there?”

  She smiled. “Yes, sir, there is.”

  “Care to share?”

  “I still knew who I was. I still had that knowledge.” She shrugged. “After that, it was just a case of using that knowledge as a weapon.”

  “Now you sound like Daniel.” His lips flattened in a thin line, General O’Neill turned to stare at the chair.

  “Sir, when you were in the chair, you obviously were still in control, otherwise — ”

  “How could I knock out Anubis’ fleet?” The general straightened his shoulders. “That’s a good point.”

  “You’re still in control, sir.” She gestured toward the chair. “It’s just a weapon.”

  “A weapon that has to crawl around my head to do its job.” General O’Neill sighed. “Problem is, I’m not quite sure I recall how to make it work. I mean, I remember…”

  He fell silent. Though Sam wasn’t surprised to hear he couldn’t recall his last use of the chair, she was surprised to see how much it seemed to bother him. He’d read her report of what happened during the mission to battle Anubis. She was sure he’d read Daniel’s and Teal’c’s, too. Maybe, he just needed a good analogy to put his mind at ease.

  “That’s the easy part, sir. Just concentrate. Think of the chair as a trigger on a rifle. Focus on your target.”

  “Whoa. Hold on.” He jabbed a finger at the chair. “Tell me those drones won’t be connected while I’m sitting in that. Or any of those nuggets, either. Trust me, Carter, it’s not fun being chased by one of those things.”

  “We’ve bypassed the drones, General,” Lee called out from behind the monitors.

  General O’Neill eyed Lee with skepticism. “And how long have you been eavesdropping?”

  “Me?” Lee’s face reddened. “I… uh… I was on a conference — ”

  “Just tell me this thing isn’t going to blow up.” The general marched around to the front of the chair. Any visual sign of his earlier trepidation was gone, tucked away in a room so locked down that even Sam didn’t have the key.

  Keys!

  “Sir, don’t sit do
wn yet.” She hurried back over to the control system and checked. The file transfer was complete. A few clicks, a password prompt, and she typed in an alphanumeric string. A low hum initiated from the primary Mark II. The secondary stayed dormant, its yellow standby light blinking in confirmation.

  “Does it work?” Lee joined her by the control screen.

  “So far, so good.”

  “Does what work?”

  Sam scribbled the passphrase on to a pad by the monitor and handled it to Lee. “I’ve created an automatic switch so the second Mark II can take over if the first falters. Converting the chair’s input take from the enormous power of vacuum energy to the naquadah’s more direct stream was like trying to re-jigger a piece of equipment from using A/C power to D/C, so I — ”

  “Ah!” General O’Neill stopped her. “I’m sorry I asked. Are we ready to light this thing up?”

  “Yes, sir. Just remember — ”

  “Finger on the trigger, Carter. I get it.” The general scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, no time like the present.”

  He sat down in the chair and nothing happened.

  Sam switched the display over to the monitoring computer. Power was steady. By all rights, it should work. She peered around the display at the general. He had his arms crossed, his eyes squeezed shut. “Sir, you need to concentrate.”

  “What do you think I’m doing, whistling Dixie? Oh, wait a second.” The general splayed his hands along the gel packs.

  The chair came to life, its translucent panels illuminating a soft blue glow. The platform’s equally milky panels mirrored the color and luminescence. As the back reclined, the chair rotated around, revealing a hauntingly neutral face on the general. A face that reminded Sam of just how close they’d come to losing him months ago when the Repository threatened to wipe his mind permanently.

  Opening his eyes, General O’Neill glanced in her direction. He waggled his eyebrows. “I got it to work, huh?”

  “I had every faith you would, General.”

  “So now what?”

  “We’ll run a few more tests. Make sure everything’s in order before General Hammond brings the trainees in.”