Fic: 'Falling Back to Earth' (5/7)
Falling Back to Earth
Chapter Five
Sam eyes the guards. The fact that they have remained to watch over the women since the bizarre choosing ritual took place doesn’t bode well in Sam’s book. Having killed any chance of getting back to the crystal hatch, their presence insures that Sam is left sitting with absolutely nothing to do other than measure the unease that is building in her spine. Despite her best efforts, the impossibility of her situation is finally beginning to sink in.
She’s on an unknown alien planet, locked in a harem, facing technology and aliens that she has no weapons to fight. As much as it kills her to admit it, she’s in way over her head. Worst of all, it’s been hours since she’s caught sight of the one guard here who’s shown even the smallest crack in his impenetrable armor. Her mind has been working over their conversation again and again, analyzing the angle of his chin, the befuddled curiosity in his eyes as he’d stared down at her.
This is safer.
That remains to be seen.
She doesn’t regret her rash confessions to him, but she’s beginning to wonder if she’s conflating the event with wishful thinking.
With a sigh, Sam refocuses on the two women sitting next to her on the wide pillow. She can’t just sit here anymore. “Do you speak English?” she asks, her voice pitched low enough for the guards not to hear.
One of the women turns towards her, something like curiosity in her gaze, but her companion just hisses, deliberately turning her back on Sam.
“English?” Sam asks the woman still regarding her.
Her eyes dart to her disapproving companion, but then there is a flash of something Sam easily recognizes: defiance. Her voice shakes slightly as she speaks, her hands earnest as they punctuate her words. It almost sounds like Italian, but with a strange cadence to the syllables. Sam doubts her pathetic high school French vocabulary is going to help the situation.
She smiles at the woman, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
The woman returns her smile, touching her hand, saying something that Sam decides must mean, “Well, it was worth a try.”
“Yes, it was,” Sam says, her fingers squeezing the other woman’s hand.
Pushing to her feet, Sam moves to a new group of women, sitting in the midst of them. She’s going to talk to every woman in here if that’s what it takes.
Two hours later, Sam has almost completed her circuit of the room, and though she swears she had seen glimmers of understanding in the eyes of some of the women, none of them had been brave enough to admit it. Sam tries to convince herself it was worth the small chance of learning something of where they are, why they are here, and what the future may hold for them, but she’s pretty much back at square one.
She’s up to plan G (rush the guards and damn the consequences), when the guard with the gold tattoo reappears. He considers her for a long while, staring across the room at her and she doesn’t know what else to do but hold his gaze. She can feel the shift in the atmosphere in the room as he barks something to the other guards.
They descend into the space, pulling women to their feet and prodding them towards the door. Herding them like cattle.
The head guy moves across the room, taking Sam’s arm himself. He holds her in place while the rest of the chamber is emptied.
She’s not sure she should take being singled out as a positive thing, but maybe it can be.
“I’m Sam,” she says. “My name. Sam.” Somehow it is very important that he know she has a name-that she’s a real person, not just a piece of flesh.
The guard’s fingers tighten on her arm, but he doesn’t respond.
“Do you have a name?” she asks.
“Silence,” he commands, dragging her out of the chamber.
They are led down a long corridor and two wide sets of rough stone stairs that seem incongruous with the sophistication of other technology in this place. The more Sam sees, the more she gets the feeling these aliens are one giant contradiction. Brute force and sleek technology married uneasily together.
As they wind their way lower and lower in the structure, the air gets colder, the women drawing closer together, maybe for warmth or maybe just out of fear.
Finally they reach their destination-another cell, only this one much larger with sturdy metal bars. It lacks any of the elegance or softness of their previous prison. Inside the dim space is a crowd of men, faces grubby and wary, and Sam doesn’t blame the other women for their reluctance to enter the space as the doors groan open.
The guards shove the women forward. A few of the women are greeted by men, the relief on both sides making it obvious that they are not strangers. The other women simply stay in a tight knot, retreating to the open spaces on the edges with wide eyes and pale faces.
Sam and her guard are the last to enter, his fingers still firm around her upper arm. She looks up at him to risk asking what exactly is going on, but he’s looking for something out in the crowd. When his eyes finally settle, Sam follows his gaze to see that someone is pushing forward through the crowd.
He’s hard to make out from the distance, from between the people pressing in on either side, but there’s something familiar. She’s chastising herself for wishful thinking when he finally steps free. Oh, God.
Jack.
He isn’t looking at her, rather staring up at the guard, a moment of some form of silent communication passing between them. Sam is still trying to figure out just what is going on and battling the less helpful swirl of emotions rising in her chest at seeing Jack, when the guard gives her a sharp jab in her back, shoving her forward.
She stumbles down the short flight of stairs, basically careening into Jack. For a moment she feels his arms tighten around her, pulling her close with a heavy breath of something like relief before he steadies her on her feet and steps back. Looking up at him she’s warring between being so glad to see him and wishing to God he was anywhere but here and not caught in this nightmare as well.
If she didn’t know him quite so well, she might have been disconcerted by the way he’s staring down at her with cold indifference. “You okay?” he asks, his voice rough, easily betraying everything he’s not letting his expression show.
“I’m okay,” she says, surprised to find her own voice a bit shaky as well.
His hand lifts to her face, stopping just short of making contact.
She grimaces, touching her cheek. “Just a little theological disagreement.” She tries to smile up at him, to prove it’s nothing. “Looks that bad, huh?” she jokes.
“Naw,” he says, the slightest crack in his façade finally appearing. He clears his throat. “I’m really glad you’re okay… Captain.”
Despite herself, she flinches at the gentle reminder. She realizes she is still holding his arm and lets go, taking a step back.
There’s a flicker of something on his face, and for a second she thinks he’s going to say something else, but then two more figures appear out of the crowd.
She turns to greet them. “Major,” she says with a nod. “Dr. Jackson. I’d say it was nice to see you…”
Dr. Jackson smiles. “Yeah. Not really the ideal spot for a reunion.”
Sam dares to dart a glance at Jack, but he’s back to looking detached and inscrutable.
“Captain,” Kawalsky says, giving her a quick once over himself. He shoots her a wide grin. “Nice dress.”
Sam rolls her eyes, recognizing the good-natured teasing for what it is, but Jack just growls something inaudible and shoves his jacket at her.
Sam isn’t going to complain, wrapping it tightly around herself.
“Where were you, Captain?” Jack asks, his voice brisk.
Back to business then. She can do that. “Believe it or not, I’m fairly certain I was in a harem.”
Dr. Jackson seems to find that fascinating, his mouth popping open, but she doesn’t miss the dark look that passes between Jack and Kawalsky. She feels a beat of annoyance, but forces herself to ignore it.
“How did you guys end up here?” she asks, trying to push on to a new topic.
“Skaara and me got nabbed on Abydos like you,” Kawalsky says. “Woke up here.”
“Where is Skaara?” Sam asks, looking around for sign of the boy.
Kawalsky shakes his head. “He was taken. A bunch of gaudy, overdressed pageant contestants came in and picked people.”
“Yeah,” Sam says, remembering their sinuous grace and cold eyes. “The same thing happened where I was.”
“He’s one of them now,” Jack says, his eyes trained on the guards outside the cell.
“What?” Sam asks, feeling a sick swoop in her stomach at the forced nonchalance in his voice.
“Jack’s right,” Dr. Jackson says, his own voice heavy. “Whatever they did to him, he’s…he’s not Skaara anymore.”
Sam looks at Jack, wanting to reach out to touch him, to somehow acknowledge that she knows what this must be doing to him. He catches her eye and she forces herself to keep her expression neutral. “And what about you, sir? How did you and Dr. Jackson end up here?”
Jack lips twist into a wry smile. “Let’s just say the rescue plan needs work.”
“On the plus side,” Kawalsky says, “we’ve got a radio, a block of C4, a Berreta, and a bunch of Marines holding the gate.”
“Not bad,” Sam says. It’s certainly a hell of a lot more than she’d had an hour ago.
“Well,” Dr. Jackson adds. “We also have less than two hours until General Hammond locks us out.”
Wonderful.
Jack shifts his gaze from the guards, something flinty and incredibly reassuring in his expression as he regards each of them in turn. “All of which simply means it is time to make our exit. I want to hear options, not matter how out there.”
They start brainstorming.
* * *
Jack leans against the back wall, his eyes sweeping the crowd of prisoners, mentally tallying who might be helpful in a fight and who would just be dead weight. Fostering a prison mutiny isn’t high on his list, but at this point they need whatever advantage they can get.
Jack eyes the pair of guards in the hall outside, making sure they aren’t paying too much attention to Kawalsky as he sets their precious C4 charge and carefully shuffles the prisoners out of the blast range. It’s far from a subtle exit plan, and Jack doesn’t relish the idea of turning the prison cell into a barrel of fish for the guards to shoot into, but they’re running out of options-and time.
Assured that the guards aren’t watching Kawalsky, Jack shifts his attention to Sam and Daniel. They are tucked into the front corner of the cell, just out of sight of the hallway. Sam had told them about the access panel she discovered in her previous cell, and it hadn’t taken them long to find a similar one in here as well. She thought that with Daniel’s help they might be able to figure out a way to open the doors.
Their heads are lowered together, Daniel’s hands moving a mile a minute as he explains something, his excitement palpable even at this distance. In comparison, Sam’s movements are measured and deliberate as she nods in encouragement to Daniel from time to time. Jack’s always known she was smart as hell, but seeing her there up to her elbows in complex alien technology really drives home just how much she was made for this. Like most young officers, she’s got some rough edges, but he has no doubt more experience in the field will fix that. He thinks she could be great.
He tells himself this feeling rising in his chest is just pride, but that doesn’t explain the smile worming its way onto his face. You’re in a goddamn prison on an alien world, O’Neill, he ruthlessly reminds himself. Get a hold of yourself.
“Colonel?”
Jack tears his eyes away from Sam to find that Kawalsky has reappeared by his side.
“All set?” Jack asks.
Kawalsky is giving him a strange look, but nods, flashing the set detonator in his hand. “Yes, sir,” he says. “If the wonder twins don’t come up with something, we’re all set to blow our way out.”
“Wonder twins?” Jack repeats, his brow furrowing.
Kawalsky grins, jutting his chin towards Sam and Daniel. “Like two geek peas in a little geek pod.”
Jack tries not to be annoyed, especially since it hasn’t been that long since he described Sam that way to Daniel himself. Still, it rankles a bit, and he really doesn’t want to think about why.
Jack glances at his watch. “Okay, I’m going to go check on them. You make sure the blast area stays clear.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jack wanders in as casual and circuitous path as he can, making sure the guards are looking as bored and uninterested in the prisoners as usual. Stepping up next to Sam and Daniel, he leans back against the wall.
“How’s it going?”
Daniel doesn’t even look up, just starts talking, even as his pencil is still sketching things out in his journal. “It’s fascinating, really. On the surface everything here seems practically medieval and then there’s this sophisticated technology right underneath. Even the language. I mean, on the surface it’s a very close cousin of Abydonian, but it’s very technical, practically incomprehensible without a point of reference.”
Jack rubs at his temple, remembering just a little too late that one should never ask open-ended questions of Daniel. Sam looks up at him like she knows exactly what he’s thinking, humor sparkling in her eyes. He deliberately rolls his eyes, and she smiles at him, letting him know he is completely transparent.
“Let me rephrase that,” Jack says when Daniel breaks off long enough to breathe. “Report please, Captain. Briefly.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam says, her expression sobering, but none of the humor in her eyes fading. “We’ve made some progress, but still haven’t figured out how to open the doors.” She shoots the panel a hard look, her brow furrowing. “At the moment I think the most I could do is possibly short out the systems, which might lock the doors shut. But with more time…”
“Definitely,” Daniel says, backing her up. “I was thinking maybe--.” He points at something in the hatch, Sam’s attention pulled back. They start shooting theories back and forth that frankly make Jack’s head hurt. He’s pretty sure they’ve already both forgotten he’s standing here.
“Wonder twins,” Jack mutters, shaking his head.
Daniel and Sam share a look.
“What?” Daniel asks.
Jack ignores him, turning his attention to Sam. “Can you figure it out in the next ten minutes?”
He sees the familiar flash of stubbornness in her eyes, but it’s quickly subsumed. “No, sir,” she admits, sounding a little bitter.
He nods. “Okay. Plan B it is then.”
Daniel begins to protest, but Sam puts a hand on his arm. “Yes, sir,” she says.
Recognizing that he’s outnumbered, Daniel sighs. “Fine.”
They start gathering up their notes and tools, carefully replacing the crystals.
On the other side of the wall is the sound of approaching footsteps. “Let’s go,” Jack urges them, not wanting to get caught out.
Daniel puts up a hand, listening intently to the conversation filtering into the cell. His eyes widen. “Uh,” he says. “Not good.”
“What did he say?” Sam asks.
Daniel looks up at Jack. “He said Apophis has asked them to…clean up the mess.”
Yeah, not good is right. “Okay, campers,” Jack says. “Back in the crowd. Now.”
Daniel obediently scrambles back towards Kawalsky, but Sam pauses another moment, dropping back by the panel. He moves to drag her away if he needs to, but all she does is swipe one of the crystal things, hefting its weight in her hand.
She looks up at him and shrugs. “Better than nothing, right?”
He’s not sure what help it might be, but he appreciates the attitude nonetheless. “Come on,” he says, taking her arm.
The doors have opened by the time they reach Kawalsky’s side, no less than half a dozen guards stepping into the cell in a straight line, weapons held up in front of them. Jack doesn’t need a translation for that. Neither do the other prisoners, because they begin to panic, shoving back towards the rear, jostling Jack and the others as they pass.
In the chaos, Jack glances at Kawalsky, who has their one and only weapon pulled. One berretta against half a dozen well armed aliens? Not the best plan. Daniel looks a little lost as people shove past him, but next to him, Sam is staring across the room at something.
Above the crowd, Jack can just make out Big Guy standing on the platform. His expression is blank, carefully indifferent as he looks out over the crowd, at least until his eyes settle. Jack can tell the exact moment Big Guy finds Sam in the crowd.
There it is, the tiniest flicker and Jack knows he’s found their only chance of getting out of this alive.
Jack looks back over at Sam and she meets his gaze, the same understanding visible on her face. She nods.
Now or never.
“Kawalsky,” Jack says. “I give the signal, you set off the C4.”
“Sir!”
Jack ignores him, pushing forward to the front of the pack, feeling Sam right on his heels. They burst out into the open space in front of the guards where Big Guy paces calmly in front of them, his arm raised to give the command.
“Wait,” Jack says.
Big Guy turns to him, lifting his weapon, his lip curling. Jack knows the guard only wants them to see imperiousness, but Jack can see it now, the unwillingness, his disgust at the slaughter ahead of him.
“You dare--,” he blusters.
“Yes,” Sam says, cutting across him. “We dare.”
Big Guy swings his weapon towards her, but he’s looking at her again like she’s the strangest thing he’s ever seen, his eyes lingering on the crystal clutched in her fingers like a weapon.
“We can save these people,” Jack says, cautiously taking a half step in front of Sam.
Big Guy turns his regard to Jack. “Many have said that,” he says, his voice hard. His weapon snaps open, arming itself.
Shit. Jack lifts his arm to signal Kawalsky to blow the C4 when Big Guy does pretty much the last thing Jack expects-he turns his weapon on the guard next to him, hitting him square in the chest with the blast.
“You are the first I believe,” he shouts, tossing his weapon to Jack.
Jack moves on instinct, snatching the weapon and turning it on the other guards.
Ahead of him, the turncoat guard has already disabled two others, leaving four more who have opened up on the crowd. Jack takes them all out as fast as he can, ignoring the sound of people in the crowd screaming and panicking, the far too close passage of a stray shot from one of the guards. There’s the sharp concussion of Kawalsky’s weapon thrown in too and it’s all complete chaos, but Jack has his targets in sight, and tunes everything else out.
Finally, the last guard falls, his red eyes fading. Jack still has his weapon raised, making sure the fallen guards are actually out of commission. Their savior is staring past Jack though, something inscrutable on his face.
Jack turns to locate his people, internally deciding the best avenue for escape when he sees her.
Sam is lying on the ground a few feet away, her hands clutched to her stomach.
There’s a moment of complete immobility where Jack just stares at her, his stuttering brain trying to figure out what she’s doing down there, and then everything slams together and he gets it.
He stumbles to her side, his weapon falling forgotten from his fingers. “Sam?” he asks, reaching for her hands, needing to see just how bad it is. That’s when he notices the thick red pool spreading out under her back.
God, there’s so much blood. Way too much blood.
“Jack?” she asks, her voice shaky as she looks up at him.
He pulls her up into his lap, grabbing the jacket someone passes to him, pressing it tight up against the wound in her back, trying to staunch that relentless spread of blood. “It’s okay, Sam. We’re going to get you home. It’s okay.”
“Jack,” she says again, barely a whisper, and he leans into her, straining to hear her words. Her fingers, sticky with her blood, reach up and touch his cheek. “Worth…it.”
He closes his eyes briefly, leaning his forehead against hers. “Sam, don’t you dare. You hold on, hear me?”
Her lips curve into a weak smile. She tries to say something else, but all energy seems to drain out of her, her weight sagging back against his arm.
“Sam,” he demands, shaking her. Her head lolls sickly against his shoulder, a noise rising around them from somewhere-something feral and broken echoing painfully in his ears.
Kawalsky is the one to reach across and press his fingers to her neck, holding there for crawling seconds. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, sir. She’s--.”
Jack jerks his head up, and whatever is in his expression stalls the damning word in Kawalsky’s throat. The major stares back at Jack with wide, horrified eyes. “Colonel,” he says.
Jack ignores him, looking back down at Sam, one hand cradling her cheek.
Kawalsky curses under his breath, pushing back to his feet. He yells something, people shuffling around, but Jack isn’t paying any attention. There’s an explosion of sound and rubble, the ground rumbling underneath them and Jack ducks reflexively over Sam, protecting her from flying debris.
Not that there’s a point.
Oh, God. He feels doubled over by the pain, the burning in his gut threatening to tear him in half.
“Time to go,” Kawalsky says, his hand hard on Jack’s shoulder.
Jack shrugs him off. He can’t leave her. Can’t leave this place if it means accepting this.
Kawalsky’s fingers dig into his shoulder. “I swear to God, Jack, I will drag your ass back to the gate if I have to.”
He can try, Jack thinks.
“Wait, wait!” Daniel says, kneeling next to Jack. “What if? I mean…”
Jack glances up, seeing Daniel’s hands flapping in agitation and excitement. “What if what?” he snaps.
Daniel stills, staring back at him with an intensity of understanding, the look of someone who knows what Jack is feeling right now. “Sarcophagus.”
The word echoes around in Jack’s head for what seems like forever before the memory rises up-Daniel cradling a far too still Sha’re in his arms.
God, what if…?
“You,” Jack says, jerking around to look at the guard who saved them. He’s standing in the middle of the carnage, dropping his armor from his body like shedding his skin. “Is there a sarcophagus here?”
The guy still looks a little shell-shocked, but he glances at Sam’s body, something coming into focus in his eyes. He nods. “I will show you the way.”
“Sir,” Kawalsky protests. “There’s no time. The code is invalidated in less than an hour.”
Jack scoops Sam up in his arms, trying his damnedest to ignore the sick bonelessness of her body. “Get these people out of here, Kawalsky. That’s an order.”
“Sir,” he protests.
“Don’t wait for me.”
Daniel scoops up Jack’s abandoned staff weapon, moving to stand by him.
“No way, Daniel,” Jack says. “You go with Kawalsky.”
“Jack--,” Daniel says, that familiar stubborn look on his face.
Jack meets his gaze, knowing Daniel’s one great weak spot. “Sha’re is waiting for you, Daniel.”
It’s the one thing Daniel can’t argue with.
“Jack,” Kawalsky tries one last time, his hand on his sleeve and Jack knows that look his friend is leveling on him.
This is different than last time though. This isn’t Jack looking for a way to die. This is Jack trying to find a way not to disappear into the dirt of this jail cell floor. “Go.”
Maybe Kawalsky sees some of that in his face because he reluctantly nods. “I’ll see you at the gate. Right?”
That’s Kawalsky, optimistic until the bitter end. Jack gives him a tight smile, but refuses to make a promise he can’t keep. All that matters now is Sam. Turning to the guard, he says, “Let’s go.”
They pause at the cell door, looking down the hall in both directions.
“What are our chances?” Jack asks.
The man considers him. “The gods have already departed with their chosen. Apophis will not yet know what I have done.”
“Will that buy us time?” Jack asks.
His eyes dart to Sam. “Some. But perhaps not enough.”
Something about the way the guy looks at her, a mix of confusion and awe, makes Jack’s nerves inexplicably settle. This is going to work. It has to. “What’s your name?”
“I am Teal’c.”
“Well, thank you, Teal’c.”
He nods, looking down at Sam. “She is…a formidable warrior.”
“Yes,” Jack says, his hands clenching. “Yes, she is.”
“This way,” Teal’c says.
Jack follows him out into the hall.
* * *
Jack flips back the cover on his watch. He and Teal’c have been standing over the softly humming sarcophagus for just over forty minutes now. The compound has been far from quiet, an alarm of sorts sounding right after they made it to Apophis’s personal chambers, but they haven’t seen sign of a single person since.
According to Teal’c, the alarm had been a call to arms to defend the gate. All of the soldiers would be there. Jack can only hope Makepeace is as good as his word and that Kawalsky isn’t stupid enough to try to wait.
Teal’c, who has stood motionless for the half-hour, not a word between them, finally shifts. He looks at Jack. “We can wait no longer,” he says, his head tilting towards the hall.
Jack strains his ears, trying to pick up on what might have set Teal’c off, but he doesn’t hear anything other than the same eerie silence that’s been here the whole time. Jack looks down at the sarcophagus. It doesn’t feel like it’s been long enough. Not with the damage Sam suffered. Teal’c himself had said it could take up to hours to fix a wound as bad as hers.
“We must,” Teal’c repeats, seeing Jack’s hesitation. He hits the red ruby thing with his palm, the doors grinding open.
Sam is still lying as she was, her skin pale and flimsy dress stained with blood. Reaching inside, Jack pushes back the fabric. The wound has knitted, but is still raw, stretching like a stain across her abdomen. She’s not bleeding anymore though, and most importantly, when he presses his fingers to her throat, he feels the slow but steady beat of a pulse. He holds his hand over her lips. She’s breathing.
Thank God.
“Okay,” he says, scooping her out of the sarcophagus. “Now how do we get out of here?”
“I believe I know a more direct route than the one taken by your men,” Teal’c says, leading the way out of the room.
Jack isn’t going to argue with that.
The more direct route turns out to be a small bay mostly empty except for a few metal alien craft that look like mini pyramids.
Space ships. Jesus. How had this become his life?
Teal’c keys a code into a small panel and a door opens up. Jack cautiously follows him inside.
Under a bank of windows are two seats and a systems of controls that Jack wouldn’t hazard a guess at how to work. Teal’c slips into a seat, his hands moving across the systems with obvious competence, so Jack grabs the other seat, keeping Sam held tightly against him and settles in for the ride.
The ship hums into life, lifting them straight up off the floor at fairly alarming speeds and exiting through the roof. Teal’c aims the ship in the direction of the gate. What had been a cautious forty-minute walk is eaten up in mere minutes.
“There,” Jack says, pointing when he finally catches sight of the clearing. Kawalsky and the marines are currently holding the Stargate, the wormhole already engaged, the stream of refugees disappearing into it. There is also a serious line of alien soldiers approaching over the rise. Jack knows they won’t be able to hold the Stargate for long.
Teal’c buzzes across the top of the gate, and Jack sees his men hit the deck. Luckily Teal’c is as good behind the wheel of a ship as he is with a staff, because one of the marines takes a shot at them with a frickin’ SMAW as they pass. Jack nearly falls out of his seat when the craft rolls out of the way, too busy keeping Sam secure to even bother cursing.
The ship rights itself again and Jack can see that they are not the only ones up here in the air. A matching ship is on approach from the north, eating away at the marines’ cover.
Jack points. “Is there any way you can-“
Teal’c has the shot off before Jack can finish, the other ship swerving back down towards the forest with a tail of thick smoke behind it.
“Nice,” Jack says, nodding at Teal’c. He skims the skies for more ships, but the marines seem to have taken care of the rest. Looking speculatively around the ship, Jack thinks it’s a real shame this thing is too big to fit through the gate. He wouldn’t mind bringing a few of these back home with them.
Teal’c locates a spot relatively clear of the fighting and sets the ship down.
Jack scrambles to his feet, his mind focusing down on getting Sam the hell through the gate as fast as he can. At the door, Teal’c pauses, bowing his head to Jack. “I wish your people luck.”
Jack stares back at him in incomprehension. “Oh, no,” he says. “You are so coming home with us. At the very least, she’ll want to thank you. And I’d really like to buy you a beer.”
His brow crinkles in confusion, but he follows Jack out of the ship. “I will lay cover fire for our escape.”
Makepeace and Kawalsky are doing a credible job of holding the gate open, the other prisoners streaming into the wormhole. Bodies of alien soldiers litter the platform.
It’s going to be a hard run, flat out across an open stretch. Kawalsky sees them coming though, shouting something to Makepeace. The hillside opposite explodes. God love claymores, Jack thinks.
“Go!” he shouts, breaking out towards the gate, dodging rocks and bodies and the occasional stray shot. His arms feel like they are about to fall out of their sockets but he pushes through the pain, breathing hard and concentrating everything on keeping his feet.
They’ve just finally hit the edge of the platform when next to him Teal’c swings his weapon towards Kawalsky. With Sam in his arms, Jack can’t do anything to stop him.
“Hey!” Jack shouts, and Kawalsky turns just in time for Teal’c to fire, the blast impacting something that seems to be flying through the air just next to Kawalsky.
Kawalsky scrambles back, his hands batting down the front of his uniform as if looking for other creepy flying things on his person. “What the hell was that?”
“A Goa’uld,” Teal’c intones, his weapon snapping shut. “The larval form of the gods.”
They stare down at the charred snake-like creature in horror before a stray shot from the approaching Jaffa impacts the platform near their feet. Jack beelines for the wormhole. “Explain later. Flee now!”
They clatter down the ramp on the other side, Jack shouting for the iris to be closed. It slides shut, the wormhole dying a few beats later.
The entire room is in chaos, medics and MPs wandering through the crowd of panicked prisoners, Kawalsky holding out his hand for Teal’c’s weapon. Daniel stands at the end of the ramp, Sha’re tucked up against his side as they mime and smile reassurances to the aliens.
Jack’s legs wobble alarmingly, the fading adrenaline leaving his body aching and weakening. Before he can fall, he lowers himself down onto the ramp, leaning back against the railing. Sam is still securely held against him, her breath soft against his neck. He takes a moment to acknowledge how stupid ass lucky they are to be back on Earth.
“Medic!” he calls, his arms tightening around her.
He can’t go through something like this again.
He can’t.
:: next::
Chapter Five
Sam eyes the guards. The fact that they have remained to watch over the women since the bizarre choosing ritual took place doesn’t bode well in Sam’s book. Having killed any chance of getting back to the crystal hatch, their presence insures that Sam is left sitting with absolutely nothing to do other than measure the unease that is building in her spine. Despite her best efforts, the impossibility of her situation is finally beginning to sink in.
She’s on an unknown alien planet, locked in a harem, facing technology and aliens that she has no weapons to fight. As much as it kills her to admit it, she’s in way over her head. Worst of all, it’s been hours since she’s caught sight of the one guard here who’s shown even the smallest crack in his impenetrable armor. Her mind has been working over their conversation again and again, analyzing the angle of his chin, the befuddled curiosity in his eyes as he’d stared down at her.
This is safer.
That remains to be seen.
She doesn’t regret her rash confessions to him, but she’s beginning to wonder if she’s conflating the event with wishful thinking.
With a sigh, Sam refocuses on the two women sitting next to her on the wide pillow. She can’t just sit here anymore. “Do you speak English?” she asks, her voice pitched low enough for the guards not to hear.
One of the women turns towards her, something like curiosity in her gaze, but her companion just hisses, deliberately turning her back on Sam.
“English?” Sam asks the woman still regarding her.
Her eyes dart to her disapproving companion, but then there is a flash of something Sam easily recognizes: defiance. Her voice shakes slightly as she speaks, her hands earnest as they punctuate her words. It almost sounds like Italian, but with a strange cadence to the syllables. Sam doubts her pathetic high school French vocabulary is going to help the situation.
She smiles at the woman, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
The woman returns her smile, touching her hand, saying something that Sam decides must mean, “Well, it was worth a try.”
“Yes, it was,” Sam says, her fingers squeezing the other woman’s hand.
Pushing to her feet, Sam moves to a new group of women, sitting in the midst of them. She’s going to talk to every woman in here if that’s what it takes.
Two hours later, Sam has almost completed her circuit of the room, and though she swears she had seen glimmers of understanding in the eyes of some of the women, none of them had been brave enough to admit it. Sam tries to convince herself it was worth the small chance of learning something of where they are, why they are here, and what the future may hold for them, but she’s pretty much back at square one.
She’s up to plan G (rush the guards and damn the consequences), when the guard with the gold tattoo reappears. He considers her for a long while, staring across the room at her and she doesn’t know what else to do but hold his gaze. She can feel the shift in the atmosphere in the room as he barks something to the other guards.
They descend into the space, pulling women to their feet and prodding them towards the door. Herding them like cattle.
The head guy moves across the room, taking Sam’s arm himself. He holds her in place while the rest of the chamber is emptied.
She’s not sure she should take being singled out as a positive thing, but maybe it can be.
“I’m Sam,” she says. “My name. Sam.” Somehow it is very important that he know she has a name-that she’s a real person, not just a piece of flesh.
The guard’s fingers tighten on her arm, but he doesn’t respond.
“Do you have a name?” she asks.
“Silence,” he commands, dragging her out of the chamber.
They are led down a long corridor and two wide sets of rough stone stairs that seem incongruous with the sophistication of other technology in this place. The more Sam sees, the more she gets the feeling these aliens are one giant contradiction. Brute force and sleek technology married uneasily together.
As they wind their way lower and lower in the structure, the air gets colder, the women drawing closer together, maybe for warmth or maybe just out of fear.
Finally they reach their destination-another cell, only this one much larger with sturdy metal bars. It lacks any of the elegance or softness of their previous prison. Inside the dim space is a crowd of men, faces grubby and wary, and Sam doesn’t blame the other women for their reluctance to enter the space as the doors groan open.
The guards shove the women forward. A few of the women are greeted by men, the relief on both sides making it obvious that they are not strangers. The other women simply stay in a tight knot, retreating to the open spaces on the edges with wide eyes and pale faces.
Sam and her guard are the last to enter, his fingers still firm around her upper arm. She looks up at him to risk asking what exactly is going on, but he’s looking for something out in the crowd. When his eyes finally settle, Sam follows his gaze to see that someone is pushing forward through the crowd.
He’s hard to make out from the distance, from between the people pressing in on either side, but there’s something familiar. She’s chastising herself for wishful thinking when he finally steps free. Oh, God.
Jack.
He isn’t looking at her, rather staring up at the guard, a moment of some form of silent communication passing between them. Sam is still trying to figure out just what is going on and battling the less helpful swirl of emotions rising in her chest at seeing Jack, when the guard gives her a sharp jab in her back, shoving her forward.
She stumbles down the short flight of stairs, basically careening into Jack. For a moment she feels his arms tighten around her, pulling her close with a heavy breath of something like relief before he steadies her on her feet and steps back. Looking up at him she’s warring between being so glad to see him and wishing to God he was anywhere but here and not caught in this nightmare as well.
If she didn’t know him quite so well, she might have been disconcerted by the way he’s staring down at her with cold indifference. “You okay?” he asks, his voice rough, easily betraying everything he’s not letting his expression show.
“I’m okay,” she says, surprised to find her own voice a bit shaky as well.
His hand lifts to her face, stopping just short of making contact.
She grimaces, touching her cheek. “Just a little theological disagreement.” She tries to smile up at him, to prove it’s nothing. “Looks that bad, huh?” she jokes.
“Naw,” he says, the slightest crack in his façade finally appearing. He clears his throat. “I’m really glad you’re okay… Captain.”
Despite herself, she flinches at the gentle reminder. She realizes she is still holding his arm and lets go, taking a step back.
There’s a flicker of something on his face, and for a second she thinks he’s going to say something else, but then two more figures appear out of the crowd.
She turns to greet them. “Major,” she says with a nod. “Dr. Jackson. I’d say it was nice to see you…”
Dr. Jackson smiles. “Yeah. Not really the ideal spot for a reunion.”
Sam dares to dart a glance at Jack, but he’s back to looking detached and inscrutable.
“Captain,” Kawalsky says, giving her a quick once over himself. He shoots her a wide grin. “Nice dress.”
Sam rolls her eyes, recognizing the good-natured teasing for what it is, but Jack just growls something inaudible and shoves his jacket at her.
Sam isn’t going to complain, wrapping it tightly around herself.
“Where were you, Captain?” Jack asks, his voice brisk.
Back to business then. She can do that. “Believe it or not, I’m fairly certain I was in a harem.”
Dr. Jackson seems to find that fascinating, his mouth popping open, but she doesn’t miss the dark look that passes between Jack and Kawalsky. She feels a beat of annoyance, but forces herself to ignore it.
“How did you guys end up here?” she asks, trying to push on to a new topic.
“Skaara and me got nabbed on Abydos like you,” Kawalsky says. “Woke up here.”
“Where is Skaara?” Sam asks, looking around for sign of the boy.
Kawalsky shakes his head. “He was taken. A bunch of gaudy, overdressed pageant contestants came in and picked people.”
“Yeah,” Sam says, remembering their sinuous grace and cold eyes. “The same thing happened where I was.”
“He’s one of them now,” Jack says, his eyes trained on the guards outside the cell.
“What?” Sam asks, feeling a sick swoop in her stomach at the forced nonchalance in his voice.
“Jack’s right,” Dr. Jackson says, his own voice heavy. “Whatever they did to him, he’s…he’s not Skaara anymore.”
Sam looks at Jack, wanting to reach out to touch him, to somehow acknowledge that she knows what this must be doing to him. He catches her eye and she forces herself to keep her expression neutral. “And what about you, sir? How did you and Dr. Jackson end up here?”
Jack lips twist into a wry smile. “Let’s just say the rescue plan needs work.”
“On the plus side,” Kawalsky says, “we’ve got a radio, a block of C4, a Berreta, and a bunch of Marines holding the gate.”
“Not bad,” Sam says. It’s certainly a hell of a lot more than she’d had an hour ago.
“Well,” Dr. Jackson adds. “We also have less than two hours until General Hammond locks us out.”
Wonderful.
Jack shifts his gaze from the guards, something flinty and incredibly reassuring in his expression as he regards each of them in turn. “All of which simply means it is time to make our exit. I want to hear options, not matter how out there.”
They start brainstorming.
* * *
Jack leans against the back wall, his eyes sweeping the crowd of prisoners, mentally tallying who might be helpful in a fight and who would just be dead weight. Fostering a prison mutiny isn’t high on his list, but at this point they need whatever advantage they can get.
Jack eyes the pair of guards in the hall outside, making sure they aren’t paying too much attention to Kawalsky as he sets their precious C4 charge and carefully shuffles the prisoners out of the blast range. It’s far from a subtle exit plan, and Jack doesn’t relish the idea of turning the prison cell into a barrel of fish for the guards to shoot into, but they’re running out of options-and time.
Assured that the guards aren’t watching Kawalsky, Jack shifts his attention to Sam and Daniel. They are tucked into the front corner of the cell, just out of sight of the hallway. Sam had told them about the access panel she discovered in her previous cell, and it hadn’t taken them long to find a similar one in here as well. She thought that with Daniel’s help they might be able to figure out a way to open the doors.
Their heads are lowered together, Daniel’s hands moving a mile a minute as he explains something, his excitement palpable even at this distance. In comparison, Sam’s movements are measured and deliberate as she nods in encouragement to Daniel from time to time. Jack’s always known she was smart as hell, but seeing her there up to her elbows in complex alien technology really drives home just how much she was made for this. Like most young officers, she’s got some rough edges, but he has no doubt more experience in the field will fix that. He thinks she could be great.
He tells himself this feeling rising in his chest is just pride, but that doesn’t explain the smile worming its way onto his face. You’re in a goddamn prison on an alien world, O’Neill, he ruthlessly reminds himself. Get a hold of yourself.
“Colonel?”
Jack tears his eyes away from Sam to find that Kawalsky has reappeared by his side.
“All set?” Jack asks.
Kawalsky is giving him a strange look, but nods, flashing the set detonator in his hand. “Yes, sir,” he says. “If the wonder twins don’t come up with something, we’re all set to blow our way out.”
“Wonder twins?” Jack repeats, his brow furrowing.
Kawalsky grins, jutting his chin towards Sam and Daniel. “Like two geek peas in a little geek pod.”
Jack tries not to be annoyed, especially since it hasn’t been that long since he described Sam that way to Daniel himself. Still, it rankles a bit, and he really doesn’t want to think about why.
Jack glances at his watch. “Okay, I’m going to go check on them. You make sure the blast area stays clear.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jack wanders in as casual and circuitous path as he can, making sure the guards are looking as bored and uninterested in the prisoners as usual. Stepping up next to Sam and Daniel, he leans back against the wall.
“How’s it going?”
Daniel doesn’t even look up, just starts talking, even as his pencil is still sketching things out in his journal. “It’s fascinating, really. On the surface everything here seems practically medieval and then there’s this sophisticated technology right underneath. Even the language. I mean, on the surface it’s a very close cousin of Abydonian, but it’s very technical, practically incomprehensible without a point of reference.”
Jack rubs at his temple, remembering just a little too late that one should never ask open-ended questions of Daniel. Sam looks up at him like she knows exactly what he’s thinking, humor sparkling in her eyes. He deliberately rolls his eyes, and she smiles at him, letting him know he is completely transparent.
“Let me rephrase that,” Jack says when Daniel breaks off long enough to breathe. “Report please, Captain. Briefly.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam says, her expression sobering, but none of the humor in her eyes fading. “We’ve made some progress, but still haven’t figured out how to open the doors.” She shoots the panel a hard look, her brow furrowing. “At the moment I think the most I could do is possibly short out the systems, which might lock the doors shut. But with more time…”
“Definitely,” Daniel says, backing her up. “I was thinking maybe--.” He points at something in the hatch, Sam’s attention pulled back. They start shooting theories back and forth that frankly make Jack’s head hurt. He’s pretty sure they’ve already both forgotten he’s standing here.
“Wonder twins,” Jack mutters, shaking his head.
Daniel and Sam share a look.
“What?” Daniel asks.
Jack ignores him, turning his attention to Sam. “Can you figure it out in the next ten minutes?”
He sees the familiar flash of stubbornness in her eyes, but it’s quickly subsumed. “No, sir,” she admits, sounding a little bitter.
He nods. “Okay. Plan B it is then.”
Daniel begins to protest, but Sam puts a hand on his arm. “Yes, sir,” she says.
Recognizing that he’s outnumbered, Daniel sighs. “Fine.”
They start gathering up their notes and tools, carefully replacing the crystals.
On the other side of the wall is the sound of approaching footsteps. “Let’s go,” Jack urges them, not wanting to get caught out.
Daniel puts up a hand, listening intently to the conversation filtering into the cell. His eyes widen. “Uh,” he says. “Not good.”
“What did he say?” Sam asks.
Daniel looks up at Jack. “He said Apophis has asked them to…clean up the mess.”
Yeah, not good is right. “Okay, campers,” Jack says. “Back in the crowd. Now.”
Daniel obediently scrambles back towards Kawalsky, but Sam pauses another moment, dropping back by the panel. He moves to drag her away if he needs to, but all she does is swipe one of the crystal things, hefting its weight in her hand.
She looks up at him and shrugs. “Better than nothing, right?”
He’s not sure what help it might be, but he appreciates the attitude nonetheless. “Come on,” he says, taking her arm.
The doors have opened by the time they reach Kawalsky’s side, no less than half a dozen guards stepping into the cell in a straight line, weapons held up in front of them. Jack doesn’t need a translation for that. Neither do the other prisoners, because they begin to panic, shoving back towards the rear, jostling Jack and the others as they pass.
In the chaos, Jack glances at Kawalsky, who has their one and only weapon pulled. One berretta against half a dozen well armed aliens? Not the best plan. Daniel looks a little lost as people shove past him, but next to him, Sam is staring across the room at something.
Above the crowd, Jack can just make out Big Guy standing on the platform. His expression is blank, carefully indifferent as he looks out over the crowd, at least until his eyes settle. Jack can tell the exact moment Big Guy finds Sam in the crowd.
There it is, the tiniest flicker and Jack knows he’s found their only chance of getting out of this alive.
Jack looks back over at Sam and she meets his gaze, the same understanding visible on her face. She nods.
Now or never.
“Kawalsky,” Jack says. “I give the signal, you set off the C4.”
“Sir!”
Jack ignores him, pushing forward to the front of the pack, feeling Sam right on his heels. They burst out into the open space in front of the guards where Big Guy paces calmly in front of them, his arm raised to give the command.
“Wait,” Jack says.
Big Guy turns to him, lifting his weapon, his lip curling. Jack knows the guard only wants them to see imperiousness, but Jack can see it now, the unwillingness, his disgust at the slaughter ahead of him.
“You dare--,” he blusters.
“Yes,” Sam says, cutting across him. “We dare.”
Big Guy swings his weapon towards her, but he’s looking at her again like she’s the strangest thing he’s ever seen, his eyes lingering on the crystal clutched in her fingers like a weapon.
“We can save these people,” Jack says, cautiously taking a half step in front of Sam.
Big Guy turns his regard to Jack. “Many have said that,” he says, his voice hard. His weapon snaps open, arming itself.
Shit. Jack lifts his arm to signal Kawalsky to blow the C4 when Big Guy does pretty much the last thing Jack expects-he turns his weapon on the guard next to him, hitting him square in the chest with the blast.
“You are the first I believe,” he shouts, tossing his weapon to Jack.
Jack moves on instinct, snatching the weapon and turning it on the other guards.
Ahead of him, the turncoat guard has already disabled two others, leaving four more who have opened up on the crowd. Jack takes them all out as fast as he can, ignoring the sound of people in the crowd screaming and panicking, the far too close passage of a stray shot from one of the guards. There’s the sharp concussion of Kawalsky’s weapon thrown in too and it’s all complete chaos, but Jack has his targets in sight, and tunes everything else out.
Finally, the last guard falls, his red eyes fading. Jack still has his weapon raised, making sure the fallen guards are actually out of commission. Their savior is staring past Jack though, something inscrutable on his face.
Jack turns to locate his people, internally deciding the best avenue for escape when he sees her.
Sam is lying on the ground a few feet away, her hands clutched to her stomach.
There’s a moment of complete immobility where Jack just stares at her, his stuttering brain trying to figure out what she’s doing down there, and then everything slams together and he gets it.
He stumbles to her side, his weapon falling forgotten from his fingers. “Sam?” he asks, reaching for her hands, needing to see just how bad it is. That’s when he notices the thick red pool spreading out under her back.
God, there’s so much blood. Way too much blood.
“Jack?” she asks, her voice shaky as she looks up at him.
He pulls her up into his lap, grabbing the jacket someone passes to him, pressing it tight up against the wound in her back, trying to staunch that relentless spread of blood. “It’s okay, Sam. We’re going to get you home. It’s okay.”
“Jack,” she says again, barely a whisper, and he leans into her, straining to hear her words. Her fingers, sticky with her blood, reach up and touch his cheek. “Worth…it.”
He closes his eyes briefly, leaning his forehead against hers. “Sam, don’t you dare. You hold on, hear me?”
Her lips curve into a weak smile. She tries to say something else, but all energy seems to drain out of her, her weight sagging back against his arm.
“Sam,” he demands, shaking her. Her head lolls sickly against his shoulder, a noise rising around them from somewhere-something feral and broken echoing painfully in his ears.
Kawalsky is the one to reach across and press his fingers to her neck, holding there for crawling seconds. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, sir. She’s--.”
Jack jerks his head up, and whatever is in his expression stalls the damning word in Kawalsky’s throat. The major stares back at Jack with wide, horrified eyes. “Colonel,” he says.
Jack ignores him, looking back down at Sam, one hand cradling her cheek.
Kawalsky curses under his breath, pushing back to his feet. He yells something, people shuffling around, but Jack isn’t paying any attention. There’s an explosion of sound and rubble, the ground rumbling underneath them and Jack ducks reflexively over Sam, protecting her from flying debris.
Not that there’s a point.
Oh, God. He feels doubled over by the pain, the burning in his gut threatening to tear him in half.
“Time to go,” Kawalsky says, his hand hard on Jack’s shoulder.
Jack shrugs him off. He can’t leave her. Can’t leave this place if it means accepting this.
Kawalsky’s fingers dig into his shoulder. “I swear to God, Jack, I will drag your ass back to the gate if I have to.”
He can try, Jack thinks.
“Wait, wait!” Daniel says, kneeling next to Jack. “What if? I mean…”
Jack glances up, seeing Daniel’s hands flapping in agitation and excitement. “What if what?” he snaps.
Daniel stills, staring back at him with an intensity of understanding, the look of someone who knows what Jack is feeling right now. “Sarcophagus.”
The word echoes around in Jack’s head for what seems like forever before the memory rises up-Daniel cradling a far too still Sha’re in his arms.
God, what if…?
“You,” Jack says, jerking around to look at the guard who saved them. He’s standing in the middle of the carnage, dropping his armor from his body like shedding his skin. “Is there a sarcophagus here?”
The guy still looks a little shell-shocked, but he glances at Sam’s body, something coming into focus in his eyes. He nods. “I will show you the way.”
“Sir,” Kawalsky protests. “There’s no time. The code is invalidated in less than an hour.”
Jack scoops Sam up in his arms, trying his damnedest to ignore the sick bonelessness of her body. “Get these people out of here, Kawalsky. That’s an order.”
“Sir,” he protests.
“Don’t wait for me.”
Daniel scoops up Jack’s abandoned staff weapon, moving to stand by him.
“No way, Daniel,” Jack says. “You go with Kawalsky.”
“Jack--,” Daniel says, that familiar stubborn look on his face.
Jack meets his gaze, knowing Daniel’s one great weak spot. “Sha’re is waiting for you, Daniel.”
It’s the one thing Daniel can’t argue with.
“Jack,” Kawalsky tries one last time, his hand on his sleeve and Jack knows that look his friend is leveling on him.
This is different than last time though. This isn’t Jack looking for a way to die. This is Jack trying to find a way not to disappear into the dirt of this jail cell floor. “Go.”
Maybe Kawalsky sees some of that in his face because he reluctantly nods. “I’ll see you at the gate. Right?”
That’s Kawalsky, optimistic until the bitter end. Jack gives him a tight smile, but refuses to make a promise he can’t keep. All that matters now is Sam. Turning to the guard, he says, “Let’s go.”
They pause at the cell door, looking down the hall in both directions.
“What are our chances?” Jack asks.
The man considers him. “The gods have already departed with their chosen. Apophis will not yet know what I have done.”
“Will that buy us time?” Jack asks.
His eyes dart to Sam. “Some. But perhaps not enough.”
Something about the way the guy looks at her, a mix of confusion and awe, makes Jack’s nerves inexplicably settle. This is going to work. It has to. “What’s your name?”
“I am Teal’c.”
“Well, thank you, Teal’c.”
He nods, looking down at Sam. “She is…a formidable warrior.”
“Yes,” Jack says, his hands clenching. “Yes, she is.”
“This way,” Teal’c says.
Jack follows him out into the hall.
* * *
Jack flips back the cover on his watch. He and Teal’c have been standing over the softly humming sarcophagus for just over forty minutes now. The compound has been far from quiet, an alarm of sorts sounding right after they made it to Apophis’s personal chambers, but they haven’t seen sign of a single person since.
According to Teal’c, the alarm had been a call to arms to defend the gate. All of the soldiers would be there. Jack can only hope Makepeace is as good as his word and that Kawalsky isn’t stupid enough to try to wait.
Teal’c, who has stood motionless for the half-hour, not a word between them, finally shifts. He looks at Jack. “We can wait no longer,” he says, his head tilting towards the hall.
Jack strains his ears, trying to pick up on what might have set Teal’c off, but he doesn’t hear anything other than the same eerie silence that’s been here the whole time. Jack looks down at the sarcophagus. It doesn’t feel like it’s been long enough. Not with the damage Sam suffered. Teal’c himself had said it could take up to hours to fix a wound as bad as hers.
“We must,” Teal’c repeats, seeing Jack’s hesitation. He hits the red ruby thing with his palm, the doors grinding open.
Sam is still lying as she was, her skin pale and flimsy dress stained with blood. Reaching inside, Jack pushes back the fabric. The wound has knitted, but is still raw, stretching like a stain across her abdomen. She’s not bleeding anymore though, and most importantly, when he presses his fingers to her throat, he feels the slow but steady beat of a pulse. He holds his hand over her lips. She’s breathing.
Thank God.
“Okay,” he says, scooping her out of the sarcophagus. “Now how do we get out of here?”
“I believe I know a more direct route than the one taken by your men,” Teal’c says, leading the way out of the room.
Jack isn’t going to argue with that.
The more direct route turns out to be a small bay mostly empty except for a few metal alien craft that look like mini pyramids.
Space ships. Jesus. How had this become his life?
Teal’c keys a code into a small panel and a door opens up. Jack cautiously follows him inside.
Under a bank of windows are two seats and a systems of controls that Jack wouldn’t hazard a guess at how to work. Teal’c slips into a seat, his hands moving across the systems with obvious competence, so Jack grabs the other seat, keeping Sam held tightly against him and settles in for the ride.
The ship hums into life, lifting them straight up off the floor at fairly alarming speeds and exiting through the roof. Teal’c aims the ship in the direction of the gate. What had been a cautious forty-minute walk is eaten up in mere minutes.
“There,” Jack says, pointing when he finally catches sight of the clearing. Kawalsky and the marines are currently holding the Stargate, the wormhole already engaged, the stream of refugees disappearing into it. There is also a serious line of alien soldiers approaching over the rise. Jack knows they won’t be able to hold the Stargate for long.
Teal’c buzzes across the top of the gate, and Jack sees his men hit the deck. Luckily Teal’c is as good behind the wheel of a ship as he is with a staff, because one of the marines takes a shot at them with a frickin’ SMAW as they pass. Jack nearly falls out of his seat when the craft rolls out of the way, too busy keeping Sam secure to even bother cursing.
The ship rights itself again and Jack can see that they are not the only ones up here in the air. A matching ship is on approach from the north, eating away at the marines’ cover.
Jack points. “Is there any way you can-“
Teal’c has the shot off before Jack can finish, the other ship swerving back down towards the forest with a tail of thick smoke behind it.
“Nice,” Jack says, nodding at Teal’c. He skims the skies for more ships, but the marines seem to have taken care of the rest. Looking speculatively around the ship, Jack thinks it’s a real shame this thing is too big to fit through the gate. He wouldn’t mind bringing a few of these back home with them.
Teal’c locates a spot relatively clear of the fighting and sets the ship down.
Jack scrambles to his feet, his mind focusing down on getting Sam the hell through the gate as fast as he can. At the door, Teal’c pauses, bowing his head to Jack. “I wish your people luck.”
Jack stares back at him in incomprehension. “Oh, no,” he says. “You are so coming home with us. At the very least, she’ll want to thank you. And I’d really like to buy you a beer.”
His brow crinkles in confusion, but he follows Jack out of the ship. “I will lay cover fire for our escape.”
Makepeace and Kawalsky are doing a credible job of holding the gate open, the other prisoners streaming into the wormhole. Bodies of alien soldiers litter the platform.
It’s going to be a hard run, flat out across an open stretch. Kawalsky sees them coming though, shouting something to Makepeace. The hillside opposite explodes. God love claymores, Jack thinks.
“Go!” he shouts, breaking out towards the gate, dodging rocks and bodies and the occasional stray shot. His arms feel like they are about to fall out of their sockets but he pushes through the pain, breathing hard and concentrating everything on keeping his feet.
They’ve just finally hit the edge of the platform when next to him Teal’c swings his weapon towards Kawalsky. With Sam in his arms, Jack can’t do anything to stop him.
“Hey!” Jack shouts, and Kawalsky turns just in time for Teal’c to fire, the blast impacting something that seems to be flying through the air just next to Kawalsky.
Kawalsky scrambles back, his hands batting down the front of his uniform as if looking for other creepy flying things on his person. “What the hell was that?”
“A Goa’uld,” Teal’c intones, his weapon snapping shut. “The larval form of the gods.”
They stare down at the charred snake-like creature in horror before a stray shot from the approaching Jaffa impacts the platform near their feet. Jack beelines for the wormhole. “Explain later. Flee now!”
They clatter down the ramp on the other side, Jack shouting for the iris to be closed. It slides shut, the wormhole dying a few beats later.
The entire room is in chaos, medics and MPs wandering through the crowd of panicked prisoners, Kawalsky holding out his hand for Teal’c’s weapon. Daniel stands at the end of the ramp, Sha’re tucked up against his side as they mime and smile reassurances to the aliens.
Jack’s legs wobble alarmingly, the fading adrenaline leaving his body aching and weakening. Before he can fall, he lowers himself down onto the ramp, leaning back against the railing. Sam is still securely held against him, her breath soft against his neck. He takes a moment to acknowledge how stupid ass lucky they are to be back on Earth.
“Medic!” he calls, his arms tightening around her.
He can’t go through something like this again.
He can’t.
:: next::