"Lifeblood" by ellijay
Summary: SG-1 encounters a group of aliens, one of whom extends a very unusual and potentially lethal gesture of friendship. Set after the third season episode "Legacy."
Author's Notes: This is an old story, written back when SG-1 was new and shiny. I'm reposting it now mainly to have all of my fic in one place, but also in the hopes that it finds new readers or maybe makes its way back to previous readers who might want to reminisce. This story was originally published under another name, but I'm still me, many years of life experience notwithstanding, and the title and contents of the story are the same.
(Original Author's Notes: Thanks to Scribe and Dee Tervo for their input and encouragement. You guys are the best!)
Chapter 1
"Whoa!" The exclamation burst out of Daniel's mouth only seconds after the first image from the MALP on P453T9 came through. That was as long as it took for his brain to translate what he was seeing and send repeated signals to his mouth until his mouth finally managed to produce a sound.
Just about anything might turn up on any given planet, and he always got a little thrill of expectation just before that first image came through. This time, though, the thrill was accompanied by a shiver knitting its way across his shoulders. The MALP had emerged from the wormhole to find itself butted right up against some kind of stone slab. A single glyph, illuminated by what seemed to be natural daylight, filled the lens of the forward camera. Daniel swallowed the knot of unease that was bunching up in the back of his throat and turned to look at Jack.
Jack was staring at the screen with an intensity that could only mean he didn't much care for what he was seeing either. He waved his hand towards the monitor and said, "Now, maybe I'm just being a little bit paranoid, but does anyone else think that looks like it was written in blood?"
Daniel turned back towards the glyph and swallowed again before answering. "Hard to say for sure, but given what the glyph means… It's Goa'uld – the symbol for death."
"Whoa," Sam piped in.
"I think Daniel already said that," Jack said very quietly, the expected twist of sarcasm noticeably absent from his voice.
Sam didn't respond to Jack's remark, instead turning her attention to the technician seated at the MALP controls. "Switch to the rear camera and see if you can pan around so we can have a look at the rest of that rock."
The video image flipped over to a screenful of rippling blue 'Gate surface. As the camera began to slowly swivel in response to the tech's prodding at the controls, Daniel could see that the MALP had barely managed to clear the event horizon. The edge of the 'Gate slid across the screen at a sharp angle, and now there was a view across an open field, visible through the space of several feet between the 'Gate and the stone slab. On the other side of the field was a jumble of jagged rocks perhaps ten or fifteen feet tall, partially obscured by vines and creepers.
"Wait. Stop there," he said, pointing at the rocks, a twinge of recognition stirring at the back of his brain. "Zoom in on that." The image enlarged, blurry at first, then coming back into focus. Yes. He was right. Not just rocks. Artifacts. "Ruins. Abandoned for quite some time judging from the growth of the vegetation. OK, keep panning. Stop." The first of the glyphs on the upper lefthand edge of the stone slab came into view, but due to the tight angle and the large size of the writing, only a few glyphs at a time were captured on the monitor. "Yep, definitely Goa'uld." Didn't matter how many times he'd said that name – it still made him want to spit or cross himself or something, some sign of warding. He wasn't superstitious, though, not really. Okay, maybe a little. He looked down at the tech. "You'll need to pan down the rows so I can read it. Not across."
"I know," the tech mumbled, intent on his manipulation of the camera angle.
Oh. Right. Sometimes it was easy for Daniel to forget the SGC had been dealing with the Goa'uld for a long enough time now that practically everyone associated with the project had picked up at least a smattering of facts about Goa'uld culture. Usually the points that got the most attention were those related to technology, weaponry and military tactics, but there were more than a few, apart from the other linguists assigned to the project, who had picked up a bit of the language, certainly enough to know it was read top to bottom instead of left to right.
He briefly considered an apology, but was distracted by the contents of the video monitor. He automatically began identifying the glyphs and translating them into possible English equivalents. As he tried to string them together into phrases and sentences, though, he found to his surprise it was just a muddle of seemingly unrelated words. "Wait. Stop. This isn't making any sense. Go back to the top again." His eyes skimmed over the three vertical glyphs that were visible in the frame. He was trying very hard not to think about Jack's comment about blood. Not that he was particularly squeamish where blood was concerned, but it occurred to him that if these glyphs had been here since the adjacent town had been abandoned, they must've been renewed repeatedly to keep them looking so fresh.
He refocused his attention on the glyphs themselves. No, he hadn't mistaken them. The translations were correct. The words just didn't fit together. Encoded maybe? He adjusted his glasses and leaned a little closer. Wait a minute. The translation didn't make any sense if you read the symbols top to bottom, but right to left looked a little more promising, judging from the handful of glyphs running across and off the right edge of the screen. "Pan over to the right." The tech looked up at him briefly in confusion, then shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the controls.
Yes. Okay, this was making more sense. He leaned over the tech in search of something to write with and was mildly surprised to find Teal'c at his side, holding out a pencil and a pad of paper. He mumbled a distracted thanks and returned his attention to the translation. It was a bit difficult to write standing up with the video screen somewhere around waist level, so he looked up again in search of something to sit on. This time Sam was standing there, a neutral expression on her face and her hands on the back of a wheeled chair that she pushed towards him without comment. He raised an eyebrow at her as he took the chair and settled himself onto it, but she still didn't say anything. She was just looking at him, a hint of amusement bleeding through her carefully composed expression. And Jack… wasn't there. "Where did Jack go?"
Sam folded her arms across her chest. She looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh. "Went to get some coffee."
"Oh." That made sense. Jack rarely had the patience to hang around when intent staring and equally intense thinking was the order of business for the other people in the room.
"Don't worry," Sam added, and she finally did crack a smile. "He said he'd bring you a cup."
"Oh. Okay. Good. That's very… thoughtful… of him." He stared at her for a few seconds longer, until she made a little spinning gesture with one finger and pointed towards the video screen, then seated herself in front of an adjacent console. She turned away from him and began bringing up data from the probe's other instruments. He shook his head and returned to the translation, a stray thought flittering across the edge of his mind that it took an entirely different set of skills to interpret human interaction than it did to decipher the most complex of foreign or alien languages.
Damn. Daniel shoved his glasses back up his nose as he entered the conference room. He was late for the briefing. Again. And all the coffeepots in the mess hall had been empty when he swung by there on the way over. He muttered an apology in Hammond's general direction as he tossed a pile of notes onto the table and kept right on going over to the coffeepots on the side table. Thank God. A fresh pot of regular. He sloshed the steamy liquid into his mug and made the mistake of taking a gulp before it even occurred to him to allow it to cool. Great. Now he'd have to talk around a burned tongue. He took his seat and set the mug carefully out of range so he wouldn't accidentally take another drink before the temperature of the coffee dropped somewhere below scorching.
"So." He looked around the table, at Jack, Teal'c, Sam, Hammond – all looking back at him. "What'd I miss?"
Jack raised an eyebrow at him. "Your cue?" He gestured at the pile of papers in front of Daniel.
"Oh. Right. Well, it's not as bad as we thought. It may actually even be a good thing." He paused, glancing down at his notes.
"So are you going to explain how it is that 'death' – written in Goa'uld, no less – is a good thing?" Jack was tapping his pencil on the table as he spoke. Definitely would be a wise move to get right to the point.
"It's a good thing because the inscription wasn't written by a Goa'uld. The left to right orientation of the symbols instead of the usual top to bottom was a clue to that, but the content of the message proves even more definitively that someone else wrote it. It's a warning to the Goa'uld not to return to the planet, the 'death' part being a threat for the Goa'uld."
"Oh, I like it." The tap-tap of the pencil paused momentarily. "Anyone who makes death threats against the Goa'uld is a friend of mine. Nice touch with the blood, too."
"Um, we can't be sure the message really is written in blood until we get a sample to analyze," Daniel pointed out. "It could be some sort of ink or dye, possibly juice from a local berry or other plant source."
Jack shrugged. "If you say so."
Daniel looked at Jack for a moment, not sure how to respond, but then shook his head slightly and moved ahead to his next point. "In any event, the inscription very clearly states the inhabitants of the planet rebelled against the Goa'uld who had enslaved them, but they didn't bury their 'Gate like the Ancient Egyptians did on Earth. In fact, part of the message offers safe passage and unrestricted use of the Stargate to peaceful travelers who do nothing to – uh, let me get the exact translation – 'to disturb the harmony of the life we have chosen, the ways we have won at such a high price, the past we commemorate in blood.'" He paused and looked up at Jack, whose expression was decidedly smug. "Okay, so maybe it is blood, but it's probably symbolic, maybe from an animal sacrifice of some sort."
Jack now had the pencil between his index and middle finger and was jiggling it back and forth. He lifted one shoulder and tilted his head to the side. "Okay, granted." He tossed the pencil down onto the table and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together in front of him. "But the bottom line is, these guys kicked the Goa'uld off their planet. Sounds like a prime candidate for a potential ally to me."
Hammond nodded. "I agree. Teal'c, have you ever heard anything about this planet?"
Teal'c paused, considering the question. "I recall no references to this planet, but it is likely that if the Goa'uld are indeed intimidated by the inhabitants, they would not speak of it to anyone outside of their own ranks. Perhaps not even among themselves."
"This is sounding better and better all the time," Jack commented.
Hammond turned to Sam. "Major Carter, have you analyzed the conditions on the planet?"
"Yes, Sir. Local conditions are all well within acceptable parameters for human tolerance. No special survival gear needed."
"All right then. SG-1, you have a go to attempt to contact the inhabitants of this planet and determine if they would be interested in a possible alliance against the Goa'uld. If you're successful, SG-5 will take over to initiate diplomatic negotiations. Good luck. Dismissed."
Jack's insistence that the team wear helmets for this mission had Daniel a bit puzzled and slightly annoyed. He hated the damn things. His was always managing to slide askew on his head, no matter how tightly he strapped it on. He couldn't even get a hat to stay put on his head for the most part. Jack hadn't offered an explanation, just said to trust him on this one. Daniel had been tempted to raise an objection. They hardly ever wore helmets since they didn't make a bit of difference against the kind of energy weapons they were likely to encounter. Just one more piece of klunky equipment to tote around. Jack had silenced him with a raised finger. There was a time when Daniel would've ignored that finger, but now he knew that unless he was ready to get into a shouting match, it was better just to shut up and do what Jack said. He'd learned the wisdom of picking his fights.
As soon as the 'Gate spewed him out on the other end, the need for helmets became painfully clear. He smacked right into the stone slab, his head hitting the surface with only slightly less force than his shoulder. Some mathematical tinkering on a level he hadn't the patience to comprehend had mostly compensated for the 'Gate's nasty habit of tossing travellers out the other side, but they still did get the occasional rough ride – sort of like the old girl was cranky after being woken up after a long sleep and still liked to kick them around a bit for it.
"Ow." Daniel readjusted his glasses, which had been knocked awry on his face by the impact. He was only slightly mollified by the thump of two more bodies hitting the rock beside him. Jack had gone through first and had either already peeled himself off the wall or hadn't been thrown as hard as the rest of them. Probably the former. Daniel had never known the 'Gate to be particular about who it tossed and who it didn't.
Teal'c bounced right back off the wall and landed lightly on his feet, looking every bit like he'd casually strolled through the 'Gate. Sam seemed to be just as plastered to the wall as Daniel was, but Jack stepped forward and offered one hand to each of them. A moment of rubbing at sore spots, helmets exchanged for hats or bare heads, a final readjustment to their gear, and they moved out.