TITLE: Pandora's Box
SUMMARY: SG-1 get into trouble off-world. Sam and Jack become separated from Daniel and Teal'c and are on the run from pursuers who have a new 'assignment' for Sam that Jack will never allow to happen.
RATING: Mature
NOTES: (1) This is an old fic that was originally posted here and then taken down in favour of my own website; however, with that website gone, I'm re-archiving.
(2) This story uses the premise of an old movie I read about, but never saw. I think it was based on a book 'The Handmaidens tale' which I also haven't read. The premise of it was a future society where most women are infertile and those that aren't are used shamelessly. It's set after S3's 'Points Of View' and includes spoilers for S1's 'Solitudes' and S2's 'In The Line of Duty'
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG1 and the characters are the property of MGM. There is no infringement intended and no profit made.
THANKS to Lysa for doing a belated and much needed beta on this.
The wormhole vanished behind Daniel as he stepped onto the ramp with a metallic thunk. His eyes met General Hammond's through the glass of the control-room. The message must have been conveyed. He saw the man stiffen, heard him order a medical team to the 'gate room and wasn't surprised when the commander of the SGC whirled away to stride towards the stairs leading to the embarkation room.
Hammond must have moved fast because he was waiting at the bottom before Daniel reached the end of the ramp staggering with a wounded Teal'c leaning heavily on him. Tendrils of smoke still drifted from small black holes in the Jaffa's BDU.
"What in hell's happened, Dr Jackson," he asked urgently, "And where's the rest of SG-1?" The Texan twang was pleasant, but didn't detract one iota from the man's ability to relay absolute authority mixed with genuine concern.
Heart heavy, Daniel wished he had better news, "They're in trouble, General," he said bluntly, "and we don't have much time--."
"We must return immediately," asserted Teal'c heavily. The massively hewn man, once First Prime of Apophis, took no account of his injuries. Straightening to stand unsupported with only a grunt of pain, he stared at his adopted commander with familiar stoicism, "We return only for fresh weapons."
Given the battle-scarred state of the pair, only he could have believed that would wash. "You'll go when I say you can go," Hammond stated and raised hand to ward off further argument. "And that won't happen until I know what the heck's going on."
His expression was resolved: discussion over. "Teal'c, you go with Dr Frasier.
Grim, he did a quick scan of Daniel, ascertaining he was relatively unharmed before saying, "Dr Jackson, briefing room if you please."
o-O-o
"This sounds…unbelievable." Hammond, a two-star USAF general who'd seen more weirdness in the last two and half years than the previous forty, shook his head and tried to make sense of what he'd just been told.
On his left in his usual place and visibly wired with stress, Daniel spread his hands helplessly. "I know it sounds like particularly bad b-movie plot, General, but you have to believe me that despite previous assurances these people are a real threat."
He didn't wait for a response, "In fact we wouldn't be in this mess right now except none of us took the threat seriously until it was too late."
"We've had a team on this planet for weeks now. In fact, correct me if I'm wrong but this is SG-1's second visit and the first went without mishap." Hammond held up a quelling hand to stem interruption while he finished. "And now you're telling me that none of you suspected what was really going on until a few days ago?"
Daniel sighed and briefly drummed some fingertips on the table, "General, I'm an archaeologist, not an anthropologist. So is Dr Seragosa from SG-7 for that matter. We all assumed we were dealing with a typical matriarchal society similar to those written about on Earth during ancient times-."
"Only not so typically these women enslave other women?"
"Exactly, and that's not the only radical difference. In fact the term is completely wrong for a start. Matriarchal is a Latin word deriving from 'Matri' which means mother, and 'arch' meaning chief."
"Dr Jackson," cut in, Hammond in a clear warning.
"Sorry," Daniel reigned himself back in. "This is the exact opposite of Saluran society. Instead of revering motherhood and the ability to bear children, they despise it." He paused and dug both thumbs into gritty eyes. "I don't know why that is, I only know it is."
"And now they've decided Major Carter is useful as an alternative to bearing children themselves?"
"Something like that, yes." Daniel's short laugh held no amusement. "Poor Sam, she does tend to garner the wrong attention at times."
Hammond's brows lowered to stormy levels, "I fail to see anything humorous in this, Dr Jackson."
"I agree," shot back, Daniel, leaning forward for emphasise. "The point is that they have a history of abducting women who are fertile to use in place of themselves." He stopped and looked inward at something that caused him to grimace with distaste, "They treat them like cattle, General, and there's nobody to stop them."
"What about the men?" Hammond asked. "And if they're so darned advanced why don't the Salurans use artificial means if it's that important to them?"
"I asked that myself. From what we gathered before everything hit the fan is that the Salurans have tried and failed using artificial methods. They also appear to have a 'thing' about artificial insemination, too."
The meaning behind that wasn't lost on the General whose round, usually ruddy face went pale with fury. Empathising with the man, Daniel tried to maintain some semblance of dispassion. "As for the men, they mate when and who they're told to. From what little I saw, I don't expect them to be a big help."
Hammond was visibly struggling to keep his cool. "The Salurans assured us before we sent anyone through that they would accept a delegation of peaceful explorers. And the reports I've read haven't so much as hinted at any problems until you walked back through the 'gate today."
For once, Daniel was stymied on how to explain it.
Hammond wanted answers. "What the hell happened to change that peaceful situation to the point where I now have two of my best officers on the run to prevent one from being enslaved and turned into some kind of…damned brood mare?"
Wincing, Daniel and worded his reply as carefully as he dared, "We're not entirely sure. It seemed to start when Jack and Sam split off to examine their automatic defence systems-"
"Was something said to offend them?" interrupted Hammond and it didn't take a genius to guess whose flippant tongue he was referring to.
Vehemently, Daniel shook his head. "Jack's behaviour was perfectly acceptable. In fact, I'd say he was at his diplomatic best for a change…," he faltered.
"Go on," prodded Hammond severely. "There's something else, I can smell it. Punchline it, Doctor."
"It wasn't Jack's fault, General," Daniel closed his eyes and threw it out there, "I guess she just took a shine to him and didn't like it when he said, no."
He got the response he was expecting.
"I beg your pardon."
o-O-o
"It's time to find somewhere to bed down for the night." O'Neill announced as he came back up from the stream, "Are you ready to move out?"
"Yes sir" Major Sam Carter looked up from the remains of their last MRE. As tasteless as the ready-to-eat menu could be, she wasn't looking forward to scavenging. From now on they'd have to hunt for food. "Ready when you are."
"Good, let's go," without wasting any more time, Colonel Jack O'Neill set the pace in a south westerly direction.
Basic survival training insisted that you eat and sleep in different locations and he'd been in enough tricky situations to know that advice was sound. After a pitch battle to escape and the day's hike, he was tired enough to hope they found something suitable within a click of their current position.
The terrain was tough and consisted mainly of dense forest and thick underbrush. O'Neill didn't even try and find easier, open land considering the aerial concealment offered by the tree's canopy of leaves a big plus. Right now their main objective was keeping themselves out of enemy hands until either the cavalry arrived or the situation was resolved.
"Carter, remind me the next time General Hammond asks that we baby-sit Daniel and his geek buddies while they study a matrimonical society to tell him to go to hell in a hand basket, will you?" he snarled over one shoulder.
Her assignment hadn't been babysitting but it was a moot point now. Unseen by him, Carter's brief smile was wry, "Ah sure thing, and it's matriarchal, sir."
"I knew that."
For once he had and the misspelling had been a frustrated attempt to belittle the bitches from hell, but he kept that to himself.
P49-578, or Salura as the locals called the planet was heavily forested with only a few clearings to break up the never-ending march of tree trunks and swaying foliage overhead. The exception to that has been the hidden city, SG-7 had found on a routine recon mission. If nothing else the air was fresh and the temperature was warm, if humid, during the day and just about bearably cold at night.
It could be worse. Antarctica has been worse- barely. Freezing your butt off; broken bones, punctured lungs and no DHD, but on the plus side…no Neer'ah.
Just then the trail grew wide enough and Carter drew level with him, "Colonel, I've been thinking."
"You do that a lot," he acknowledged without taking his eyes off their immediate surroundings; scanning for any tell-tale signs of recent patrols or passing human traffic, "Specifically about?" he prodded.
"Escaping through the stargate."
"It's a bit late to be trying to pull that particular rabbit out of a hat, Major."
That wasn't encouraging. Used to him by now, she ploughed on anyway, "I know it would be difficult with it being so heavily guarded, but-"
An unusual sound up ahead had him freezing and signalling for Carter to sink to a crouch along with him. She did so smoothly and without hesitation. When he was certain it was nothing sinister he finally gave her his full attention and replied, "Crank that statement up to suicidal and the answer is no."
Carter was nonplussed, "Don't you even want to hear my idea?" As abrupt as the Colonel could be, he usually gave her a fair hearing. Not today though.
"The stargate is at least 20 clicks back the way we've come," he said shortly, "not to mention through territory very likely swarming with more of those bounty hunters." He shook his head, the silver of his hair glinting amidst the iron grey, "No, we stick to the plan, evade capture and wait for contact by friendly forces."
As far as he was concerned the topic was closed. O'Neill rose lithely to stand upright again and Carter's gaze had to skim long legs and over the black MP5 dangling down his battle vest to catch his eyes. She could see his frown despite the shadow cast by the low brim of his cap. "That could take a while, sir."
"Yeah, well I don't have anything better to do," above her full lips twisted wryly. Surprised, Carter blinked before accepting the hand he held out palm up, to help her rise.
His hand was warm and comfortingly large, "Are you sure you won't just let me-?"
"Carter," O'Neill lost patience, "I won't risk what the Salurans have planned for you on the off chance of a quick fix and ticket home. Got it?!"
Then setting off again, he left her to mull over what he'd said. It had been enlightening. Now she understood the unusual tension in a man who blithely threw himself and his team into dangerous situations on an almost daily basis.
As harebrained and insanely dangerous as some of SG-1's activities had been in the last 3 years, the Colonel took the safety of his team very seriously; more seriously than he would normally get away with if he wasn't so exceptional at getting the job done, too. Hammond sharing this view helped considerably of course.
I won't risk what the Salurans have planned for you. The snarl on his lips and fierce fury in bitter brown depths when he'd said that shook Sam to the core. The fact that they took deadlier risks all the time didn't make any difference. The nature of the threat this time was unique and unacceptable.
He was her CO and the decision was his. Infiltrating the complex holding the stargate was out for now.
"Yes, sir," she belatedly called out to his back, "Sorry, sir."
Tension, tightly coiled since that unexpected confrontation with Neer'ah and her goons, loosened enough that she was able to suck in a few deep breaths that felt exquisite without those tight, anxious bands. Deep down, she'd already known that he'd do whatever he had to make sure she didn't find herself locked up in this planet's version of a baby farm, but hearing it said out-loud was incredibly reassuring.
o-O-o
"The city has been searched twice now, Neer'ah. When are you going to accept that the remaining Earthlings have eluded us?"
"How about never?" was the low snarled response.
The folds of the deceptively simple, cream day-cloak swirled in agitation as the brunette turned to answer the drawled statement. One of a ruling elite, she was an attractive thirty-year-old with the regal airs of her forebears to add grandeur to pleasantly symmetrical features and moss green eyes.
Her visitor raised a cold, querying brow. "Loss of face is one thing, but this…tantrum you're indulging in seems extreme to the rest of us."
"The woman, Carter, challenged me." Pacing away, Neer'ah worked hard to show just the right amount of indignation, "I tolerated her attitude for the first few days believing the opportunity to trade was worth it, but after Colonel O'Neill refused my invitation…," she trailed off.
"Ah, and there was me thinking you were merely put-out that he wasn't enamoured of your charms." Older by a decade and with her own long hair streaked with silvery grey, Rayna, was assured and currently spitefully amused. "Not that I'd entirely blame you. He was rather…ah, unique. Not my type, but definitely…hmm, what's the word I'm looking for?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Neer'ah stopped her agitating pacing to glare. "I'm hardly so desperate for company as that, Rayna Eboa. I found O'Neill attractive in a dark, unpolished sort of way, but I wasn't offended by his refusal."
Once again the brow climbed in disbelief, and a prod to explain.
"It was her… Major Carter," Neer'ah's gaze was steady. "She had the look of one well pleased by his rejection of me. She was taunting me in public," the green turned to ruthless and marble-hard, "and that I will not stomach."
Rayna sighed and all that was missing was a 'tsk'. "Impetuosity was always your biggest flaw, baby sister." Without waiting for an invitation she took a seat and arranged her own attire to drape over her legs. "You should have consulted us before taking such drastic action. What if we had wanted to continue negotiations for trade?"
"Trade for what?" shot back Neer'ah with a sneer, "we have everything we need except for breedable females." A slim hand waved to emphasise the beautifully appointed room with its low hum of underlying power and unobtrusive technology, "Which in case you'd forgotten is the one thing, O'Neill assured us they would never provide. I have merely arranged to have a fresh one added to the program while we have the opportunity."
"That may be, but I doubt the leaders of their world will be so willing to abandon Major Carter; a point that was well made by Dr Jackson and the Jaffa."
"They were dealt with easily enough."
"And again you acted without Council approval. More will come, you know."
Neer'ah didn't like where this discussion was heading. Her chin rose, "And they will be dealt with, too. Stop fussing, Rayna."
Crystal blue eyes turned icier, "My dear, I think you fail to understand the precariousness of your position."
There was a pause. Stiffly, Neer'ah asked, "How so?"
"Morgana has been looking for a way to undermine our family ever since she got elected. This nonsense has made sure the rest of the council are listening to her. That could mean bad news for you, dearest."
"We are one of the oldest families of the elite. What can she do," scoffed Neer'ah.
Painted lips curved into a smile that was far from warm. "A lot and it's already begun. A meeting has been called and we are both ordered to attend."
Neer'ah went white.
"Perhaps they simply want to discuss your Colonel's lack of polish, too," said Rayna, "but somehow I doubt it. My bet is they want to know how our visitors managed to get inside the breeding centre."
o-O-o
Jack rocked back on his boots trying to ease the strain on his knees at being crouched for a prolonged period.
You call a couple of minutes prolonged?
Ignoring the inner taunt, Jack kept his senses a hundred percent attuned to what was going around him. No matter what movies would like folks to believe, crossing enemy terrain isn't a race. In fact, moving quickly and without proper precautions will only give away your position and deafen you to approaching hostiles.
Not a good idea.
They'd passed some caves a ways back that in friendlier circumstances they may have used for shelter. Now, he avoided them like the plague. It didn't take a genius to know any halfway decent hunter on their trail would check them out first.
There was still an hour of good sunlight left, but the spot O'Neill found was adequate and he didn't want to extend the search further and risk it getting dark before finding an alternative. A few minutes of absolute silence and watching for any activity reassured him enough. Rising, he raised his hand and signalled for Major Carter to follow him.
She was a silent shadow on his six as they closed in on the spot. Jack couldn't hear her, only feel her presence and curse a fate that seemed to get some kind of twisted kick out of forcing him into a position of sleeping with his 2INC. Huddling with a bunch of men who stank of sweat and worse should have been less appealing. The problem was, sharing body heat with Carter tended to heat his blood a whole lot more than regulations allowed.
Spending hours holding himself stiff and trying to make sure she didn't accidentally brush against any evidence of that reaction wasn't exactly his idea of R'n'R. The bitch of it was, the only alternative was to build a shelter, and it wasn't cold enough to warrant the bother and risk of constructing one. She knew it and he knew it. Damn it!
He'd been fretting about it for hours now. It was time to change the channel and lighten up a bit. First he needed some levity and then space though. Squinting through the trees foliage to check the position of the sun, Jack lifted off his cap and ran his fingers through sweat dampened hair.
Tugging it back into place, he made a mental note to get a trim when they got back.
"Start gathering some vegetation, Carter," he said, "I'm going to set-up some traps and see if we can't catch us some nibblers during the night."
"What about rigging some alarms along the perimeter, Colonel," she replied, easing the backpacks weight off her shoulders. "Do you want me to hook something up?"
The fact that she could barely meet his gaze was pretty revealing about the train of her thoughts. That and the evidence of strain on her face anyway. O'Neill didn't like it, but accepted there was little he could do about it. Carter's feelings of guilt about the part she'd played in bringing them to this point was something she'd have to deal with herself.
Not that he blamed her anymore than he did himself. Sometimes the crap hit the fan without any help from him. It happened and you dealt with it.
"Sure, knock yourself out." Already on his way, O'Neill did an abrupt one-eighty to gesture at a pair of thick trunks, "Except leave me a gap between these two trees as an entry. We don't want to wake up the neighbourhood when I get back now do we?"
A past master, he used just the right amount of careless flippancy. Blue eyes flashed with amusement and a reluctant return smile tugged on her lips, "No, sir, we don't."
o-O-o
Sam managed to scrounge together some long branches to fashion a frame to hold the moss and leaves together. That done, she got to work on some rigging up those defences. Not that she had a lot to work with. They hadn't had enough warning of trouble to pack up all of their gear.
Sitting cross-legged on the earthen floor while she threaded some wire through a flare, Sam was tossed back into the maelstrom of her emotions.
Daniel had seen it coming first and when reason failed, he and Teal'c had bought her and the Colonel enough time to get out of the city. She only hoped Daniel had been right about the Salurans letting them go home and that it was her they were after.
Teal'c had wanted to remain with them, but O'Neill had overruled him and in the midst of a fire fight they couldn't win, the Colonel had laid the law down with a rare glare that had caused even a warrior of Teal'c stature to drop his gaze and accept.
The last she'd seen of the other two members of SG-1 was them trying to knock out the security cameras giving away their escape, all the while being blasted at by the self-same automatic defences Sam had been admiring earlier.
She'd make it up to them. Some way, some day she'd make it all up to them. Exhausted by the slow grind of guilt, Sam dropped her head and rubbed a hand over neck muscles that ached with tension. No matter what she thought of Neer'ah and the Salurans generally, she'd let stubborn pride and knee-jerk reactions compromise her professionalism and jeopardise her friends lives. It was totally unacceptable.
"Whatcha thinking about?"
Startled into jerking around, Sam ended up travelling along those long legs, braced sturdily apart again, "Oh, uh…I didn't hear you," she mumbled when she finally caught up with midnight dark eyes and a single, quirked brow.
His question finally registered, "I was just thinking," she shrugged, "nothing to worry about."
"Is that wise when working with explosives?" queried, O'Neill tongue-in-cheek, looking like he didn't buy her nonchalant act. "Unless one is thinking about NOT blowing your fingers off of course."
Jack O'Neill only ever spoke that precisely when he was being subtly sarcastic. Which in itself was rare as subtle was something he didn't normally bother with.
He was also right, Sam winced and felt sheepish. "I'm almost done here," she said, "I guess, I hadn't realised so much time had passed." With some surprise she noticed it was considerably darker now than it had been when O'Neill had gone to set traps.
She'd been too caught up to realise dusk had arrived. Above them in the small portion she could see, the sky was slowly turning purple and grey with a pale slice of moon.
"Which kind of confirms my theory about concentrating," he pointed out and this time there was a definite reprimand. "Finish up and we'll bed down." He cast a jaundiced glance at the make-shift bed of leaves, "We should get as much rest as possible and move out at first light."
With his help they were done in a matter of minutes. Rolls of fatigue swept over her in waves as Sam sat down to untie and pull off her boots for a few minutes. Free, she sighed at the relief of being able wriggle toes that had been cramped from walking all day. Putting them back on before bedding down was going to be a bitch, but preferable to running in bare feet if they get an unwelcome visitor. A few ft away, Colonel O'Neill stretched up high and then rolled his shoulders to loosen up.
Catching the fluid movement of muscle in a supple male body, Sam's brain picked that moment to have a 'moment'. That's what she called the reluctant flashbacks she'd been getting recently; all tied in with standing in a storeroom of the SGC, staring through the quantum mirror at her CO who was indulging in a long, unhurried kiss with her alternate universe self.
Flabbergasted, she'd been rooted to the floor with her eyes glued to the sight of the two of them wrapped in an intimate embrace. The Colonel and her. Only it wasn't her, but an alternate version. One who'd never joined the military, but worked as a scientific contractor and married the Jack O'Neill of her reality.
Then watched him die within days of their first anniversary.
Sam didn't even try to analyse how she felt about that titbit. The Jack O'Neill of her reality was totally ignorant of her momentary absorption in him. He bent down to untie his own laces and Sam was free to yank her attention onto something else- anything.
Blindly, Sam stared at her hands. Even stuck off-world and pursued by God knows who, the same questions whirled around in her head. Why had he done it? Why had he kissed that Dr Carter? Could it mean he attracted to her, or was it just the hair? Maybe, he'd just been pitying her; trying to make AU Carter feel better?
Ugh! As always when she considered the last one, her skin crawled, repulsed at the idea that pity might have been his motivation. Yeesh, both she and her AU self had some pride, thanks very much.
Either way, she wished he hadn't kissed her, or that she hadn't seen it, because it had opened up a can of worms for Sam that was refusing to be shoved back into the unacknowledged recesses of her mind.
In the midst of her musings a hand appeared in front of her face, finger and thumb clicking. Blinking, Sam looked up at the shadowed face of the man behind her new uncertainty.
When he had her attention, O'Neill asked too clearly and succinctly, "Carter, have you hit your head, or sustained some other sort of injury, I don't know about?"
She could see where this was headed. Sam felt the flush start and shook her head, "No, sir"
"Then can you explain why I've managed to sneak up on you twice," he waggled two fingers for emphasise, "All without trying to, I might add."
She used the opportunity study him and saw not so much as flicker of awareness of her as a woman. What had she expected? While nobody would ever accuse Jack O'Neill of being straight as an arrow with his occasional disregard for orders, and actual pride in being a smart-ass, he was a Colonel, a decorated career officer who would never put up with his 2INC…
What? Harbouring a crush…falling in love with him? Oh, God no, don't even think it!
His voice sharpened, "Carter?"
A lump formed and Sam forced herself to speak, "Ah, I don't know, sir, bad day, maybe."
She could see he wasn't satisfied and his quiet, "You're a better soldier than that, Major," managed to make her feel like she was letting everybody down, including herself. She didn't need to be reminded they were fugitives on a hostile alien planet. What she needed was to get a grip- now!
o-O-o
I am so getting too old for this crap.
Cold seeped through the leaves from the earth floor. A floor that was co-incidentally as hard as a damned rock. Not to mention lying as he was so that he didn't touch Carter had his spine feeling like it had been fused together. All in all, he'd had better nights.
Uh huh, yeah, like you actually enjoyed sleeping on the ground with next to no cover even when you were 30.
That was true and absolutely no help at all. With no relief in sight anytime soon, Jack sighed heavily and tried counting the few stars peeping out from the velvet bed of the night sky.
"Did you say something, sir?"
"No, Carter, just thinking that at forty-three, I should have a nice desk job by now."
"Oh,"
The way she said it, it was obvious she didn't really know what else to say. Jack's lips curved wryly and he said, "Go back to sleep."
As if on cue, Carter turned to lie on her back and her sigh rivalled his for exasperation. "I would except I haven't been asleep yet."
He tilted his head so he could see the top of her blonde head, and gruffly asked, "Whatsup?"
She took her time answering and Jack caught on. He debated not saying it, and did anyway, "Cold?"
"Yeah," she sighed and under the thin poncho he could see she was holding herself tight as if trying to lock heat in. By unspoken agreement, they'd left a few inches between them. Now it looked like even that would have to go.
"Scoot over then," he offered with a jerk of his chin, adding gruffly, "It's gonna be a bit difficult to evade the enemy if we're falling asleep on our feet."
In response, the blonde hair rose another inch so all of her face was visible. Her breath plumed in the cold air. "Yeah," she said reluctantly, and shuffled over as instructed. Instant heat bloomed on his left side as she settled into his side. He tucked the poncho around them both. She said a muffled, "Thanks," and turned to face the other way.
Grinning slightly, Jack couldn't help making the comparison. This was radically different than Antarctica where she'd almost climbed on top of him. Sardonically, he wondered if the difference was because the cold was nowhere near as life threatening this time; more discomfort than actual risk, or because of what she'd seen through that quantum mirror. If he was a betting man, he'd go for even odds.
o-O-o
O'Neill awoke just before dawn. An urgent need for coffee, aching knee joints and his detestation for overnight off-world missions would normally have been the first conscious thoughts to seep through the sleep-fog. Not today.
Today, the first thing he noticed was lying on his side and being warm as toast on his front. Swiftly followed by the stunning realisation that he and Carter were wrapped up together as snug as a bug in a rug. The second that knowledge sank fully into Jack's brain his heartbeat kicked up into a canter.
There was more.
The really big news was that he had one arm curled around her back, supporting and keeping her pressed to him while Carter's face was tucked into his neck. Then, if that wasn't bad enough, down below one slim leg lay between his two. He'd forgotten how good such intimacy felt.
How they'd got like this without either one waking up he had no idea. It was as if sometime during the night they'd unconsciously adjusted themselves to fit. Almost Yin and Yang-like.
Lying there on the hard ground while the sky behind the thick canopy overhead lightened, Jack was bombarded with sensory information that he could have done without knowing, or being reminded of. Soft, moist puffs of breath washed over his Adam's apple and without the jacket and vest, he could feel the plump mounds of her breasts press into his chest.
His other arm lay over her waist and he could feel the delicate track of her spine under his palm. Then there was that scent. The smell that was pure woman. The essence of femininity that only a man who'd been married, or lived with a woman for long enough could appreciate. It teased him with a hint of sweetness.
Nostalgia, too.
And maybe a dollop or two of temptation.
Oh crap!
Goose-bumps chased themselves all over Jack's body. He didn't doubt for a second it was wrong- on so many levels. But…God! She felt wonderful. Too wonderful, he realised when his body began its enthusiastic reaction to the situation.
Double crap!
Jack froze and even held his breath, afraid of jostling her awake and inadvertently calling attention to the one thing he didn't want her aware of. Somehow, he couldn't imagine getting into a conversation with her about involuntary morning erections, even as an excuse for the one he had.
Sam took the lead, scouting out the terrain with Jack carrying the backpack and bringing up the rear. It was a pretty morning. Golden sunlight filtered though dense foliage to dapple the forest floor. Scurrying wildlife added to the rich tapestry of nature while above and around them the trees towered, filled with birdsong that twittered and warbled. It was…pretty.
Full lips curved in wry amusement. She was no poet that was for sure. Thankfully, both physics and the military called for the ability to call a spade a spade and not find ten other words to merely hint at it. She knew what she liked. Waking up to a flushed and suspiciously bright-eyed CO who, after a horrified stare of comprehension, had instantly jerked away from her had gotten added to the 'liked' list an hour ago.
For about a second, she tried to pretend it was catching the notorious smart-ass Colonel so completely off guard that was entertaining her. Sh'yeah! He might use confusion like a disguise, and catching him out to the point of jaw hitting the floor was damned rare, but that wasn't it and she knew it.
Theoretical astrophysics aside, Sam was no geek. She'd recognised the look in O'Neill's eyes before he rolled away. Guilt. That along with the sudden cold after being so warm told her all she needed to know. They'd gotten a lot closer during the night than when she finally drifted asleep, and she hadn't been imagining the intriguing hardness pressing into her pelvis.
The timing stunk, could've hardly been worse, but the answer to the question that had been bugging her since that darned mirror had just presented itself. As unbelievable as it seemed, the Colonel was attracted to her. What scared her most was how damned pleased she felt about it. In the micro-second after recognising what that bulge, swiftly removed, had been, Sam had felt a deeply visceral thrill that had speared right through her.
Picking her way through the undergrowth with brisk efficiency, Sam kept her eyes glued to the ground and ears pricked for sound, while her mind prodded and picked it all apart. Even the memory of that sensual tug had her palms dampening and pulse turning thick with something nameless.
Nameless only because she refused to admit what it was…
Arousal.
There it was out. She'd said it- sorta.
And lightening hadn't struck.
On cue, blue eyes slid up to the moving canopy of green speckled with sunlight. Distracted, Sam didn't see the danger until it was too late. Stepping around a tree with exposed roots and expecting solid matter, she yelped when the ground seemed to just drop out from under her feet. The one saving grace was she didn't properly yell out. If she had she'd have violated just about every protocol relating to escape and evade and her pride would never have recovered.
Training kicking in, she tucked herself into a roll to protect her head. Angling her legs, she used her boots to slow the unexpected descent as branches, twigs and shrubs bit, scratched and snagged at her vest and pants. When she did come to a stop, she had to spit out a mouthful of dry bracken.
It could have been worse. Maybe…
Stunned, but unhurt Sam waited to get her breath back, groaning long and low in her head. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, She didn't have to wait long for the reaction she was dreading. Godammit! Why couldn't t have been Teal'c she got stuck with? It would have been so much less mortifying.
Jumping down the last of the, thankfully, small gully, O'Neill came to a stand over her and rocked back on his heels. With both gloved hands resting on the butt of his MP5, he glanced between her and the visible evidence of her undignified fall. Under the cap, his expression spoke volumes. So did his thick sigh. "Carter, you're scaring me." His deep voice was heavy with meaning- all of it bad.
She tried, "Sir-"
"Can you spell stealth?" he interrupted in pure snide mode. "I take it you actually attended the part of your basic training dealing with hiding your back trail? Y'know that stuff that helps you elude pursuers."
Sam's jaw clenched and eyes sparking with rage, she picked herself up. "I get the point, Colonel. All I can say is I'm sorry and it won't happen again."
A brow climbed, "You're right, it won't."
Closed, his expression brooked no debate. He jerked a thumb over one shoulder to indicate she should take up the rear. "I'll take point from here, Major. You just concentrate on keeping your balance." His pause was delicate and deliberate, "If you think you can cope with that?"
Sore in ways that was more than physical, her pride pricked savagely at the tone, and the implication. Son of a bitch! He'd been like this since they woke up. Jesus, had he seen something in her face that made him think he needed to put distance between them by pissing her off with his foul mood?
If so it was working. So much for unwanted arousal. She felt like punching him.
"Fine," she gritted and pulled her cheek muscles up into the semblance of a smile.
Meeting unforgiving dark eyes, Sam was suddenly; fiercely glad her strange mood was broken. Mooning over the Colonel in their current circumstances was a really bad idea. In fact, mooning over the Colonel in any circumstances was a bad idea; she tacked on with a grimace when O'Neill had turned away enough he wouldn't catch it.
She seemed to be telling herself to get a grip a lot lately.
o-O-o
"Earth is full of fertile females," pointed out Neer'ah. With her arms folded on the richly polished expanse of wood, she was the picture of calm composure. Quite a feat considering this council meeting had been called expressly to deal with the 'situation' she'd brought about.
Sitting opposite, sleek and dark with liquid brown eyes as her best feature, Councillor Malyne inclined her head, visibly amused, "Yes, but I doubt they'll be so considerate as to send more through."
"This whole thing is beyond ridiculous." Murmurs of agreement came from a few members of the Saluran Council not so easily amused. "One woman's progeny is not worth provoking a whole race."
More than a few influential heads nodded in agreement. Above them golden sunlight streamed in through high, decoratively arched windows cut deep into the stone of the building.
"Provoked or not," asked Malyne with a shrug, genuinely curious rather than sneering, "What can they do?"
The same dissenter spoke up again. "Just because the humans of Earth don't have the capability for space travel now, it doesn't mean they won't acquire it soon," pale brows rose to emphasise the next point, "or have allies who already can."
Not liking the direction of that leading statement, Neer'ah sought to retake the reigns of the debate, "You're speculating not to mention doom-saying as per usual, Shallen. Right from the beginning they admitted freely that we're significantly more advanced-"
"Perhaps, Neer'ah, but you're missing the point," said Morgana.
Around the table, patience had worn thin for more than a few of the members. The interruption from the head of the council was barely disguised. She continued, "From what we've heard previously, the people of Earth have befriended races that are both superior and advanced to them technologically, perhaps also to us."
It was obvious to one and all that the decision had been made before the members had even convened. Still, there was an expectant pause, "I agree with, Shallen, we should find them and return them unharmed to their world."
The lively debate escalated into one, last, rising babble of arguing voices.
Until…
"I think I should mention," announced Rayna in a ringing tone loud enough to rise above it all. "That the bounty has already been announced, increased and communicated throughout Salura as well as all of our neighbours."
Instantly every gaze swung her way. The silence was deafening. That coupled with the quasi ecclesiastical appearance of the hall gave the atmosphere a heavy, spell-binding aspect.
"So, for all intents and purposes the hunt is already on," Rayna's words fell like splinters of glass into the stunned quiet, "and has been since Major Carter escaped yesterday."
Until that moment, she'd been suspiciously silent during the meeting and now the reason for that was perfectly understood. A fist thumped on the table. "You had no right…"
"I had every right to protect the good name and status of my family, Morgana. Neer'ah has placed herself in my hands, and as her matriarch, I invoke The Rule of Shre Laminia."
Consternation and whispers raced from council member to be council member. Nostrils flaring as she hauled on the reins of her rage, Morgana sat stiffly back in her chair and forced her fingers to relax around the worn smooth ends of the chair's arms. Finally, she managed a thin smile. "You've done this in the hope of preventing a vote of no confidence being presented against your sister as a result of this latest… debacle."
The battle lines were now officially drawn.
Inclining her head, Rayna didn't bother with a denial, simply stating, "As the head of my family, I also have the right to see Neer'ah's actions through to a favourable conclusion." Softly and laced with ruthlessness, she stared Morgana down and said, "And by law you may not interfere."
o-O-o
Jack knew she was steamed with him, had actually intended that she be.
He hadn't been kidding when he'd said she was scaring him. Carter was acting weird and in the circumstances that was a very bad thing. At the beginning he might have expected some flakiness given the useless-geek-scientist label he'd slapped on her, but two years later he knew he couldn't do better than having Sam watch his six going into battle. Well, normally anyway. She was being very un-Carterish and if he had to attack her pride to get her back on track- then so be it. She could kick his ass later and he'd probably enjoy it.
Sick, O'Neill
Blow me.
"Sir?"
"Yeah."
It was the first words spoken between them for several hours.
"Can you feel that hum?"
Hum? Turning on his heel to look back at Carter, O'Neill was about to ask what she was talking about when he felt it. It was the tiniest vibration in the air that felt just like the hum of a building electrical charge.
"It feels like static," he said, "and my hairs are all on end." He lifted his forearm to prove the point.
Gazes locked, he saw Carter's eyes widen with horror. "Get down!" she yelled and lightening reflexes meant he hit the deck just as she lifted the MP5 and let loose with a volley over his head.
Swinging around and shifting on his butt, O'Neill caught sight of the target and brought his own weapon into play. Unfortunately, they didn't need to ID the guy. They'd already met back in Salura. He was one of Neer'ah's bounty hunters. How he'd found them, they'd figure out later.
Hot lead spat out orange from both muzzles, but instead of ripping into the big guy's green and orange body armour, and maybe stirring up some of the forest around him, the bullets splatted uselessly into some kind of force-field between them and the hunter.
Oh, crap! Not good. Not good at all!
Kicking out with his feet in the dirt, O'Neill propelled himself backwards and closer to Carter. "Get out of here," he hollered over the din of the rifles automatic fire. "Retreat- now!"
"I can't," she yelled back and Jack's heart sank, "I've tried to, but there's some kind of force-field around us. I think we stepped into a trap." He could guess what was coming, "Now we're inside it, we can't get out."
Typical! "Oh, for cryin' out…" he bit it off in frustration. The guns fell silent as they accepted the futility of continuing to waste ammo.
Almost as if he'd heard them, the bounty hunter took that as a signal to prove he was not so restricted. Unfortunately his own weapon pierced the field first and was discharged before Jack could do more than think about the possibility of getting the bastard when he was inside with them.
Sam's scream of wrathful denial was the last thing he heard before a sledgehammer of white-out pain slammed into him.
o-O-o
George Hammond stared down at the stargate as if willpower alone might bring his people walking through its shimmering waters. It was late, but even knowing there was little he could do between now and the few hours remaining until morning, he didn't abandon his vigil.
SG-7 had failed to reach any kind of satisfactory solution and had reported back their failure several hours ago. The Salurans, he'd been told were being unusually uncooperative. Now there was a surprise.
This wasn't the first time SG.1 had gotten lost somehow, but this time felt different. Hammond couldn't pin it down exactly. All he knew was that deep inside his gut roiled and hope for a positive resolution quaked and died a little bit more. He didn't want either Colonel O'Neill or Major Carter to be spending another night on that godforsaken planet.
"General?" enquired a familiar, deep voice.
Turning from the window, Hammond relaxed fists he hadn't even known he'd clenched. "Teal'c," he acknowledged and almost smiled when he turned and saw Daniel Jackson step out from behind his large friend. "And Dr Jackson," he added, "what can I do for you?"
He asked out of politeness and more to get it out of the way than any need to know what it was they wanted. He'd already promised the grim Jaffa that if negotiations didn't achieve results quickly, he would allow Teal'c to go back through the gate and rip the damned place apart if he had to. Hell, he may well be joining him, thought Hammond grimly.
A few feet away, Teal'c raised a brow at the obviousness but refrained from commenting; instead silently deferred to his remaining comrade-in-arms of the Tauri.
Daniel caught the silent prod and stopped his nervous, last minute flicking of pages within the overstuffed file he'd brought with him. "Oh, um…yes," Straightening to his full height; blue eyes earnest and frown in place, the young archaeologist and now would-be warrior dived right in.
"I," belatedly, he pointed at Teal'c, "Or rather we, heard how it went with SG-7-"
As if by consensus they all stopped to wince…
"and I think I may have found just the person to help us negotiate with the Salurans," he said and for all his earlier fumbling, pulled out a newspaper clipping with unerring accuracy from the pile.
He handed it over to the waiting General. "Her name is Rebecca Stanislow from England. She's a bit young, I know, but she's already got a name for herself in the field of anthropology."
"England?" Hammond echoed in disbelief. "Surely we have someone closer. As in from this country?"
"Not with her…um," Daniel cocked his head thoughtfully while a strange, guilty light flitting over the deep blue of his gaze, "unique attributes, no."
Oh, here we go. Hammond managed to quell the tiny smile threatening to break out over his face. What is it about hope that it never dies and springs back up at the damned, stupidest things? "I think you'd better explain, Dr Jackson." He nodded to the briefing table, "Why don't you both have a seat."
o-O-o
Jack woke to find himself alone. Which in itself was not unusual. Then reality crashed in and he was instantly swamped by a cold horrified sweat. "Carter! God, no!"
Rolling over and staggering to unsteady feet, his panicked gaze sought and found evidence of what had happened to his 2INC. Her rifle lay on the ground, along with the Zat, Beretta with clips and her hunting knife. Jesus, the damned bounty hunter had disarmed her and left them all behind- as if Jack posed no threat whatsoever.
A quick run of one hand over his own gear confirmed he was still armed, too. Okay, he had his own weapons, but still the same principle applied. Did the sonfabitch seriously think he wouldn't bother going after them, or was he so confident it wouldn't matter even if he did?
It didn't matter either way. "Whatever. The asshole's about to find out different."
The ground blurred and swayed as O'Neill pushed himself up from the semi crouch enough that he could stand straight; that done, he forced the disorientation to recede and sucked in deep, angry breaths. Sluggishness swiped away by adrenaline, his mind raced.
At least they were both alive and in one piece. Jack was pissed and armed and judging by the position of the sun he'd only been unconscious for about half an hour. All in all there was still a good chance he could catch up and rescue Carter before she got transported back to the city. Assuming the guy had some means of transport nearby. Not an easy thing to have in a thickly forested area like this one.
Which was exactly why he'd had chosen this route. Spotting his cap on the grass, he swiped it up, positioned it and set off. Which was the right thing to do, except there was one problem O'Neill hadn't anticipated and only found out about within a few feet though.
In the middle of taking a step, he felt like he'd walked into a wall of excruciating pain. Dimly, he heard a scream, and recoiling forcefully from the agony ripping through him. Jack only knew it had been him when he fell to his ass and curled into a ball. "Shit!" he groaned and winced at the rawness of his throat.
Now he knew why the bounty hunter hadn't given a rat's ass if Jack was armed. The force field was still very much in operation and he was a prisoner. "Well, this is just great!" he snarled, "am I supposed to grateful, I only nearly got turned into a crispy critter?"
Spread-eagled on the floor with clumps of grass digging into his back, Jack felt like killing something just to relieve some frustration. He was screwed. Or, more accurately, Carter was.
HEY! Don't even think it.
When cows jump over the moon, pigs fly, yada yada yada. He didn't really have to think about it. He surged upright and scowled. "Not gonna happen."
Okay, great. He had an objective and now all he had to do was try and be the brainiac for once and figure out how to disable the 'field. Crap. He needed Carter. "Well, duh!"
"Hello…"
O'Neill stood and whirled so fast he almost made himself dizzy. MP5 raised and ready to fire, he stalked closer and scrutinised the owner of the voice. Pale, bald male who was shortish, plumpish and few other things that made him think 'ish'. "And you would be?" Jack queried softly. He didn't lower the MP5.
The man looked ready to bolt, "My name is Alman. I mean you no harm."
Feeling the infinitesimal increase in electricity that he figured signified the edge of his 'prison', Jack felt a surge of impotent fury at the knowledge that this guy was in his sight, but totally out of reach of even the powerful rifle.
"I'd say the same," he retorted and dropped the useless rifle, "except we both know I don't have much choice in the matter."
"That is true," said Alman, "at least until I disable the lasers that create the fields."
Laserlike themselves, dark brown eyes zeroed in on washed out blue. "You can do that?" Jack asked pleasantly and with a charming, 'I'm-a-big-softie-really' smile. "Just switch it off at the flick of a switch?"
"Of course," Alman said, blinking in instinctive alarm at the smile, "although I should mention that I will not do so until my master has informed me that he and the woman are safely aboard our vessel."
"Really?" The smile slipped into feral, Jack's chin lifted, "Right, of course. We don't want me escaping and screwing up your boss' little abduction scenario."
"Um, precisely," Alman saw the hard face getting closer; unnerved despite the force-field, he swallowed hard and stammered. "Sir, please don't get any closer, or you'll be hurt. I have warned you."
"And I appreciate that warning," said Jack, adding dangerously soft, "Alman."
"Yes,"
"Don't take another step back."
"Why not?"
"Because then I'll have to…" a long, strong arm shot out, pierced the 'field and fastened around Alman's chubby neck, "…do this." Teeth gritted against the searing pain, Jack yanked his arm back and dragged the now squealing man inside with him.
Dropping the heavy weight as his arm went into a rebellious spasm from what he'd just put it through, Jack cradled it and using a boot, toed Alman over so he could see his face. It wasn't a pretty sight. If he felt bad from just his arm, he could imagine what the smaller man was feeling- the funny thing was, he didn't give a crap.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Stop blubbering," he ordered harshly over the babbling moans and wails, "And now you're in here, too, you and me are gonna have a chat about how we disable those lasers- like NOW!"
Sam found herself leading the way again. Only this time she was wearing some kind of collar and the 'man', she used the term loosely, behind her was an alien. More, one whose face she couldn't even guess at through the concealing helmet. Overall, she was tired, stressed and worried about both herself and the Colonel. The spasms that had wracked him when the blast hit had managed to make a zat blast look like a tickle.
Her own shot had only stunned and it had been no walk in the park, so she could imagine how Colonel O'Neill must have been feeling when he woke up. If he woke up. On cue her guts did some serious clenching when that sliver of doubt slipped through her mental defences.
Shut-up, Sam, she told herself fiercely. Blindly skirting around a tree that refused to follow the semi uniform pattern of the rest, she told herself Jack O'Neill was too tough and irascible to let a little bolt of electricity do him in. Her own predicament forgotten for a moment, she snorted. He was used to it by now. In fact a few weeks ago he'd been talking abut getting a hair cut because he was so sick of having it stand on end after getting zatted.
The memory helped and some muscles loosened. Behind her twigs snapped as her captor followed close behind. Sam concentrated on not losing hope now it had decided to rear its head again.
He was going to be alright. They both were. Hell, they'd been in worse situations more times than she liked to remember. And at least this time they weren't being turned into hosts or popsicles like Hathor had tried a few months ago. More than anything, she refused to accept that a world as crazy and culturally retarded as Sulura could be the one to defeat SG-1.
A shove in the middle of her back brought her crashing back to the here and now. Right, reality check. Sam bit back a retort and kept her eyes to the ground.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, the colonel; freedom, liberty, survival and not getting turned over to Neer'ah. Frustration clawed, clenching her guts. Damn it! So much for evading capture until General Hammond could negotiate for peace, or send re-enforcements.
All of which was moot with her being held captive. She had to get free and then go and find Colonel O'Neill. Two very simple strategic objectives that looked just about impossible right now. Seeing the shadows lengthen, she figured sufficient time had passed for her to appear cowed enough to try improving that assessment.
"We've been walking for a while now and you still haven't said where we're going." She pointed out, talking over one shoulder. "C'mon would it hurt to give me that much at least?"
She was careful not to make any moves that could be construed as attempting an escape. Her palms were still sore from where she'd grazed them in a fall following a brief and very painful demonstration of what the collar could do if she tried anything. At the push of a button, it delivered an agonising charge to her body that was paralysing in its intensity. She'd gotten the message loud and clear.
"You are my prisoner, Major Carter," was the flat and tinny reply, "I owe you nothing, and that includes any type of explanation."
The not-so-great speaker on the helmet was one of a number of indicators that this race of whatever they were, were not that advanced. Sure, they used electrical power to create weapons and force-fields, but after some of the stuff Sam had seen along with SG-1 in the last few years, the technology was a little clumsy.
Not sure what good that opinion did her, Sam decided to risk it and push a little. Climbing back up the small gully she'd tumbled down earlier, she felt a stab of something akin to nostalgia. God! She hoped the colonel was okay.
"Let me guess, then," she said and waited with her shoulders proudly squared at the top, "There aren't any clearings around here big enough to land a ship. Meaning we have to hike to wherever it is you have…parked it, am I right?"
The bounty hunter drew level with her after two strong strides up. Facing the helmet's blank, black panels where the eyes would have been, Sam tensed at the vicious vibe that still managed to reach her through it. "I will not tolerate insolence from a creature about to become a slave," the voice said darkly, "If you will not be silent without encouragement, I will happily provide the encouragement."
In other words, shut-up or I'll hurt you. Sadistic bastard. Refusing to be cowed but cautious enough to know when a battle couldn't possibly be won under present circs, Sam kept her expression neutral; then shrugging, pantomimed locking her lips and throwing away the key.
Inside, she promised herself that the second the opportunity presented itself, she was going to get that damned remote and feed it to him. Assuming he had a mouth of course. If not she'd improvise, Sam thought grimly.