Disclaimer: Stargate is not mine. The original characters are. No money is being made from this...sadly. Any likeness to persons portrayed here is purely Intentional. If you think it's you or some one you know, well...you're wrong. So, don't go there. Enjoy.
Chapter One
"Mitchell! Where's my Daniel?"
About to take a sip of coffee, Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, startled by the abrasively bubbly intrusion, found his morning caffeine fix soaking what was once an almost finished mission report. Jumping up hastily before the hot liquid could scald his lap, the stack of remaining files became airborne.
"Jeez, Vala!" Mitchell exclaimed, shaking the drink off his hands before wiping them dry on his BDU blues. "Man! That is hot. How many times have I told you: 'Don't do that!'?"
"Well someone's certainly in a wonderful mood this morning," the raven haired woman quipped, brazenly entering. Disdainfully plucking up the corner of the coffee stained papers between her thumb and middle finger, Vala Mal Doran haphazardly discarded it; the report falling just shy of the waste bin. In one smooth gesture, she whisked the jacket from the wayward chair and laid it upon the now cluttered and java-damp desktop. Taking a seat atop the jacket, Vala bouncily crossed her legs at the knee and, with her lower leg, drew the chair towards her. Resting foot on chair, elbow on knee, and chin on fist, she flashed her playfully innocent smile.
"Hi!"
With lips pursed, Mitchell stared incredulously at the naively impudent woman. Looking around at the mess Vala created, he began to retrieve his hours of work knowing she was not about to help. "Jackson's not here," Mitchell said, crouching down and finally answering her initial query, "left the's'mornin'. Can't you go play with Teal'c?"
"Muscles isn't back yet from Chulak, or wherever it is the Jaffa are playing this week," Vala replied, flipping her hair. "Where did Daniel go? And don't tell me he went off another research trip," using her fingers, Vala put the word in quotes as she rolled her eyes, "and conveniently forgot to take me along. I've been begging him to get me off the base for weeks."
"Sam called from Atlantis," Mitchell informed Vala, stacking the out-of-order pages beside the woman. "Some big honkin' discovery that needs translatin'."
"Well, don't they have people there to do that?"
"He said it was a personal favor," he replied with a shrug, "She needed his expertise or something like that."
"Looks like it's just you and me then," Vala remarked, her tone full of maybe-innocence, might-be-joking, probably-serious innuendo.
"Much fun as that sounds," he said, rolling his eyes. Pausing to carefully take Vala by the waist, lift her from his desk, and respectfully set her aside – much to her delight – and reorder his desk, Mitchell then added, "I've got a whole load of back mission reports to finish. Landry wants them in by Monday morning and I do not wanna waste my free weekend pencil pushin'."
"Cameron," Vala whined melodramatically, drawing out his first name, "I'm bored."
"Tell ya what, Vala," Mitchell said, followed by a sigh because he knew he had just caved. "I promise I'll getcha outta here sometime this weekend and we'll have some fun, after I get these done."
"Great," she said, playfully tapping his nose, "I've been dying to visit this large marketplace I've been reading about: America's mall or something like that. We can spend the whole day there."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Mitchell protested, "Let's back this pony train up. That's not what I had in mind. Chauffeuring you around while you borrow my credit card is not what I call fun. And I already have plans for Saturd-"
Mitchell was cut short by the familiar claxon of an unscheduled off-world activation followed by Master Chief Sergeant Walter Harriman announcing as much. Jerking his head towards the door, they were up and on their way to see what the trouble was.
He's gone, was the first thought upon waking. A deep sigh of relief was exhaled. The only thoughts following were the desire for rest, for blissful, peaceful, silent sleep.
"Here," said a voice softly, "you must drink. Conserve your strength."
Graciously, the sweet water was accepted. So accustomed to immediate acquiescence, refusal had not even been considered. With the return of something even more precious than water, freewill, the tumbler was pushed away. Instead, the choice to slumber was made.
"He will return for you soon. Sleep well."
"What have we got, Walter," Major General Hank Landry asked, entering the control room.
"Receiving IDC, sir," the chief replied, ever busy at his station. "Confirming…it's from Kelowna, sir."
"Kelowna, huh?" Landry remarked. "Haven't heard from them in a while. Open the Iris."
"Yes, sir," the small framed technician answered, placing his hand on the square device next to his console. The pad scanned Walter, and, recognizing him, authorized the order. There was a slight pause before the defensive shield retracted, spiraling into its recess, and revealed the rippling blue surface of the wormhole that had been established between their Stargate and the Kelownan's. The irony never escaped the General that something so strangely beautiful – a seemingly tranquil vertical circle of what looked very much like water wreathed by an ornate stone casing –could be so innately powerful, and, potentially dangerous. A minor distortion in the event horizon preceded the emergence of a figure from the portal.
A medium height, well-built, youthful male with light brown hair and bright eyes was their off-world visitor. He had a bag slung over his shoulders, a notebook under his arm, and a big smile plastered across his face. Presently, the General was joined by the leader and a member of his top team, SG-1. They watched as the man descended the ramp and stopped at the bottom. With hands on hips, he looked about excitedly; it was clear he was expectantly waiting, his barely concealed anticipation oozing out.
"Who's the grinning idiot?" Vala inquired, her accent extra thick and her condescension concealed as well as the eager visitor's excitement.
Walter turned in his seat and answered, "Jonas Quinn, ma'am."
"It is time."
No…Will it never end?
If it were not for these ever so brief respites, hope would have perished long ago. However, the trauma of repeatedly being taken was becoming too great to withstand. Resilience would fail and soon nothing would remain, save the empty shell where a sharp intellect once flourished.
Escape seemed improbable. Having even the strength to surmount the unfathomable obstacles was unlikely and there was simply not enough to time to devise a strategy. Any plan would immediately be discovered upon return. Even the slightest inkling of a tactic would be known. If any action were to ever be taken, it would have to be immediate and from sudden inspiration during one of the precious resting times that were so intermittent and unpredictable.
The gentle strength of the colossus that was always present aided standing. Silently, a gesture was made towards the place of transference. It was the same every time. In everyway identical. The fear and inmost dread never wavered. Utter despair and wrenching exasperation followed the heart-skipping anxiety like clockwork; then, came the restraints.
The one slight variety was the voice. It was unfamiliar. Still, it did not matter because the tone, the inflection, and the augmentation were unmistakable, regardless of who was being used today. The others were rotated and interchanged infrequently for various reasons. None of the others were constants. Death, presumably, awaited them once their usefulness expired.
The clinking, clanking, clasp of the other's restraints could be heard followed by the disturbing squish of the shunt being inserted into the cerebral canal. There was a soft hum as the mental inhibitor was activated. The frequency of it did not match. Morbidly amused, the dissonance was still as bothersome as it was the first time.
The giver of water – also the re-deliverer to bondage – grapsed both heads with a somehow tentative but firmly unyielding force. Anxiety and apprehension reached its climax when the ghoulish, shrill, squeal burst the silence before the undulating creature lurched and burrowed deep to resume residence in its preferred home.
Struggling was futile. Nonetheless, it was the only bit of freewill that could ever be exercised. So, exercised it was. There were flashes of mother, cousin, and pie, of mountains, beaches and sky, and of laughter and singing. It always happened right before the end. The protests against the malevolence soon ebbed as the dominant force asserted itself and seized the reigns of full control, captivity reinstated.
Assembled in the briefing room, Mitchell and Vala, with the visitor, waited while General Landry finished an unexpected call from the Pentagon. Mitchell fidgeted impatiently while Vala paced slow circles round the table. With one arm slung across her midsection, she rested the other atop it and tapped her chin contemplatively. Unusually silent, Vala's lips were pursed in skepticism as she scrutinized the Kelownan.
The visitor, never losing his bright countenance, looked hopefully to Mitchell for an explanation for the beautiful but odd woman's strange behavior. Shrugging, Mitchell raised his hands, refusing to take part, and remained silent. To both of the men's relief, the General entered and joined them. Vala was vigilant in her orbit of critique.
"Sorry for the wait," Landry said, "General O'Neill sends his best."
The visitor respectfully rose and met General Landry halfway to greet him with a handshake. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Quinn," the General said, "I assume you've been formally introduced to Colonel Mitchell and Vala Mal Doran."
"General Landry, it's an honor," Jonas replied warmly and then nodded towards the other two, as they took their seats at the table.
"From what I've read, and heard, you had quite a distinguished, if not brief, career with us."
"Thank you, sir," he said, "It seems like a lifetime ago."
"Things have certainly changed around here," Landry remarked and Jonas nodded his wholehearted agreement, eyeing his observer with his peripherals. The General gave a knowing smirk. "What can we do for you Mr. Quinn?"
"As you know, not long after Kelowna signed a peace treaty with our neighbors, the Ori attacks began."
"Oh, we're pretty familiar with that," Mitchell interjected.
"Not long after that, our world was one of the first to fall," Jonas said, "We were also one of the last to be freed. As devastating as it was, sir, there was an upside to all of it."
"O'Neill did mention you had a penchant for looking on the bright side," Landry noted.
"There's being positive and then there's being blind to the truth, man," Mitchell said, "Aren't you taking it a little far with the Ori. Can't imagine how they did your world any sort good."
"It's hard to believe, Colonel, I know," Jonas conceded, "but it's true. Our peace with the Tiranians and the Andari was shaky at best, but since the liberation Langara has experienced true peace for the first time in our history. In addition, as one of their footholds in the Milkyway, the base on Langara was heavily fortified by the armies of the Ori. We've been reaping the benefits of what they left behind ever since."
"Well, I'll be darned," Mitchell breathed.
"Before the Ori showed, it was already in the works, General," Jonas continued, "but with the combined efforts and new resources –"
"Would you sit down and stop circling like a damned vulture?!" Landry barked at Vala. Acquiescing, she dramatically took a seat, but as far across the table from Jonas as possible. "I apologize for her behavior, Mr. Quinn –"
"Still haven't quite got her house broken yet," Mitchell offered, receiving looks from both Vala and Landry.
"Thank you for that, Colonel," Landry said, his impatience seeping through, "Please, Mr. Quinn, continue."
"Right, uh, with the new resources and combined efforts of our peoples, it's flourishing."
"What is, son?" General Landry asked. He like briefings to be brief. Though lasting only a few minutes so far, the General had not learned much of anything from the meeting that was of any real substance to the SGC.
"Our Stargate program, sir."
"Humph."
"What she means by that," Mitchell said quickly, "is 'wow.' That's quite an undertaking."
"We weren't aware your people were venturing out into the galaxy," General Landry said, taking the folder Jonas had passed to him. "Exactly what kind of operation are we talking about?"
"Just like this one, sir," Jonas replied, his shoulders squaring as he adopted a look of pride.
"Yes, I'm so sure," Vala remarked facetiously.
"Well, obviously not to the same extent," he amended, his delight deflating, "but it's the same concept. The entire infrastructure is based off of what I learned here. It's a military operation with civilian oversight: it has the purpose of exploring, learning about our origins, and gaining allies and technological advancements to protect our planet. Our teams go out and do just what you do."
Mitchell and Landry could not hide the surprise, nor did they try. Vala was another story.
"Just what we do?" she scoffed. "Save the galaxy lately, have you?"
"That's enough, Vala." Landry scolded, "Not that we aren't happy for you, or to hear that potentially we have strong new allies, but why haven't we heard about this sooner?"
"General, the last few encounters our peoples had were less than stellar," Jonas offered, choosing his words carefully, "I guess it was the consensus that we could do without you. Though I'd been pushing it for quite sometime now, it wasn't until recently that I was able to convince my superiors that it was worthwhile to resume relations with Earth."
"It says here you lead one of the teams?" Mitchell was looking over the files.
"After successfully brokering the peace negotiations, the Andari and Tiranian representatives felt I was the most qualified to represent our world," Jonas replied, slightly bashful, "I'm a consultant for our version of Stargate Command and I lead many of the off-world expeditions."
"Good for you son, but," Landry said, his tone short, getting down to it, "other than informing us of the existence of your Stargate program, what does any of this have to do with us?"
"This," Jonas replied, his excitement returning. Scrawled across the pages of his open notebook were ancient symbols, drawings of ruins and artifacts, and a mess of other things. Vala, suddenly interested, tried to be discreet as she leaned forward to see what the fuss was all about. The most prominent sketch was similar to a Stargate, but a number of the surrounding diagrams were unfamiliar to the SGC staff. Amidst the jumble, it was clear that something was being indicated.
"Care to enlighten us, son?"
"It's the reason why I was permitted to contact you, General" Jonas admitted. "On one of our recent missions, to…uh…PZ9-798, I came across something very interesting."
"798?" Mitchell repeated, "Haven't been there yet."
"Well, we discovered a vast abandoned settlement that we believed to be Ancient in origin. There's a wealth of artifacts and glyphs that will take many more months to catalogue. However, it's a lot older than anything previously discovered which makes it far less advanced. None of it has turned out to be of any real value. Except for this."
Jonas paused and smiled, gesturing towards the pad enthusiastically. Vala and Mitchell exchanged looks and shrugged, not following his inference. Letting out a sigh, Jonas remained unimpeded and dredged forward. "I found records of a second settlement across the planet. A second gate is said to be housed there: possibly an auxiliary or a back up to the one we've used. However, I believe it to be the primary one used by the Ancients before they ascended or wherever they went.
"The writings also tell of a sacred place. It was supposed that there was a great store house of knowledge. Within this edifice, there is a…well, I can't translate that part, but I know it's important, or valuable. Everything else around the word indicates that; I just can't translate the word itself. I was hoping Dr. Jackson could…"
"No can do," Mitchell interrupted, "he's in Atlantis with Carter; won't be back for a while."
"Either way, I know it's important. The problem is we could never find the place. I kept looking for months, but my superiors finally shut down the search. It took some convincing, but they agreed to let me bring it to you. You have the technology and capability, and I know with your help we can find it.
"What's the catch?"
"Whatever we find," Jonas said, "we share."
"Of course," Landry mused.
"Hold on a second," Vala spoke up. She had taken an interest in the photographs provided with the files Jonas had passed around. Unsystematically spreading them about, she was pouring over them. "I think I recognize this planet."
"Oh, you're playing ball now?" Mitchell asked sardonically.
"Shut up or you'll miss something important," the woman absently stated with a dismissive hand gesture, her eyes still locked on the pictures, "I may have been here before. Or rather, Qe'tesh has. It's been in Ba'al's domain for the majority of the reign of the System Lords. He was hiding something here. What I don't know, but it was something. Valuable, with any luck."
"Qe'tesh?" Jonas wondered aloud.
"It's a long story, pal," Mitchell warned, shaking his head. "I wouldn't."
"It's not that long," Vala remarked, still rifling away. "I was once host to a Goa'uld. A rather devious and powerful one at that. Until the Tok'ra freed me of course and I made my way here. Well, that is, not before I hijacked one of their primitive spacecrafts from Daniel, and then subsequently linked myself to him so that we couldn't be separated without dying in order to discover a treasure lost here on Earth. After that, I was practically family. Well, except for that short stint where I was transported to the Ori galaxy and divinely impregnated to carry their spawn so they could wage a holy war on our galaxy, which brought me back here. So, now I'm one of the team."
With the latter statement, Vala lightheartedly socked Mitchell in the arm and smiled. Jonas' eyes widen considerably as he futilely attempted to maintain his boyish grin. His mouth gaped like a fish out of water; stammering, he finally came up with nothing to say. Mitchell shot their guest the universal "I told you so," look. Jonas nodded back in apology and agreement.
"Focus people," General Landry cut in, "not that this isn't all fascinating, Mr. Quinn, but I have a phone call with the President scheduled in fifteen minutes."
"General, please," Jonas pressed as he refocused, "I think this could be big. If I could have the assistance of the SGC I know we can find what I've been looking for. I've come up with –"
"Mr. Quinn, if I had any doubts before, it's now quite clear you were a member of SG1"
"Sir?"
"You are the only people I know who push for something before actually saying what it is that you want," Landry stated, rising from the table and gathering the documents, "And then once you do, you keep arguing your point even after you've gotten your way."
Jonas was speechless.
"General?" Mitchell asked, rising along with Landry.
"You have a green light, Colonel," the General announced as he edged toward his office. "SG teams 3 and 12 will accompany yourself, Vala, and Mr. Quinn. You leave at oh eight hundred."
"Yes, sir."
"I know they're very busy, sir," Jonas said, hastily rounding the table towards the man, "but when they get back, I was hoping that SG-1…"
"Son, you're looking at them."
The Kelownan looked positively mortified as he watched Landry retreat to his office. Mitchell crossed his arms and smirked at the once and again team member; Vala grinned playfully.
"Let's go get some treasure," she exulted.