Disclaimer: you know the drill
Whizbang
By OughtaKnowBetter
"Pack it up, Daniel," the colonel yelled over his shoulder nervously, letting his voice echo into the cave behind him. "We've got company."
"Five minut—"
"Not unless you want to make nice with a herd of Jaffa, Daniel. Move it." O'Neill clicked on his comm. to talk to his scout one hillock over. "T?"
"ColonelO'Neill." The warrior sounded as calm as usual. The planetary sun could be going nova, and the alien would still sound as if he were commenting on the quality of Aunt Bee's embroidery. "There is a squad of Jaffa heading in this direction. I recommend an immediate withdrawal."
"Already seeing it, big guy, and I've told Daniel to close up shop. Pull back; let's see if we can get out of here without being noticed."
"I will monitor their approach," Teal'c announced. "If we withdraw swiftly, we may be able to retreat without engaging them. They move with alacrity."
"Any glowing eyes?"
"There are no Goa'uld among them that I can detect from this distance. They are lightly armed."
"Good." Although 'good' was relative, O'Neill reflected. Just because a Jaffa only had a staff weapon didn't mean that he was about to take them with anything less than extreme caution. Just last week he'd seen a Jaffa rip someone's head off—and not with mere words—and that Jaffa wasn't even considered particularly competent by his fellows. He turned to Carter beside him, her field glasses still glued to her eyes. "Carter?"
"Getting closer, sir. I agree with Teal'c. I estimate not more than ten minutes before they're within firing range. You want to try to take them out? I see six, no, seven of them."
O'Neill considered. It was an option, even if it was an option that he didn't particularly care for. It wasn't the Jaffas' fault that they had been born into slavery and, if Teal'c and a few others had their way, that concept of slavery was going to be thrown out through the proverbial window. Killing semi-innocent Jaffa was not the way to make freedom happen. The old 'I die free' stuff was great for reading about in history books and Daniel's artifacts but not conducive to a long and happy lifestyle.
And by the look on Carter's face, she didn't like her option either, even though she had dutifully brought it up. It was a legitimate tactic under the circumstances, and her P-90 was close at hand and O'Neill had just signed off on her routine target practice that said she could do considerably better than hitting the broad side of a barn. Killing the patrol would work if it had to.
They might yet have to put it into operation. O'Neill turned to call back into the cave. "Daniel?" With an aggrieved 'aren't you ready yet?' tone.
"Almost there, Jack. One last thing to pack."
"ColonelO'Neill!" Teal'c's own comm. broke in. "There is a second contingent of Jaffa, and they are close. I am returning immediately! Take cover!"
Too late. A staff blast arrowed over Carter's head, singeing her hair. She gave an involuntary yelp, swung her P-90 around, and retaliated. The return yelp from afar indicated that her instinctive aim was as good as ever.
Okay, that meant that the 'sneaking away unseen' option was now officially dead. O'Neill didn't bother with his comm. link. Keeping quiet was likewise wasted effort. "Daniel, now!" he yelled into the cave behind him.
Jaffa to the right of them. Jaffa to the left of them. And O'Neill didn't count his own personal Jaffa running toward the rest of SG-1 at top speed. He aimed his trusty P-90, taking out the dusky-skinned warrior who was trying to slow down Teal'c with a well-placed staff blast. "Gotcha, you little bugger." Without looking around: "Daniel!"
"Coming." Out of breath. And still too damn far back in the cave.
It sparkled through the air. It looked like a grenade. Jaffa didn't use grenades, not as the SG types knew them, but they did use something similar and it was nasty: sonic grenades, and O'Neill had seen them demonstrated very effectively in the not so recent past. He'd rather not be on the receiving end of one. He ducked, and covered his ears, watching the little ball arc across the sky. "Fire in the hole!"
"Rel'shok!" Teal'c hollered back, doubling his speed.
What the hell was a 'rel'shok'? O'Neill wondered in the last split second before the world fell apart. Not much sound, but a hell of a lot of light which then turned into O'Neill's very own personal pit of black.
"Sh."
O'Neill obediently stifled the groan that came unbidden to his lips. If Daniel was shushing him, it must be serious because the way the civilian said it meant "be quiet, there's trouble" and not "it's gonna be okay as soon as I talk our way out of this one, Jack, so shut up and let me do all the talking."
Everything hurt, but it was an 'overall banged up' hurt instead of a 'something is seriously injured' hurt. O'Neill took swift inventory of himself and came up pretty much satisfied: nothing broken. He looked around, and couldn't see anything. Back inside that cave? No light? Somehow that didn't seem right. The world didn't smell like a cave. But it was damn dark. O'Neill wished the answer would hit him—gently. His brains weren't working particularly well at the moment, and he was fairly certain that they needed to if he wanted to get them all out of this mess alive.
He sensed Daniel close by, and the man's hot breath came next to his ear, fast and short. "The Jaffa are leaving. Keep still for just another few minutes."
Good. Jack could do that. He could keep still. Daniel clearly had a better grasp on the situation than Jack. He felt Daniel moving away, presumably to deliver the same message to Carter. A sharp intake of breath, higher pitched, suggested that the message arrived to his second in command.
That meant three members of SG-1 accounted for. O'Neill longed to ask Daniel about Teal'c. The man had been closer to the grenade thing than any of them. What had Teal'c called it? Real shock? Yeah, it was a real shock, all right. O'Neill felt lucky to be alive. Was Teal'c still alive? O'Neill listened in the dark for how many people were breathing. There was Daniel, fast and moving around; Carter trying to still her breath and conserve her strength, and O'Neill himself. Teal'c? Where was he? Wait a minute; O'Neill caught the sound of one more body, respirations coming frighteningly slow and shallow. Damn; the man had been substantially closer to the grenade than any of the rest of them. How badly was he hurt? Would Junior be able to handle it?
Have to wait. If the Jaffa caught them, it would be a hell of a lot worse than a grenade. Which Goa'uld did these Jaffa belong to? Apophis? Yu? Didn't matter. They all hated O'Neill's guts, and would be pleased to string those guts up into the wind, watch him die, then revive him in a sarcophagus so that they could do it over and over again until they got it just the way they wanted it. Which meant that he would wait in the dark until it was safe.
Wait a sec. If it was dark, if they were in a cave, how come Daniel was telling him whether it was safe or not? Somehow Jack sincerely doubted that the archeologist had suddenly acquired the ability to see without light. Which meant…
The next several minutes were the hardest that O'Neill had ever had to go through. But he did it. He kept quiet.
"Rel'shok." Daniel had swung into lecture mode, though in deference to the recent departure of the foe he kept his voice down to a mere whisper. "Roughly translated, it means 'whizbang'."
"So much for the translation," O'Neill told him peevishly. "What is it?"
"Teal'c would be able to explain it much better than I can—"
"Do your best, Daniel." O'Neill was not in a waiting mood. "Teal'c's taking a nap."
"Basically, it's the visual equivalent of a sonic grenade. Whereas a sonic grenade causes unconsciousness through noise—"
"—this one hits the optic nerve," Carter finished grimly. "Colonel O'Neill and I are blind. What about Teal'c?"
"He was closer to the blast," Daniel said. "I think it knocked him out. I'm hoping that he'll come around soon."
"So am I," O'Neill told him. "It's gonna be tough to find the Stargate and get out of this hell hole without him. How long does this blindness thing last? A few minutes?"
Silence.
"A few days?"
More silence.
"Daniel?"
Silence had never been so loud.
"I don't know, Jack," Daniel had to admit.
More silence. Then—
"Crap."
"Damn, Teal'c, lose some weight, buddy. Would ya?" It was like talking to a brick wall; a snoring brick wall. "Next time you build a stretcher, Daniel, put some wheels on it," Jack grumbled.
"Sure thing, Jack."
"Stop trying to reassure me. I'm pissed as hell, and I want to take it out on someone."
"How about Sam?"
"Hey," Carter objected. "Leave me out of this. You've already got me carrying the back end of this stretcher, Daniel."
O'Neill turned his head, listening to the sounds surrounding them. It was the best sense left to him: hearing. He could hear birds chirping, or what passed for birds on P-whatever. Crickets, too, although he remembered these insects as being flying things with red wings. Harmless, he hoped. If they weren't, there wasn't much that O'Neill could do about it. His aim with a P-90 was likely to be a little bit off for the moment.
Normally he liked being out in the sun, the heat hitting him full in the face with his complete daily requirement of vitamin D. Now it only reminded him that his eyes weren't working at the moment. He longed to get back to the underground security of the SGC, where ole Doc Frasier stood ready to fix whatever malady they came home with. She'd done it before and O'Neill had no doubt that she'd do it again and probably more than once before his career was over for the second time.
This was scary. Being blind was frightening enough, but to have Daniel as the only effective member of SG-1, trying to run back to the Stargate with their collective tails between their legs, outrunning a squadron of well-armed Jaffa? O'Neill heartily wished that Teal'c would wake up, that Junior would do his thing a little faster to wake him up. Not having to tote a heavy stretcher was only part of the rationale behind that desire.
"Are you sure we're going in the right direction?" It didn't seem like it. They hadn't been that far away, and Jack had already been stumbling around in his own personal darkness for the better part of an hour. "Aren't we taking too long? How many miles is it, anyway?"
"We're taking the long way around, Jack."
"Why? You like this hell hole planet?"
"I told you before, Jack; we climbed up a cliff, with a ledge less than two yards wide."
"I remember, Daniel. I was there. So we creep back down with our hand against the wall—"
"Not a chance, Jack," Daniel interrupted. "Not with a stretcher. Not with a fifty foot drop if you're wrong. You said that yourself, when you agreed to this trek back to the 'Gate."
"Maybe I'm reconsidering," O'Neill grumbled. This not being able to see was getting real old, real fast. He listened carefully; something sounded off about his civilian. Winded, maybe? Why the hell would Daniel be winded? He wasn't carrying a stretcher with two hundred pounds of unconscious Jaffa. All the man had to do was to carry a P-90 and watch out for Jaffa on their tail.
Sam stumbled, and nearly dropped her end of the stretcher.
"Sam! Are you all right?" Daniel was at her side in moments, breath coming fast and hard.
"Yeah." She had already caught her balance, feeling gingerly ahead with a booted foot along the broken ground. "We're heading uphill, right?"
"Right." Daniel raised his voice. "Let's take five, Jack. We need the break."
"We need to get back to the Stargate," Jack grumbled, but did as he was told. He grew serious. "How's Teal'c?"
Sam could hear Daniel shuffling to the side of the stretcher. "Still breathing. He doesn't look too bad, considering, but I don't know. I'll feel better when we get him back to Janet."
Good. She'd like it better if her team mate awoke, but until then, she'd take what she could get. "How much further?"
The silence meant that Daniel was looking off into the distance. "Another hour, maybe two."
"And the Jaffa?" That was Jack.
"They're looking in the opposite direction. I think."
"Daniel?" O'Neill knew his civilian specialist.
"I lost them about twenty minutes ago," the archeologist admitted. "They may have moved off. I tried to cover our tracks."
"Right. Let's move out."
Sam had no trouble interpreting that remark. The least of the Jaffa's were expert trackers, and Daniel was admittedly no genius at muddying the trail. Sam felt the forward end of the stretcher lift, and she struggled back to tired feet to keep up with her part with the back end.
She really hated not being able to see.
"There are two of them, guarding the 'Gate," Daniel whispered. "The ground is fairly level, but you won't be able to run. Not with the stretcher. There are gopher holes—"
"There are gophers on this planet?"
Daniel ignored the interruption. "You'll break an ankle, and won't be able to get to the 'Gate. There's a large and flat plain—"
"We arrived here, with you; remember, Daniel? I know what it looks like, even if I can't see it at the moment."
Another interruption ignored. "We'll have to move as fast as we can. I'll shoot the two guarding the 'Gate," and Daniel's voice faltered at that.
Sam swung out blindly toward the civilian, and made contact. She could feel the man trembling under her grasp. "It's okay, Daniel. They're trying to kill us; remember?"
"Yeah." Harsh cough that went on a little too long. She could hear Daniel trying to get himself under control. "I…I'll take them down. Follow the sound of my voice to the 'Gate once the way is clear. I'll move ahead and dial in the address. I should have the 'Gate open by the time you get there with Teal'c."
"And what about the other Jaffa?" O'Neill wanted to know. "Where are they?"
"Good question." Daniel rallied. "I haven't seen them for the last hour. I suspect they're looking for us."
"Well, duh. I'm really hoping that they aren't waiting for us near the 'Gate, Daniel. An ambush would work really really well."
"I'm open to suggestions, Jack." Daniel's voice took on a ragged edge. "I'm not the military tactician here. The expert seems to be having a little trouble seeing two feet in front of his nose right now."
"Yeah." O'Neill didn't like being reminded of that. He frowned. There was progress; the bright sunlight now gave him back an occasional faint shadow but that was far from being able to see. Right now he didn't think he could even identify the Stargate if it was an inch from his eyeballs. "You gonna be able to do this, Daniel?"
"Like I said; I'm open to better suggestions." The man sounded farther away, having turned to look into the distance at the Stargate, O'Neill surmised. "I'm just not seeing any."
Sam could imagine the wince at the choice of words. Or maybe it had been deliberate, to put the colonel into his place, reminding him that of them all, only Daniel had the slightest chance of pulling this off and getting them home. Sam had never felt so helpless, had never realized quite how much she relied on her eyes.
What if this were permanent? What would become of her? Sam felt a cold shiver of fear run up and down her spine. The colonel had said that he had gotten a couple of shadows back, but that was a far cry from being able to see. Sam herself had been turned toward the rel'shok when it went off. Maybe that made the difference. Maybe she'd never be able to—
She cut the thought off right there. It was counter-productive, and Major Carter needed to be functioning at the best that she could do, given the circumstances. She still had her ears, and she had the strength in her arms and legs, and she was a major in the Air Force. She would succeed despite the odds. And if that meant depending on the civilian on their team for all the visual needs, then so be it. "Let's get this show on the road." She hefted the wood branches, one in each hand, that Daniel had fashioned a rough stretcher from.
There was a stifled groan that must have come from the colonel, his knees protesting the effort. It did sound like the colonel, didn't it?
"Sir?"
"Carter?"
There were two quick shots, both of which came from Daniel's own P-90. Sam's ears rang with the retort. The tug on the stretcher let her know that Daniel had been successful, that the 'Gate was now unguarded.
"Move," Daniel urged, fear making his voice harsh.
Sam could feel the breeze pass by, indicating that Daniel was already in motion. "This way," he called, guiding them by voice alone. Sam staggered forward, jerking the stretcher in between her and her colonel, her unconscious team mate feeling heavier and heavier. Muscles screamed for relief, begged for another break. Her foot slipped beneath her, and she hastily righted herself.
"This way. Hurry."
Right. Hurry. Four worthless eyes, two bad knees, two banged up bodies both toting a couple hundred pounds of unconscious Jaffa. The sound of the 'Gate whooshing galvanized her into a faster pace, stumbling as the tufts of grass-equivalents tilted her ankles this way and that.
"Keep coming. Over here." Daniel sounded stressed. Not that she blamed the civilian.
Step. Another step. Totter and a quick re-placing of the foot to avoid a tumble. Six feet in front of her she could hear Colonel O'Neill cursing not quite under his breath, the man also struggling to keep his footing and make best time before disaster struck.
And it did strike. A shaft of staff weapon blast piled into the ground close to her feet. Sam yelped in shock, staggering and feeling O'Neill pulling them forward toward the sound of Daniel's voice, hurrying toward safety at best possible velocity.
"This way! They're coming!"
As if she couldn't tell that. Another staff blast, this one farther away. Closer to the colonel? Maybe, if the startled curse was any indication. More speed.
"They've opened the iris! Hurry up! The Jaffa are moving in!"
"Move!" O'Neill growled, more to himself than anyone else. Daniel's P-90 opened fire, its automatic weaponry making a staccato noise. Yells from far behind them indicated that at least one of Daniel's shots had hit home.
The front end of the stretcher lifted, and Sam felt a smooth incline: the ramp to the 'Gate!
"Go! Go!" Daniel yelled. Another round of gunfire. More yells, this time closer, all saying "Kree!"
"Daniel, get going. We'll be right behind you!" O'Neill called.
"You need cover!" More gunfire.
"Daniel!" Exasperation. But there was nothing O'Neill could do. His eyes were as useless as Sam's, and neither one could see where the civilian was. Faint shadows weren't cutting it. Even the gunfire was now echoing so fiercely that it was impossible to tell where the gunfire left off and the staff blasts began. They staggered up the ramp, their burden heavy between them.
The cold of the wormhole shocked her with its intensity, then she was tumbling out onto the ramp. SGC? Sam really hoped so.
"Medics to the Gate Room!"
Yes, that was General Hammond.
"We're coming in hot!" O'Neill bawled out. "We all here?"
"Three of you…" That was Feretti. Carter couldn't see him, but she could feel the strong arms of the man relieving her of her burden. Someone grabbed her arm and wrestled her off of the ramp. "Where's Jackson?"
"He's right behind us. That's what he said."
"Where is he?"
"Anyone else coming through the 'Gate?" That was Hammond.
"Yes, sir. I'm showing someone else en route. No, make that four more, General! We've got hostiles coming through!"
"Look alive, people." Deliberately calm. "Get our wounded out the field of fire. Is the medical team on the way?"
Sam felt herself being dragged to the corner of the Gate Room, knew that they wouldn't dare open the blast doors to the corridor outside until they'd dealt with whoever else was coming in.
"Dr. Jackson!"
"Get him down!"
"Duck!"
Gunfire.
"Close the iris! Close the iris!" It wasn't Daniel yelling that. Sam couldn't identify who it wasn't. It wasn't the colonel, either, or General Hammond. Staff blast. Someone pushed her down, covered her with his own sweat and fear-drenched body. Sam hated this, hated not being able to see what was going on. Hated not being able to help.
"Got 'em?"
"Any more?"
"Get the medics in here now! Move, people!"
Someone pulled her up to her feet. "Major?"
"I can't see," she said, trying not to give in to her fear. "My eyes—"
A strong hand took hold of her arm. "We got you, major. Medic, over here!"
Sam felt herself pushed onto a stretcher—this one with wheels—and the motion threatened to make her sick.
Feretti spoke into her ear. "We're getting you to the infirmary, major. The colonel is two stretchers ahead of you."
"Daniel?" He'd been the last to arrive. Was he okay?
"We've got him, major."
"And Teal'c?"
"Still breathing, which is more than I can say for the three Jaffa that followed you guys home. What the hell did you guys run into, major?" The stretcher slowed. "Save it for the briefing, Carter. Frasier's gonna get first crack at you."
"How much longer, doc?"
"You've asked me that six times in the last two hours, colonel. The answer remains the same: I don't know."
"Can I peek?"
"As often as you like." Exasperation had worn away at Janet Frasier's professional demeanor. Or maybe she had simply learned the best way to handle Colonel Jack O'Neill? "Just don't blame me if it hurts. And I'm not giving you any pain-killers, colonel. Not for stupidity."
"Did I ask for any? Ouch!"
"ColonelO'Neill," and Teal'c's deep basso rumbled with amusement, "I have informed you that the effects of the rel'shok will diminish within another hour or two. You have already begun to see shadows and shapes. You are recovering, as is MajorCarter. In fact, due to her adherence to protocol in not attempting to use her eyes in an untimely fashion, she will likely recover her vision before you."
"Bully for her."
Frasier butted in again. "But if you don't re-hydrate yourself and soon, you're not going anywhere, colonel. Do you want the blue gelatin, or the green?"
"Green meaning green fuzz?"
"Colonel…" warningly.
O'Neill backed down. "Whatever. Give me the blue. I wouldn't be able to see the green fuzz anyway," he added in a grumble.
Sam could hear heavier footsteps cross the room, and the scent of a familiar after shave cologne wafted by. "Glad to see you're feeling better, colonel. Major."
"Sir." The large dark shadow sounded like General Hammond and had his general size and shape. She tried not to squint. The shadow rotated. "Doctor?"
"I anticipate releasing them within a few hours, general," Frasier said briskly, "although I expect them to be on medical leave for at least another day or so. Teal'c, of course, is fine, along with Junior. But if you want a written report any time before that, you'll need to assign someone to write it up for them. I don't want either Colonel O'Neill or Major Carter staring at anything as bright as a computer screen before then."
"Noted, doctor." The smile was still in the general's tones. "And I suspect that means a driver to get back and forth to home."
"You suspect correctly, general. It's either that, or stay here on the base," she added, forestalling the predictable objections that were about to exit from O'Neill's mouth.
"Aw. You take all the fun out of things, doc. I was looking forward to seeing how many trees I'd bounce off of heading home from the mountain."
Despite herself, Carter found her lips curving up into a grin.
"And Dr. Jackson?" Hammond wanted to know.
"Dr. Jackson is still in the Recovery Room," Frasier told him. "Surgery went well."
"Surgery?" The humor left Colonel O'Neill in a flash. "He got hit on the way through the 'Gate?"
The silence, Sam decided, meant that Hammond, Frasier, and Teal'c were looking at each other, wondering what to say. Something cold settled in the pit of her stomach, entirely unrelated to the gelatin sitting in a bowl in front of her.
"In the Gate Room?" O'Neill wanted an answer. He wanted it now. "What the hell happened?"
It was Teal'c who once again demonstrated his bravery in facing the colonel. "DanielJackson was hit by a staff blast during the initial encounter with the Jaffa."
"He couldn't have. He guided us out of there. He was our eyes. He fashioned the stretcher that we used to carry you out of there, Teal'c. He was okay then. He took out a patrol of Jaffa, for cripes' sake."
"He was not. DanielJackson showed much courage in his actions, O'Neill. We are all of us here present in this room due to his refusal to give in to his injuries."
One set of blue eyes, two sets of brown.
Daniel wanted desperately to see all three sets, to know that they'd all made it home safely, all four members of SG-1.
There was a fire in his belly, but somehow he didn't care. Drugs, he decided. The miracle of opiates. It hurt to breathe, and his throat hurt along with it, and he could really do without the person hammering a stake into his head, a pain that intensified when he insisted that his closed eyelids do the other half of their job: opening those eyelids.
It didn't matter. There was one set of blue eyes, and two sets of brown, all looking down at him with concern and gratitude. They could all see him, each and every one of them.
One in particular; "Jack…" It came out more as a croak than a name, but the man understood.
Jack leaned over, whispered into his ear. "You did good, Daniel. We all see that."
It was enough. Daniel allowed himself to drift back off into the darkness. Seeing his friends—seeing his friends—would wait for tomorrow.
They were okay.