Vague images and sensations filled Shaboni's unconscious mind; disjointed and out of reach. The face of her husband, his arms around her waist. The feel of a loaded gun in her hand. The smell of her MTAR21 and the hazy smoke that filled the air after it was fired. The smell of oil as she cleaned it. The scent of vanilla when she would turn her face into her pillow, into her hair, and weep at the loss of it all. The loss of Emil. The loss of her friend, Tolah, who had died trying to help her find him. Then the loss of her health as poisons slowly carved their way through her mind and body. In the midst of all that loss a new face: Jack. The warmth of sincere brown eyes. The ruffled graying hair. The smell of beer. Strange and wonderful music. His hand in her hair. His hand in her hand. Then the face of Colonel Harry Mayborne. The words: her husband…alive…he'd lied.
Jack lied.
Consciousness came as quickly as an inhaled breath. The thoughts and images of her dream already forgotten, her eyes tried to focus in the dark room. Her instincts sharpened to a laser's point.
Stone. She could sense stone beneath her. The heat was suffocating. She briefly wondered if she were laying on some kind of oven. She drew a deep, steadying breath, but in the heavy wet air she felt like she'd not breathed at all. Calming herself, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness around her. She went to push her hair out of her face, only to find her hands bound above her head, arms stretched tightly against her ears. She tested her restraints and found both feet and hands held fast with no room for maneuvering. She tugged at the shackles to test for any chance she could pull her hands free and felt a familiar pain in her right thumb as the metal around her wrist bit into an old injury.
There was a sliver of light bleeding through a slender cut high in the wall. The angle of the shadow told her it was early in the day. She had been taken at early nightfall. The pain in her shoulders told of several hours in the uncomfortable position she was in now. She tried to turn her body sideways to relieve some of the pressure of lying on hot stone. It pulled her shoulder so tight she feared she would wrench it out of socket, and she returned to her back, frustrated. Her shoes were gone, but at least they'd left her clothes on. She took a few more breaths to steady herself and settled in to tolerate the waiting.
Hours passed in agonizing spirals of thought and memory. She had tried to sleep, but the discomfort of her position and the ever-increasing thirst that plagued her refused her attempts. Her tongue became thick in her mouth, pushing at her dry, cracked lips, searching for moisture.
She'd been this thirsty once before. As part of her training for the IDF Sayeret they were sent into the desert with limited provisions and required to find their way back to safety. When her small team had accidentally run across undetonated ordinance in the rocky sand, she had suggested they call for assistance. The signal operator refused and sent their cocky ordinance specialist to disarm the missile. She and another woman, Rebecca, had argued with the specialist to no avail. He had attempted to render the missile safe. When he determined he'd been successful, he pulled it out of the ground completely and turned to show them his triumph. The missile exploded, sending shrapnel and parts of the specialist raining fire, metal, bone, flesh, and blood on the team. Their water provisions had been pierced by shrapnel and leaked into the sucking sand. The radio the signal operator had been carrying was destroyed, taking the signal operator with it. Only she and Rebecca had survived. They'd trudged through the desert for over a day before coming to the edge of civilization. She remembered clearly that the only thought that kept her going when the thirst became maddening was that if she continued to put one foot in front of the other she would reach help. And water.
This time there was no force of will, no action to be taken. She had no choice but to lay locked to this stone bed and wait and hope that someone would come bearing water. Her mind flashed again to the rescue that had come only hours after she'd been taken from Jack's house.
'I knew you to be coming.'
The desperation she'd felt tinged her face with a burning flush of embarrassment. In the darkness of her holding cell there was no one to see it, but she berated herself for trusting 'desiring' the man she now knew had ultimately betrayed her. He would never have had the chance if she hadn't been so ill and running out of time. She would never have been that stupid, that gullible.
Jack lied when he told you that Emil was dead.
Colonel Mayborne's words leapt again to her thoughts. The anger that flared in her gave her strength. Made her want to fight. Made her want to take revenge. She decided that if she survived this prison she would someday find Colonel Jack O'Neill and show him the error of his ways. She was not some doe-eyed woman to be seduced by an easy smile and strong arms. She was a soldier. And she would survive.
A jangle of keys on metal jarred her from her thoughts. Someone was entering her cell. She tried to still the sudden thumping of her racing heart and listen for clues that could be useful. Iron. Not steel. The keys sounded on the iron door and, when the door swung open, the hinges creaked and groaned as if corroded. Shuffling feet. Not Jaffa. Human hands, cool, gentle, lain across her chest. Testing for life. She took a deep deliberate breath.
"Ah, yes, that is good. Alive." The voice was soft, but masculine.
"Tell me who you are," she questioned.
"I am Nathan," she could see in the dim light that he smiled shyly at her. She couldn't quite see his features, but she still had the notion that he was familiar.
"Nathan, you will help me to get out of this place."
"I cannot. I am sorry." He reached to the floor beside her and brought a cloth to her mouth. It dripped lukewarm water on her lips. Hungry for it, she could not help herself, lifting her head to take the cloth in her mouth and suck in its offering of continued existence. After several panicky sucks he withdrew the cloth.
"NO!" She yelled at him, "I need more!"
"Shush, now. I will give you more." He put a cool, tender hand over her lips. For a brief moment she was tempted to bite him, but the promise of more water held her back. Nathan reached down to the floor again and brought the dripping cloth back to her mouth. The sweetness of the sensation of water filling her mouth made her want to cry. She swallowed repeatedly, forcing the water and the lump in her throat down. She simply could not afford the expenditure of tears.
After several cloths-full of water Nathan retrieved the vessel at his feet and shuffled towards the door. He stopped briefly and turned towards her, "Chiron will come. It is best to give him whatever he asks." With that as a warning, he turned and strode from the cell, pushing the great creaking door closed and locking it behind him.
For a few moments his words stomped around in her mind like a thoughtless giant, blocking out all light and hope. She would suffer for her carelessness; for getting captured. Then all thought was thoroughly banished as cramps seized her. Her stomach threatened to return the precious gift of water it had been given. She desperately wanted to turn to her side and curl into a ball as they gripped her. She felt her entire body suddenly slick with intense sweat. She inhaled deeply and fought the pain and nausea, struggling with all her remaining strength to keep it down. Eventually the pains in her stomach subsided and she came to the end of herself as a fitful, blessed sleep overtook her.
The four of them had eaten the meal Cassic prepared for them with greedy haste. Trekking through a rain forest had made them far more than thirsty. Jorun and Sheylan had helped their mother with the dishes and then run back outside to find their friends and tell them all the interesting developments since SG-1 had arrived in Dashou.
A few curious townsfolk wandered into the tavern in the late afternoon for drinks. Cassic went about her job and left the four travelers to their own devices. They were starting to feel the effects of the drink wear off as the last light of day glinted through the window. The overhead lights in the tavern came on, as did lights on long poles in the square across from them. Suddenly, everyone in the tavern stopped eating and drinking and left. Sam looked out the window and noticed the men heading for the houses that fringed the town center. But instead of going with them, the women seemed to be doing just the opposite. They were emerging from every building and congregating in a courtyard at the exact center of the square.
"Sir, you should take a look at this." Sam's voice brought the entire team to peer out the window.
Pictures appeared from pockets, and the women pinned them on themselves and each other. They were more like paper copies of pictures than the plastic of Earth photographs, and some were clearly quite faded and tattered. Then, one by one, the women began dancing. They were dancing with invisible partners. Sam shivered. It felt like she was watching them dance with ghosts. She suddenly wanted very much to be out of the air-conditioned tavern and in the warmth of the streets. She moved from the window and made her way outside to the railing opposite the walkway in front of the line of commerce buildings.
She leaned on the wooden rail and felt its satiny weathered smoothness under her hands. The display being carried out in the square was disturbing…and also somehow beautiful.
"I've seen this before." Colonel O'Neill's voice was low and husky beside her. She hadn't heard him come outside.
"Sir?"
"In Chile. 1983." He turned around and sat sideways on the railing, leaning on one foot, dangling the other. Sam stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "Pinochet. He was a dictator that the CIA had helped bring to power in the seventies. They thought they were replacing a communist government, but they simply replaced it with a totalitarian dictator." Jack stood back up and turned to face the women in the courtyard. "Pinochet shut down the media. No information that he didn't control. And there were protests. I got sent in with a unit of SFs to rescue this American journalist who snuck in and got himself trapped there. One of my first missions as an SF."
"What did you mean you'd seen his before?" Just as she spoke the words the door opened and Daniel and Teal'c joined them outside. Sam was afraid that he would stop and withdraw back into the silence of nondisclosure. It had been his way for most of his life by necessity. She knew it was one of the reasons he filled so much of the quiet with jokes. There was just so little he could actually talk about.
But he didn't stop. He turned and met eyes with Daniel and then Teal'c. "I was just telling Carter here that I've seen this before." He raised a hand to indicate the dancing women. "In Chile in 1983. Pinochet's goons would come and take the men away. Torture them, imprison them…kill them. If the women complained they would disappear too. So they began to protest by dancing. They would do exactly what these women are doing: pin a photo to their clothes and dance," he paused then added, "except they had music."
They all watched the women silently dancing their sorrow and loss and grieving in circles around each other. Their deliberate steps wove a mesmerizing tapestry telling the story of their sadness. Teal'c's voice was barely above a whisper when he commented, "The absence of music makes this display most haunting, O'Neill."
Jack took a breath to say something, mouth open, then he shut it. Then he opened it again and finally said, "What's haunting is they don't think they can do anything about it." And he walked inside, slamming the door behind him.
Daniel stood there for a moment watching the protest…their passion play. He then quietly slipped away from Sam and Teal'c and went inside. He found Jack seated at the bar sipping a fresh drink. Cassic was cleaning something, but eying Jack with an interesting look. Daniel suddenly wondered where Cassic's husband was. Why wasn't she outside dancing with the missing?
"You okay?" Daniel sat down and indicated to Cassic that he wished for one of the drinks she served. He couldn't deny the compulsion to reach out to this man he'd considered his dearest friend, but instinctively he held something back, not wanting to risk the emotional shove that he knew Jack could give him.
"We have a mission." Jack pulled at his drink. Cassic sat a fresh one in front of Daniel.
"Yeah, we do."
"We're here to find Shaboni and bring her home."
"I know." Daniel could tell that Jack was struggling with the same thing Sam had wondered back on Earth. Could they not help these people?
"We don't even know if she's still on the planet."
Daniel nursed his own drink and waited. Jack was obviously going to have this conversation with or without him, so he figured it would be safest if it were 'without'.
"Ah, hell." Jack downed the rest of his drink and grabbed Daniel's, which he swallowed up in three big gulps.
"Hey!"
"You should stay away from that stuff, Daniel. It'll get you drunk." Jack got up from the stool and strode to the door. "Carter, Teal'c, inside."
As Sam started to turn to make her way back into the bar a gleam of metal caught her eye. She stooped to investigate it and discovered a video camera lying on its side. It had clearly been in the elements for a few weeks and was encrusted with grime. She picked it up and tested the buttons, but there was no power.
"Carter!" The colonel yelled for her from inside the bar. She took the camera with her and went to where the other three were sitting. Noticing the filthy new toy that had distracted his second he asked, "What'cha got?"
"Sir, it's a video camera." She continued scraping dirt from the control panel and trying to find a way to make it function.
"And?" The colonel asked clearly needing a little more information.
She stopped and looked at him, then added, "From Earth."
The implication of her revelation hit him. The camera's presence struck a hopeful note in his restless mind. His gut told him it was Shaboni's, and he didn't want to argue with it.
Daniel hopped up and went over to where their packs lay in a heap. He found his, opened it, and dug around until he found his own video camera. He carried it to Sam and offered it wordlessly. She took it, never looking up from the new puzzle that had her attention. "Thank you," she muttered automatically. Her hands turned the filthy camera over and over, searching for something that would bring her eureka moment. She found the ejection switch for the digital tape compartment and pushed it, but the compartment didn't budge. She tried to pry it open with her fingers, but it stubbornly refused to let go. "I need something to pry this off with."
Cassic was standing there watching her and without hesitation she handed Sam a knife. Surprised by the source of the aid, Sam looked up and locked eyes with the young woman. Cassic nodded at her, approvingly. She'd seen Shaboni using the video camera a few times during her short stay in Dashou. Sam went back to trying to get the camera working.
The rest of them sat and waited while she fiddled. Cassic gave Daniel a fresh glass of ale, refilled the colonel's and offered some to Teal'c, who politely refused. They sat there quietly as the clicks and rattles of Sam's tinkering filled the room. At one point, the door to the tavern opened and Cassic informed them that she was closing up for the night. As the patrons went their way, Jorun and Sheylan noisily exploded through the door in the way that children so often tend to do.
"Colonel O'Neill Jack!" Sheylan continued to say his name in the out-of-order way he'd been first introduced to them. She bound up to him and stood on her tiptoes trying to see over the bar. After two (and a half) drinks, Jack's head was feeling nice and warm once again. Without a thought he reached and scooped up the little girl, setting her on his knee so she could see what Sam was doing. He could smell the dirt and sweat of outdoor play emanating from her. Once again, without warning he felt something dangerous shake loose in his memory. He quickly polished off his third glass of ale, swallowing hard against the unbidden stone rising in his stomach.
Cassic observed the easy transition this O'Neill made from warrior to parent. She'd noticed how he walked with her daughter as they approached Dashou. Then he'd plopped Sheylan in his lap with the easy movement of a man who had done such a thing a thousand times. This time she thought she saw the same kind of shadow pass over his face that she'd seen so many times on the faces of the mothers whose sons were taken. It had only been there for a moment, but she felt certain she'd seen it. Acting on a mother's instinct she said, "Sheylan, it is almost time for sleeping. Please go and ask Jorun to help you clean yourself." She pointed at the staircase in the corner of the room.
"Yes, Ma'ma." Jack eased her to the floor and winked at her before she sped up after her brother.
"Cassic," Daniel began, "if I may…I mean, if you don't mind me asking…" Jack knew what Daniel was going to ask and considered stopping him, but then realized that he also wanted to know. "Where is…what happened…"
Jack cut off the stammering archeologist, "Where is their father?"
Cassic pressed her lips together, thoughtfully. She absentmindedly reached up and started twirling a strand of blond hair through her fingers, then finally, avoiding their eyes, admitted, "He is in the palace."
Daniel started to get that questioning look he almost always had because he was always questioning something. Jack felt sure he was going to push this woman too far too fast, but again didn't stop him. He looked down at his glass and thought perhaps it was all the drinking.
"Was he taken by the Jaffa like the other men?" Daniel's tone suggested he was trying to be tactful but couldn't figure out a way to ask his questions without actually asking them.
Cassic stopped moving. She didn't answer this time. She merely stared at Daniel. But Daniel, head thick with drink and mind swirling with questions, didn't get the hint that he should stop. "I mean, you didn't go outside with the other women. What…"
"Daniel," Jack's insistent tone drew the younger man's head around.
"What?" He was SO not getting a clue.
"Let it go." Cassic's eyes met Jack's and he thought he saw relief there.
"Got it!" Carter declared triumphantly. They all turned to look at her. "I got the tape out. I can play it in Daniel's camera," she offered.
Cassic realized she was holding her breath. She exhaled, steadying herself. For a brief moment she had felt the words she dare not say rising to her lips. She had almost betrayed herself…almost.
SG-1 were now drawn to the tiny screen of the video camera sitting on the bar. It only took a moment of hearing the audio of the footage for Cassic to realize what had been recorded on the camera. She had witnessed it from the window of her bar and had no wish to see or hear it replayed, but she remained.
Jack adjusted the tiny screen jutting at a right angle from the camera so that all four of them could see the images there. The footage began with the women dancing, just as they had been a short while ago. Then the image jerked as the camera was set down and they heard the sound of a staff weapon being fired. Women shrieked and ran from the courtyard. For a moment the image framed in the camera's lens revealed nothing, but then the gauzy fabric of a cottony skirt stepped in front of the frame and the angle was repositioned.
The five of them watched and listened, their collective horror growing, as the events of four weeks earlier unfolded before them. When the Goa'uld and his First Prime stepped forward Teal'c commented to no one in particular, "Chiron." Suddenly the gauzy white skirt moved far enough forward in the frame that it became the upper half of a woman in a white skirt and apron and gray blouse with her hair pinned up; gentle brown curls escaping around her ears. Jack's mouth went dry as he recognized the back of the woman they were trying to find. In the slightly crooked angle of the camera he could see the outline of her fist around a sidearm underneath the short apron encircling her. They could hear the quiet conversation of Chiron and the women in the circle. Senna cried out and in a flash the hand under the apron withdrew the weapon.
"STOP!"
The sound of Shaboni's voice, strong, forceful and still laced with the unmistakable accented clipping of consonants, caused Jack's throat to constrict. He searched the image of her back and all around her for any clues, anything that might tell him what to do to find her. They heard her agree to go with Chiron, and she was suddenly restrained by Jaffa. Jack felt fury tighten its fist as one of them ran probing, lecherous hands over her body under the guise of searching her. Impossibly, the fury ratcheted up one notch higher when Chiron murdered the woman Senna and then turned his Zat' on Shaboni. The Jaffa released her and electric blue light coursed around her body. She spasmed once and fell out of the frame to the ground. As the Jaffa collected their prize the camera continued to play the anguished cries of the women gathering their fallen friend into their arms. Two of the women carried Senna away from the rest into one of the buildings on the other side of the square, leaving the others in horrified silence.
Daniel reached down and paused the video. The image frozen on the screen etched itself into his memory. Not wanting to see the grief and anguish etched on their faces, he reached back down and slapped the viewfinder closed.
"Sir, we have to help them." Carter's voice was plaintive, but utterly convincing.
"I know." The colonel pushed himself away from the bar and made eye contact with Cassic. "Will you help us?"
"Is that not what I have been doing?" She leaned her head to the side suggesting that he needn't have asked.
"Right." Checking his watch, the colonel came to a series of conclusions. "We need some sleep. Cassic, is there anyone who can take the children for a night?"
"There is more than enough room for all of us here." She didn't understand.
"You're not following me," he shook his head.
"You are not going anywhere." Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"We need to scope out this palace, and we need you to take us to it before the sun comes up." He reasoned that if the palace was where the men were taken, it was the most logical place to start their search for Shaboni.
She stopped moving again. This time she didn't meet his eyes. She didn't search the faces of these strange travelers called Tau'ri. She didn't know if she could do as he asked and turned away from them so that they would not see the fear in her eyes.
"Cassic," Daniel gently pushed her forward with his voice, "We can help you. We can help the people of Dashou. But we can't do it if you aren't willing to help yourselves. And our friend…"
"Shaboni," she supplied for him.
"Yes, Shaboni. If she is still alive we have to find her." Daniel stood up so that he could reach for Cassic's arm. He laid a comforting, gentle hand there offering strength and support.
At the feel of his touch on her skin she lifted her head. Without turning to face them she spoke, "I cannot promise that the others will join you, but the death of Senna has deeply affected Annan. I will ask her to watch the children tonight. I will tell her why and I believe she will keep them for me." With those words she ducked her head and walked quickly out of the tavern, leaving the four of them sharing uneasy glances.