10-20-2004, 14:04 OWT
10-20-2004, 09:04 Zulu
TEL MAK TER'ROT
Jack flexed his fingers around the Beretta. Threading his left hand into a nearby crevice, he retrieved one of the C-4 detonators. It felt small trapped against his palm.
Eighty yards down, between the crumbling walls of the ruin's entrance, two figures appeared. One was slightly taller than the other. The short one had a black beard and walked with a swagger. The tall one just looked restless. Both of them carried staff weapons.
Grinding his teeth, Jack leveled his sights on Black Beard. "Where's my team?"
The man snapped his fingers and shouted something.
"Bring them," Selmak interpreted.
The two words made Jack's adrenaline spike. He deepened his breaths to keep them from turning ragged and tried to block out the dryness reaching down his throat.
A detachment of soldiers advanced from behind the southern wall. Ten maybe twelve at the most. They wore neutral colors that blurred into the landscape. Spreading out, they took up positions across the entrance effectively sealing the hall.
"That went well," Jack growled. His mouth felt like sandpaper.
Another order rang out and more soldiers, these dressed in black, began to advance. Holding to an erratic, circular pattern, they passed through the seal created by their brothers-in-arms. When they reached Black Beard and the tall guy, they came to a halt. Tall Guy leaned forward, exchanged what appeared to be short, unhappy words with Black Beard, then shouldered into the knot of black guards. The gap he created held fast and from inside the ring came two people. They filed out, side by side, heads held high.
Major Thomas Czachowski and Captain Jennifer Hailey. Alert, standing under their own power. Alive.
Jack circled his tongue along the roof of his mouth, swallowed, and clamped his jaws down tight. Two was good, but he hadn't come all this way to take home half a team. No one gets left behind. No one.
Tall Guy reappeared, but stayed close to the gap. He shifted on his feet, then lifted his hand with a jerk. On the gesture's cue, two more people emerged from the circle.
Sergeant Marco Blocker and Nyan. Also standing under their own power. Un-dented, undamaged.
"Your people," Black Beard announced. "Alive. Now will you show yourself?"
Jacob laid a hand on Jack's back. "Get them into position. I'll deploy the shield as soon as they're in range, but don't hit the C-4 until they're on board the Al'kesh. I'm counting on that blast to buy you and me enough time to get to the rings. I'll detonate the second round once we're inside the shield."
The muscles along Jack's jaw pulled taut. They'd been over this. "Got it."
"And Jack."
"What?"
"I brought this just in case," Jacob opened the pouch at his hip—inside, lay a healing device. "Don't make me have to use it."
A hard-toned threat that stripped away Jack's impatience. The corner of his mouth kicked up a little and he gave a firm reply. "No, sir."
"Show yourself," Black Beard demanded again. "Or your people will suffer much."
Tucking the Beretta into the back of his belt, Jack got to his feet. He stepped into the clear and raised his arms. Unable to think of anything civil to say, he held his tongue and waited. Daniel would be so proud.
"You hold yourself forth as General O'Neill of the Tau'ri?"
"Yep. One and only."
The enemy seemed disinclined to take his word. They prodded SG-14, pointing from different team members to Jack and back again. The apparent interrogation was too far away and too hushed for questions and answers to carry. But whatever was said, it must have been enough.
Black Beard turned once again to Jack. "I am impressed, General O'Neill, and pleased that you follow instructions so well."
Jack gave a dismissive wave. "Yeah, whatever. You said you wanted to trade." There was an eighteen inch drop from his position among the debris to the desert floor. He made it in one jump; hands still raised, attention centered on Black Beard. "Start trading."
At a nod from his superior, Tall Guy motioned their captives forward. SG-14 refused to move. Other soldiers, four to be exact, approached the team from behind. Their body language suggested they were persuaders of the violent, unreasonable kind.
"Do what he says," Jack shouted. "That's an order."
After exchanging a few glances, SG-14 did as they were commanded. Four abreast, legs moving in tandem, they headed straight for Jack. That's when he noticed.
None of them wore restraints.
Disquiet began to churn inside him—the same pervading, gut-nagging disquiet he'd had during his tour of the ruins. Not that it made any difference. He was committed. Backing down wasn't an option. It never had been.
SG-14 was less than thirty yards from the shield.
Jack's fingers itched around the detonator as sweat slickened his grip. He started to walk. A nice, easy, unhurried walk. "Czachowski." Though a yell was necessary for him to be heard at this distance, he kept the inflection casual. It worked. Black Beard and company registered zero on the reaction scale.
Czachowski's answer came wrapped in an imitation of Jack's tone. "General. Forgive me for sayin' it, sir, but it's about time."
Jack grinned. Twenty yards more.
"Sir? You said somethin' about a trade." Czachowski was still working the light tone, but this time it came out strained. "Mind if I ask what you're trading?"
"Not your concern, Major." Jack reassessed the positions of the enemy, then shifted his eyes to another member of SG-14. "Nyan."
"General, I... I can't believe it. Are we really going home?"
Something twisted in Jack's chest. "Yeah, Nyan. You're going home."
Fifteen yards to go.
"Sir, how's Janie? My kids, are they-" It was Sergeant Blocker, legs working hard to match speed with his tongue. "Sir, have you seen them? Do they know I'm alive? Ar-are they all right?"
Twelve yards more. Ten for Marco if he didn't slow down. "Easy, Sergeant. Your family's fine. Trust me."
Captain Hailey tugged Marco back to an even pace and locked eyes with Jack.
The contact was a mistake. He knew it instantly. One look and her expression changed from a genius whose brain was working at mach-Carter to find a solution to a genius who now held all the answers.
"You're what they want," she said, words slow and measured. "You're taking our place."
Darting a glance past Hailey, Jack again checked on the bad guys. They still hadn't moved. An internal alarm strafed fear down his back.
"General, is that true?"
Jack flicked his attention to Czachowski, but didn't respond. Five yards left.
"Sir, you have to get out of here. Now." Hailey sounded desperate. She had to be, giving orders to a General.
"Not until you do, Captain." Three yards.
"Sir, you don't understand." Breaking off mid-argument, she flung her next words down the line to Czachowski. "Major, don't you see what they're after? General O'Neill has the Ancient gene, if they get their hands on-"
"Czachowski." Jack clasped his right hand into a fist, at once dismissing their objections and issuing an order. Stop.
As one, the Team stopped.
Bulls eye.
Still twenty or so yards from the safe zone, Jack froze. In the distance, he saw Black Beard shift.
A color-tainted wall of fluctuating energy vaulted out of the ground. It ran a quick course, unfolding into a perfect cube around SG-14. The enemy opened fire and Black Beard let out a roar. The language wasn't familiar, but Jack understood perfectly. Battle cries had a way of being their own interpreters.
"No!" Hailey's scream penetrated the shield. "Sir, don't do this!"
The rest of SG-14 surged forward, shouting. Plasma blasts splattered against the rear wall of the shield and out of reflex those inside ducked.
Movement flashed along the edge of Jack's vision. More soldiers were coming in from the south. The shield offered him a temporary buffer, but it wouldn't take the enemy long to compensate. He'd be in range within seconds. "Major!" Pointer finger raised, he circled his right hand in the air. Regroup. "Rings!"
Bolts of fire glanced off the shield's corner and sent shreds of flame into the air. A wide shot struck the ground several yards from Jack's position. His knees bucked as the earth shook and sand fell like rain.
Behind the one-way shield, Czachowski and the others still hadn't followed orders. If Jacob hit the rings now, only pieces of SG-14 would ever see the Al'kesh.
He whirled his finger again. "Go! Now!"
They stopped shouting and took one step backward.
"Go!"
Reluctantly, Marco, Hailey, and Nyan closed ranks at the center of the square. Czachowski moved toward them, staggered, then stopped. He collapsed to his knees, hands clutching the base of his neck. His sides were heaving like a drowning man gasping for breath.
Jack formed the Major's name, felt it rip through his throat, but never heard its sound. With an explosive clap, flames plowed into the sand less than two feet from where he stood. The concussive force of the blast slammed into his left side, throwing his world into a tailspin. Sky and sand traded places in an end-over-end fashion and his vision started to blur. Pain jarred his right shoulder as it connected with the ground. His chest hit next with a solid thud that pushed every ounce of air from his lungs; then he was rolling. Dirt and rubble clawed at his body, scraping exposed skin and tearing at his BDUs.
As fast as it happened, it was all over. He stopped rolling. Flat on his stomach, yards from where he'd been standing, Jack dragged in a breath. Sounds whirred around him, distorted and thick. He shook his head and spit away the sand clinging to his mouth. Without conscious thought, he reached behind him and felt for the Beretta along his waistband.
Weight supported on his left elbow, he gave his head another shake and tried to gauge SG-14's status. Czachowski was still down. Marco and Hailey had him by the arms, hauling him to the center for transport. They never made it. As Jack watched, both of them slumped to their knees, faces twisted in pain.
Dull, repetitious syllables hammered in his ear. Over and over they pounded, never quite registering and never quite going away. His right hand found the Beretta. Alien fire was incoming. He rolled out of range, got his feet under him and headed for the closest scrap of cover. Zat fire from the west zinged past, took down three enemy combatants, and sent the rest scrambling. Way to go Jacob.
Flinging himself against the featureless pile of ruin he'd chosen as a safe harbor, Jack fired off a few shots of his own. Sounds were coming in clearer now. The repetitious syllables gradually took shape and faded into focus.
"...ack... Jack, come in... Jack, answer me."
Pocketing the detonator to free up his left hand, Jack keyed the comm. "Jacob, we have a problem."
"So I noticed." More threads of blue lightning found their way to the enemy. "What's going on with '14?"
Glancing into the shielded cube, Jack saw Nyan struggling to drag Hailey into the ring zone. Plasma blasts continued to pepper the walls, but none of them breached the shield. He thumbed the mic. "Something took them down from the inside. Don't ask me how." Chunks of debris showered down on him from a nearby shot, and he ducked. Through the din, he could just make out the sound of Jacob's return fire.
"I can't hold them off much longer."
Jack raised up, took aim, and squeezed the trigger of his Beretta once, twice, three times. Again he fingered the comm. "Nyan's workin' on it. We gotta give him more time."
"Jack-"
The rest of the transmission was covered by a dozen or more staff blasts. They were bearing down on Jack's position—hard. "I can't get clear to make a shot."
"I know." Streams of Zat fire whizzed overhead. It was as if Jacob had found a way to put the Zat on full-auto.
From where he was pinned down, Jack had a clear view of SG-14. Nyan was leaning over Marco, hands looped around the Sergeant's torso. The kid was breathing hard, but he wasn't down. Not yet. Staggering under the weight of his teammate, he started back-stepping toward the middle of the cube. Hailey was already there, laying in the same prone position he'd apparently left her in.
Jack clamped down on the mic. "Okay, new plan."
"It better be good."
Ripping open his vest pocket, Jack retrieved the C-4 detonator. "Fire in the hole!"
He punched it.
Explosions rocked the hall. Gobs of black smoke and pure red flames leaped into the sky as the earth shook with an ever-increasing intensity. The first round of charges had been set in a semi-circle around the open end of the ruin. Their purpose: to distract and terrify.
None of the enemy was left standing. A few were injured, many more were in a state of total panic. Sporadic weapons fire, screams, and angry shouts competed against the roar of flaming debris.
An inhuman moan rose above the noise. It was the unmistakable groan of mortar and stone. The northern wall had started to sway. In a few moments, it would collapse.
Pushing to his feet, Jack charged ahead. His goal was to get to the shield. He depressed the transmit key. "Jacob, we're outta here! Move it!"
"What?"
"Get to the shield—now!" A blip of static that could have been an acknowledgment was his only answer. Jack risked a look over his shoulder, towards the rear of the hall. Smoke wafted through the air. It swept in low across the ruins, hampering visibility and angering his lungs. There was no sign of Jacob. Coughing, he angled his upper body towards the ground and kept running.
The smoke to the east was thickening. What sounded like a drum roll rumbled through the air and violent tremors shook the ground. The north wall was collapsing.
Jack's balance faltered. He dropped hard on one knee and had to brace himself with outstretched arms. On the plus side, the air was clearer this close to the ground. He sucked in as much oxygen as he could.
The fall of the ruin wall plunged the enemy deeper into chaos. Or maybe it just distracted them. Either way, they stopped firing.
Still crouched where he'd fallen, Jack checked his back-trail for any sign of Jacob. There were signs of movement, but with the ever changing veil of smoke it was impossible to tell friend from foe. As far as he knew, none of the enemy soldiers had made it this far into the hall, but that didn't mean anything. He keyed his comm. "Jacob, come in."
A beat of silence, then, "Go ahead."
The voice sounded rushed, but strong. Selmak must've been working overtime to keep his—their—lungs free of smoke. "Jacob, what's your status?"
"Coming up on your position. I saw you go down, are you all right?"
"Yeah. Meet you at the shield."
"Copy that. Be on you in one. And keep your head down. That black vest makes you an easy target, even in all this smoke."
Jack didn't bother to answer. Stumbling to his feet, he started moving. Behind him came the steady thump of approaching footfalls. Jacob's footfalls, or so he hoped.
Confusion pounded in the air as another wave of black smoke cut through the ruins. Jack ducked lower, lungs screaming for breath.
Clouds of smoke broke against a corner of the forcefield. It was the first glimpse he'd had of it since the explosion. He made a minor course correction, regulated his speed, and kept running.
Behind him the footsteps came nearer.
His eyes felt like they were on fire. Tears welled, making his world swim. Roughly, he blinked them away.
A breeze set in from the north. It was like a downdraft from a furnace, but it helped. The air began to clear.
Jack's vision blurred again, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Displaced tears slid down his cheeks, mingling with crusted dirt and sweat. Air warred in his lungs. He started to cough.
"Sir!"
Nyan. Jack shot forward. The breeze had thinned solid clouds of black to gray, exposing the shield wall—and SG-14. All of them.
"General O'Neill, hurry!"
Nyan was doing the urging, but Czachowski, Hailey, and Marco were right behind him. Standing. They looked shaken, but in full control of their senses.
Jack's head started to pound.
"Sir!" This time it was Czachowski.
Demanding more speed from his legs, Jack covered the remaining distance in seconds. He stood in front of the shield, chest heaving, and just stared at them.
Shivers rocked the moon's surface; an aftershock from the explosion or another falling wall. Jack didn't know. Cared even less. "Get down!"
All of SG-14 dropped to the sand.
Jack did the same. When the shaking stopped he ordered them to stay put. The closer they were to the ground, the safer they'd be when Jacob lowered the shield. Ground-level targets were harder to hit.
Another round of coughs hit him hard. They needed to get out of there. Now. C'mon, Jacob. C'mon.
"Sir, look out!" The warning came in stereo. A chorus of four voices yelling at once.
Czachowski gave him the target zone. "Eleven o'clock!"
Jack whirled on the balls of his feet, never lifting out of a crouch, and took aim. Attacker, center-mass, two shots. He didn't miss. Breathing still labored, he keyed the comm. "Jacob." He coughed, dragged in a breath, and tried again. "Jacob!"
Nothing.
Head down, shoulders bent, he raced away from the shield, back the way he'd come. The way his black-clad attacker had come instead of Jacob. Lack of oxygen had his legs feeling like lead. With each step his boots seemed to sink deeper into the sand. "Jacob!"
The wind peeled away a final layer of smoke and just that quick Jack's search came to an end. He stopped in his tracks. The blows of his pulse raged in his ears. Louder and louder. "Jacob!"
But Jacob didn't move. Sprawled on the ground, a scorched and bleeding wound at the center of his back, he lay completely still.
The gap between them vanished in a blur of debris and bleached sand. Jack hit his knees. Pain jarred his joints at the abuse, but he ignored it. Fingers pressed to Jacob's carotid vein, he waited for a pulse.
All he felt was the relentless pounding of his own blood.
Jack swept his eyes in a quick three-sixty. No signs of imminent attack. Good enough. Jamming the Beretta beneath his belt, Jack gripped his friend's wrist, leaned in, and pulled. He centered Jacob's body on his shoulders, securing the legs with his left arm, and prepared to stand.
The enemy was starting to regroup. He could hear their shouts and the distant thunder of their boots. Time was running out.
Adjusting his hold on Jacob, Jack hauled himself to his feet. White hot pain lanced through his bad knee as he felt something inside it rip. Spots danced across his vision. His breath hitched. Gritting his teeth, he hobbled forward one step. Fire raced the length of his leg and shot into his back, but the joint held.
"Ja... Jack?"
He latched onto the whisper like a lifeline. And took another step. Then another. And another.
"J'ck?" The name came out garbled. Thick.
Jack felt Jacob's weight sag across his shoulders. He lengthened his strides.
By the time he reached the shield, Jack's body was functioning on auto-pilot. Relying almost completely on his good leg, Jack lowered himself to the ground and eased Jacob off his shoulders. A hasty search of the Tok'ra's pouch yielded the forcefield controller.
The enemies' thunder was getting closer.
He drew his Beretta, hit the remote, and watched the protective cube fold back into itself. SG-14 hurried forward, bodies bent low.
A few more seconds. That's all they needed. Digging into the pouch again, he searched for the Al'kesh's cloaking device and ring activator.
"Sir!"
Hailey's warning came a millisecond before she tackled him to the ground. Momentum carried Jack over and under her, then over again. As he tumbled, thin jolts of power dogged his path. The charges pierced the ground with an electric hiss.
All the charges but one.
Jack let out a gasp as a dull pulse of electricity struck his side. Compared to the force of a Zat blast, it was nothing. Barely a sting. If they wanted to stop him, it was gonna take more than that. Without missing a beat he rolled onto his back, away from Hailey, and sited down his Beretta—straight into the face of Tall Guy.
"Wait." It almost sounded like a request.
If it hadn't been for the weapon Tall Guy had leveled at Hailey, Jack would have said it was a request. And on different note, he couldn't feel his side anymore. It was numb.
"Wait," Tall Guy said again. "Please."
The only person that had ever gotten anywhere with Jack O'Neill by saying 'please' was Daniel. And this guy wasn't Daniel.
Jack tightened his grip on the Beretta to within a hairsbreadth of pulling the trigger. "Back away."
Tall Guy hesitated.
"Back away," Jack repeated. The numbness was spreading. A surge of blackness crowded the edges of his vision. Things began to blur. Focus. Stay with it. He clenched his jaw. "Do it now."
Tall Guy stepped back. His mouth moved. He was talking.
Jack blinked, mind grasping at syllables he suddenly couldn't understand. Syllables that melded together and faded farther away the harder he tried to hear them. He swallowed. Blinked again.
Then the blackness took over.
Author's Note: I'm headed out of town for the weekend, so wanted to go ahead and give y'all what should have been Saturday's update today. Hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will be up on Monday. Hope to see you then!