Chapter 10: Rebirth
In the six years since P5S-381 had been successfully terraformed, the Gadmeer civilization had been reborn on the planet.
A total of five thousand distinct life forms had been reconstituted from their basic, essentially freeze dried constituents and were thriving in the sulfur based atmosphere now surrounding the planet. With a bluish haze bathing their world and a landscape devoid of the greenery humans had come to expect, the Gadmeer were perfectly happy with their new home and ready to try again.
In the Golden Age of their civilization these tall, lithesome amphibious creatures had successfully mastered the initially hostile environment of their homeworld. They'd gone on to create an enviable way of life that served them well for millennia. In that time long ago they were isolationists, keeping their own counsel, bothering no one, helping no one. Then the others came. Predators, intent on taking what was not theirs, this second warlike race saw the Gadmeer as easy prey. Disconnected from their neighbors by their own choice, there was no one to come to their aid. Self proclaimed pacifists, they'd devoted little effort to defensive or offensive technology. The invaders had easily overwhelmed what few defenses they had.
While ill prepared for war, the Gadmeer had achieved great scientific advancements in other areas, among them artificial intelligence, genetics and space travel. When it came to escaping their dying world, the world that was stolen from them by more aggressive, ambitious invaders, these advances stood them in good stead. Able to preserve the essence of their civilization, they'd found P5S-381, a place to be reborn. Once awakened from their long sleep, their leaders decided to do things differently. They would be involved with their neighbors, help where they were needed and put adequate defensive weapons in place to protect their new world. They resolved to learn from their mistakes. After all, theirs was a long lived civilization. They had every intention of continuing and once again making their mark in the universe.
Lotan had been the beginning of their new resolve. Allowing him to travel with the Enkarans was a calculated decision. It marked the beginning of Gadmeer diplomacy and an attempt to understand and appreciate alien cultures. The Gadmeer AI turned Enkaran proved to be an excellent ambassador and intermediary. Carrying Gadmeer knowledge and wisdom, he'd quickly warmed to his biological endowments; his soul of sorts became Enkaran. Instinctively he understood both races and helped the Gadmeer gain an appreciation of humanoid species. With the knowledge of the Enkaran ruling council, he continued to serve as an intermediary between the two very diverse species, sharing information about each with the other. Soon, Enkarans began to think of the Gadmeer as a friendly race, not the one who'd almost annihilated them not so many years ago.
Word of Lotan's compromise had hit hard. At first, Gadmeer central command took it as yet another sign of a hostile galaxy, reason to turn in on themselves once again and batten down the hatches. It was tempting, it felt safe, but it was the one thing they'd promised not to do this time around. And so they resolved to find out what happened and restore Lotan if they could.
At the beginning their efforts were thwarted by a poor understanding of the indigenous populations of their adopted galaxy. And despite their linguistic abilities they were hard pressed to comprehend the cultural overlays of much that they heard.
Then they received an unexpected communication from Enkara. At first, the Gadmeer suspected they'd been mistaken about Lotan's fate; perhaps it was only their sensors that were damaged. That faint hope was quickly extinguished when they realized Lotan was not the one making contact.
It was the humans. Determined to be of help to Daniel Jackson in his search, Hedrezar had remembered the complicated communications device Lotan often used to check in with his strange friends, the Gadmeer. Though Hedrezar had no idea how to make it work, Daniel, with the help of an SGC technician dispatched for that purpose, had managed to boot it up and make an adequate attempt at the language. His attempt was adequate enough to send an SOS.
OoOoOo
Watching Ba'al brutally assault Jack that first day was an excruciating experience. She'd lost control; after an hour of watching helplessly while her husband was tortured, Sam had screamed for it to stop. Strangely enough it had.
Sure enough Ba'al had made his way to her enclosure, asking if she was ready to accede to his demands for the SGC codes. Sam told him in no uncertain terms that would never happen, fearing all the while her refusal would condemn Jack to even worse treatment. But nothing happened. Apparently Ba'al had tired of the game, at least for that day.
The last thing she'd meant to do was show weakness. Ba'al had the upper hand as it was. And Jack, well, right now she was Jack's best hope of survival. She had to be strong for him, she owed him that much. She'd fallen apart, but just for a moment. She'd allowed herself to react as Mrs. Jack O'Neill, not Colonel Samantha Carter. As natural as that reaction was, she resolved it would not happen again, at least not where anyone else could see. There was too much at stake. A frightened, tearful wife wouldn't be able to save Jack. Samantha would have to step back, while the military officer took command. Unfortunately that same officer had long ago lost all objectivity when it came to the man who was suffering.
Once they'd been returned to their cell after that session, Sam pulled herself together, tending Jack's wounds, stopping the visible bleeding and doing her best to comfort him. Then, once he was asleep, she'd let the tears come, crying in earnest. The emotions had to come out somewhere and then she'd have to make them work for her. If she didn't find a way out of this, he was going to die. Like it, or not, she was frightened. The great Samantha Carter, the woman who'd blown up a sun and saved galaxies, was human.
Now a week later, Jack continued to take the brunt of Ba'al's displeasure. Guards would come for him at different times of the day and night, sometimes dragging Sam along to observe, sometimes not. After some of the beatings, Sam was allowed to use the healing device, but not always. It had been two days since Sam was allowed access to the device. She'd tried hiding it last time, against the likelihood of losing it again, but the Jaffa had ransacked the small cell until they'd found it. She hadn't seen it since.
Though Ba'al kept insisting Sam was in control of the situation, she felt helpless in most every way that mattered. At least she'd regained control of her emotions since that first day in the torture chamber. There'd been no more screaming in spite of the horrors she was forced to witness. She'd turned away or closed her eyes when she could take no more, but she'd stayed silent. And she'd seen approval mirrored in Jack's weary, pain-filled eyes.
Surely by now Ba'al knew neither of them would provide any useful intelligence. As far as she could tell, his only motivation for keeping them alive was to satisfy his sadistic desires for revenge.
Jack was growing weaker each day. Unable to eat more than an occasional mouthful, even getting liquids into him was a challenge some days. Drifting mercifully in and out of consciousness, when lucid, he was far more concerned with her well being than his own. For the past two days he'd spent his precious energy talking about Plan B, the unthinkable, where she'd escape, leaving him behind to maximize her chances. Sam tried to make him understand that would never happen. She promised to find another way. He'd smiled weakly and squeezed her hand tighter. And she'd died a little more inside, wondering what she could possibly do to fulfill that promise.
OoOoOo
Daniel Jackson was a gifted linguist. Anyone who'd worked with him over the past twenty years or so could tell you that. Yet even Daniel doubted his ability to decipher the Gadmeer language. Its incomparable text and the complete lack of syntax gave a whole new meaning to the term foreign language. He had no idea if his SOS would be understood in any meaningful way.
He could hardly believe his ears when he received a response to his crudely constructed cry for help. And it came in English.
They'd remembered him. And they wanted his help.
TBC
A/N: Thanks for all of your reviews and the responses to the poll.