Letting Go Chapter 10
Last Stand – Revanna – A Desperate Journey
Nine hours. And that was if everything went their way. Yeah. That was likely, Jack snorted to himself. Because everything had been going so well since Ren'Al had knocked on the SGC's iris a few days ago. He hefted his end of the cobbled-together stretcher, flexing gloved fingers on the slick wood, and glanced down at the grey-faced lieutenant lying disturbingly limp there, errant raindrops leaving black spots like mold on his green fatigues. Nine more hours pacing through the brush, dodging Jaffa patrols, just so they could arrive at the damned Tok'ra transmitter and, maybe, the end of the line.
Carter had grabbed at the idea of sending a signal with both hands, focusing her hope in that persistent, unrelenting, terrier-with-a-rat way she had when she couldn't think her way out of a problem. Okay, he could deal with that – it was better than that crap fatalism she was spouting down in the tunnels. A few deep breaths of some smoke-laced air, a little barely potable water, weak sunlight peeking through the massive storm clouds and Carter bounced right back. He watched as she walked at Elliot's side, sometimes reaching out to touch the young airman's shoulder in a familiar gesture. At least it wasn't Daniel lying there so close to death.
And wasn't that an honorable thought. Jack clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. No matter how he looked at it, that simple statement revealed just what a complete and utter rat bastard Colonel Jack O'Neill had become.
Relief. He actually felt relief that a certain annoying archaeologist wasn't lying there at the edge of death with a useless snake wrapped around his brain. Human nature or not, understandable or not, being willing to trade some green recruit's life for his friend's didn't exactly make Jack eligible for the CO of the year award. He sucked on the anger and guilt that filled his throat, compelled to really look at the dying airman being bounced along with every step, his head falling back and forth unsupported by his slack neck, and forced himself not to veil the sunken features with the strong chin and determined blue eyes of Daniel Jackson. No. Elliot deserved better.
And then, of course, there was the fact that wishing Daniel away from this FUBAR mission sent him right into the arms of the Goa'uld System Lords. Definitely a postcard experience, Jack was sure. 'Dear Jack – Weather's great, having a swell time playing dress-up, wish you were here.' He didn't know which scenario was the frying pan and which the fire, but it didn't really matter – both were too damned hot.
He shook his head. Nothing could save this mission from total failure – well, nothing but a time machine and a swift kick in the ass so he and Hammond didn't make the same mistake twice. Twice, hell, racing off in pursuit of strategic – military – gains had become business as usual, and even the relentless pressure from above didn't justify his recent decisions. Questions – they should have asked more questions. Just like on Euronda. Or with the Gadmeer. Or the damn armbands. That famous military arrogance, all straight backs and closed minds and 'we know better' crap. Huh - and he blamed the Tok'ra for being set in their ways.
Teal'c had come right out and told Jack that he'd screwed the pooch this time, ignored assets, charged forward full speed ahead as if he already had all the answers. One whiff of a possible major strike against the Goa'uld and Jack was off, nose to the ground, trampling everybody and everything in his path. Wanting Daniel to do it, not wanting Daniel to do it – had he even had a clear thought or made a clear decision once the carrot of cutting off the head of the Goa'uld snake was dangled in front of him? He couldn't blame the Tok'ra for this one – yeah, their sense of strategy was weak and their so-called planning left holes he could drive a cargo ship through, but Jack had happily conspired with the deceiving, egotistical snake-heads and given up his teammate as a sacrificial lamb, doubting Daniel's abilities to pull it off at the same time. The hell with CO, what kind of man did that make him? If he believed in any of it, Jack would think that the Goa'uld attack, the decimation of the Tok'ra, and the death of SG-17 was his own personal penance.
The thin foliage, the warm drizzle of rain, and the uneven footing yanked at the muscles in Jack's legs with every jerk from a barely recovered slip – the air was heavy and still, quiet, filled only with the irregular slide of footsteps, doing nothing whatsoever to distract Jack from his dark thoughts. There was another concept he'd been dodging for far too long; it kept flooding him with churning waves of alternating frustration and sorrow. At the end of their nine hour stroll through the wet sand on an alien planet lugging a nearly dead airman through enemy territory towards a last-ditch attempt at escape, what, exactly, were they going to find?
Seemed like there were only two choices; two equally nauseating, filthy choices. Most likely they'd find silence. An embarrassed shrug from a bald ex-general standing alone in the rain. An empty spot on SG-1 with a distinctly Jacksonian shape. Or, would they be met with a blank, blue-eyed stare in the face of an assassin? A stranger, ex-geek, wanna be Black Ops killer, deep wounds hidden beneath a thick protective skin layered with guilt and grief and too many expectations?
Jack hefted the stretcher and tested the weight of Elliot's fractured body, his eyes glued to Teal'c's brutally rigid back and, for a moment, let the guilt swamp his reason. No, no way those possibilities were equal. If he was lucky, very, very lucky, if the gods of karma and the guardian angels of stubborn archaeologists allowed his missing teammate to survive with whatever wounds, whatever gashes or hurts that cut deep into that Daniel Jackson spirit, then at least Jack would have a chance. A chance to peel back those layers one by one until he could recognize the innocent scholar he'd first seen through a haze of cigarette smoke in a cold conference room beneath the mountain. And, even if that guy never looked back at Jack with the fierce connection he'd taken for granted, or friendship, or even respect, it would be enough. Daniel – alive. Yeah, it would be enough.
He blinked into the thin rain and shunted aside the sense of crushing loss until a bare trickle of regret remained. Nine hours. Probably more. Possibly a lifetime. Jack narrowed his eyes and took another step.
Last Stand – Space Station – Acts of Desperation
Daniel lengthened his strides, mind reeling with images of blood-drenched fatigues, the searing heat of staff weapon fire, his friends on their knees before another Goa'uld. What was it that some famous person had once said – something about inspiration and desperation – he shook his head, unwilling to waste time trying to reach for the memory. He had to leave, they had to get back to Revanna, God help him, they had to be in time.
How long would it take? He and Jacob had timed their arrival on Yu's home world carefully, both knowing that the less time Daniel spent with the System Lord, especially in his own household, the better. And the Goa'uld himself had navigated a skewed path to this space station, leaving Daniel with absolutely no idea where in relation to Revanna he currently stood. Dammit. He ground his teeth together as his frantic steps led him farther from the council chamber and yet no closer to a plan. Jacob and the Tok'ra had left him handcuffed to their own purposes, completely blind to anything and everything that had no direct relevance to this mission – in their alien, twisted sense of logic – including how to escape and get home if Jacob and his ship had been somehow compromised. Daniel felt his lips twist into a spiteful grin. Of course, his life was altogether expendable, wasn't it? 'No single person's life is more important.' How could he have forgotten?
Jacob's ship. The thin blade of an idea pierced Daniel's swirling thoughts. He'd flown Yu's ship; he could read the displays and had seen the locking 'autopilot' controls. And, with her own lips, one other person on the space station had already admitted that she knew exactly where Revanna was located. He fled towards the bowels of the station.
The green slash of paint on the lo'taur's face drew his eye and Daniel slowed his rushed pace, forcing himself to breathe evenly, to release some of the tension that gripped him and left his mouth dry and his stomach knotted. Impulsive, dangerous – it didn't matter now. Action, he had to act. He gripped his hands behind him, knuckles strained painfully tight.
"Excuse me." Daniel managed to temper his impatience and dredge up a tentative smile, a hint of flirtation, as the woman approached. "I wish to pass on a message from my Master Yu to Osiris," he glanced purposefully towards the nearby entrance to the dock area, "he wishes to meet." He knew his words were too fast, too urgent, and he bowed his head to quickly mask the grimace of desperation that must be plastered across his face. When he looked up, the woman smiled a silent response and moved lazily away, hips undulating.
The door to Yu's ship slid open and Daniel hurried inside. Nothing to do now but wait – and tell Jacob that Revanna was currently being invaded by Anubis' troops. Yep. No problem, then.
"Jacob."
"What the hell's going on, Daniel?"
Sharp, angry – no surprise there. Daniel closed his eyes and rubbed one hand across his forehead, trying to ease the pressure that was building inside and threatening to undo all his resolve - resolve to ensure that this mission ended with Osiris in the hands of the Tok'ra and SG-1 safely back on Earth. He suddenly yearned for sleep, for the musty smell of books and the comfort of fatigues, and he hungered for a place of safety where he could let go of the pathetic slave Jarren and try to find the not-so-innocent, long-haired geek he'd been before his wife, and his hope, had died. He needed to get away from the scheming and the fighting and the blood and lose himself in the dust of ancient civilizations, bury his hands in the dirt of alien soil. His hand moved down to press against his ribs, the stubborn pain there a physical reminder of everything that went wrong when Daniel Jackson forgot himself and tried to play the soldier.
"Anubis knows the location of the Tok'ra base." Daniel had no strength left for subtlety and no heart for sympathizing with Jacob's loss. "Osiris says he's attacking right now."
"Get to the shield, Daniel, shut it down. I'm coming in."
He'd never heard Jacob Carter panic - not even when they'd been imprisoned in Sokar's hell, not flying cloaked with a mine in his hold, not when he'd been injured on a Goa'uld mother ship millions of miles from home - but this, this came damn close. Daniel paced the small cockpit of Yu's ship, stabbing at the controls that opened the inner door to the cargo compartment. Jacob's knee-jerk reaction and his quick orders had been expected, and, on another day, they might just have sent him to follow obediently. But not today.
"Forget that, I have a new plan," Daniel snapped abruptly and walked back towards the door, checking the hallway impatiently. Osiris had to come. He had to take the bait – and soon. Jacob wouldn't be put off for long. He swept back and forth between the ship and the corridor in long nervous strides, dreading the upcoming confrontation, fingering the bone beneath his eye that Yu had shattered with one blow. Osiris had to be contained quickly, before he could use his enhanced Goa'uld strength to, well, to kill him.
Jacob didn't wait. "What are you doing?" he demanded, and Daniel had no trouble imagining the older man's furious scowl.
"Oh," he sighed, "I'm stealing Yu's cargo ship." He checked out the controls, mentally rehearsing the buttons he'd need to press, the sequence of commands he'd have to input to get the ship moving. He frowned. "I can fly it from inside the shield without shutting it down, right?"
"Why?"
Oh, yes. There it was - the unconcealed threat, the easily heard undercurrent of anger in that one-word demand for an explanation. 'And make it good,' he mentally added in Jack O'Neill's particularly dangerous tone. It wasn't really a question, just an invitation for Daniel to provide an excuse for criticism, for a justification for Jack's mocking response.
He pressed a series of buttons to prepare the cargo ship for flight, hurriedly wiping his sweating palms against the thin fabric of his pants. "Because I'm taking Osiris with me."
"Do you have her now?" Jacob's disbelief came through loud and clear.
Daniel looked back over his shoulder towards the dark hallway. "No, but I'm working on it," he replied wearily. He moved to the console between the two seats and twisted the main control dial to 'stand by' and was rewarded by a power surge that vibrated the floorboards and brought the lights up in the cabin. Okay. Progress.
"Daniel, the chemical weapon you're carrying could be the only way we can stop the attack on Revanna."
"Yeah, and, ah, Osiris could eventually lead us to Anubis." Daniel didn't need any more lectures, or demands, or strategic battle plans that were based solely on saving the damned poison. "And you and your buddies can do their best to take the snake out of Sarah, right?" He blinked dry eyes, trying to focus on the cockpit controls – they looked right, he was sure they were right.
"How are you going to fly that ship?"
Nice try, Jacob. Daniel smirked and raised the communicator one more time. "Well, I've flown a mother ship, how hard can this be?"
He checked again, made sure the settings were correct, his gaze flicking from the opened cargo bay doors to the banks of controls on the wall, on the center console, and on the flight panel. He wiped his sweating hands again and tried to ignore the way they shook. Osiris had to take the bait; he had to wonder what Yu could possibly have to say to him after the vote, after Yu had been humiliated before all of his System Lord peers.
Daniel stilled as he heard the click of heels against the metal floor, his heat beat hammering against his chest. Eyes wide he crouched behind one of the gold struts that arched up from floor to ceiling, careful to make sure every inch of his body was within its shadow. It was Sarah – Osiris. He waited as she lingered by the escape pods, her suspicion obvious in the stiff line of her neck and her bright, narrow eyes. The dark cargo bay beckoned, not three steps away, and Daniel held his breath as she drew the slim dagger from its sheath, turned her back to him, and crept cautiously through its doors.
A second later he'd lunged from his hiding place and slammed his fingers into the door's control, trapping her just as she'd turned, blade flaring in the light from the flight deck. She roared in fury, but it was too late – she was his prisoner. Daniel took a step backward, head and heart pounding in rhythm now, and closed his eyes tightly. Yes. He'd done it.
There was no time – he had to –
A powerful backhand exploded against his chest. Ribs cracked. His left side smashed against the floor. Black – red – gold - his vision swam and he brought up one hand towards his face, blinking, trying to focus. Yu. It was Yu.
Daniel lay there, panting, each shallow breath, each heartbeat clearing his vision. The Goa'uld had lost all veneer of stoicism now; his face was stretched into an awful grimace, rage contorting his features. He took one step towards Daniel and the archaeologist knew that this time, Yu wouldn't stop at breaking him – this time he was going to die. A second later he frowned, stifling a cry – Yu was turning away, reaching for the controls for the cargo bay doors.
Osiris' eyes flamed gold and Daniel watched as Sarah's arm drove the dagger into Yu's belly. Daniel struggled to his feet, launching himself towards the door, towards escape – at least for a moment - but she caught him, effortlessly, and tossed him back against the console as if he was weightless. Then she was on him, one hand tight around his throat, the other clutching the bloody dagger, knuckles white against the hilt. Daniel yanked at her hand, gasping for air, and grabbed at the hand holding the knife, knowing he could never beat her strength, that he couldn't keep her from killing him. His mind was a blur of images – Yu's deadly fury, Sarah's sneering power, Jacob – hiding, never knowing what had happened. Daniel strained for an answer, an idea – anything – and his gaze fell on the metal structures over her shoulder.
"How unfortunate that Lord Yu could not trust his slave," Osiris spat, bending him backwards until he felt his spine would crack, squeezing his throat closed. "Each was mortally wounded in the fight as the slave attempted to kill his Master."
Daniel yanked at the hand around his neck, desperately pulling in air, and felt the needle-point of his ring gouge her skin. "Sarah! Sarah, it's me – Daniel!" A second – he only needed to distract her for one second, to … He felt it in the sudden release of her muscles, the shift in shadows behind her eyes – she saw him – Daniel Jackson – her host's human lover. He gathered his strength to shove her away.
Yu slammed into her from the side, growling like an animal, and broke her grip on Daniel's neck. He hauled her backward, hurling her through the cargo bay doorway, and charged after her. They were blind to him now, feral snarls and flashing eyes aimed only at the real threat – each other.
Daniel fumbled at the controls, pressing buttons, his vision graying out again, his chest burning. He raced past the battle – two steps, just two steps - sliding into the escape pod just as Osiris threw Yu backwards and came for him again. Her cry of rage was cut off by the closing doors and he jerked, pain lancing through him, as he felt the pod drop through the shaft and shear off into space.
Sarah – he clenched his teeth, refusing to give voice to the wave of failure that shook through him. He couldn't save her. He couldn't… Eyes closed, every muscle tight, Daniel gripped the Tok'ra communicator and brought it close to his face.
"Get me out of this thing," he hissed into the darkness.
His stomach fluttered as the pod shuddered and jerked - a moment of weightlessness and then more pain as the pod slammed backwards and his body seemed to rise and then crash to the ground, drawing a strained gasp from between his lips. Daniel bit the next one back as a bright light streaked through the pod's opening, and he lifted his hand to shield his eyes.
Jacob. The cloaked cargo ship. 'Move,' he told himself, 'get out, get up – keep going.' He snatched the drugged ring from his finger and flung it away, listening as it rattled against the ship's metal floor. No more spying, no more covert ops. A firm hand grasped his.
"You okay?"
Daniel screwed his face up and let Jacob pull him upright. His neck burned. Every breath burned. Tremors crept along his nerves. The pain tried to overpower him, tried to sneak bile up the back of his throat, but he wouldn't give in. They didn't have time.
"Oh, yeah," he ground out through his teeth.
Jacob's gaze was searing, not believing Daniel's easy answer for a moment. "What happened?" he demanded.
Daniel dragged his hand from the older man's grip and swiped it across his forehead, still squinting in the harsh light. "I had her, and then Yu had me," he felt the steadying hand at his back, the other gripped around his arm, but he kept moving, giving Jacob no choice but to follow him towards the cockpit. "I had to get out of there while they were fighting it out."
"The poison?"
He nearly stumbled then, nearly laughed at Jacob's one track mind, but he managed to cover it with a groan. "Yeah, it's right here." He moved his left arm back to the pouch at his belt, but his fingers felt thick and numb, fumbling at the flap. Jacob could have the damn stuff.
"Good man." One pat on the back and the Tok'ra rushed away towards the pilot's chair, leaving Daniel to trail after him and slide awkwardly into the co-pilot's seat, one hand pressed tightly against his ribs.
"How long is it going to take us to get there," he breathed, frowning down at the controls that he'd been so confident of understanding just moments ago but that now looked like strange swirls of flashing lights and streams of gibberish. He blinked, trying to focus.
Jacob was busy adjusting dials and levers, all business. "Pushing the hyperdrive engines full power? Six hours, but we may already be too late."
Lingering fear and, perhaps, a trace of despair underlay Jacob's voice and seemed to give his movements a sharp, edged quality. His new family, his new home since his blending with Selmac, and, more importantly, his daughter were all in danger of destruction. Daniel searched for words to reassure, to comfort, holding himself still to lessen his own pain so that he could focus on the other man's. His mind was sluggish, reeling. Nothing… there was nothing he could say. Nothing that Daniel had done at the summit had helped their cause in any way. And it would take them six hours to find out if Daniel's little bit of intel, one cargo ship, and a small vial of poison could make any difference to the Tok'ra – and SG-1's – struggle for survival.
He let his head fall back against the seat, weary, desperate to help, and swallowed past the soreness of his throat. "Well, this may seem unimportant right now, but I might as well tell you anyway." Daniel lifted his head, staring straight out through the ship's windows, unwilling to watch Jacob's jerky movements as he readied the ship. "But I think I've figured out why the Goa'uld population hasn't been growing much lately."
Daniel saw Jacob turn to him out of the corner of his eye, but kept his head up, his gaze fixed in distant space as the Tok'ra's glare raked over his body, hesitating at his neck, at the way his right hand was still pressed against his chest. He didn't turn, didn't meet his eyes, and, after a moment he watched the glowing colors of the hyperspace window appear in space and felt the slight snap of movement as the ship leaped forward to be swallowed up by its flickering light.
The small ship hummed and quivered as power coursed through it, until, after a few minutes, Jacob slid the automatic control device onto the red ball and turned in his seat. "You're not okay, are you, Daniel?"
"I'm fine," he murmured, wondering why the hyperdrive field surrounding the ship brightened and darkened, as if it was throbbing in time to some rhythm he couldn't hear.
"Daniel?"
Jacob's voice seemed so far away and Daniel didn't have the strength to turn his head to find out why.
"Daniel!"