The Red Queen and Her White Knight

by Freya-Kendra

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- 10 -

Transport rings brought Daniel, Janet and Pa'lok's contingent into a vast, gilded, Goa'uld's chamber.

The linguist turned a slow circle, examining the inscribed walls surrounding them. "This ... is ... incredible."

"That's not quite the word I would have chosen," Janet replied guardedly beside him.

He turned to her, intending to say something to allay her fears. But a strange voice, sounding like a coffee grinder catching on a stone, left his thoughts unspoken.

"Rhe-hu, rhe-hu, rhe-hu."

The voice belonged to a skeletal, white-haired man who scampered out of a dark opening in the back of the room. Clad only in a thin, cloth tunic with a ragged sack slung over his shoulder, he hurried towards them on bare feet, flashing a toothless smile in greeting. "Rhe-hu, rhe-hu, rhe-hu," He repeated happily.

The language proved to be as strange as the voice. Daniel shook his head, confused. "I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"Rhe-hu?" His smile fading, the old man's gray, clouded eyes darted searchingly across Daniel's features. Whatever he saw there, he didn't like it. "No, no, no, no, no," He pouted, dropping his gaze to give his full attention to his sack. He yanked it open and began to dig furiously through its contents, his brows drawn together in concentration. An occasional, softly muttered "Rhe-hu " came between puffs of exasperated breaths as a variety of unseen objects clinked and clattered against one another.

Exchanging a curious glance with Janet Frasier, Daniel tried to start over. "I'm Daniel Jackson," He offered. But the man ignored him. Whatever he sought was apparently far more valuable to him than introductions.

A long moment later, the thin, leathery arms came abruptly still before beginning their slow journey back out of the sack. The old man's eyes glistened with new moisture and an odd smile lifted the long creases in his weathered face as he brought a Goa'uld hand device out of its cloth prison and into the chamber's golden light. "Rhe-hu," He whispered in obvious awe, reverently presenting the device to Janet.

Daniel saw the petite doctor tense, her posture reflective of her obvious desire to back as far away from the device as possible. Yet, in a familiar display of the strength he'd always known her to possess, she held her ground, still eying the thing warily. "Dr. Jackson?"

The man was practically forcing the device into her folded hands. "You might want to take it," Daniel suggested.

"Right." She sighed uneasily and tried to smile as she took the proffered item. She even gave a slight bow. "Thank you."

Yet her appreciation clearly did not meet with the old man's approval. "Rhe-hu," He repeated sternly.

Janet met Daniel's gaze with a raised brow, but the linguist truly had no idea what the old man expected in return. "I don't...."

"No, no, no, no, no," The man chided once more.

In a sudden, unexpected move, the wily old man grabbed Janet's arm, prompting a surprised gasp to escape her lips before she could re-establish her own defenses. "Please, I really don't...." But she could not pull away from him, could not prevent him from trying to fit the device onto her delicate fingers. He worked with the clumsy aggressiveness of an over-eager child desperate to get his mother to agree.

Disturbed by the display, Daniel gently placed his own hand over the old man's. "It won't work."

But once again he was ignored.

"She can't use it." Daniel said more loudly, pressing down more forcefully.

The old man spun on him. "Rhe-hu!" He cried out, eerily enraged. His hand flew upwards to point the now activated device towards Daniel.

How could he have shifted the device from Janet's hand to his own so quickly? Yet that was only half of the puzzle. Though the man's eyes still failed to glow and his voice was entirely his own, without even the hint of a Goa'uld's harsh resonance, the hand device was already beginning to bore into Daniel's skull.

This isnt possible.

"Dr. Jackson!" Daniel heard Janet's cry only vaguely through the tortuous pulse of the beam. "Sha'vak, please," She called out urgently; yet her voice was oddly soft, distant. "Stop! Please!"

Daniel heard nothing more.

* * *

Jack studied the cave entrance through his binoculars. Little more than a dark hole within a mound of boulders and shielded by a thick row of bushes, it could easily have been overlooked. Without Mordin, it might have been.

"How is it guarded?" He asked the former Messenger.

"Guarded?"

Jack looked at the thin man, staggered by the confusion evident in his reply. "As in `watched'?" More confusion. "How do you stop intruders from getting in?"

Mordin shook his head. "That has never been a concern."

"Well, we can bet it is now," Jack said softly, blowing out a rush of air in frustration. "We have to believe they're expecting us."

"Indeed," Teal'c concurred.

Splitting up to approach from two separate directions, they moved cautiously forward, now relying more on military training than Mordin's memories. Jack's eyes darted from the trees to the cave, searching for signs of Messengers. He found none. He saw Lieutenant James glance frequently into the branches above them, and he felt a cold chill prickle his scalp. The lieutenant was not a novice. That these Messenger folks had managed to overwhelm James and his men so easily earlier was a disturbing thought. Jack quickly found his own eyes drawn upwards. He did not want a repeat performance.

The forest around them remained still and silent. It was so devoid of movement that the quiet rustling of a single bush near the cave mouth seemed to scream an alert. Signaling his men, Jack held his weapon ready and knew they did the same. His flexed his finger in preparation to pull the trigger as his eyes sought details hidden amongst the leaves. There. A movement produced a glimpse of flesh.

Jack's finger danced gently above the trigger. He watched the movement continue, saw a flash of red emerge above the foliage. Behind it came an arm, as someone started to wave a red-fringed hat.

"Ola allay," A voice called out. "Ola allay."

Jack gave another signal. Hold fire. His senses on full alert, he kept his focus on the bush yet did not ignore the surrounding area. This was probably a diversion. They had to be ready. An attack could still come from anywhere.

"Ola allay." The shouting continued. A dark head rose above the bush and a child emerged. "Ola allay," The boy cried repeatedly, waving his hat and smiling in their direction.

"Shit," Jack whispered. He'd seen the tactic before. It disgusted him that people could use their own children to lure an enemy into the open. He signaled his team again. Hold position.

Mordin, however, was not exactly a part of the team. The former Messenger rose and walked cautiously towards the boy, saying something in a language Jack could not understand. The boy nodded animatedly, his smile widening as he urged Mordin to follow him to the cave.

"Don't go, dammit!"

But Mordin did not have a radio, and could not possibly hear Jack's whispered command. He let the boy lead him, and disappeared into the entrance for a few heart-stopping seconds. When he re-emerged, Mordin was also smiling. "It is okay," He shouted, his eyes aimed at Jack's hiding place. "It is safe."

"Ola allay!" The boy said again.

"Shit," Jack whispered. Then, into his radio, "Teal'c, Carter, you're with me. James, you and your men hold position."

"Ola allay!"

"It is okay."

"My ass, it's okay," Jack mumbled to himself before stepping out into the open. He hurried to Mordin's side while Teal'c and Carter scanned the area. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"It is safe," Mordin repeated. "Mal'chok has cleared the entrance."

"The boy?"

Mordin nodded. "Yes. The boy."

"O'Neill!"

When Teal'c called him to the cave mouth, Jack hesitated just long enough to give Mordin and the boy a cold glare. Yet his irritation quickly gave way to confusion. Two men lay unconscious at the entrance, and at least two more shadows lay just beyond.

"They're alive," Carter announced, checking the pulse of the second man. On instinct, she turned his head, looking for the sign of a `poisoned' dart like the one James had reported. And there it was, a red mark just below the man's left ear.

Jack turned to Mordin again. "The boy did this?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You are friends of the Holy Scribe," Mal'chok answered for himself, his face beaming with excitement.

"Holy what?"

"Scribe?" Carter asked. "You mean Daniel?"

"Yes." The boy smiled. "Daniel Jackson."

"Why would you hurt your own ... friends to help his?" Jack asked suspiciously, eyeing the sleeping guards.

"They were afraid. I did not want them to hurt you."

"Oh. And you're not afraid?"

"No. I trust in Daniel Jackson. So I also trust in you."

"Why's that?"

"Because he does not trust in only one truth."

"Wow," Carter replied. "That's a pretty profound thought for someone your age."

"I am afraid he learned his questioning ways from me," Mordin spoke up. "I am his uncle."

tbc