Chapter 10 - Upwards and Unexpected
"They're gone, Sir."
The shock of the news stilled Calder's movements around his office.
"Would you care to repeat that, Brenna?"
She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the blinding anger of which she knew she'd be the sole recipient, knowing that he wouldn't take this too well.
"Carlin and Tor are reported missing. They did not report for their shift in the morning and a search for the both of them confirmed that they must have attempted to escape just after their shift ended the night before."
"Tell me, how is this possible?
Calder hadn't flown into a rage as she'd expected him to. But his eyes were boring into hers, demanding an immediate, thorough explanation. There had been no indication that Carlin and Tor had overcome their mindstamps so easily. But if they had, they'd hidden it disturbingly well, especially since her attention had been on the latest installation of the machinery in the mines.
"It appears that they climbed the scaffolding and found the only weakness in the entire infrastructure near the ceiling. But Sir, we think that—"
"Is this not a coincidence to you," Calder continued softly, as though he hadn't heard her, "that both our workers that used to form half of a team that we disbanded months ago have gone missing at the same time?"
Stiffening, she nodded, not daring to look away. "No, Sir."
"I trusted you, Brenna, to keep them in line. But what is done cannot be undone, can it?"
His calm façade and flat chuckle frightened her more than a tirade could. But even as a lowly, overlooked supervisor in the mines, Brenna knew that Calder hadn't risen to the top without knowing the inner workings of government. Calder had never shouted nor railed; he never needed to. Instead, his mastery at manipulative rhetoric and his legendary tight rein over all Administrative departments under him had easily done the job for him. Several strategic moves in the council had all but guaranteed him absolute power than few dared to challenge.
She got what he meant immediately, inclining her head under the unspoken pressure of his words.
"I assume full responsibility for their actions and await the punishment, Sir."
"You do know, Brenna," he began, finally walking over to where she stood, "that a reprimand for those who know they are guilty achieves nothing."
It was hard not to shiver at the look of critical indulgence he gave her. "Administrator-"
His stare was piercingly hard even though his words weren't. "I believe in chances, Brenna."
"I…Adminis—"
"Find them."
The soft command, issued though her rising panic, sent her scrambling for the door in relief. For the select few who escaped his ire, Calder had always expected an act of penance that far surpassed their original mistakes.
"Brenna?"
She nearly skidded to a stop when his voice called her back. Had Calder changed his mind about—
He stood motionless with his back to the windows, his eyes following every moment that she made, every tremble, every nervous flutter of her eyelids.
"Spare no expense."
She found it hard not to squirm under his stare. But the relief that coursed through her veins was soon replaced by contriteness and gratitude for the second chance he'd offered on a golden platter. It would be foolish not to take it.
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
"I expect better news the next time I see you."
Brenna could only hope she didn't disappoint.
oOo
The alcove was warm and dark, a comfortable resting place. But it couldn't be their last stop, not when they were way too close to something that resembled freedom. At this particular height, far above the heat and the chaos of the mining operations, Daniel could see that the upper regions were old and musty, barely supporting the black, opaque ceiling that in all likelihood, hid the existence of the city's darker underbelly from its inhabitants.
And beyond that, the wide, open spaces of the city—or the desolate wintry landscape—awaited them.
Pushing aside his morose thoughts, Daniel dug into the food bag, dismayed to find it nearly empty. Still, politeness won out over the gnawing hunger as he held out the last piece of bread to Teal'c and tried not to look too longingly at it.
"Would you like the last one?"
"I believe that you are in greater need of sustenance than I am."
"Thanks." He didn't bother to argue and bit into the last bit of the mouldy bread, barely tasting its rancid flavour.
"You are weary and require rest, Daniel Jackson."
Teal'c quiet voice startled him out of his musings.
Daniel started to shake his head immediately, an instinctive gesture bred into him in the mines, where tiredness and exhaustion were best kept to oneself. Only the realisation that he'd just left his old life behind stopped him mid-action. But shaking off the remnants of behaviour honed in the brutal environment of the mines was easier than it really looked, particularly when watching one's own back was imperative in a place where human life was cheap.
But it was Daniel Jackson, not Carlin, who had always believed in the value of human life. Respected its sanctity, convinced that it couldn't be measured in material terms, thinking that he ultimately stood morally heads and shoulders above those who thought otherwise. Admittedly, it had been a conviction that had only been strengthened by collective memories of those whom he'd lost throughout his life—his parents, Nick, Sha're: tragedies that were constant reminders that that life was fragile, precious and not to be squandered. But in a place where throats were casually slit for an additional bowl of food, he knew that as Carlin, he'd picked his share of fights in that place, defending his own rations, allowing an aggression that he'd never known existed to be his personal shield.
All it had taken was a memory wipe for him to briefly become the person that he'd sworn he'd never be. Or was Carlin simply the manifestation of Daniel Jackson's darker side? The Hyde doppelganger who had been there all along, emerging only when someone had loosened its chains?
He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
The time for the impromptu confession of sins or exhausting introspection sure as hell wasn't now.
In fact, Daniel wasn't sure if he'd be willing to even talk about this for a very long while, which made it incredibly convenient to push that nagging thought aside to focus on the task at hand. With a cynical chuckle, he wondered just when Jack's special brand of repression had started to rub off him.
Looking up at Teal'c who sat unmoving in the position of Kel'no'reem, he wondered, not for the first time, how he kept that serene equilibrium. But perhaps, it was during times like these that Teal'c age really showed.
"I'm not—well, actually yes, I am tired," he admitted, testing the truth of his words on his tongue, getting once again used to the liberty of speaking his mind.
Next to him, Teal'c tilted his head in uncertainty. "Perhaps it is wiser to rest than to labour on."
Teal'c always spoke like there was all the time in the world and more, making Daniel feel like an errant child sitting at a great-grandparent's knee.
"Labour on," he repeated, the words sparking the vivid remembrance of an endless toil deep beneath the surface where people existed only to work.
He appreciated the Jaffa's concern, knowing that it was beyond tempting to put his head down and slip into much-needed sleep for which his body had been crying out ever since they'd started climbing. But there was nothing more he wanted than to get out of the place that had forcibly erased their memories, imprinted onto them false personalities and held them as slaves for weeks or even months on end.
"Indeed."
"This is our best chance. The shifts are going to rotate soon and if we don't use this window of opportunity, it will be another nine hours before we'll get another try at this."
Only the small lift of an eyebrow conveyed Teal'c silent disagreement.
"Then we shall continue."
oOo
They had climbed for what seemed like hours, when in reality, only minutes must have passed. But fatigue was weighing them down, pulling at their limbs with invisible hands.
But they were nearly there. From where they stood, Daniel could already see the beginnings of the long, sloping roadway carved deep into the rock face where the sub vent shafts lay.
Several seconds later, he found a concave foothold and swung himself into tight crawl space in the upper parts of complex behind Teal'c, already feeling the chill of the exterior atmosphere despite the vertical distance that still separated them from the surface. Daniel righted himself to see the heavy dust trails in the ceiling made by Teal'c's searching fingers, catching sight of a seam that seemed to indicate the presence of an emergency hatch.
It made his breath hitch involuntarily. Imminent freedom lay beyond those doors.
The harsh rattling sounds of a pounding snowstorm against the heavy door gave him pause.
"I don't think we're in the city anymore," he ventured uncertainly.
"It would appear not."
So the mining complex was a lot larger than it looked from below. And without any schematic of the place, there wasn't anyway to know just how large it was, or how far out it stretched beyond the city's concrete borders.
Again, they left it to chance. Daniel had lost count of the number of times SG-1 had actually done that, to the point where that had seemed the only way SG-1 managed to get home alive most of the time.
He cast a deliberate look down at his clothes. Despite the fabric's thickness, the tunic offered practically no protection from the freezing winds and the sub-zero temperatures. In the mines, the cold had been offset by the number of opening burning fires and the heat generated from the mining equipment. For a split second, he yearned for that forgotten comfort of its warmth, then cast aside the traitorous thought.
"And if this isn't inappropriate dressing, I don't know what is."
Teal'c's lips quirked. "You have regained yourself, Daniel Jackson."
"Yeah," he said, grimacing and eyed the door. "Did I mention I hate this?"
"You do not wish to escape?"
"No. Not that," he amended and grimaced at the lameness of what he was about to confess. "I, uh, never really liked the cold."
"You are stronger than you think you are."
"I'm looking forward to the uncontrollable shivering, incoherence and everything generally associated with hypothermia."
"It is time to go."
Still, Daniel hesitated. "We really didn't plan too well for this, did we?"
"We are to find Major Carter and O'Neill. The city would be our only hope."
He just needed a minute to sort himself out, or so he told himself. "There's probably a manhunt for us now. They obviously know what we're doing. And wherever the Stargate is, it'll be heavily guarded."
"It is unlike you to find excuses, Daniel Jackson."
Daniel heaved a heavy sigh in response, knowing Teal'c had hit a sore point. But it was more than an excuse to not try. He paused to examine his own mental state, sifting through the emotions of the days since he'd overcome the mindstamp, only to come to a realisation that the sudden unwillingness also stemmed from a deeper fear of what lay out there after the months of harsh but structured routines in the mines. Fear of the unknown, of finding what awaited them. Fear of learning that his friends could well be long dead. Fear of losing even more than what they might potentially gain from this escape.
"You're right. I'm thinking too much," he finally said, closing his eyes briefly in consternation before forcing his mind back to the task at hand. "So we go out, look for the city. Hope we don't freeze to death while doing so. How hard can this be, right?"
"Indeed. Are you ready?"
"Uh, no."
The deep breath he took still didn't prepare him for the blast of ice that was hurled straight into his face by the strong winds when Teal'c forced open the hatch. Choking and coughing at the sudden chill that blew into the alcove, Daniel pushed himself out of the hatch, then knelt to pull Teal'c up.
There was a strange smell in the air and he hoped to god that it wasn't too toxic that he'd keel over before he made his destination. But only when he straightened did he notice the red sky that was violently bleeding into uneven shades of yellow, purple and blue.
Dusk. That meant all they had were a few minutes before darkness fell. Or before they collapsed of hypothermia—whatever came more quickly.
But in the swirling winds, it was near impossible to see a couple of metres ahead of them, let alone the giant domed structure of the city, wherever it was.
Daniel stuck a foot out, sank immediately into the knee-deep snow, then put another foot out in front of him, desperately trying to regain his balance before he tumbled over. A strong arm hauled him out, then yanked him against the solid bulk of a body that seemed hold itself steadier in the storm.
Teal'c.
"I can't see which way!"
Still, Teal'c moved the both of them, slowly, excruciatingly across the distance. It passed as a blur to him, as the cold seeped into his bones.
Then, Daniel stumbled. Again. This time, he stayed flat on his face, feeling the world spin around him, his racing thoughts falling over each other in a jumble that made no sense.
And why was it so hard to breathe?
From a distance, he thought he heard a voice urgently shouting his name. Daniel lifted his head to acknowledge the sound, but even that felt too heavy to move.
God, it was too cold and he was beyond tired. He refused to be a liability…but he also found that he didn't care anymore, deciding to give into the sudden drowsiness that enveloped him in darkness.
oOo
It was the smell of food that woke him up. Real, solid food cooking on a grill, like the meat that hung roasting for hours over the Abydonian fire pits-
Daniel snapped open his eyes, panicked by the sudden darkness that didn't seem to lift. Moving only by instinct, he clapped a hand over his eyes, then tugged away a sleep mask of sorts that was covering them.
Vision returned in patches of blues, greys and green, and with it, his cognitive faculties.
Vaguely surprised to find a soft covering lying beneath him, he stretched experimentally then rolled to a sitting position, feeling his heartbeat slow as he took in his surroundings. He still wore the rough-hewn, orange attire of the mines but it was now torn in several places, offering scant protection for anything colder than the temperatures within this place.
A small fire, safely contained within an oval metal cipher, was creating the necessary warmth he needed. It burned in the corner near his cot, casting harsh, flickering shadows on the dark, uneven walls. For a moment, he allowed himself to stare blindly at the dancing orange flames, simply grateful that he had simply woken up. That his extremities hadn't fallen off in the blinding cold.
But where was this place? Where was Teal'c?
The details of his surroundings sharpened in his second perusal of the space where he'd slept. And where he once thought was a dead end was actually a narrow space that opened out to…some place else. There were signs of life, that much he was sure.
Who were these people? Had they found him and Teal'c?
In the end, curiosity and hunger won out.
Daniel got to his feet, glad to see that his footsteps were reassuringly stable. Tentatively, he walked through the small corridor and followed its slight curve until it opened up into a bigger space where a group of people dined around a roasting spit.
They talked in hushed voices, the sharp rise and fall of their whispered voices hinting an ongoing argument. They hadn't noticed him, but it wouldn't be too long before someone did. Automatically, he sought the golden tattooed forehead of his friend, feeling his anxiety rise until he finally saw its glint that caught the firelight in a corner.
"Daniel Jackson."
The sound of his name said with a lilting accent halted all conversation.
Slowly, he stepped into the dining area. "Yes?" He ventured hesitantly, looking for the man who spoke.
From the mass of people, a tall figure stood, backlit by the light of the cackling fire, gesturing to the carved meat that still dripped with the fat in which they were cooked. "And I assume that you are hungry?"
Daniel shifted cautious eyes to the table, the tension in his shoulders only alleviated by the sight of Teal'c's slight tilt of the head. Conceding, he nodded once. "Yeah, I am actually."
"Good. Take a seat."
The group of people suddenly parted, leaving him a space between Teal'c and an older man with dark, knowing eyes. The urge to run suddenly pounded in his head. Run from the middle of nowhere? Back into a snowstorm that he'd barely survived? The rational part of his mind dismissed that idea immediately, scorning the desperation in it.
Which left both him and Teal'c with no choice but to sit, eat and basically put themselves at the mercy of whoever these people were. He hadn't woken up a captive in chains…but when was that sufficient proof of civility in what they did?
Stepping forward with a frown, Daniel took his seat. Reaching for the plate that was passed to him, he took a surreptitious sniff of the food piled high, struck by a stray memory of an alien civilisation that offered him both food and the chieftain's daughter as they aimed to please their visitors from another world…in what seemed a lifetime ago.
Tastes like chicken…it's good…
The soft, reassuring voice of Teal'c helped calm his nerves. "It is not poisoned, Daniel Jackson. My symbiote would have otherwise rejected this sustenance."
A small smile found its way to his lips. "I know. Thanks, Teal'c."
Still, he hesitated, perhaps out of politeness or the cultural training in his years studying anthropology and archaeology, needing to know just whom he was sitting with. Assessing their trustworthiness, rather than reaching an eager hand out in friendship.
With a start, Daniel realised how much he'd changed in the course of a few years.
He'd been a different man back then, without the military training that came with being on SG-1, living too comfortably within the shades of grey that he couldn't—never wanted to—acknowledge situation or argument that was presented in either black or white.
But now, distrust overshadowed naïveté, coming more easily than he thought it would.
The same lilting voice came from the unsmiling man who sat to his left, pushing away his sudden insight. "Eat," he said with a gesture that was more of a command than an invitation. "And then we'll talk."
