Disclaimer: I blame Alicia for my plain old dirty thoughts this chapter and all the zaniness I will subject these beautiful characters to. Zara is definitely responsible for all my kinkier thoughts.
Summary: We finally bring Sam back to Earth! (thank god!) Jack – being the stubborn bugger that he is – is actively avoiding Sam until Bel'an is removed. Ali'ki convinces her father to negotiate for Bel'an's life.
A/Ramble: not much to tell today. Thanks everyone for sticking with this story :D I can tell you there will be exactly twenty chapters to this lengthy tale, so we're making good progress :) As always, italics is flashback. Teeny bit of Carolyn/Cam in here, but nothing dramatic. There's a lot of dialogue here. Hmm.
* during the time this story is set (mid 2007), General Peter Pace (USMC) was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. And I looked up BDU in the USAF dress manual; I'm a warrant officer... It's what I do.
~ 11 ~
1954h
Base Commander's office,
SGC
"I understand that Sir, but-" General Landry tried to argue, but knew it was a losing battle. Who was he tell the president to calm down?
"Give me a break, Hank! My head of Homeworld Security has disappeared! I heard a rumour from Peter that Jack has gone offworld! Help me out here..." Henry complained. Hank screwed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning back in his big red chair with the phone still to his ear.
'Now there was a test of loyalty,' Hank thought with a defeated sigh. Jack would forgive him; he couldn't really expect Hank to lie to the president.
"Mr. President..." he began
"I knew it," Henry interrupted, hearing the guilt in Hank's voice.
"Jack is currently offworld with SG-1 on a mission to recover Lieutenant Colonel Carter, as well as Lieutenants Rossiter and Taylor, if they can find them."
"Right," Henry carried out longer than necessary, "the rescue mission that you had requested but was not approved?"
"Yes Sir," Hank confessed.
"That's a problem."
'No shit Sherlock,' Hank thought in agreement.
"Jack may be head of Homeworld Security but I have the same number of stars on my shoulder as him, Sir. He and SG-1 knowingly gated to Ba'al's home world and I gave them the go-ahead."
"Oh, don't worry about that, friend! You're in as much trouble as General O'Neill. I think you're only saving grace would be the successful recovery of your three officers. But even that isn't a guarantee."
"Fingers crossed, Sir."
"So they haven't returned yet?"
"They left three days ago. I have no way of knowing if they were successful or not, but if they were, they would be due back sometime today or tomorrow," Hank grumbled, cursing when the ink of his favourite fountain pen blotched. He discarded the ruined sticky note into the trash bin.
"Do me a favour Hank, call me when they get here. I'd like to have a bit of a chat to General O'Neill," Henry sighed. He was beginning to calm down and Hank was thankful for the president's generally cheery demeanour.
As Hank scratched his bushy eyebrow, a familiar white light filled his office. He lifted the hand covering his eyes, his fingertips still buried in his eyebrow. He blinked a few times but his expression remained unchanged.
"Sir?" Hank spoke into the phone, dropping his hand to his desk.
"What?"
"SG-1 is back. I'll have Jack call you once he gets out of the infirmary." Hank eyed the man in question who stood on the other side of his desk. He chose to give Jack some leeway, before they both had to face a disgruntled president.
"You do that, Hank." The president said his goodbyes and hung up. Hank gently placed the handset down and gave his friend a thorough once-over.
Jack was still in his black Battle Dress Uniform. He hadn't bothered to blouse his pants as he was supposed to, but who was going to point it out to him? His sleeves were scrunched up at his elbows and the right pocket flap was tucked into the breast pocket of his crumbled shirt. Hank could easily see the dark rings under Jack's eyes and almost make out the distinct trails made by Jack's fingers in his hair. Hank also noticed the distinct facial hair, which was unusual; Jack hardly ever allowed it to grow beyond short stubble. He spotted the familiar tear-drop, pearly stone in Jack's hand that he recognised as an Asgard communication device. He looked over Jack once more and came to the honest conclusion that his friend looked like crap.
"Kicking and screaming?" Hank folded his arms across his desk.
"Induced coma," Jack rubbed the corner of his left eye, running his hand down the side of his face. "We came across Rossiter when we were beamed up to the ship. Mitchell took out the Goa'uld that killed Carter the first time. No sign of Taylor."
"Have Colonel Carter sent to the infirmary. We'll sort her out there," Hank nodded in understanding. "You and I have a meeting with Hayes at some point in the near future. He's gotten wind of ours activities." He escorted Jack out of his office and began the trek to level eighteen; Hank had had the base medical staff on standby since this morning in preparation for SG-1's return. Jack lifted the white device in his hand to his lips as they came to the hall that led to the infirmary.
"Carter's right to be beamed to the infirmary," Jack ordered into the glossy stone. They had only taken a few steps into the room to see a technician fall flat on his backside, trying to vacate the space SG-1 was trying to beam into. The tray of surgical clamps clattered across the floor and bounced under the unoccupied gurney that the young captain had nearly fallen on.
A bright white light filled the room and five bodies materialised; one of which, was beamed straight onto the empty gurney. Vala looked down at her feet and found a shocked medical technician lying between her legs. One of her pigtails fell off her shoulder and she raised an eyebrow.
"Well this is a lovely welcome home," She smiled cheekily at the man looking up at her. She shrugged her shoulders and after a few seconds of confusion, the technician smiled bashfully back at her. Daniel rolled his eyes and scoffed; Vala's flirtatious nature irritated him more than it did the rest of his team.
"Welcome back," Hank shook his head at Vala, smiling in bemusement.
"Good to be back, General," Daniel replied, still eyeing Vala, who seemed oblivious to his scrutiny. Jack ignored the drama unfolding and turned to Sam, who lay unconscious on the bed. Jack took who steps backwards towards the door and jumped when two hands pressed into his back.
"Oh!" Jack turned at Carolyn's exclamation. "Excuse me General." She grabbed Jack by the shoulders and moved him out of the way. "I need everyone to clear this room. Once I've sorted Colonel Carter out, I'll get through all of you." Her voice was stern and she sounded very much like her predecessor.
Jack was the first to escape through the doors.
~ SG-1 ~
Two days ago,
P4X-236
Ba'al frowned and twisted a small dagger between his fingers. The tip of the blade carved a tiny hole in the armrest of his throne and squeaked when he turned it anticlockwise. He grunted and looked through his eyelashes at his daughter as she stood haughtily in front of him.
This was what made him superior to his clones; he had Ali'ki.
Ba'al had always guarded his emotions. Almost to the point of obsession. That was one thing – among many - he liked about Samantha Carter: he could relate to fear of being emotionally exposed. He also liked the fact that she looked a lot like the host his daughter used. Tall, blonde, beautiful and very strong. Both women were passionate too. He liked that. That spirit that made them taller and stronger than any man they faced. Of course, Samantha's intelligence was a great contrast Ali'ki's. But his daughter was no fool. Ba'al appreciated the difference between academic intelligence and being smart. Where Sam Carter could rewrite the laws of physics, Ali'ki could think rationally in any situation. Such as now.
Ba'al stopped the repetitive motion of his hand and lifted his chin.
"You can't leave her with them." In the natural light that streamed through the large window that framed his daughter, Ba'al thought she looked almost innocent. He smiled at such an unbelievable notion.
"I wouldn't think of it," he assured her. "I have already considered your suggestion."
He couldn't read the look she gave him. Ali'ki simply starred at her father, her arms folded across her chest. Very slowly, she began to walk towards him. Ba'al's gaze dropped to her booted feet for a second, then to the sword at her side that she kept touching every now and then.
"What is it about them, father?" She reached out and took the knife from his hand. Ba'al watched her as she absently seated herself on his armrest. "Why O'Neill? He's just a human..." She touched the knife to her finger and began twisting it.
Ba'al placed his hand on the knife, stilling the movement. Black met green when their eyes connected.
1... 2... 3... 4... 5...
Ba'al spotted an odd article around his daughter's neck. He retrieved the knife from her grasp and used it to hook onto a steel chain that lay on her partially exposed chest. Ba'al pulled the chain until a pair of dog-tags emerged from the leather of blouse. His eyes narrowed at the name on the tags: Rossiter, Luke.
"Because I love to hate him," he growled. He pulled the knife back and the dog-tags fell onto her chest, touching the sharp blade to his own cheek. "I will speak with O'Neill," he tilted his head, asking if this was agreeable to her, "and I think he will be forthcoming. I will get my wife back and he will have his..." He searched for the word. "Colonel. We will need a host, but I'm sure I can leave that to you, yes?"
Ali'ki nodded. She listened intently to her father, as if he were telling her a bedtime story and had just reached the climax. She would find a host for her mother and she trusted her father to see to her safe return.
"I will find an acceptable host."
"Preferably a female," Baal requested.
"Of course. Kael can help me find one on the surface. He said he found a Tauri woman who begged him to take him with her. She has been very productive in the Jaffa camp," she grinned. Ba'al nodded and dismissed his daughter.
He was left alone on the bridge with his knife and his thoughts. Despite the fact that Kael may have influenced his daughter, their request was the best course of action. Everything would go back to the way it was before. His bride would still be unable to continue her research to develop the perfect host. Ali'ki would be stuck on this piddling little planet in the middle of nowhere with her own lover and a Gra'fon. He and O'Neill would still be trying to kill one another and competing for who would have the last witty remark.
But it wouldn't be exactly as it was. Would it?
Ba'al's attack on O'Neill was more intimate than killing him over and over again. Ba'al had taken Carter as host to his bride. He had enjoyed the company of his enemy's lover in his own bed.
So even if this could be resolved peacefully, which would require a level of trust and mercy that Ba'al believed only the Tauri could bestow, he had still wounded O'Neill deeply. Ba'al ran the tip of his knife along the edge of his goatee.
Ba'al was sure that if he ever encountered O'Neill or any of his people again, he would not be able to appeal to their humanity. The Tauri man would show as much mercy as Ba'al had on their first meeting:
None.
~ SG-1 ~
Knock Knock
Carolyn fumbled her signature on her medical report when she jumped. The infirmary for quiet except for the occasional beeps and humming of the machinery that many experienced personnel had learned to ignore. She looked over her shoulder and glanced to the door.
"Colonel Mitchell," she acknowledged, turning back to Colonel Carter.
"Is it alright if I come in?" Cam asked as he took a few hesitant steps forwards.
"Strictly speaking, no," she looked back at the uncertain man and smiled. "But if it's just you and not half the base..." she beckoned him over with a tilt of her head.
"Thanks," Cam smiled warmly to her and approached the bed. "How's she doing?"
"Thor took Colonel Carter out of her coma before beaming her down."
"Yeah," Cameron nodded in confirmation.
"Well, I had to medically induce her back into a coma. At first, it was fine. But within about ten minutes, her heart rate increased to dangerous levels, and both her brain activity and that of the symbiote's went absolutely haywire. I also found a very high concentration of adrenaline in her blood... among other things." Carolyn placed both hands at the top of her clipboard, pressing it into her stomach.
"What happened?" Cam folded his arms, giving the good doctor all of his attention.
"Medically speaking... she was experiencing an extreme level of stress. It was as if her body was confronting a powerful phobia or she was engaging in a fight to the death." She paused when Cam glanced down at Sam. "She's stable, but if I had to bring her out of this coma, for any reason, I would be waking her up."
"Because Sam is fighting the symbiote?"
"Well, when she is just unconscious, neither entitiyhas control over her body. I can't begin to speculate what goes on inside the host's mind when they are taken by a symbiote, but it doesn't seem pleasant. When she is in a coma, all activity is reduced and she seems calmer," Carolyn concluded with a flick of her hand.
"So she's fighting the symbiote?" Cam repeated and Carolyn wondered if he had listened to her explanation.
"Your guess is as good as mine, Colonel. But I would say that that is the case."
"Go Sam," he smiled to his sleeping friend. "So... do you mind if I get the rest of the guys?"
"You have to do your SG-1 thing." Carolyn considered his request and surrendered. "Go. But best behaviour and keep the noise down. Keep Vala off the bed!" She called to Cam as he went straight for the door.
"No promises on that last bit Doc," Cam grinned as he walked backwards for a few paces, then turned and ran out the door.
SG-1, like every other operational team, was impossible to keep out of the infirmary when one of their own was injured. But the rest of the teams didn't have two beds permanently reserved for them in the infirmary. Nine times out of ten, whenever Carolyn had checked on a hospitalised member of the flagship team, they were enjoying – usually, but not always - the company of another team member.
Now, not only did Colonel Carter have her team, but she also had General O'Neill. Carolyn had known Jack for years as one of her father's closest friends. She knew that he had been the leader of SG-1 for seven years and she understood how close the team was. She may have only witnessed a handful of conversations between Colonel Carter and General O'Neill, but he was listed as her next of kin. She had a brother, but Carolyn figured there was only one reason Sam would list her former Commanding Officer as her NOK.
She had found further supporting evidence for her conjecture only a few weeks ago.
"Doc! How is she?" Cameron barrelled through the infirmary, still dirty and sweaty from the mission. He was the first out of his post-mission check up and Carolyn was thankful that she was low on staff at the time, or he would have found her sooner. She had pulled five of her nurses off their regular shifts to assist with Colonel Carter's surgery. Carolyn had to put both hands on his chest, her surgical mask still in one hand, as he nearly collided with her.
"Colonel Mitchell!" she was tired and not in the mood to hide her surprise. "She's okay. Colonel Carter is going to be fine," she assured him.
Cam was visibly relieved. He bent forward, resting his hands on his knees. Carolyn gave him a moment to catch his breath. She couldn't help herself and began looking over him, forming her own assessment of his medical condition. She had to admit, she did like Mitchell. He was a little bit strange, but for all intents and purposes, he was a decent guy.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Cam straightened up and spoke again.
"Okay. Yeah, I was, ah... kinda worried..." He feigned a smile. "Sam didn't think she was going to make it there."
"She should stick to physics. Her diagnosis was a bit off the mark," Carolyn smiled warmly at the agitated Colonel. She didn't dare tell him that there had been a few close calls on the operating table. Cam chuckled.
"Yeah. That's what I said." Cam shook his head. "She was sure she was going to... you know... She was telling me about letters she wrote for her friends and family. I think that's what she said...something about 'fishing' too." Cam frowned, apparently unable to really remember.
"It's kinda scary when people give you their last requests..." Cameron tried to smile again, but it faltered.
"It is," Carolyn agreed. She had heard more dying wishes than she cared to count.
Carolyn had never heard Sam express an interest in fishing, but she did have fond memories of Jack O'Neill harassing her father to come to his cabin in Minnesota to partake in the sport. So, it wasn't unreasonable to assume that Sam had a private relationship with O'Neill.
However, Carolyn's theory was on shaky ground because Jack seemed to be actively avoiding Sam. He had all but run from the room when SG-1 had beamed down from the Asgard ship. Now that she thought about it, he looked downright terrible when she had last seen him. Perhaps there was some psychological trauma that he was trying to hide.
He was definitely next on her hit list.
~ SG-1 ~
Earlier that day
Not that she was sure it was even possible, but Sam thought she was very close to falling asleep on the floor of her mind. Why couldn't she leave this place as easily as Bel'an could? Sure, the silence was amazing. As in, really amazing.
Sam laid spread eagle on her back, staring at... well, nothing really. If she ever made it out of all of this in one piece, she would have a hell of a report to write. Admittedly, she had experienced a lot in the past few weeks. albeit, most of them unpleasant.
"Ready to go?" a voice echoed around Sam. She jumped into a sitting position.
"Bel'an?" Sam asked, her eyes moving around the abyss.
"Pretty much. Jack is checking in with Landry and we just need the go-ahead to beam to the infirmary." Another voice replied. Sam knew that voice.
"Daniel?" She called out, rising to her feet. Now that she thought about it, the first one sounded a bit like Cam's voice.
"Thor, you never told us the name of this ship..." Daniel added.
"It was intended to be named the 'Samantha Carter', but I feel 'Gravidus' would be more appropriate." Thor's monotonous voice added.
"They named the ship after me?" Sam smiled, tuning on the spot.
"Why?" Vala's unique accent filled the abyss and Sam's smile faded.
"Yes, Why?" Daniel asked, but he sounded quite worried.
"Yeah, why rename it?" Sam added.
"You will understand the irony of the name later Daniel Jackson. You have nothing to fear, but I ask that you keep your understanding of the name to yourself." Thor spoke calmly and a silence ensued.
"What the hell is a 'Gravidus'?" Sam yelled, the sounds echoing eerily around her.
"Okay then..." Daniel said slowly, his uncertainty evident.
"Not okay!" Sam protested, pacing angrily and staring at the 'ceiling'. A loud chuckle resonated from behind Sam and she whipped around to glare at Bel'an.
"What do you want?" Sam was in no mood to accommodate Bel'an's taunting.
"Want? It's true Samantha, I too have a list, but I'm sure you have no interest in hearing it," Bel'an smirked as she twisted her body, her arms comfortably folded below her breasts.
"Spare me," Sam flicked her wrist and turned away from the Goa'uld, but as soon as she had turned around, she found Bel'an standing in front of her. Sam found it irately ironic that the laws of physics did not seem to apply in her own mind. Very annoying. Sam was feeling confident in the wake of her rescue and the few hours she had enjoyed in blissfully solitude.
"I think I'm starting to understand you," Sam snapped, grabbing Bel'an's attention.
"Really?" Sam was sure she had seen the look Bel'an gave her before, but it had come from Ba'al.
"I do... I think you hate the Goa'uld more than you're willing to admit," Sam accused. She was rearing for a fight and had stopped caring about the consequences after she had been rescued.
"You don't know-" Bel'an began with a sneer.
"NO!" Sam interrupted and pointed a finger to Bel'an. "You hated them. I know Goa'uld are capable of passing on genetic memory. You didn't influence Egeria. She got every last bit of her hate for the Goa'uld from you!" Sam yelled. Sam was unafraid of the deadly glare Bel'an was giving her. Bel'an may be able to make thousands of Jaffa quake in their boots with Sam's blue eyes, but Sam herself remained unaffected.
Her anger had been simmering far beneath the surface, and for almost no reason, Sam decided it was time to let loose. She was pissed. First, she had died. That sucked. A lot. But just to rub salt on the wound – literally in one of her deaths – Ba'al decided it would be fun to revive her and kill her over and over again. Then she had been taken as a host to his slimy bride.
Why? The reasons were now very obvious to Sam. She was pretty, she was smart, but most importantly, she was the lover of Ba'al's enemy. She was a package deal. However, let's not forget the emotional torture that Bel'an had subjected Sam to. Forcing Sam to relive every single traumatic moment of her entire life... to smear them across the proverbial table and rake through them a razor sharp comb.
Sam felt her anger was justified.
"And what's with Ali'ki? You gave birth to two queens, why put your time and effort into Ali'ki?" Sam asked, but the answer came to her immediately and she laughed in disbelief.
"You couldn't choose a side!" Sam huffed, shaking her head. "So... what? You couldn't choose between your daughters so you start afresh with a third?"
Bel'an continued to glare.
"That's why you let her travel the galaxy by herself. She was an experiment. You wanted to see if the Goa'uld were evil by nature!" It was all starting to fall into place!
"You have no idea what you are talking about." Sam knew she was lying.
"No..." Sam approached her captor, standing toe to toe. "I know you're more of a Tok'ra than a Goa'uld. I know... you hate the fact that you can't be like your piece of scum for a husband because he only stands for part of what you convince yourself to believe in. I know I'm right," Sam brought a finger up to Bel'an's temple, "because I'm in here," she whispered. "Just as you..." Sam brought her raised finger to her own head, "...are in... here."
Bel'an's steely gaze bore through Sam's. Sam had hit her where it hurt.
Suddenly, their surroundings changed and they were in a bright, sandy landscape. Sam stepped back from a motionless Bel'an, wildly looking at the world around them.
Sam recognised this desert instantly, though she had never been here. If she wasn't mistaken, there was a pyramid sitting on the horizon. They stood in a shanty Egyptian settlement, circled by a dozen round tents made from cloth. This didn't feel right. This wasn't modern Egypt.
"You have been here before Samantha." Bel'an tilted her head. Her voice was calm but her eyes expressed her contained fury.
"Welcome to my mind."
~ SG-1 ~
"General O'Neill to the control room!" Walter called over the bases PA system.
The subject of Walters announcement rolled onto his back on the standard issue queen sized bed and groaned in exhaustion. Sleep was still difficult and Jack had expended a lot of energy avoiding the Chief Medical Officer today. He had showered and shaved, changed his clothes and managed to swallow half a cup of coffee. He was convinced that, had it contained alcohol, that coffee would have gone down a lot more easily.
Maybe he could just-
"Jack! Get your ass to the Gateroom now!" Hank barked over the PA.
Or not...
Something important must be happening to have Hank cursing over the intercom for the entire base to hear. Jack let out a breath that was almost a raspberry, but came out sounding like a horse. He grunted and rolled off the bed, pretty much stumbling to the doorway. Jack clenched the handle tightly, pulling his body against the solid green door.
"Come on... pull it together. You've gotta get her back. You owe her that much..." Jack groaned, frowning hard and tapping his head on the door.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
"Ouch..." Jack groaned as he turned the handle and opened the door. 'Note to self: do not hit door on head... wait, head on door, that's the one.' Jack mentally berated his depressed mood and headed towards the stairs. It was only four floors down to the gate room and he needed the exercise. By the time he reached level twenty-eight, he was beginning to pant. He definitely needed to exercise.
Jack slowed as he entered the last hallway that led to the Gateroom. Hank was leaning on the wall beside the blast door that Jack was aiming for, a hand in his pocket and a questioning look on his face.
"Hank?"
"You're wanted," was all that his friend offered in reply. Hank pushed off the wall and pointed to the open doorway, before turning to move up the short staircase to the control room. Curiosity won out and Jack walked into the embarkation room.
"Oh great..." Jack moaned at the figure standing at the base of the ramp, in front of the closed iris. "I was wondering when we'd be hearing from you," Jack groused.
Ba'al just smiled arrogantly.
"Always a pleasure General." The hologram flickered. "I have come to speak with you... Alone." Jack turned to the SF's that surrounded them.
"Alright guys, stand by," Jack waved them out the door. He glanced up at Hank, who was watching in the control room. Hank got the message and tapped Walter on the shoulder. The hydraulics that controlled the heavy blast door that hung over the observation window hummed to life and dropped the giant grey, steel barricade into place over the window.
"Better?" Jack asked, not bothering to cover his sarcasm.
"Much."
"I'm glad," Jack sneered, pushing his hands in his pockets. He was frustrated that he only had Ba'al here as a hologram. "Talk."
"You know you cannot remove my wife without causing significant harm to Samantha," Ba'al began in his deep, mocking tone.
"Carter," Jack corrected. "She's Colonel Carter to you."
"If it helps you see at night O'Neill. She certain helped me," Ba'al smirked.
Jack fought to control his temper. He had deliberately not thought about the fact that Sam may have slept with Ba'al. Of course, it would have been without her consent, so technically it counted as rape. The realisation that Ba'al had done that to his Sam did not help him to reign in the burning anger he felt.
"What do you want?"
"I propose a trade. You allow me to remove my wife from your Colonel, and I will guarantee her safe return."
"Yeah right. Next question," Jack scoffed.
"Come now General..." Ba'al's voice was patronising and Jack clenched his fists in his pockets. "You know as well as I do that this is the best course of action. We will take our women and go our separate ways." Jack ignored the 'woman' comment.
"Or we could just remove your wormy queen from Carter. The Tok'ra can do that, you know."
"They have not perfected the technique. I assure you, as soon as Bel'an senses any threat; she will not hesitate to end your lovely Colonel's life." Jack couldn't argue with that. It was true. The Tok'ra were able to remove symbiote, but if they weren't careful, it would kill the host first.
"And Bel'an would die, too," Jack retorted through clenched teeth.
"Or they could both live," Ba'al added, pulling a hand from behind his back and waving it in the air.
"You expect me to give Carter back to you?" Jack pointed to his chest, then to Ba'al's as he approached the ramp.
"My wife will be removed and Colonel Carter will be free to return to your planet."
"And I'm supposed to take your word for it? Why?"
Ba'al looked over Jack's shoulder and took a long, deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed and meant only for Jack's ears.
"We have been gambling with our own lives for a long time, General. I believe, in this instance, the stakes may have been too high. I would prefer my wife to live without a host, than die with one. I also believe you feel the same way."
Jack was stumped. What was Ba'al saying? That his wife actually meant something to him? Jack had never heard Ba'al speak so intimately. What could Jack say? This was confidence he had never expected from a Goa'uld. Ba'al had dared to speak to Jack as an equal. Why?
"You care about her?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow and dipping his chin.
"I may be a powerful warlord, General; but my ancient heart still beats for one woman. As does yours."
Jack was conflicted. He actually sympathised with this snake! Sure, Jack still wanted to kill him with his bare hands. It seemed that Ba'al was prepared to call a timeout in their ever continuing game of cat and mouse. Because they had more than their own lives to lose. What was the world coming to?
"You can convince Bel'an to leave Sam?" Jack asked, suddenly feeling calmer than he had been when he walked in the room.
"Maybe. She may believe it to be a ploy by your people. I can only think of one person who could assist me in convincing her." Jack frowned with his question in his eyes.
"My daughter: Ali'ki," Ba'al elaborated.
"You have a daughter?" Jack nearly shouted.
"It is a lengthy tale. Colonel Carter will apprise you, I am sure." Ba'al smiled and looked to the floor.
"Right..." Jack drawled. "So, uh, how will this work?"
"As an act of good faith, I will come to your planet and speak to my wife. If she agrees, we will travel to a neutral planet and Colonel Carter will be free to return to Earth."
"Why can't you just remove your queen here?"
Ba'al tilted his head, his eyes asking Jack if he thought he was really that stupid.
"Worth a shot..." Jack shrugged.
"You allow me to come to Earth; I guarantee your Colonel's safety. It's give and take General, you understand."
"Call us back in twenty four hours. I need to talk to my people about this," Jack nodded.
Ba'al tipped his head in agreement and the hologram faded away. A few seconds later, the gate shut down and Jack was left alone in the embarkation room. He ran his hands down his face, the rough skin of his palms pulling at his cheeks. Jack whipped around and looked right up at the security camera behind him.
"General! Briefing Room!" Jack yelled as he turned on his heel and stomped towards the blast door.
~ SG-1 ~
One day ago,
P4X-236
Salek kicked a rock in his path as he led Princess Ali'ki and Lord Kael down the narrow dirt track towards the Jaffa settlement on the surface of the planet, followed closely behind by a group of Jaffa warriors that he had handpicked to serve the royal family. The heat of the day was not the cause of his foul mood; he was boiling with discontent over the conversation behind him.
Salek had spent many years protecting the Royal family. He was loyal to them. The gods had treated him very well since the death of his wife nineteen years ago. It was sixty-two year ago, almost to the day that Salek had fallen through the Chappa'ai and demanded to be granted an audience with Ba'al. His audacity and spirit was rewarded with the chance to meet Lord Ba'al in person.
He had sworn his allegiance to the gods then and there. Like his father, Salek had risen to the honorary rank of First Prime. He could only hope his own son would aspire to such greatness. Salek prayed that he would not betray the gods in the same way his father had. Salek had spent the last eight years of his service protecting the princess more than Lord Ba'al. He did his work happily and had enjoyed a privileged relationship with Princess Ali'ki.
Until Lord Kael had returned.
Salek had never trusted Kael and it hurt him to see Ali'ki do so. He hated that she would flirt and allow herself to be so easily influenced by Kael, when Salek had worked for so long to earn her trust. Mostly, Salek hated the fact that he had been so easily brushed aside by the Princess. He had been blessed with the chance to share the Princess' bed on occasion... but now he was an afterthought.
Salek shook off his perfidious thoughts and proudly continued down the track. The Princess wished to meet the priestesses of Ba'al and as always, it was Salek's pleasure to see to her whim.
Deep down, Salek was still afflicted with a burning hate for Kael and a treacherous love for Princess Ali'ki. Somewhere beneath those dark thoughts where questions that would have had Salek killed for thinking them. Why had his father betrayed the gods? Were the rumours true; had the Jaffa really found there freedom? Did the Jaffa on this world have a chance for freedom too?
Salek loved the Gods, but he also loved his own people. Often, he wondered whether the Jaffa was really intended to be slaves to the Goa'uld, or they were simply made so.
Salek shook his head and closed his eyes.
No, he must not think those thoughts. He was the illegitimate son of the First Prime of a defeated God. A God destroyed at the hands of the Tauri. Ba'al was the one true God. He had fought the Tauri many times and lived. He had no right to question his place in this life. He would continue to serve the Gods to the best of his ability. Salek was quite sure this was how the seeds of rebellion were planted, but he could not allow that to happen. He would not betray his master like the Shol'va Teal'c had done.
Then again, Ali'ki's giggling was beginning to wear on his patience and self-discipline.
~ SG-1 ~
*collapses* Okay, all done. My fingers hurt from typing. This chapter looks longer than it actually is. I hit the 6k word mark, but wow! Reviews, please. I'm not far above begging.
