A Fine Aim Chapter 11

~o~

For a change, no one was waiting outside their room when SG-1 opened the door. Jack led the way down the hallway, Teal'c at his side, while Daniel and Sam followed. The few people they met on their way back along the earlier tour route smiled and bowed, but kept out of the way. The facial markings now caught Daniel's eye; he noticed that most of the men and women within the halls had between two and four marks visible along the ridge of the nose. He frowned, trying to find something about those with a great number of dots that set them apart - made them more beautiful or appealing. Youth did have some say in the matter, Daniel supposed, thinking back to the servant woman that had given Jack such a hard time. But, then again, Cisere, the young man who seemed so anxious to serve Daniel had four marks and yet was still a servant.

Turning one corner, he watched an elaborately dressed man walking towards them. He was tall, slender, his dark hair caught up in a thong at his neck. He nodded to Jack and Teal'c in passing, but stared openly at Daniel and Sam. Five marks, Daniel noticed. The child – Soreen – had had six. A dividing line of some sort?

"Jack," he started, "did you happen to notice how many dots the Pretezze wore on his face?"

"A smattering," Jack replied over his shoulder.

"A smattering," Daniel repeated. "Could you define 'a smattering' for me? Five? Six?"

"More than a few and less than bunch – come on, Daniel, it's not like I was counting."

Daniel pushed up his glasses and traced one finger down his nose. "I wonder…" he murmured.

"Wonder what?" Sam asked with a smile. "And no, before you ask it's not a military counting system."

He snorted softly. "Um, nothing," he shook his head. "Just trying to force some logic into a completely subjective and arbitrary caste ranking."

"I know," Sam agreed, "these people are completely at the whim of those artists – being told what defines beauty and then slotted into positions on some sort of ladder."

"Well, having an elite group dictating to the rest of society what comprises beauty isn't really that strange – it happens in our own culture every day," Daniel explained.

Jack's comment carried back to them easily, "It's called Hollywood."

"Not just Hollywood – fashion magazines, art, they all set up a standard for beauty that the rest of us accept. It's not just the 'eye of the beholder' that's important, it's the public eye."

"'Beauty is as beauty does'," Jack quoted in a sing-song voice as the group walked into the long room that displayed weapons. Jack gestured towards a side door set back within the shadows. "That's what Granny O'Neill used to say."

Daniel nodded as he and Sam followed them into the narrow hallway. "That's the problem with a society such as this – they are equating physical beauty with worth, and, before you say it, yes, our culture does it too, but only to a point," he held up one finger to stave off Sam's reaction. "In this society, the more beautiful a person, the higher he rises and the more power he is given as if beauty on the outside equals wisdom, or intelligence, or a good spirit."

"But it's not just that." Sam stopped suddenly and turned to face him.

Jack's hand was raised to the bar across a wooden door at the end of the hall, but Daniel watched the colonel hesitate when he realized that his teammates were no longer following him. "Carter?"

"You heard them, sir, the Poreva – they said they decide not just who will rule and who will serve, but Pinatra also said they choose who will love and marry." She grabbed Daniel's arm. "Do you remember the mother and child from the marketplace?"

"Sure," he frowned, trying to see her point.

"While I was holding the little boy I got a really close look at his face," she'd lowered her voice to an intense whisper and Daniel saw that Jack and Teal'c stepped back towards them so they could hear. "He had two distinct marks on his nose, right here," she placed two fingers at the upper edge of her own nose. "But above that, on his forehead, I could see mark – a round, white mark – something you might see if a person had a tattoo removed."

"Okay, and the significance of this is?" Jack demanded.

"The mother had three marks," Daniel added, his mind going back to the scene, the hysteria of the boy and the misery etched onto the mother's face. "Pinatra asked us to forgive the boy – saying the young didn't always understand,and then told the mother that she was acting shamefully." His eyes widened in comprehension. "Jack, I think they might have been separating the mother and child based on, god, based on their rank. Their ranks didn't match anymore."

"What?" The darkness flared in Jack's eyes and even within the dim light of the corridor Daniel could see his knuckles whiten against the metal of the rifle. "What the hell are you two talking about?"

"Love, marriage," Sam straightened and seemed to pull her military persona around her like a shield. "This ranking isn't just about power and position – it's about family."

Jack turned to Daniel and the archaeologist felt a wave of cold dread sweep him from head to toe. No. Not again. This could not be happening again. "We could be wrong, Jack. We might have assumed something here."

All life left the older man's face. "Let's go." He spun on his heels and hefted the bar from the door, letting it crash unheeded to the floor, and swung the door open. "We need answers – and the Pretezze is going to give them to us."

~o~

The golden haze of the lowering sun lingered on the motionless forms and empty racks within the silent courtyard. Jack strode to the center, Teal'c a few steps behind, tension radiating from the Air Force colonel in nearly visible waves. Sam stepped out a moment later and headed to Teal'c's side. Daniel entered slowly, grim, wondering how long the universe would torture his friend.

The murmur of voices from above dragged Daniel's concerned gaze from Jack's stiff back to an upper gallery populated by brightly garbed men and women. He squinted against the glare backlighting some figures, raising one hand to shield his eyes, and recognized the slight figure of Soreen, Natua at his side, standing close to a dark haired man with regal bearing. The boy held his bow.

"Hey, Pretezze," Jack's clear voice silenced the crowd as he stared up at the three figures. "You wanted to meet my team, huh? Well, here we are, and we've got some questions."

The man placed one hand on Soreen's shoulder. "You have done well, Vingelle Colonel Jack O'Neill."

"Ah – thanks."

Daniel heard the unease in Jack's voice and moved forward to try to diffuse what was sure to be a heated confrontation. "Jack," he began quietly once he got close.

Jack spun – "No, Daniel. Not this time. This time we do things my way." The colonel took a step towards the western wall where the Pretezze stood.

Daniel turned towards his teammates, hoping for some help, but Teal'c's wary expression and his crouched position distracted him. The Jaffa's piercing gaze swept the gallery, his staff weapon following the movement of his eyes, and, a moment later, he had reached up to yank Sam into a tight crouch at his side.

"Daniel Jackson!" He shouted.

A searing pain stabbed through his back and the world became a blur of sound and motion. Daniel had been moving, turning back to play the diplomat, to season Jack's blunt demands with humility. Is that why Jack was racing towards him, his face a white mask, hands reaching out and lips drawn back in a grimace? He tried to step back, but his legs were shaking and he stumbled. And, just as suddenly, heat grew to agony in his belly and he felt rather than heard a cry steal past his lips. Time snapped back into place and he fell, quickly, as if dropped, but strong arms encircled him, one hand cradling his head, and the ground rose towards him more slowly than he'd expected.

"Jack?"

~o~

Jack was turning even before he saw the arrow leave the boy's bow. He wanted to shout, to hurl a warning, but his throat was choked with bile. The stark white of Daniel's face above his black t-shirt told him no warning would have been fast enough. Jack wrapped both arms around his teammate and followed him to the ground, shielding him with his body and carefully cushioning his head.

"Teal'c! Carter!"

The flare of staff weapon fire and bullets blasted at the surrounding walls, sending a rain of stone and dirt down onto them, the cloud of dust that rose obscuring any further aim. Jack felt a hand on his back and he eased away from Daniel's limp form, settling his teammate onto his side and tearing himself away to raise his weapon towards the open gallery above. Carter would see to him, she'd… "Teal'c," he shouted, his eyes searching for a target.

"We must move, O'Neill!" The Jaffa's voice reverberated from the stones.

"Not yet, sir," Carter shot back.

"Cover!" Jack snarled, clambering around the Major's huddled form to crouch over Daniel's head.

An evening breeze ripped wide gashes in the dusty cloud that covered them and a whisper of movement drew Jack's aim. His eyes locked onto wide dark eyes beneath a smooth forehead, the bow raised in steady, slender hands, the arrow's point trained unerringly on the blonde head to Jack's left. "No," he whispered. "Don't do it. Don't-" He willed the eyes to blink, the hands to relax their tight grip on bow or string. His chest ached. "Don't make me…"

The dark parody of a smile twisted the youthful lips.