Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, chapter 26
The Best Laid Plans of Goa'ulds and Men
A man wearing a business suit walked down a long corridor toward a set of double doors. The man walked briskly, anxiously smoothing the fabric of his suit and adjusting his collar and cuffs. However, when he reached the doorway, he hesitated; his hand hovered over the wooden panel in an aborted knock. After a moment, he seized the knobs with both hands and twisted, pushing both doors open.
Entering several paces into the darkish room, he cleared his throat and spoke loudly, "Sir, we have a report of movement in the Cheyenne Situa—"
Red-gold lightning lashed without warning through the room, piercing the man's forehead. He screamed through clenched teeth, falling to his knees on the thick carpet before tumbling over and writhing on the floor. The stream of light continued for an eternity that lasted nearly twenty seconds and left the man panting and retching.
"I understand that the humans living in this region of the world rebuke the title of 'Lord'—insisting upon addressing me as 'Sir'—but that in no reason not to show a little respect when you enter my presence."
The man raised himself to his knees, panting. "Yes, Sir… sorry, sir. Your humble servant begs leave to speak, Sir."
"That's better," the voice drawled. "Tell me your message now."
"Two of the targets are leaving Cheyenne Mountain ."
"Only two of them?"
"Yes, Sir. The Jaffa and the visitor… we could acquire them quietly and use them as bait for the rest of them. Daedalus is sure to come looking for them."
"Daedalus? Who is this Daedalus?"
"Oh—sorry, Sir. That's the code name for O'Neill."
The goa'uld chuckled obscenely, turning his back on the man. "You humans… always so melodramatic." He did not see the man roll his eyes; the man's countenance was all abject obedience when the goa'uld turned and looked at him again. "No. I will not risk exposing myself too soon by taking only two of the targets. After that foolish ambush failed to acquire them, they will be more stealthy and vigilant as ever. We must wait until the perfect moment presents itself."
"Maybe we should wait until they are off-world, Sir?"
The goa'uld made a disgusted noise. "They are never so vigilant as when they are off-world! No… we will take them when their guard is down… on their home soil. We mustn't risk any lasting damage to my future hosts..." the goa'uld's lips turned up in a blasphemous smile. "Not until we have custody of our own sarcophagus."
The goa'uld turned his back dismissively on the man, who took the opportunity to begin crawling toward the exit. He didn't want to be the one who had to inform His Goa'uldness that a squad had already been dispatched to attempt to capture the Jaffa and his companion—regardless of his 'orders'.
Oblivious to everything but his visions of a grand future as Ruler of the Galaxy, the goa'uld began to pace his darkened lair, rhapsodizing his plans for dominion and glory. "I want them all… and I will milk their minds one by one until all their knowledge and skills are my own. And when SG-1 is in my control, the resources of those who control the Earth stargate will be mine, and I will have no other obstacles! The System Lords will cave before the might of the army that I will build… with six billion prime human slaves to convert into my Jaffa … and a host of unrivaled skill and charisma!—I will see them all bow down before me…"
The man crawled through the doors and closed them silently; he'd heard it all before. When it came time to kill this ridiculous alien and make the move to finally destroy all the goa'uld and have humans take their place as the dominating race in the galaxy, he hoped he'd be there to see some of them die. He rubbed the ruddy burn on his forehead and picked himself up from the floor, hurrying back down the hallway to report to his real boss.
As soon as she and Teal'c had passed the last of the oblivious security guards, Morlothiel stretched her arms upward, letting the afternoon sun fall upon her face. It was a warm afternoon—somewhat late as the sun was already moving meaningfully toward the distant line of mountaintops that were the teeth of the Rocky Mountains.
Offering no more comment than an elevated eyebrow at the fact that the young airmen guarding the emergency exit had looked straight through them as if they weren't there, Teal'c stayed close to the elf as she moved across the parking area toward the green grass and trees that rose up beyond. There were a few vehicles in the parking area, but nothing that looked out of the ordinary.
Morlothiel breathed deeply; a long, slow, endless inhalation which she held within her body for an exhausting count, then expelled at last in a sigh. The sound of her breath reminded the Jaffa of the wild wind that used to carve the hills and twist the trees which grew near the village where he lived as a child. That sound carried him back through the long years to that moment; he closed his own eyes to briefly relive that moment, recapturing it and holding it in his heart.
It happened so quickly that neither Teal'c or Morlothiel had time to do more than turn toward the sound, and by then Teal'c's knees were already buckling, his hands clasping his throat where a dart had buried itself in his dark skin. Another dart had struck Morlothiel, but she ignored it. Whipping her sword from its sheath on her back, she sprang through the growth and shouted, rousing the young airman who was watching the exit. A dart struck him also, but not before he managed to reach and press an alarm button.
Morlothiel let her sword lead her as she dove through the undergrowth where two men had been concealed. She laid open their hiding place with a sharp sweep. One man raised a gun toward her. She kicked him in the face, then launched herself into the air with the momentum of the kick so that she landed on the grass behind the other man, her naked blade at his throat. The man made a strangled, alarmed noise, his eyes popping in surprise.
An arm reached from behind and grabbed Morlothiel's shoulder. Another sweep of the sword and suddenly that arm lay on the ground. A man's agonized scream pierced the air.
There were three men who were trying to pick up Teal'c and maneuver his torpid form into the back of an SUV. The sound of screaming made them look up, and in that split second they had enough time to show their own alarm before the unconscious body of one of their comrades was sent sailing through the air toward them. They dropped Teal'c and were borne backwards onto the ground in a heap.
The door to the mountain burst open and a stream of S.F.s came pouring out. One of the men managed to scramble from beneath the body of his cohort and dove into the SUV, throwing it in gear and stomping on the gas pedal. The wheels spun and the entire vehicle skewed violently to one side before the tires gripped the pavement and it tore away, rear doors swinging wildly. It smashed through the gate at the checkpoint and careened down the winding road, chased by gunfire that echoed around the peak of Cheyenne Mountain.
It was the count of only a few minutes before another group came bursting out through the door. O'Neill's sharp gaze swept the scene before he hurried to Teal'c's side. Behind him Carter, General Hammond, and Jacob appeared, Jacob having snatched a jacket out of Hammond's office to cover his Tok'ra garments.
Teal'c was already blinking away the effects of the tranquilizer. O'Neill patted his shoulder firmly and helped him sit up. Nearby, one of the S.F.s was tying his belt around the bleeding stump of a man's arm. "What the hell happened?" O'Neill demanded. "Where's Morlothiel?"
"Sir, I don't know. When we came to answer the alarm, Sgt. Scott was already down. He was shot with a tranquilizer dart of some kind. We saw this man," he indicated Teal'c, still lying unconscious on the ground, though one thoughtful S.F. had placed a folded jacket under his head, "being carried by those three," he pointed behind him, to three men who were sprawled spread-eagle on the ground, flanked by a team of airmen. "One man escaped in an SUV. We found two more unconscious men and this fellow," he gestured to the unfortunate man he had been performing First Aid on. "I saw no one else. Sir, we need to get him to a doctor. Something cut through his arm like it was soft cheese."
"'Loth." O'Neill bit off an unrepeatable word. He turned toward Hammond, who was calmly issuing orders to the S.F.s. "Sir, I think they've got her."
"Um, Sir?" another young airman interrupted the colonel, anxiously, "I saw the last man driving away. I think I saw... well, I'm not sure what I saw exactly..."
"Out with it, son," Hammond said, quietly commanding. Jacob was peering over his shoulder, Hammond's stars winking on the borrowed coat.
The airman stiffened and drew a deep breath. "Sirs! I know it's not possible, but I would swear that someone was on the roof of that vehicle. I saw them them clear as clear as the truck tore through the fence." The airman coughed, embarrassed to add, "Um... it looked like they had a... a sword?"
"So, they don'thave Morlothiel after all, huh Jack?" Hammond said wryly. "I'd say Morlothiel's got them."