Chapter 28 – Various Female Misfortune
In an unknown location on Earth...
The door to the containment room opened, admitting a short raven-haired woman who wore a neat white lab-coat. She shivered at the tickle of the highly charged air. It was dangerous, but it was the only thing keeping her safe from the room's resident. Soon, it would no longer be necessary.
The 'woman' reached into the special container she carried. "Hello, little sister. Our mother has chosen you for a great honour. Here is your new host: the hok'taur."
The symbiote squeaked its approval.
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At the Tezo'g Station...
Cynthia awoke to a haze of pain and a smell of fried electronics. Her eyes opened to the sight of a burned-out tray of control crystals. "Oops," she muttered sheepishly. She had been attempting to 'borrow' parts from various systems to build something which might assist in her escape. Unfortunately, it seemed she had instead fried the life-support system.
She peered at the blackened crystals to gauge the level of damage. It was difficult to say for certain, but she leaned towards 'unsalvageable'. As for the impact upon living conditions, she had no idea yet, and she didn't know how to find out.
Cynthia found herself not particularly caring. Escape was the primary concern, life support secondary. If she had to die, it would be before Athena returned. Besides, repair might not be possible, while there was plenty of air on the station. It would be a waste of time to fix it, when she could work on fleeing instead.
Unfortunately, from her investigations so far, she could see that an escape would not be easy. The station was literally a station - it boasted no maneuvering capabilities. She could not find any escape pods or materials to make a separate airtight vessel. There were long-range sensors, which showed nothing within a reachable range - from what little she could understand. This meant that she had no destination for a wormhole or other transport system, not that she had time to build such a thing.
In search for inspiration, she had unwisely begun fiddling with whatever crystal trays she could find. This meddling had led to her present singed state and life support problems. She now felt somewhat cautious about messing around with things she barely understood. The goal of escaping would be far for achievable if she had someone who could read Goa'uld with her. Unfortunately, bringing someone to the station was a greater challenge than leaving it herself. Unless...
Someone not on the station had an advantage over her: access to ships. An outsider could easily fly in and rescue her, but currently they did not know she needed rescuing. Therefore, to bring someone - and a ship - to the station, she simply needed to call for help. Sending a distress signal would be far simpler than sending herself anywhere.
Cynthia reached this conclusion in a matter of seconds. Her next thought was to see how far she needed to send a signal. The long range sensors should have such information. Wait, the long range sensors?
Oh. Oh! The long range sensors were the best basis for rigging up a communication system, she realised. She immediately headed in the direction of the appropriate room, hoping she could determine and make the appropriate modifications without causing additional damage.
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Meanwhile, back on Earth...
Cassandra Frasier was not completely senseless. While blind, deaf, and prevented from sensing magnetic fields by the painfully strong ionisation of the surrounding air, she could still feel vibrations. From these vibrations, she could infer some useful knowledge. For instance, someone had entered the room and was standing behind her. Unfortunately, she could not tell who or what, and any attempt at looking with her extra sense would have the same effect as touching a high-voltage electric fence.
Her sense of touch worked fine also. Something wet touched the back of her neck. She flinched as much as her restraints allowed. Moments later she discovered how well her pain receptors worked, as something tore into the back of her neck. Being deaf in no ways hindered her screams.
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Tezo'g Station...
The patch job looked awful, but it should do the job. Borrowed conrol crystals, angular pieces of scrap metal, and strips of pink-and-white-striped cloth made up the bulk of the modifications. Cynthia went barefoot, having sacrificed her socks.
A few button presses later, the transmitter became live, by all indications. By default, it emitted a repeating cross-spectrum pulse, which should gain the attention of anyone listening to subspace signals. After giving it half a minute to be noticed, she adjusted a crystal in order to tie a makeshift microphone into the loop.
"Attention please. My name is Cynthia Sanders, and I require urgent assistance. I repeat, I am Cynthia Sanders and I urgently need help. I am stranded on a space station. I was placed here by the Goa'uld Athena, who captured me along with Doctor Daniel Jackson. Daniel recently perished at the hand of Athena, who left his body in empty space. I need rescue before I run out of fresh air in about six hours. Uh, that's a quarter of an Earth day. Also Athena may return at any time.
If rescue is not possible, I need a warning passed to Earth, known to many as, um, Tauri. I believe the name of Athena's host or fake identity is Charlotte Mayfield. She claimed responsibility for planning Ba'al's recent attempt to attack Earth by building a Stargate with portal technology stolen from my own research. She has now taken over Ba'al's territory and ousted Anubis.
The worst news is that she now has control of Replicator technology. I'm afraid I must admit I am responsible for this. I kept some Replicator cells to study and Athena forced me to program them to merge with her mind. Mom, as soon as you hear this, you must prepare adequate countermeasures.
I don't know how useful this information is, but Athena has a ship with Asgard beaming technology. She also has one of those brain-mushing glove-gadgets and a, um, sarcophagus. Which reminds me: is temporarily-dying an SGC initiation rite? Anyhow, she also had a mind-reading device that sticks into the side of your head and displays memories, but I kinda... burned it out. Oh, and if Daniel somehow comes back to life again, keep him away from professional knife throwers - some don't realise they're meant to miss.
Anyhow... Mom, Dad, if I don't see you again... I'm sorry. Thor was right about deactivating all the Replicator cells. I thought I could do something beneficial with them. I took all the necessary precautions, but I didn't count on being kidnapped - twice - or a Goa'uld getting her hands - or is that 'fins'? - on the stuff. And then I thought I could keep the access codes and such secret. Didn't count on Daniel being used against me, I tried programming it to kill her, but she was too smart for me and saw straight through it. I hope you can find a way to stop her... and I really hope I'll get a chance at helping. That depends on whether anyone hears this and either has a fast ship or relays the message to someone who can get here in time, I figure.
Mom, I guess I'd better give you access to all my encrypted research files, so you can use them if I don't make it. Obviously this is an insecure channel, so I'll find a way to leave you the access codes that only you will be able to read. So if you get here too late, you'd really better get here before Athena does, or she'll destroy anything that might be of use to you. I really hope she's not listening to this right now.
I think that's all I need to say. If you've missed any part of this message or haven't recorded it, it will loop repeatedly until there is no point in looping it any longer. I apologise for any inadvertant errors or omissions – as you can imagine, I have scarcely been able to create a transmitter, let alone rehearse a message. Um, yeah... This has been Cynthia Sanders, citizen of Earth. Now, I'd better go see if I can get the CO2 scrubber going..."
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A maddened Vala Mal Doran stomped – and squelched, and dripped – back into her brand new ship. There wasn't a single bit of treasure on this planet, not anywhere! Just mud, and rotting vegetation. That Daniel Jackson fellow must think he was so smart leading her on a fruitless treasure hunt all over the horrid and humid planet. And after she'd been so generous and given him clothes and food!
The infuriating archaeologist would pay for what he'd done for her, she decided. She wouldn't hurt him – much – but he would definitely pay.
He'd better not have escaped.
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Note: I'm about to leave for an 8 day trip, and should return with plenty of fic to upload :D
Also, Happy New Year! There's less than an hour left of January 1st, my time.
