A/N: Two more chapters after this one, who's excited?
Chapter 36: Enemies and Allies
The morning arrived too soon. The same bell from the previous evening rang out again, summoning them from their pallets to a meal of thin gruel, which had been left to simmer overnight and more flat bread. Sam's head still ached, though less than it had the day before. Competing with it were a variety of new aches and sore spots, but she had little time to dwell on any of them.
They were permitted a rudimentary wash with the water that was left in the trough from the previous day, and ushered to their assigned work areas. Sam caught Tok'nar watching them as she headed to retrieve her bucket and begin another long day of water rounds. After a quick look to be sure she was unobserved, Sam paused at the well to tear a strip from the bottom of her too long tunic, which she used to wrap around her blistered hands. The bucket seemed heavier today than it had yesterday. The day passed slowly as she trudged from the well to the compound focused on putting one foot in front of the other. About midday, her trek varied only when a guard pulled her aside, and substituted her bucket with a crate filled with the guards' meal, consisting dried meat strips and more of the ever present tough flat bread. The prisoners were not given a midday ration, and a few of the captives sent her a longing look as she passed. The only positive was that delivering the ration allowed her to more accurately fix the numbers and locations of all the guards. As soon as she finished, she started to refill the water trough.
The day blurred into the next one, and the one following, with little to break up the monotony. Ms. Hans and a few of the other prisoners continued to be protective of her, and when Sam's attempts to dissuade them only made them more concerned, did she allow it. Every day followed the same cycle of meals, endless work, and sleep. The only variety occurred on the second day they were there, when one of the new prisoners was beaten into unconsciousness for working too slowly. He was left to lie in the fields for the rest of the day as a reminder to the rest to work harder. And work they did, from sunrise to sunset.
While the women seemed to have the lesser physical demanding task of assembling components, they were daily rotated in small groups to kitchen and camp chores, preparing meals, pounding and grinding flour, or slaving over the hot ovens in the even hotter sun to bake the bread that sustained them all. The men rotated tasks in the fields too, sometimes weeding, sometimes weaning and pruning the growing stalks, and most often digging the irrigation ditches that carried water to fields from the river, making sure all the plants received adequate water under the watchful eye of their captors. Most of the captives seemed grateful to see her, many offering her comforting words and looks when she offered the dipper, happy to pause in the tasks for a drink.
Only one, Curtis, managed to cause trouble for her, seeming to find numerous small ways to make her task harder while always being careful that she had no way to retaliate. During the evening and morning meal Sam sometimes caught the boy staring with fervent devotion towards the nearby cliffs on which perched the golden palace of Seshat. His cronies on the other hand, seemed too traumatized to cause her any problem. Laney barely acknowledged Sam when she came around, and Dustin looked too terrified to speak, always looking over his shoulder when she came, before he would drink. Curtis was too intent on trying to win favor to reassure them.
Sam spent endless hours trudging back and forth, lugging the heavy bucket with her, her mind wandering on its own accord. She was rudely jarred from her stupor when her too large sandal caught the edge of a stone. The thin leather thong securing the footwear snapped and Sam went sprawling, the water spilling onto the path. Sam groaned, sitting up and retrieving the broken sandal. She had only just managed to salvage the broken thong, retying the ends, and strapping it back to her a foot when a shadow appeared, blocking the sun. In her preoccupation and exhaustion, she'd failed to notice anyone approach. Before she could react, a large hand clamped like a vise onto the back of her neck, and Sam was propelled face down onto a nearby boulder, her breath whooshing out with a startled oomph. A knee replaced the hand, pressing her down onto the stone. Sam scrabbled for purchase, but to no avail.
"Did I not warn you what would happen to you, child, should I find the workers without water?" Tok'nar's voice was cold and hard. The back of her tunic lifting was the only warning she received, and she had little time to brace herself as something whistled above her ending in a sharp crack. Pain flared across her back as she felt the air driving further from her lungs, unable to even cry out. She had barely managed to suck in a lungful of air before the crack sounded again. Another half dozen cracks followed in quick, brutal succession, and the pressure holding her down was abruptly released.
"I trust you will not need another lesson anytime soon, child," she heard Tok'nar say Somehow she managed to roll to her feet, scrubbing at involuntary tears with the back of one hand as she staggered to where she had last seen the bucket, falling to her knees in the mud beside it.
"No, Overseer Tok'nar," she managed to gasp. Tok'nar only snorted, but she heard him turn and stalk away. She gathered the bucket, somehow managing to get it back onto the hook without dropping it in the well, sure that Tok'nar' would drop her into the well as threatened. Turning the crank to bring the laden bucket back was pure torture, as she could feel every fresh lash mark seared distinctly in a pattern that crisscrossed her back. Sweat burned as it began to trickle down between her shoulder blades but Sam ignored it, sure there was worse in store for her should she be caught nursing her wounds instead of working. Instead she turned her mind to what she'd do if she were able, and imagined putting Tok'nar in his place for the abuses that he heaped onto a child. She plotted how to blow the entire place to hell, starting with Seshat's palace. Her calculations on where to place the minimum amount of explosives for maximum destructive effect carried her through the rest of the day.
That evening, Sam could only force down half her portion, even when Ms. Hans tried to urge her to eat more. "What's wrong?" the woman asked, gently feeling Sam's forehead, but Sam only shook her head leaned against the woman tiredly in reply. It wasn't until they were settling down for the night and the worried teacher saw her wince that she gave in, letting Ms. Hans help her out of her tunic. The woman gasped. "Oh, Sam," she said, enfolding her in a gentle embrace. Without another word, Ms. Hans slipped away, returning with a bowl of water and a bit of cloth, which she used to gently clean the lash marks. Sam lay down, and tried not to flinch too much, sighing when the woman finished and settled down beside her, gently covering them both with their blanket. She was half asleep before she realized that the woman hummed a soft a lullaby, and Sam let it carry her the rest of the way to sleep.
The morning of the fourth day brought her continued resolve to fight back in some way, even if in spirit, a resolve heightened when after the morning gruel, they were herded together in the courtyard rather than dispersed to work areas. Having trouble seeing over the taller heads around her, she moved closer to Ms. Hans, silently communicating her need with a light tug. The woman reacted just as she'd hoped, stooping to lift her without comment, settling her carefully on one hip as she continued to watch what they had been summoned to see. Using her new vantage to her benefit, Sam saw the woman they had identified as Seshat at the Homecoming festival, flanked by Tok'nar and several other guards. Seshat was speaking, but Sam paid no attention to her words, instead, focusing on another face in the entourage. It was her father.
His clothing was gaudy, not the usual utilitarian Tok'ra outfit, his expression bored and somewhat haughty, and Sam knew even without introductions that he was posing as a minor Goa'uld. Her mind awhirl with the implications, she barely heard the speech that her father was making in his role as a minor Goa'uld hoping to smarm up to Seshat and make an alliance. Sam had to suppress a grin at her father's audacity. The speeches given, Seshat promised them all extra rations in celebration of the new alliance, and the older prisoners quickly dropped to their knees. The newer ones followed after a slight delay, echoing the words of praise. As soon as they were out of sight, the Jaffa overseers began to usher the slaves back to their work details.
Sam was on her second return to the well for a refill when her father showed up. She had been expecting him to make contact, so she managed not to jump when he stepped out from behind some brush. "Hey kid, miss me?" he asked, getting down on one knee, arms open in invitation. Sam put down her bucket and threw her arms around his neck. He gave her a quick gentle squeeze, and then held her at arm's length, visually cataloging her injuries and trying to guess at what might not be visible.
"I'm ok, Dad," she said. Jacob frowned, looking unconvinced. "Really," she added. "Nothing that a little R&R won't cure. Now tell me about your plan."
Jacob nodded, accepting her words, though still looking somewhat doubtful. "I've been in touch with the SGC, and have permission from the council to do whatever it takes to take down Seshat, and free the people of Earth. The Tok'ra high council was persuaded that it would be in our best interests to help our Taur'i allies on this one," he finished with a wry face. "As for the plan, I don't really have one yet, though most of it centers on providing a diversion midmorning tomorrow so that the SGC can come in and take out Seshat and her guards. Oh, and I brought this," he said, grabbing her arm. Turning it, he quickly applied a Tok'ra injection device against her wrist, the medication inside delivering with a hiss. He let go of her arm, and Sam rubbed her wrist reflexively.
"What was that?" she asked.
"The Tok'ra developed their own version of your naquadah suppression drug using the one your guys were working on. Janet thought your last dose would be wearing off about now. Ours lasts longer though, so you won't need another booster for at least a week. In any case, we hope to have you and the other prisoners home tomorrow. That is as long as everything goes according to plan. That being said, maybe you should take..."
"I'd better not, if it's found on me, there would be too many questions," Sam told him, though she didn't bother to hide her relief that he'd arrived in time with the booster. She didn't even want to think about what might have happened should Tok'nar or one of the other Jaffa notice the naquadah in her system, when before she'd seemed to have none.
"You're probably right," Jacob said with a resigned sigh, secreting the dispenser away.
"Look, Dad, you were talking about needing a diversion, and I might just have an idea," she said. Quickly, she told her father about the weapons assembly going on, the missing power modules, and her thoughts and calculations about explosives and where to put them. "In fact, if we could find out where Seshat stores the power cells for the weapons she is building, well that might be all the distraction we need, and we can maybe even take out her Alkesh, so she can't get away." she finished with a grin.
Her father appeared to be having an internal conversation with Selmak, but at her words, a slow grin spread across his face. "Hot damn, Sam, if there was ever any doubt that you were my kid, you just disproved it." He laughed, and then sighed. "Selmak thinks the weapons you found being assembled might explain the ones the Tok'ra have found turning up on the Goa'uld black market, which makes it even more important that we put an end to whatever show Seshat is running."
"The Goa'uld have a black market?" Sam asked, eyebrows going up in surprise.
Jacob laughed. "Yeah, go figure. Anyway, kid, I should probably get back before I'm missed, you too. I'll see what I can do to get a weapon to you before we get started. I think we should probably move quickly, the Tok'ra sources I have seemed to indicate that Seshat may be moving her base soon, I don't know if she will take prisoners with her or not."
Sam nodded, quickly picking up her bucket. "Stay safe Dad," she said.
"You too kid." With that, Jacob Carter disappeared into the brush. Sam stood still a moment, watching the last place she had seen him, and then giving herself a mental shake, lifted the bucket into the well, and went back to work.
That night, as the others around them dropped off to sleep, bellies full for the first time in captivity, Sam whispered into Ms. Hans's ear. "Not everything is as it seems," she said, sensing the woman beside her stiffen. "When the time comes, I need you to trust me," she whispered urgently.
"Sam, what are you talking about?" Ms. Hans whispered, her eyes trying to study her face in the dim light of the darkened room.
"Just trust me, okay? I need you to trust me. I'm not what I appear," Sam whispered urgently back, finding the woman's hand and giving it a squeeze.
"Alright Sam, alright," Ms. Hans answered, pulling her close for a hug. Sam let her, knowing that the woman didn't really believe, still thinking that Sam was nothing more than she appeared, a helpless child.
The following day, in the men's field, young Dustin caught her wrist as she handed him the dipper of water. "I was told to tell you that you'll find what you need at the well," the boy said, looking frightened.
"Who? Who told you?" Sam demanded, nearly dropping the dipper.
Dustin looked about wildly in fear. "His lord Mehet," he whispered, as if afraid anyone would overhear.
Sam relaxed. Mehet was the name of the minor Goa'uld her father was impersonating. "Thank you Dustin." The boy nodded, and released her wrist, taking the dipper and drinking greedily. As he handed it back, he paused, looking about again warily.
"Sam, I didn't mean to hurt you. You know that right? I-I'm sorry." The boy shuffled his feet, looking down.
Sam shifted the handle of the bucket from one hand to the other. The boy seemed earnest, and from what she remembered of that day, Dustin had been bullied and threatened into his participation. "Yeah, I know," she said, not quite ready to offer forgiveness. He'd still participated, even unwillingly, when he could have gone for help.
Dustin shuffled his feet again, accepting what she was ready to give. "Lord Mehet, he's not like Seshat, I don't think."
Sam frowned. "What are you saying Dustin?" she asked bluntly.
"Take me with you," the boy pleaded. "I… Laney is my sister; I never would have joined Curtis. He's not my friend. He… he scares me. Just… take me with you. Please."
Sam studied the boy's earnest but still terrified expression, his face coated with several days of grime, and streaked with tears and sweat. Faint bruises were visible under the dirt. But he was a liability; she'd seen how easily the kid had given in to Curtis's threats. Still, she hated the necessity of what she had to do.
"Nothing is going on, Dustin," she lied. Before the boy had a chance to reply, she moved on to the next row. Neither of them saw Curtis watching from behind a screen of plants.