Symbols
Part 23 of the Asgard Sequence
Sequel to 'Confrontations'
By Gumnut
Nov 2003
Jack O'Neill sat on his balcony and felt like an old man.
He was several stories up and had a wonderful view of the Garden, but although he was gazing out towards it, he was not seeing.
Life sucked.
He brought a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. His head still pounded, but at least he was no longer dizzy. The Asgard had had to semi-permanently attach the anti-coughing gadget to his chest. Upon waking, he had immediately attempted to talk and had been wracked by spasm after spasm until he thought his diaphragm was about to end up in his lap.
The gadget stopped the coughing, but talking was painful, so he kept to himself through the parade of visitors, letting them natter away around him.
Since word had come from Earth of Thor's victory, Teal'c and Daniel had hardly left him, one or the other playing sentry duty at all times. In the end he had so wanted to be alone, he had had to throw a hissy fit that ended up offending Daniel who stalked off in a huff. Teal'c had just flicked an admonishing eyebrow at him, letting him know that he had stepped over the line, and apologies were required in the future.
Carter he hadn't seen at all.
His thoughts on the Major could only be described as turbulent. Various emotions tangled and fought, but one thought was clear above all.
He didn't want to lose her.
Not as a soldier.
Not as his second-in-command.
Not as his pet genius 'pull the rabbit out of the hat' scientist.
And not as just plain old Sam Carter.
He just didn't want to lose her.
But it wasn't up to him. It was up to her.
Up to her to decide whether she could survive serving with Jack O'Neill.
He rubbed his hand across his eyes again.
Yep, life sucked.
Without thinking he reached out his other arm to grab a glass of water from the table beside him. He forgot the cast on his arm, misjudged, and the water went flying.
Damn.
Thankfully, the glass wasn't made of glass, and when it hit the floor, did not shatter. It clunked dully and rolled.
His eyes tracked the spreading fluid. It reflected the blue of the sky, and when combined with the dark of the floor, it reminded him of one thing. One thing only.
Blood. Purple Asgard blood. A substance he had become far too familiar with over the past month.
And it had him wondering how much of it was on his hands.
Renaya, Ambassador of the Nox, had come to see him earlier. She had been very quiet. Very kind. Offering to listen to him.
But he didn't want to talk.
So she had him listen.
She sat beside his bed just like his grandmother had when he was small, and, just for a moment, he had felt young. Oh, so young compared to the elegantly aged woman beside him.
She had told him of a time far before his own. Of a galaxy far different from what it was today. The Nox had been an aggressive race. Not violent, just eager to learn and explore. They had spread across the stars wanting to meet new races, make discoveries, and, generally, wonder at the universe.
But at the centre of all this excitement lay a core that slowly began to decay. A single person who through charisma and propaganda stirred up trouble. His name was Psyphus.
His excuses had been many. His accusations the same, and some of the Nox had believed him.
Some had not.
Arguments had ensued. Arguments that had led to political unrest. Unrest that had led to civil war.
The Nox had simply attempted to self destruct.
So much was lost. So many died. And it was not until the eleventh hour that the Nox, as a people, discovered the root of it all.
Psyphus was not a Nox.
He was a Goa'uld.
The Nox knew little of the parasites, the System Lords yet to gain the power they currently held. They only knew that this creature had manipulated them with ease - they had willingly set out to destroy themselves.
The shock was total.
And realisation came at a price.
The war came to an abrupt end.
And the Nox set out on the path to what they were today.
Only one thing remained. The fate of the Goa'uld.
He had been punished, or so popular Nox myth told, however, the truth was that Psyphus had slipped their grip, and disappeared.
They had searched in vain, and eventually it was realised that justice may never be served. But regardless, the nature of the Nox had been changed forever.
Renaya had been quiet for a moment, and he had looked at her directly, surprised to find a great anger in her eyes. They flashed, and he had had an urge to scramble backwards, to get away from a creature who emanated hostility and harm.
Psyphus was in Frere.
Anubis had declared it in the centre of the High Council Chamber, and O'Neill now realised there would be no mercy for the parasite at the hands of the Nox. At the look in her eyes, part of him had pitied the Goa'uld's fate, and a sudden understanding of how the Nox could have managed to decimate themselves came to him.
Every being had their price, some were just higher or lower than others. All were capable of killing, no matter how reputedly peaceful.
He added a 'pissed off Nox' to his list of must-avoids.
He had shivered, and she had flinched, the moment fading as she realised what she was communicating.
Her point had been that O'Neill had not been at fault - that this had happened before - and she was adamant that he should not feel guilt in this matter.
But it didn't change anything.
Didn't change the fact that if he hadn't been who he was, none of this could have possibly happened. Didn't negate the fact that he was the weak point, the key to the possible downfall of the Asgard.
It didn't stop the dreams that haunted his sleep.
Or the faces that haunted his memory.
He watched the glass roll away, and wondered if he would ever be able to look at himself in a mirror without seeing the face of a killer. The glass hit the balustrade and rebounded softly. Who was he kidding, it had been a long time since his face had been guilt free.
His thoughts were interrupted by the doors to his room opening. He resisted the urge to check who it was, fighting his natural instinct to check for danger. He really didn't want to know.
"O'Neill? Where the mikbar are you?"
Niikrahl.
Jack found himself indecisive as to whether to make his whereabouts known or not, he wasn't able to be seen where he was on the balcony from within the room, but abruptly the choice was taken from his hands.
A head appeared through the doorway.
"Oh, there you are." The head was suddenly followed by another nine feet of Furling.
Niikrahl walked up to the edge of the landing, and stared out over the Garden. "Beautiful, isn't it."
O'Neill didn't know whether an answer was required, but kept quiet anyway, his eyes refusing to latch onto the Furling, still staring out into the plants below. He did, however, feel the soft heat of Niikrahl's two red orbs brush across his face as he turned in his direction. "I can't say that I agree with the Nox philosophy of pacifism, but I have to admit they know how to plant a garden."
O'Neill's eyes flickered at that comment, and the Furling immediately picked up on his confusion. "Oh, so you didn't know that little bit of information? I suppose you thought the Asgard created the Garden that encompasses this world?" O'Neill didn't react, but Niikrahl continued anyway. "Well, I have to say, Human, that you've been misinformed. The Nox created the Garden millennia ago."
The Furling didn't continue, and, quite frankly, O'Neill's natural curiosity overcame his reticence for conversation. "Why?"
Niikrahl's eyes flicked back to the Garden. "I do not know." His hands gripped the edge of the balustrade. "But I am sure it was for some symbol of peace, some gesture of alliance, they are such a people, and they and the Asgard have been allies for a very long time."
Again, he had to ask. "The Alliance, how old is it?"
The Furling turned back to him, his eyes appraising. "Many thousands of your years. The Pensiltinaar and the Asgard were the first, their ties were long, and soon the Nox joined them. We, the Furlings, came to the table much more recently." His head turned away. "We had much to prove after our many mistakes, but there came a time where allies were needed more than grudges. The Asgard have ever been our friends, regardless of the scoffing of the so called Ancients." O'Neill could see the annoyance beneath that statement, but was not surprised. After his own encounters with the high and mighty Pensiltinaar, he could do little but agree.
"O'Neill, I have come to take my leave of you. The Asgard have the usurpers under control, and the Furling fleet is needed elsewhere, but I did not wish to leave without telling you something."
O'Neill stared back in askance, but the silence continued to stretch. "Yes, Ambassador?"
The alien seemed to take a deep breath before continuing. "O'Neill, the Asgard have assisted the Furlings on multiple occasions. If it wasn't for these people, it is likely that we would no longer exist. We owe them a great debt, one we are currently unable to repay. Are you aware of the difficulties they are experiencing regarding reproduction?"
O'Neill cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable with the change of subject. He had had a few discussions about the topic with Thor, and the little alien's embarrassment had been considerable. "I know something about it."
"Well, what you don't know is that it is far more serious a concern than the Asgard are letting on." He gestured out towards the great city. "Impressive, isn't it? It stretches for many emples. It is beautiful, and it is ancient." He caught Jack's eyes. "It is also mostly empty, O'Neill. Where billions once resided, this planet supports barely a million Asgard."
O'Neill's heart froze. Only a million?
"Between the genetic difficulties and the recent war with the Replicators, their population has been decimated." At Jack's dismayed reaction, he continued. "Did you not wonder how it was so easy for Anubis to gain control of the planet? How such a quickly contained plague was able to do so much damage? O'Neill, they are hanging by a thread, and unlike us, there is no great, generous race out there to save them from oblivion. It is only a matter of time."
Jack thought back to the empty houses he had passed in the city on the way to the House of Fires, he thought of Kalta and Kanya, of Eelyn, of Heimdahl and his lab, of Loki and his desperate attempt to access O'Neill's DNA, and it all came together. They had been bluffing again. Jack briefly wondered about those times the Asgard had claimed they had no ships available, how many had been because no crew were available instead.
He looked up at Niikrahl and found his own dismay mirrored in the Furling's features. "How did you find out?"
Niikrahl glanced at his feet. "During the battle. Othalla's planetary defense systems had been nullified by internal insurgence. They managed to shut down everything, including normal scanner deflection. My ship's sensors picked it up. It was one of the reasons I ordered the Goa'uld vessel destroyed, this cannot be allowed to become general knowledge, O'Neill. Far too much depends on the Asgard."
Didn't he know it.
"O'Neill, I know you to be an honourable man. You have proven yourself, several times in the eyes of Thor, and your passion in the defeat of Anubis inspired me. I thought you should know. The Furlings will do what we can to assist, though I doubt it will be enough, our technology has yet to reach the levels of the Asgard. The Nox, I do not know, but I am sure that if they do have knowledge of this predicament they would do their utmost to assist. The Pensiltinaar..." His voice drifted off, and the red of his eyes flashed slightly. "Of all five of us, the Pensiltinaar are most likely to have the technology to help the Asgard, but it is they who are most likely to refuse. I expect no help from them." His disgust was palpable. "I know that Earth is technologically far behind all of us, and I do not mean that in a derogatory manner." He held up his hand. "But you yourself have proven recently, and in the past, that you have a unique way of viewing the world. All I ask is that should you come across anything that may help the Asgard, you need only ask for our assistance, and you will have it."
The honesty in the Furling's eyes called for nothing less from O'Neill. He faced him firmly. "You have my word, Niikrahl."
The Furling turned to leave. "Thank you, Ambassador O'Neill." The simple sentence said everything, and the Furling exited off the balcony. Jack's thoughts were left spinning, a sudden need to speak with Thor, the highest priority amongst them.
He made to get up to go and see if Thor had returned as yet, when he heard the doors to his quarters open once again. He heard Niikrahl greet Samantha Carter on the way out, and he froze.
Perhaps she wouldn't find him out here.
No such luck.
*********
The world came back to him in pieces. Pieces peppered with voices. Arguing voices.
"I don't care how worried the humans are, Commander Thor is seriously ill."
"The General is only asking for a report."
"As if I have time-"
Thor took that moment to interrupt. "Technician, that will be all." He struggled to a sitting position, ignoring the protests of various med assistants.
"But, sir!" The medtech hurried over to Thor, his expression alarmed. "You were severely injured, your collapse is but a symptom of a most serious head injury."
"Will I live?"
The technician looked almost affronted. "Certainly, sir, we could allow no less."
"Good, then I'm fine. I have far more important things to do than lay about." He slid himself off the bed.
His equilibrium wobbled momentarily, but he found himself able to walk out of the medbay, regardless of the many protests. The ship's captain must have been called as he met him halfway to the bridge.
"Status?"
The man's eyes flickered to the medpatch on Thor's forehead, but he answered smartly. "All the battle debris, plus some of Earth origin has been removed from orbit. Three of the Furling vessels are skirting the outreaches of the solar system, scouting for any further incursions. The Earth general continues to enquire after your health, sir. I believe he was quite alarmed at your sudden disappearance."
"Very well, once the area is secured, assign one of our vessels to patrol this solar system, and its nearest neighbours, and prepare the fleet for return to Othalla. The 'Falkris' will need to be towed. In the meantime, I wish to speak with the General."
"Yes, sir."
As soon as they reached the bridge, Thor called up the transporter tech and had himself beamed back down to the SGC.
Hammond's back was to him when he materialised in the General's office, but the sound of the transporter alerted the human, and he spun.
"Commander Thor!"
"General, I apologise for my abrupt departure."
"No apologies are needed, Commander, I was more concerned about your health."
"I am well, General." He ignored the fact that his image of Hammond occasionally doubled in rhythm with his pounding headache. "The fleet will be departing shortly. I just wanted to reassure you of SG-1's safe return in the near future."
Hammond sighed, and lowered himself carefully to his knees so that his eyes could level with Thor's. "Commander, as soon as SG-1 returns to Earth, I will have no choice but to arrest them. There is little I can do to prevent it."
Thor looked into the General's small eyes, reaching to see beyond the obvious anger and worry, briefly wondering about the man that O'Neill followed. O'Neill had a quality that defied being led, yet this man garnered his trust and his loyalty. A loyalty O'Neill had been forced to break in order to save Thor's people. He reached out a hand and rested it on Hammond's shoulder.
"Do not worry, General, no harm will come to O'Neill or his team."
Hammond opened his mouth as if to protest, but he must have seen the certainty on Thor's face, because he didn't manage to say anything. A small flicker of hope stirred in the back of his eyes, and Thor briefly saw some of that quality O'Neill had pledged to follow.
"I give you my word, General." He stepped back, letting his arm fall. "I must take my leave now, however, I will return."
He left the General, kneeling, lost in thought, in the middle of his office floor.
*********
Sam Carter nearly walked into Ambassador Niikrahl as he was leaving the Colonel's room. She narrowly missed having her foot squashed by several hundred pounds of Furling. As it was he had to steady her as she stumbled trying to get out of his way.
"Major Carter, are you well?"
"Fine. Uh, sorry, I didn't see you there." Ten feet of Furling can be damned intimidating.
"There is no problem, Major. Are you looking for O'Neill?" She nodded, somewhat unnerved by the alien. "He can be found on his balcony. I believe he may be trying to hide." His smile unnerved her even more.
"Thank you, Ambassador." She edged past him to enter the room, and the doors closed behind her. She found the bed rumpled and empty, and, taking the ambassador's advice, sought the Colonel out on the balcony.
He was sitting on a chair gazing out into the Garden, a closed look on his face. She could tell he was aware of her presence, but he did not acknowledge her, and she chose to do the same to him. She walked to the edge of the balcony, her hands brushing the balustrade, eyeing him surreptitiously. In the midmorning light, she was shocked to see how aged he looked. His silver hair, usually rumpled and sticking out in all directions, lay limp and lustreless. His face looked so tired and weary of life, she felt her heart clench. The man was usually so active, so lively, that age never seemed to matter. She had sworn that even if he was ninety, he would still act like he was ten. But today all that energy had left him and he looked sick and worn.
"Jack?"
He flinched, her use of his first name having the effect she wanted. She did not want to speak to him as her commanding officer, that could come later, now she simply wanted to speak to him as a friend one-on-one.
His eyes looked up at her. "Sam?"
Her turn to flinch. She should have known that any tactic she could use, Jack O'Neill would be just as proficient at, if not better. She steeled herself. "I would like to apologise."
He blinked, his eyebrows twisting slightly in question. "For what?"
Suddenly she didn't know what to do with her hands. She wrung them a couple of times, looking down at them, looking back at him. He must have noticed her discomfort, because he abruptly offered her the single other chair on the balcony, urging her to sit. She reluctantly complied, but only sat on the edge as if ready to leave in a hurry if necessary.
He didn't fail to notice. "Relax, Major, you of all people should know that I don't bite."
She couldn't resist. "It's your bark that worries me." His eyes darted towards her, she smiled slightly, and she was rewarded with a small smile in return. The smile took away some of that awful tiredness in his face.
"Have you been talking to some of the new SGC recruits, Major?"
"No, sir, I've experienced it first hand."
"It's never held you back before."
No, it hadn't, and it never would, the team was worth more than that.
His eyes drifted back to the Garden once again and there was silence except for the odd sounds of the Asgard birdlife.
"This is such a beautiful place." His voice was so quiet, she almost missed it.
"Yes, sir." She looked out into the Garden with him, but suddenly felt his eyes on her once again.
"Please don't go."
Three simple words. And they meant so much. She didn't answer him directly, she had come here to explain, to talk.
She continued to stare out into Garden, taking solace from its gently swaying plants, tended by the breeze. She began to speak.
"How have you survived it, sir?"
She could feel his puzzlement. "Survived what?"
"Survived holding the life of a someone you care about in your hands, and having to watch it slip away, powerless to prevent it?"
Her eyes determinedly followed the flight of a bird, as she heard him swallow. This would be as difficult for him as it was for her.
"I haven't." She looked at him, and saw the answer in his eyes. "You don't survive it, Sam. You live through it, but part of you dies inside. You can never be the same."
She thought back on all the people the Colonel had lost. The man seemed as hard as iron, as inflexible as steel. She had accused him of being uncaring in the past, even when she knew it was her own grief speaking. They had not spoken of it since, but over time she had begun to realise that just because an emotion is not expressed does not mean it is not felt. Jack O'Neill carried his grief deep, hidden from prying eyes, controlled through necessity, but it was still there, and he hurt as much as the next person.
The question was could she manage it? Did she have the energy to pick herself up after tragedy and just keep going?
She looked at her hands, and she heard his quiet question. "What happened, Sam?"
She shot him a look, shocked. How could he not know? He had lain in her arms, his life bleeding out all over the floor. There had been so much blood. It didn't matter the colour, it had still been his. She had sat there waiting on his every laboured breath, breathing with him, urging him to take the next one. His eyes had stared up at her, seeing her, yet not seeing her. Saying her name, whispering that he had lost her.
Yes, he had been saved. But each time he had been injured, or taken from them since, she had feared she would be placed in that scene again. A powerless player in a play of death. And this time there may be no wonderful rescue by the Asgard. Maybe this time would be the last.
And she didn't know if she could stand it. She didn't know if she had enough soldier in her to watch Jack O'Neill die.
He must have realised he wasn't going to get an answer, because he suddenly said. "I survived, Carter. I'm not dead."
"I know, sir, but what about next time?"
"There will always be a next time, Carter, until the last time." He had begun to fidget in his seat, probably a combination of the discussion topic, and the slow return of his normal self. Abruptly he stood, swayed a little, but steadied, and made his way to the balustrade to lean out over the view. "All I can promise you is that I will avoid the last time as long as possible." He turned to face her, leaning back on the railing. "As long as you do the same."
There was a slight tremble in his voice and she suddenly realised that he was mirroring her feelings. The indications were subtle, but there. And it all finally clicked into place.
He had thought she had died in the explosion of the 'O'Neill'. He knew exactly how she felt, but he had managed to 'soldier on'. He hadn't panicked, he hadn't attempted to throw his career out the window, he had simply suffered in silence. Shame chilled her heart.
Again she had failed to understand.
"I am so sorry."
He held up a hand. "There is nothing to be sorry for, Carter. We all handle things differently. Just do me a favour, and don't quit. Someone needs to explain all these techno-gadgets to me, and Daniel and Teal'c just don't have the finesse you do." He smiled at her. "Besides we had so much trouble replacing Daniel, you can imagine the uproar at the SGC if we had to replace you. Hammond would never forgive me." He stopped abruptly, and the doubt about Hammond ever forgiving them ever again suddenly hung in the air.
The abrupt silence was shattered by the sound of the doors to the room opening once again.
"Oh, for crying out loud, what is this, Grand Central Station?"
O'Neill stalked, a little gingerly, back into his room, looking determined to face the latest invader of his privacy. Sam composed herself before following him a few moments later.
The tableau that confronted her upon entering the room, unnerved her.
A lone Asgard medical assistant stood just inside the doors. Colonel O'Neill stood frozen in the middle of the floor, apprehension in every line of his body.
"Colonel?"
He didn't answer her. So she turned to the Asgard and asked him instead.
"Is there something we can do for you?"
The Asgard bowed slightly from the waist. "I am here to check Colonel O'Neill's respiration monitor." He looked like he was going to impart further information, but he was interrupted by the Colonel.
"I know you. We've met before."
"Yes, we have, Colonel. My name is Anwah. We encountered each other in the Garden not long ago."
Sam watched O'Neill pale suddenly, and for a moment she thought he might collapse. "Colonel?!"
He held up a hand and moved toward the bed, leaning on it as if for support. "I'm fine." He clearly wasn't, but as he was sitting down, she didn't protest, instead turned to the apparent source of his distress.
The Asgard stepped back slightly as she approached. "I think it would be best if you perhaps came back later. The Colonel needs to rest."
The assistant looked uncomfortable. "Perhaps it is better that I ask another to assist the Colonel." His eyes darted nervously between her and O'Neill, but he suddenly held out his hand. A small, brightly wrapped box sat in his palm. "However, I do wish to give this to the Colonel first. It is small, but it is all that I have to give him in return for what he has done for my people." He turned his face toward O'Neill, steeling himself. "I once accused you of something. I wish to let you know I was wrong, and I apologise. You are capable of far more than I ever realised. You were worth my family's sacrifice, and I was wrong to blame you."
Carter watched as each word caused her CO to flinch. He didn't answer.
Sam decided on some action, and accepting the box, ushered Anwah out of the room.. Briefly checking with security outside the door, she ascertained that the box contained no threat, and returned to find O'Neill curled up on the bed.
"Sir?" He didn't answer. She walked up to the side of the bed, crouching slightly to bring her face level with his. "Colonel, what's wrong?" No answer. "Jack?"
"You know if you use that tactic too often, it's going to lose its impact." The voice smiled, but the face didn't.
"Sir, what is wrong?"
"Give me the box, let's get this over with."
Still unsure and puzzled, she held out the package to him, and he sat up, staring at it in her hand. He hesitated for a moment and then grabbed it from her. He didn't open it immediately, turning it in his hands, his hands in his lap. For a moment she thought he might ask her to leave, but the words never came, and he slowly began to pull off wrappings.
His long fingers made short work of the simple fastenings, and soon the box sat open in his palm. The first item he pulled from it was a folded piece of that filmy printout material the Colonel had made paper planes from - it seemed so long ago now. He barely spared it a glance before reaching in a second time and pulling out a crystal.
It was about the size of his hand, exquisitely carved out of pale blue crystal the colour of the Othallan sky. A beautiful replica of the 'O'Neill'.
O'Neill coughed despite the suppressor attached to his chest, and his hand trembled. The paper-like material fell from his hand as he stared at the small starship. He didn't move for a long moment, just sat there staring at the little model, his shoulders slumped.
"Should I open the note, sir?"
He started, his eyes suddenly meeting hers. "Wha? Oh, give it here." He gently placed the crystal on the bed, and reached for the folded material.
As he opened it, she saw his eyes widen, but could not see its contents for herself. He took a moment, his eyes darting across the 'paper', obviously reading something, but abruptly the note was crumpled in his hand, his fist tightening, his eyes closed.
"Sir?"
"Sam, could I be alone for awhile?" His eyes opened and looked directly at her, their darkness swallowing her whole. "Please."
She hurriedly bowed her head, and with a brief, whispered 'Yes, sir', left him there.
She allowed herself a single glance back at him before she walked through the door. He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders bowed, and for the only time she could remember, a picture of defeat.
It tore at her heart, and she suddenly realised that she couldn't leave SG-1. Because there was one thing she could do for Jack O'Neill. One thing he needed, desperately. Daniel had said it in one. SG-1 was like family to Jack O'Neill.
All she needed to do was be there.
And she would.
*********
The world came back to Psyphus very abruptly. One minute he was oblivious, the next he was fully awake.
Something was different. He realised that immediately, as his eyes opened, unbidden. He was lying down, his only view, that of a ceiling, a plain, grey ceiling. An insect flew around haphazardly trapped within the room, buzzing, looking for escape. It flittered in and out of his line of sight. There were various other sounds around him. The sound of footsteps, breathing, and, in the distance, voices, but as he tried to move his head in their direction to find out their source, he found he couldn't move.
In fact, he couldn't move anything. He could feel his hands, his feet, but he could not move any part of his body, not even his eyes.
Perhaps the Asgard had him in one of their restraining fields in some petty attempt to punish him. Yes, that's what it was. Pathetic people that they were, you'd think with all their technology they could be a little more creative than this.
Psyphus had been caught many times in his very long life, but each time he had made an escape, this would be no different. He just needed that one moment of inattention and he would be free.
Suddenly his singular view of the grey ceiling was interrupted by the form of a Nox, and the insect fluttered away. A Nox? What were they doing on Othalla?
"Psyphus? You have decided to rejoin us."
As if he had ever left. The Nox were pitiful creatures, single minded and stupid. They had fallen easily to simple manipulation, didn't even know they were following him. That assignment had been pure pleasure. Anubis had awarded him much. Yet another possible Goa'uld opponent had been defeated before they could challenge the greatness which is the Goa'uld.
"Psyphus, I know you can hear me. I am Renaya, Nox Ambassador to Othalla. I am here to inform you of your fate."
Fate? What could she know of his fate? She should be on her knees before him. Petty mortals know nothing of the minds of the Goa'uld. She would be among the first to die once he regained his freedom.
"You have been sentenced to oblivion, Psyphus. You wish to possess a body not of your own. We have provided one. However, this body holds no soul but your own, and despite the Goa'uld's repeated claim to dominance over their host, it is a medical fact that without the host's consciousness to provide higher motor functions, you possess no access to the voluntary nervous system. You are in effect completely paralysed. We, the Nox, will provide your body with sustenance and protection, but no stimulation. Your world will consist of four grey walls of which you will only be able to see one."
Psyphus felt the first stirrings of worry, but he knew he only had to jump hosts. One step closer, foolish woman, and you will feel the wrath of your god first hand.
"Oh, and one last thing, Goa'uld" Her voice snarled. "Do not think to attempt to trap another host. Your parasitic body has been surgically restrained within this host. You will be here for a very long time."
The Nox's face disappeared from his line of sight, and suddenly an unfamiliar panic built up inside him. He struggled, his physical body attempting to move within the trap of this mummified corpse. He felt the pins anchoring his body to the host's spine. She was right he couldn't leave. He attempted again to move the host's body, but its mind was silent and didn't respond. All he could do was watch, listen, and feel.
The nameless insect suddenly reappeared, hovering over him. It landed on his face.
Psyphus, hand of Anubis, and destroyer of worlds, opened a mouth he didn't have, and screamed.
He screamed for a very long time.
*********
Jack O'Neill stared at his hands for a long time. The note had been simple, written in English in a child-like scrawl by a hand not used to forming the letters. Anwah wished to thank him for his great service to the Asgard people, to apologise for his outburst in the Garden, and to give him the little starship, a keepsake of the youngest in his now deceased family.
Jack didn't know how he felt. He didn't know which was harder, his condemnation, or his celebration. All his emotions just seems to tangle up inside, a knot of grief, despair, guilt, and remorse that wrapped itself around his ribs and squeezed the breath out of him until he found he wanted to do only one thing.
He wanted to go home.
He wanted to go home now.
He made the decision. He was the leader of SG-1. They would go home, music to face or not.
Standing, he tested his equilibrium. The world stayed steady, he would be fine. He made his way towards the door and barrelled on through it, ignoring the surprised squawks of the Asgard security detail.
He would find SG-1, speak to who ever was in charge, and get the hell out of here.
He made it halfway down the corridor, full security in tow, before Thor suddenly materialised in front of him.
"O'Neill?"
"Thor!"
"It is good to see you well." Thor's eyes tracked over the cast on his arm even as O'Neill eyed the Commander's medpatch on his forehead.
"You okay?"
"I am well, however I wished to speak with you privately." His eyes tracking the hovering security detail. A flick of a hand and they were dismissed. "Shall we go back to your room?"
Having just fled it, O'Neill had no wish to return to it. "Could we go some place else?"
Thor looked up at him, as if assessing his mood, his velvet black eyes studying him for a moment. A decision flickered in their depths. "Follow me." The Asgard Commander gestured, and they set off down the corridor.
Thor took him into a room with a single control panel in the centre of the floor. Moving quickly to it, he activated the controls and a face suddenly appeared on one wall. He spoke briefly in Asgard and the image disappeared once again. A pile of fabric appeared in a flash beside Jack. Thor turned to O'Neill. "Please wrap this around yourself, it will be cool where we are going." He turned back to the panel and before Jack could question him, the world dissolved around him.
**********
The first thing he became aware of was the cool breeze, it gusted gently against his clothing, and made him shiver, but he ignored it as the sight around him took his breath away.
They were standing on bare rock, atop a lone mountain at the end of a valley. At the other end, the sun was setting. Clouds, not unlike those of Earth, gilded the sky in many shades of red and orange, purples and rose. Single rays of light pierced those clouds, striking the landscape randomly, and painting it gold.
In the distance, off to his right, he could see the sparkling lights of an Othallan city, which one, he didn't know. A ship launched from its floating dock, and its tiny figure darted briefly across the dying sun, its shadow nothing more than that of a bird.
Behind him he found the darkening sky sprinkled with tiny fire rain, debris from the battle too small to worry about, burning up in the atmosphere.
The breeze made him shiver once again, and he suddenly found cloth placed in his fingers. He looked down to find Thor placing a robe in his hand, the golden sunlight reflecting in his eyes. "What is this place?"
"It is no place special, O'Neill, just a part of Othalla. There are many beautiful places on this planet. This is just one of them." Jack was abruptly reminded of many a sunset on Earth. It was true, they were all beautiful. Thor continued. "I just thought it would be nice to watch the sun set while we talk." He gestured towards two chairs, one human size, one standard Asgard. Wrapping himself in the offered cloth, O'Neill complied.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the breeze and the odd calls of birds in the distance, their song heralding the end of the sun's daily journey. It was O'Neill who broke the silence first.
"Thor, I don't know what I can say to thank you for saving Earth."
"You need not say anything, O'Neill, we could do no less for one who has done the same and more for us." He turned to Jack. "And as a member of the Alliance, Earth's stature in the universe has changed."
"About that, Thor, I have no official sanction from my government regarding this Ambassadorship thing."
"I am aware of that, and I promise you I will set things to right."
O'Neill turned abruptly in his direction. Uh, oh, what was Thor up to? "How?"
Thor smiled. "Do not worry, O'Neill, I have been around a long time, I know what I'm doing."
Oh, shit.
"Thor, don't risk our alliance for my sake, it is worth more than that."
Thor just looked at him, still smiling slightly. "Trust me, Ambassador."
Jack didn't know what to say to that, so silence reigned for a few moments longer. The sun continued to drift towards the horizon in silence.
Thor breached the quiet this time. "Do you still have the box, I sent you?"
The box? Oh!
"Yeah, I do, excuse me a moment." O'Neill stood, and with his back turned to Thor, retrieved the box from where he had hidden it. One flick of his hand and it was full size in his palm. He turned back to Thor and offered it to him.
Thor looked at him with some amusement. "Dare I ask you where you have hidden it all this time?"
Jack flushed slightly, but shrugged. "I've had to hide things in worse places."
"You will need to open it, I can not."
"Oh." O'Neill sat down, and, holding the box in one hand, he tapped it with fingers of the other, and it opened. He held it out to Thor.
Thor didn't take it. "It is yours, O'Neill, I'm sure you will find it use for it. However, please take out the last object, it is of some importance."
Jack reached into the box and pulled out a small amulet on a silver chain. It was about the size of his thumbnail, an upside down, incomplete, outline of a silver teardrop, its rounded apex pierced by a tiny shaft of blue crystal, a single diamond like gem suspended from it.
He had wondered at its purpose when he had originally opened the box, Thor's message had said nothing of it, so he had left it in the box, not wanting to lose it. He handed it to Thor.
"This is your sign of office." Thor touched a hand to his neck and suddenly a similar amulet appeared on his chest. He brought the two amulets together and a blue light flared between them. As he separated them, Thor's crystal dimmed, but O'Neill's continued to shine.
Thor stood, and before O'Neill could say anything, the chain was around his neck.
Surprised, and not a little edgy, Jack resisted the urge to back away. "Uh, what is it?" He fingered it, bringing it up towards his face in the fading light. The blue shine had dimmed.
"All five Ambassadors of the Alliance wear one of these. It is a sign of office, and can double as a communication device. Using this, you can contact Niikrahl, Renaya, myself, or even Tethys, at any time." Hah, the day he needed to contact Tethys, hell would freeze over. "It is easily hidden, and I will show you its full capabilities before you leave Othalla." Thor touched his own amulet, and it vanished from sight.
'How'd you do that?" Thor reached over and placing O'Neill's considerably larger fingers in the right places, showed him. The Amulet disappeared without a trace.
Jack ran his fingers around his neck and found nothing. "Oh, great, how am I supposed to be able to find it when I need it?"
Thor smiled at him in amusement. "Place your hand on where your neck meets your torso, and tap twice."
O'Neill did as he was told, and the amulet appeared beneath his palm. "Cool." A flick of his fingers and it disappeared. He did it again. And again. And again. "Amulet goes on, amulet goes off. Amulet goes on, amulet goes off."
Suddenly a voice interrupted him. "What the mikbar do you think you are doing O'Neill? I'm trying to sleep here!"
Jack dropped the amulet like a hot brick, and Thor provided him with an extensive demonstration of Asgard laughter.
Okay, perhaps he should learn how to use it before he started playing with it.
He turned to Thor, who was still giggling - a giggling Asgard, who would have thought? - and said, "Okay, show me what to do."
**********
It didn't take long, but by the time Thor had finished instructing Jack, the sun had disappeared over the horizon, and the sky was getting dark, the wind chilly.
But before he they went back to civilisation, O'Neill had one more question.
"Thor, what will happen to Frere?"
The Commander looked away, but O'Neill could see that the subject was a sensitive one. "I do not know, O'Neill, it will not be up to me. The Goa'uld has been removed, and the Nox have extradited it, having a prior claim on its punishment, but Frere's crimes before his possession are still grave."
"Have you worked out how the Goa'uld got their slimy hands on him?"
"As far as we can determine the Security Advisor was the first Asgard possessed by a Goa'uld."
"There was more than one?"
Thor's eyes looked darker than usual in the fading light. "I'm afraid there were several key Asgard infected, including the Security Advisor. They were not detected because Asgard physiology can not support a Goa'uld."
O'Neill frowned. "Then how?"
"Genetic manipulation. The machine Loki used to alter your genetic structure was also used on the Asgard required to become hosts. Frere is no longer the Asgard I once knew, he has forfeited his chances to reproduce, he will die when his body fails this cycle." Thor's tone was sad. Frere may have turned into a traitorous enemy, but O'Neill shouldn't forget that he had once been Thor's friend.
Something suddenly occurred to O'Neill. "That machine, could it have the potential to help solve the problems your people are having with reproduction?"
Thor looked up at him. "Indeed, that is our hope. At least some good could come from this. Our scientists have it now, we can but wait and see."
O'Neill yearned to ask further questions of Thor regarding the fate of the Asgard, but now was not the time. "How did Frere get hold of it?"
"Apparently, he located the technology while on an exploratory mission. He saw its immediate possibilities, but instead of bringing it to the attention of the Asgard Medical Authority, he turned to Loki. He planned to use the technology to remove the Asgard from your galaxy, leaving it free for the Goa'uld, and allowing us to focus on our own problems." Thor trailed his foot in the dust in front of his chair, obviously unnerved by his former friend's actions. "While he was setting up the scenario, with Loki in your galaxy, they were both captured by Anubis. Frere talked his way out of death, and a pact between the Goa'uld and the two traitors was sealed. Anubis aimed to remove the Asgard from the equation, and Frere offered to help him do it. Consequently, we were captured and the plan executed. Anubis, however, wanted one guarantee. He demanded that one Asgard be given to a Goa'uld as security in case the plan failed. Frere was foolish enough to comply."
Thor was silent for a moment, his eyes still tracking the movement of his foot in the dust. O'Neill waited ever aware of what that plan had cost the both of them.
Thor took a breath and continued. "Frere chose the Security Advisor, and as soon as he returned to Othalla, used the machine, and the poor man had his life stolen from him." Thor suddenly became angry. "It wasn't enough for him to kill innocent people with a plague, he had to take the lives of some of our most honoured citizens, piece by agonising piece! Chella may never recover. He sacrificed so much during the war with the Replicators only to have his life taken from him during a time of celebratory peace." Thor's foot kicked the ground, and dirt and dust went flying.
O'Neill jumped, he wanted to help Thor, but there was nothing he could say, nothing that could be done, and they both knew it. Thor let out a breath. "I am sorry, O'Neill, it seems I need some time to reconcile myself with our new reality."
"There is nothing to apologise for, Thor."
The Asgard didn't answer, and continued to stare at his feet, but a moment later, he continued. "Once their initial plan failed, due, in no little part, to you and myself, Anubis enacted his secondary, more conclusive plan. As both Frere and Loki were captured by the Asgard Security Force, as Security Advisor, Chella had direct access to both them and the machine. Frere was implanted with Psyphus, a Goa'uld with an extensive history of political infiltration, and Anubis made his attempt to conquer Othalla."
"What tipped you off?"
"I had been aware of dissension in the Council for quite a while, but after the events involving Frere, I chose to delve a little deeper. There are factions within our government that do not agree with our current pacifistic attitude. Many call for more aggressive tactics to solve our problems. Some, like Frere, choose to ask us to hide our heads from the universe and look after ourselves. However, a balance between the two extremes is all we should achieve otherwise we would find ourselves as tyrannical as the Goa'uld." He took a breath, his frustration with his government obvious. "For my investigative attempts, I was shot. They attempted to use me as a tool to drive popular opinion against our current policies. A side effect was to expel you and your team from the planet. I feel this was done because your team is most recently familiar with the Goa'uld, and both Teal'c and Major Carter are able to sense a Goa'uld's presence. The Security Advisor did not wish to take the risk of discovery."
"So that is why we were so suddenly sent home."
"After my assassination attempt I realised the situation was becoming more dire. I took steps of my own and contacted the Alliance."
Something suddenly occurred to O'Neill. "Kalta - he was a member of one of those factions, wasn't he?"
Thor sighed. "Again, I must apologise, O'Neill, I had no knowledge of Tala's political leanings, I can only be grateful I did not allow him access to further information. The members of that group are now in custody, charged with crimes against the state, and your person. They will suffer what they deserve, but all I can say is that I am sorry."
"Thor, you can't control everything."
The Asgard looked up at him in the near dark. "Perhaps, O'Neill, you should listen to your own advice. None of this tragedy was your fault, yet you continue to blame yourself."
Jack suddenly found himself unable to look Thor in the eye. His own words, so simple to say, yet so difficult to follow. He knew it would be a long while before he could look at recent events objectively. There was too much pain, too much hurt, and too many deaths for him to think straight.
"Thor, all I can say is that I am sorry for everything that has happened, and the part that I played in it. If I could reverse all those deaths, I would do it in a heartbeat."
"I know." Thor's reply was quiet, but it said so much.
Again a silence stretched in the dark, but neither of them made a move. O'Neill found the cool breeze stimulating, the dark restful, and it seemed Thor felt the same.
So they sat, on top of a mountain, watching the stars come out.
**********
At some point later, O'Neill realised that it had become quite cold, not the best conditions for a pneumonia sufferer to be in. If Janet were here she would have had his hide, and despite his reputation as a difficult patient, he was not stupid.
The thought of Janet had him thinking of home again. He had made the decision earlier, and it was time to act on it.
"Thor, I think it is time for SG-1 to go home."
The Asgard looked at him, the starlight outlining his form in the dark. "You are still injured, O'Neill."
"Nothing that Doc Fraiser can't handle, and I really think it is time. I need to go home."
Some of his earnestness must have been in his voice, because Thor bowed his head. "Very well. I will take you."
It was time for SG-1 to go home.
*********
Thor was a man of his word. He grabbed a starship, gathered up SG-1, all their belongings, and took them home.
There was the inevitable medical protest, but O'Neill had had enough, and, surprisingly, once the anti-coughing gadget was removed, and a couple more Asgard wands were waved over him, he found himself fairly stable. He still had to be wary of speaking too much, and a bottle of tablets to sooth his throat was shoved into his hands, but he was mobile, coherent, and he was going home. No coughing fit was going to stand in his way, no matter how many doctors frowned at him.
The trip across galaxies was uneventful, but even though SG-1 was mainly concerned with its coming fate, O'Neill could see that Thor had something up his sleeve. But he didn't actually realise the level of its ambition, until it came time to beam down to Earth. All the team stood ready to transport down, but Thor took O'Neill aside first.
"O'Neill, I would ask you to accompany me for a short visit."
Jack was immediately suspicious. He narrowed his eyes at Thor, noticing the twinkle in the Asgard's. "Visit where?"
"I would prefer that you trust me in this matter." Was that a smile? An upturn of his mouth?
"Oooookay."
So they beamed down.
Into darkness.
What the?
A light suddenly appeared as Thor held out one of his handy stones, and their surroundings came into relief. They were in a large room, antique furniture arranged neatly, and in front of him a large four poster bed was outlined in the dark.
"Thor, where are we?"
His companion didn't answer him, and an exclamation came from the direction of the bed. A bedside lamp suddenly snapped on, and O'Neill flinched at its sudden brightness. A man was sitting up in bed, nightcap askew, looking for all the world like Scrooge during the visit of the ghost of Christmas Past. A woman, possibly his wife, was waking up beside him.
"What the hell! Who are you?"
O'Neill finally got a good look at the man's features.
Oh, shit!
He found himself staring into the face of the President of the United States
Thor stepped forward.
"Sir, we need to have a talk."
*********
FIN.
Part 23 of the Asgard Sequence
Sequel to 'Confrontations'
By Gumnut
Nov 2003
Jack O'Neill sat on his balcony and felt like an old man.
He was several stories up and had a wonderful view of the Garden, but although he was gazing out towards it, he was not seeing.
Life sucked.
He brought a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. His head still pounded, but at least he was no longer dizzy. The Asgard had had to semi-permanently attach the anti-coughing gadget to his chest. Upon waking, he had immediately attempted to talk and had been wracked by spasm after spasm until he thought his diaphragm was about to end up in his lap.
The gadget stopped the coughing, but talking was painful, so he kept to himself through the parade of visitors, letting them natter away around him.
Since word had come from Earth of Thor's victory, Teal'c and Daniel had hardly left him, one or the other playing sentry duty at all times. In the end he had so wanted to be alone, he had had to throw a hissy fit that ended up offending Daniel who stalked off in a huff. Teal'c had just flicked an admonishing eyebrow at him, letting him know that he had stepped over the line, and apologies were required in the future.
Carter he hadn't seen at all.
His thoughts on the Major could only be described as turbulent. Various emotions tangled and fought, but one thought was clear above all.
He didn't want to lose her.
Not as a soldier.
Not as his second-in-command.
Not as his pet genius 'pull the rabbit out of the hat' scientist.
And not as just plain old Sam Carter.
He just didn't want to lose her.
But it wasn't up to him. It was up to her.
Up to her to decide whether she could survive serving with Jack O'Neill.
He rubbed his hand across his eyes again.
Yep, life sucked.
Without thinking he reached out his other arm to grab a glass of water from the table beside him. He forgot the cast on his arm, misjudged, and the water went flying.
Damn.
Thankfully, the glass wasn't made of glass, and when it hit the floor, did not shatter. It clunked dully and rolled.
His eyes tracked the spreading fluid. It reflected the blue of the sky, and when combined with the dark of the floor, it reminded him of one thing. One thing only.
Blood. Purple Asgard blood. A substance he had become far too familiar with over the past month.
And it had him wondering how much of it was on his hands.
Renaya, Ambassador of the Nox, had come to see him earlier. She had been very quiet. Very kind. Offering to listen to him.
But he didn't want to talk.
So she had him listen.
She sat beside his bed just like his grandmother had when he was small, and, just for a moment, he had felt young. Oh, so young compared to the elegantly aged woman beside him.
She had told him of a time far before his own. Of a galaxy far different from what it was today. The Nox had been an aggressive race. Not violent, just eager to learn and explore. They had spread across the stars wanting to meet new races, make discoveries, and, generally, wonder at the universe.
But at the centre of all this excitement lay a core that slowly began to decay. A single person who through charisma and propaganda stirred up trouble. His name was Psyphus.
His excuses had been many. His accusations the same, and some of the Nox had believed him.
Some had not.
Arguments had ensued. Arguments that had led to political unrest. Unrest that had led to civil war.
The Nox had simply attempted to self destruct.
So much was lost. So many died. And it was not until the eleventh hour that the Nox, as a people, discovered the root of it all.
Psyphus was not a Nox.
He was a Goa'uld.
The Nox knew little of the parasites, the System Lords yet to gain the power they currently held. They only knew that this creature had manipulated them with ease - they had willingly set out to destroy themselves.
The shock was total.
And realisation came at a price.
The war came to an abrupt end.
And the Nox set out on the path to what they were today.
Only one thing remained. The fate of the Goa'uld.
He had been punished, or so popular Nox myth told, however, the truth was that Psyphus had slipped their grip, and disappeared.
They had searched in vain, and eventually it was realised that justice may never be served. But regardless, the nature of the Nox had been changed forever.
Renaya had been quiet for a moment, and he had looked at her directly, surprised to find a great anger in her eyes. They flashed, and he had had an urge to scramble backwards, to get away from a creature who emanated hostility and harm.
Psyphus was in Frere.
Anubis had declared it in the centre of the High Council Chamber, and O'Neill now realised there would be no mercy for the parasite at the hands of the Nox. At the look in her eyes, part of him had pitied the Goa'uld's fate, and a sudden understanding of how the Nox could have managed to decimate themselves came to him.
Every being had their price, some were just higher or lower than others. All were capable of killing, no matter how reputedly peaceful.
He added a 'pissed off Nox' to his list of must-avoids.
He had shivered, and she had flinched, the moment fading as she realised what she was communicating.
Her point had been that O'Neill had not been at fault - that this had happened before - and she was adamant that he should not feel guilt in this matter.
But it didn't change anything.
Didn't change the fact that if he hadn't been who he was, none of this could have possibly happened. Didn't negate the fact that he was the weak point, the key to the possible downfall of the Asgard.
It didn't stop the dreams that haunted his sleep.
Or the faces that haunted his memory.
He watched the glass roll away, and wondered if he would ever be able to look at himself in a mirror without seeing the face of a killer. The glass hit the balustrade and rebounded softly. Who was he kidding, it had been a long time since his face had been guilt free.
His thoughts were interrupted by the doors to his room opening. He resisted the urge to check who it was, fighting his natural instinct to check for danger. He really didn't want to know.
"O'Neill? Where the mikbar are you?"
Niikrahl.
Jack found himself indecisive as to whether to make his whereabouts known or not, he wasn't able to be seen where he was on the balcony from within the room, but abruptly the choice was taken from his hands.
A head appeared through the doorway.
"Oh, there you are." The head was suddenly followed by another nine feet of Furling.
Niikrahl walked up to the edge of the landing, and stared out over the Garden. "Beautiful, isn't it."
O'Neill didn't know whether an answer was required, but kept quiet anyway, his eyes refusing to latch onto the Furling, still staring out into the plants below. He did, however, feel the soft heat of Niikrahl's two red orbs brush across his face as he turned in his direction. "I can't say that I agree with the Nox philosophy of pacifism, but I have to admit they know how to plant a garden."
O'Neill's eyes flickered at that comment, and the Furling immediately picked up on his confusion. "Oh, so you didn't know that little bit of information? I suppose you thought the Asgard created the Garden that encompasses this world?" O'Neill didn't react, but Niikrahl continued anyway. "Well, I have to say, Human, that you've been misinformed. The Nox created the Garden millennia ago."
The Furling didn't continue, and, quite frankly, O'Neill's natural curiosity overcame his reticence for conversation. "Why?"
Niikrahl's eyes flicked back to the Garden. "I do not know." His hands gripped the edge of the balustrade. "But I am sure it was for some symbol of peace, some gesture of alliance, they are such a people, and they and the Asgard have been allies for a very long time."
Again, he had to ask. "The Alliance, how old is it?"
The Furling turned back to him, his eyes appraising. "Many thousands of your years. The Pensiltinaar and the Asgard were the first, their ties were long, and soon the Nox joined them. We, the Furlings, came to the table much more recently." His head turned away. "We had much to prove after our many mistakes, but there came a time where allies were needed more than grudges. The Asgard have ever been our friends, regardless of the scoffing of the so called Ancients." O'Neill could see the annoyance beneath that statement, but was not surprised. After his own encounters with the high and mighty Pensiltinaar, he could do little but agree.
"O'Neill, I have come to take my leave of you. The Asgard have the usurpers under control, and the Furling fleet is needed elsewhere, but I did not wish to leave without telling you something."
O'Neill stared back in askance, but the silence continued to stretch. "Yes, Ambassador?"
The alien seemed to take a deep breath before continuing. "O'Neill, the Asgard have assisted the Furlings on multiple occasions. If it wasn't for these people, it is likely that we would no longer exist. We owe them a great debt, one we are currently unable to repay. Are you aware of the difficulties they are experiencing regarding reproduction?"
O'Neill cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable with the change of subject. He had had a few discussions about the topic with Thor, and the little alien's embarrassment had been considerable. "I know something about it."
"Well, what you don't know is that it is far more serious a concern than the Asgard are letting on." He gestured out towards the great city. "Impressive, isn't it? It stretches for many emples. It is beautiful, and it is ancient." He caught Jack's eyes. "It is also mostly empty, O'Neill. Where billions once resided, this planet supports barely a million Asgard."
O'Neill's heart froze. Only a million?
"Between the genetic difficulties and the recent war with the Replicators, their population has been decimated." At Jack's dismayed reaction, he continued. "Did you not wonder how it was so easy for Anubis to gain control of the planet? How such a quickly contained plague was able to do so much damage? O'Neill, they are hanging by a thread, and unlike us, there is no great, generous race out there to save them from oblivion. It is only a matter of time."
Jack thought back to the empty houses he had passed in the city on the way to the House of Fires, he thought of Kalta and Kanya, of Eelyn, of Heimdahl and his lab, of Loki and his desperate attempt to access O'Neill's DNA, and it all came together. They had been bluffing again. Jack briefly wondered about those times the Asgard had claimed they had no ships available, how many had been because no crew were available instead.
He looked up at Niikrahl and found his own dismay mirrored in the Furling's features. "How did you find out?"
Niikrahl glanced at his feet. "During the battle. Othalla's planetary defense systems had been nullified by internal insurgence. They managed to shut down everything, including normal scanner deflection. My ship's sensors picked it up. It was one of the reasons I ordered the Goa'uld vessel destroyed, this cannot be allowed to become general knowledge, O'Neill. Far too much depends on the Asgard."
Didn't he know it.
"O'Neill, I know you to be an honourable man. You have proven yourself, several times in the eyes of Thor, and your passion in the defeat of Anubis inspired me. I thought you should know. The Furlings will do what we can to assist, though I doubt it will be enough, our technology has yet to reach the levels of the Asgard. The Nox, I do not know, but I am sure that if they do have knowledge of this predicament they would do their utmost to assist. The Pensiltinaar..." His voice drifted off, and the red of his eyes flashed slightly. "Of all five of us, the Pensiltinaar are most likely to have the technology to help the Asgard, but it is they who are most likely to refuse. I expect no help from them." His disgust was palpable. "I know that Earth is technologically far behind all of us, and I do not mean that in a derogatory manner." He held up his hand. "But you yourself have proven recently, and in the past, that you have a unique way of viewing the world. All I ask is that should you come across anything that may help the Asgard, you need only ask for our assistance, and you will have it."
The honesty in the Furling's eyes called for nothing less from O'Neill. He faced him firmly. "You have my word, Niikrahl."
The Furling turned to leave. "Thank you, Ambassador O'Neill." The simple sentence said everything, and the Furling exited off the balcony. Jack's thoughts were left spinning, a sudden need to speak with Thor, the highest priority amongst them.
He made to get up to go and see if Thor had returned as yet, when he heard the doors to his quarters open once again. He heard Niikrahl greet Samantha Carter on the way out, and he froze.
Perhaps she wouldn't find him out here.
No such luck.
*********
The world came back to him in pieces. Pieces peppered with voices. Arguing voices.
"I don't care how worried the humans are, Commander Thor is seriously ill."
"The General is only asking for a report."
"As if I have time-"
Thor took that moment to interrupt. "Technician, that will be all." He struggled to a sitting position, ignoring the protests of various med assistants.
"But, sir!" The medtech hurried over to Thor, his expression alarmed. "You were severely injured, your collapse is but a symptom of a most serious head injury."
"Will I live?"
The technician looked almost affronted. "Certainly, sir, we could allow no less."
"Good, then I'm fine. I have far more important things to do than lay about." He slid himself off the bed.
His equilibrium wobbled momentarily, but he found himself able to walk out of the medbay, regardless of the many protests. The ship's captain must have been called as he met him halfway to the bridge.
"Status?"
The man's eyes flickered to the medpatch on Thor's forehead, but he answered smartly. "All the battle debris, plus some of Earth origin has been removed from orbit. Three of the Furling vessels are skirting the outreaches of the solar system, scouting for any further incursions. The Earth general continues to enquire after your health, sir. I believe he was quite alarmed at your sudden disappearance."
"Very well, once the area is secured, assign one of our vessels to patrol this solar system, and its nearest neighbours, and prepare the fleet for return to Othalla. The 'Falkris' will need to be towed. In the meantime, I wish to speak with the General."
"Yes, sir."
As soon as they reached the bridge, Thor called up the transporter tech and had himself beamed back down to the SGC.
Hammond's back was to him when he materialised in the General's office, but the sound of the transporter alerted the human, and he spun.
"Commander Thor!"
"General, I apologise for my abrupt departure."
"No apologies are needed, Commander, I was more concerned about your health."
"I am well, General." He ignored the fact that his image of Hammond occasionally doubled in rhythm with his pounding headache. "The fleet will be departing shortly. I just wanted to reassure you of SG-1's safe return in the near future."
Hammond sighed, and lowered himself carefully to his knees so that his eyes could level with Thor's. "Commander, as soon as SG-1 returns to Earth, I will have no choice but to arrest them. There is little I can do to prevent it."
Thor looked into the General's small eyes, reaching to see beyond the obvious anger and worry, briefly wondering about the man that O'Neill followed. O'Neill had a quality that defied being led, yet this man garnered his trust and his loyalty. A loyalty O'Neill had been forced to break in order to save Thor's people. He reached out a hand and rested it on Hammond's shoulder.
"Do not worry, General, no harm will come to O'Neill or his team."
Hammond opened his mouth as if to protest, but he must have seen the certainty on Thor's face, because he didn't manage to say anything. A small flicker of hope stirred in the back of his eyes, and Thor briefly saw some of that quality O'Neill had pledged to follow.
"I give you my word, General." He stepped back, letting his arm fall. "I must take my leave now, however, I will return."
He left the General, kneeling, lost in thought, in the middle of his office floor.
*********
Sam Carter nearly walked into Ambassador Niikrahl as he was leaving the Colonel's room. She narrowly missed having her foot squashed by several hundred pounds of Furling. As it was he had to steady her as she stumbled trying to get out of his way.
"Major Carter, are you well?"
"Fine. Uh, sorry, I didn't see you there." Ten feet of Furling can be damned intimidating.
"There is no problem, Major. Are you looking for O'Neill?" She nodded, somewhat unnerved by the alien. "He can be found on his balcony. I believe he may be trying to hide." His smile unnerved her even more.
"Thank you, Ambassador." She edged past him to enter the room, and the doors closed behind her. She found the bed rumpled and empty, and, taking the ambassador's advice, sought the Colonel out on the balcony.
He was sitting on a chair gazing out into the Garden, a closed look on his face. She could tell he was aware of her presence, but he did not acknowledge her, and she chose to do the same to him. She walked to the edge of the balcony, her hands brushing the balustrade, eyeing him surreptitiously. In the midmorning light, she was shocked to see how aged he looked. His silver hair, usually rumpled and sticking out in all directions, lay limp and lustreless. His face looked so tired and weary of life, she felt her heart clench. The man was usually so active, so lively, that age never seemed to matter. She had sworn that even if he was ninety, he would still act like he was ten. But today all that energy had left him and he looked sick and worn.
"Jack?"
He flinched, her use of his first name having the effect she wanted. She did not want to speak to him as her commanding officer, that could come later, now she simply wanted to speak to him as a friend one-on-one.
His eyes looked up at her. "Sam?"
Her turn to flinch. She should have known that any tactic she could use, Jack O'Neill would be just as proficient at, if not better. She steeled herself. "I would like to apologise."
He blinked, his eyebrows twisting slightly in question. "For what?"
Suddenly she didn't know what to do with her hands. She wrung them a couple of times, looking down at them, looking back at him. He must have noticed her discomfort, because he abruptly offered her the single other chair on the balcony, urging her to sit. She reluctantly complied, but only sat on the edge as if ready to leave in a hurry if necessary.
He didn't fail to notice. "Relax, Major, you of all people should know that I don't bite."
She couldn't resist. "It's your bark that worries me." His eyes darted towards her, she smiled slightly, and she was rewarded with a small smile in return. The smile took away some of that awful tiredness in his face.
"Have you been talking to some of the new SGC recruits, Major?"
"No, sir, I've experienced it first hand."
"It's never held you back before."
No, it hadn't, and it never would, the team was worth more than that.
His eyes drifted back to the Garden once again and there was silence except for the odd sounds of the Asgard birdlife.
"This is such a beautiful place." His voice was so quiet, she almost missed it.
"Yes, sir." She looked out into the Garden with him, but suddenly felt his eyes on her once again.
"Please don't go."
Three simple words. And they meant so much. She didn't answer him directly, she had come here to explain, to talk.
She continued to stare out into Garden, taking solace from its gently swaying plants, tended by the breeze. She began to speak.
"How have you survived it, sir?"
She could feel his puzzlement. "Survived what?"
"Survived holding the life of a someone you care about in your hands, and having to watch it slip away, powerless to prevent it?"
Her eyes determinedly followed the flight of a bird, as she heard him swallow. This would be as difficult for him as it was for her.
"I haven't." She looked at him, and saw the answer in his eyes. "You don't survive it, Sam. You live through it, but part of you dies inside. You can never be the same."
She thought back on all the people the Colonel had lost. The man seemed as hard as iron, as inflexible as steel. She had accused him of being uncaring in the past, even when she knew it was her own grief speaking. They had not spoken of it since, but over time she had begun to realise that just because an emotion is not expressed does not mean it is not felt. Jack O'Neill carried his grief deep, hidden from prying eyes, controlled through necessity, but it was still there, and he hurt as much as the next person.
The question was could she manage it? Did she have the energy to pick herself up after tragedy and just keep going?
She looked at her hands, and she heard his quiet question. "What happened, Sam?"
She shot him a look, shocked. How could he not know? He had lain in her arms, his life bleeding out all over the floor. There had been so much blood. It didn't matter the colour, it had still been his. She had sat there waiting on his every laboured breath, breathing with him, urging him to take the next one. His eyes had stared up at her, seeing her, yet not seeing her. Saying her name, whispering that he had lost her.
Yes, he had been saved. But each time he had been injured, or taken from them since, she had feared she would be placed in that scene again. A powerless player in a play of death. And this time there may be no wonderful rescue by the Asgard. Maybe this time would be the last.
And she didn't know if she could stand it. She didn't know if she had enough soldier in her to watch Jack O'Neill die.
He must have realised he wasn't going to get an answer, because he suddenly said. "I survived, Carter. I'm not dead."
"I know, sir, but what about next time?"
"There will always be a next time, Carter, until the last time." He had begun to fidget in his seat, probably a combination of the discussion topic, and the slow return of his normal self. Abruptly he stood, swayed a little, but steadied, and made his way to the balustrade to lean out over the view. "All I can promise you is that I will avoid the last time as long as possible." He turned to face her, leaning back on the railing. "As long as you do the same."
There was a slight tremble in his voice and she suddenly realised that he was mirroring her feelings. The indications were subtle, but there. And it all finally clicked into place.
He had thought she had died in the explosion of the 'O'Neill'. He knew exactly how she felt, but he had managed to 'soldier on'. He hadn't panicked, he hadn't attempted to throw his career out the window, he had simply suffered in silence. Shame chilled her heart.
Again she had failed to understand.
"I am so sorry."
He held up a hand. "There is nothing to be sorry for, Carter. We all handle things differently. Just do me a favour, and don't quit. Someone needs to explain all these techno-gadgets to me, and Daniel and Teal'c just don't have the finesse you do." He smiled at her. "Besides we had so much trouble replacing Daniel, you can imagine the uproar at the SGC if we had to replace you. Hammond would never forgive me." He stopped abruptly, and the doubt about Hammond ever forgiving them ever again suddenly hung in the air.
The abrupt silence was shattered by the sound of the doors to the room opening once again.
"Oh, for crying out loud, what is this, Grand Central Station?"
O'Neill stalked, a little gingerly, back into his room, looking determined to face the latest invader of his privacy. Sam composed herself before following him a few moments later.
The tableau that confronted her upon entering the room, unnerved her.
A lone Asgard medical assistant stood just inside the doors. Colonel O'Neill stood frozen in the middle of the floor, apprehension in every line of his body.
"Colonel?"
He didn't answer her. So she turned to the Asgard and asked him instead.
"Is there something we can do for you?"
The Asgard bowed slightly from the waist. "I am here to check Colonel O'Neill's respiration monitor." He looked like he was going to impart further information, but he was interrupted by the Colonel.
"I know you. We've met before."
"Yes, we have, Colonel. My name is Anwah. We encountered each other in the Garden not long ago."
Sam watched O'Neill pale suddenly, and for a moment she thought he might collapse. "Colonel?!"
He held up a hand and moved toward the bed, leaning on it as if for support. "I'm fine." He clearly wasn't, but as he was sitting down, she didn't protest, instead turned to the apparent source of his distress.
The Asgard stepped back slightly as she approached. "I think it would be best if you perhaps came back later. The Colonel needs to rest."
The assistant looked uncomfortable. "Perhaps it is better that I ask another to assist the Colonel." His eyes darted nervously between her and O'Neill, but he suddenly held out his hand. A small, brightly wrapped box sat in his palm. "However, I do wish to give this to the Colonel first. It is small, but it is all that I have to give him in return for what he has done for my people." He turned his face toward O'Neill, steeling himself. "I once accused you of something. I wish to let you know I was wrong, and I apologise. You are capable of far more than I ever realised. You were worth my family's sacrifice, and I was wrong to blame you."
Carter watched as each word caused her CO to flinch. He didn't answer.
Sam decided on some action, and accepting the box, ushered Anwah out of the room.. Briefly checking with security outside the door, she ascertained that the box contained no threat, and returned to find O'Neill curled up on the bed.
"Sir?" He didn't answer. She walked up to the side of the bed, crouching slightly to bring her face level with his. "Colonel, what's wrong?" No answer. "Jack?"
"You know if you use that tactic too often, it's going to lose its impact." The voice smiled, but the face didn't.
"Sir, what is wrong?"
"Give me the box, let's get this over with."
Still unsure and puzzled, she held out the package to him, and he sat up, staring at it in her hand. He hesitated for a moment and then grabbed it from her. He didn't open it immediately, turning it in his hands, his hands in his lap. For a moment she thought he might ask her to leave, but the words never came, and he slowly began to pull off wrappings.
His long fingers made short work of the simple fastenings, and soon the box sat open in his palm. The first item he pulled from it was a folded piece of that filmy printout material the Colonel had made paper planes from - it seemed so long ago now. He barely spared it a glance before reaching in a second time and pulling out a crystal.
It was about the size of his hand, exquisitely carved out of pale blue crystal the colour of the Othallan sky. A beautiful replica of the 'O'Neill'.
O'Neill coughed despite the suppressor attached to his chest, and his hand trembled. The paper-like material fell from his hand as he stared at the small starship. He didn't move for a long moment, just sat there staring at the little model, his shoulders slumped.
"Should I open the note, sir?"
He started, his eyes suddenly meeting hers. "Wha? Oh, give it here." He gently placed the crystal on the bed, and reached for the folded material.
As he opened it, she saw his eyes widen, but could not see its contents for herself. He took a moment, his eyes darting across the 'paper', obviously reading something, but abruptly the note was crumpled in his hand, his fist tightening, his eyes closed.
"Sir?"
"Sam, could I be alone for awhile?" His eyes opened and looked directly at her, their darkness swallowing her whole. "Please."
She hurriedly bowed her head, and with a brief, whispered 'Yes, sir', left him there.
She allowed herself a single glance back at him before she walked through the door. He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders bowed, and for the only time she could remember, a picture of defeat.
It tore at her heart, and she suddenly realised that she couldn't leave SG-1. Because there was one thing she could do for Jack O'Neill. One thing he needed, desperately. Daniel had said it in one. SG-1 was like family to Jack O'Neill.
All she needed to do was be there.
And she would.
*********
The world came back to Psyphus very abruptly. One minute he was oblivious, the next he was fully awake.
Something was different. He realised that immediately, as his eyes opened, unbidden. He was lying down, his only view, that of a ceiling, a plain, grey ceiling. An insect flew around haphazardly trapped within the room, buzzing, looking for escape. It flittered in and out of his line of sight. There were various other sounds around him. The sound of footsteps, breathing, and, in the distance, voices, but as he tried to move his head in their direction to find out their source, he found he couldn't move.
In fact, he couldn't move anything. He could feel his hands, his feet, but he could not move any part of his body, not even his eyes.
Perhaps the Asgard had him in one of their restraining fields in some petty attempt to punish him. Yes, that's what it was. Pathetic people that they were, you'd think with all their technology they could be a little more creative than this.
Psyphus had been caught many times in his very long life, but each time he had made an escape, this would be no different. He just needed that one moment of inattention and he would be free.
Suddenly his singular view of the grey ceiling was interrupted by the form of a Nox, and the insect fluttered away. A Nox? What were they doing on Othalla?
"Psyphus? You have decided to rejoin us."
As if he had ever left. The Nox were pitiful creatures, single minded and stupid. They had fallen easily to simple manipulation, didn't even know they were following him. That assignment had been pure pleasure. Anubis had awarded him much. Yet another possible Goa'uld opponent had been defeated before they could challenge the greatness which is the Goa'uld.
"Psyphus, I know you can hear me. I am Renaya, Nox Ambassador to Othalla. I am here to inform you of your fate."
Fate? What could she know of his fate? She should be on her knees before him. Petty mortals know nothing of the minds of the Goa'uld. She would be among the first to die once he regained his freedom.
"You have been sentenced to oblivion, Psyphus. You wish to possess a body not of your own. We have provided one. However, this body holds no soul but your own, and despite the Goa'uld's repeated claim to dominance over their host, it is a medical fact that without the host's consciousness to provide higher motor functions, you possess no access to the voluntary nervous system. You are in effect completely paralysed. We, the Nox, will provide your body with sustenance and protection, but no stimulation. Your world will consist of four grey walls of which you will only be able to see one."
Psyphus felt the first stirrings of worry, but he knew he only had to jump hosts. One step closer, foolish woman, and you will feel the wrath of your god first hand.
"Oh, and one last thing, Goa'uld" Her voice snarled. "Do not think to attempt to trap another host. Your parasitic body has been surgically restrained within this host. You will be here for a very long time."
The Nox's face disappeared from his line of sight, and suddenly an unfamiliar panic built up inside him. He struggled, his physical body attempting to move within the trap of this mummified corpse. He felt the pins anchoring his body to the host's spine. She was right he couldn't leave. He attempted again to move the host's body, but its mind was silent and didn't respond. All he could do was watch, listen, and feel.
The nameless insect suddenly reappeared, hovering over him. It landed on his face.
Psyphus, hand of Anubis, and destroyer of worlds, opened a mouth he didn't have, and screamed.
He screamed for a very long time.
*********
Jack O'Neill stared at his hands for a long time. The note had been simple, written in English in a child-like scrawl by a hand not used to forming the letters. Anwah wished to thank him for his great service to the Asgard people, to apologise for his outburst in the Garden, and to give him the little starship, a keepsake of the youngest in his now deceased family.
Jack didn't know how he felt. He didn't know which was harder, his condemnation, or his celebration. All his emotions just seems to tangle up inside, a knot of grief, despair, guilt, and remorse that wrapped itself around his ribs and squeezed the breath out of him until he found he wanted to do only one thing.
He wanted to go home.
He wanted to go home now.
He made the decision. He was the leader of SG-1. They would go home, music to face or not.
Standing, he tested his equilibrium. The world stayed steady, he would be fine. He made his way towards the door and barrelled on through it, ignoring the surprised squawks of the Asgard security detail.
He would find SG-1, speak to who ever was in charge, and get the hell out of here.
He made it halfway down the corridor, full security in tow, before Thor suddenly materialised in front of him.
"O'Neill?"
"Thor!"
"It is good to see you well." Thor's eyes tracked over the cast on his arm even as O'Neill eyed the Commander's medpatch on his forehead.
"You okay?"
"I am well, however I wished to speak with you privately." His eyes tracking the hovering security detail. A flick of a hand and they were dismissed. "Shall we go back to your room?"
Having just fled it, O'Neill had no wish to return to it. "Could we go some place else?"
Thor looked up at him, as if assessing his mood, his velvet black eyes studying him for a moment. A decision flickered in their depths. "Follow me." The Asgard Commander gestured, and they set off down the corridor.
Thor took him into a room with a single control panel in the centre of the floor. Moving quickly to it, he activated the controls and a face suddenly appeared on one wall. He spoke briefly in Asgard and the image disappeared once again. A pile of fabric appeared in a flash beside Jack. Thor turned to O'Neill. "Please wrap this around yourself, it will be cool where we are going." He turned back to the panel and before Jack could question him, the world dissolved around him.
**********
The first thing he became aware of was the cool breeze, it gusted gently against his clothing, and made him shiver, but he ignored it as the sight around him took his breath away.
They were standing on bare rock, atop a lone mountain at the end of a valley. At the other end, the sun was setting. Clouds, not unlike those of Earth, gilded the sky in many shades of red and orange, purples and rose. Single rays of light pierced those clouds, striking the landscape randomly, and painting it gold.
In the distance, off to his right, he could see the sparkling lights of an Othallan city, which one, he didn't know. A ship launched from its floating dock, and its tiny figure darted briefly across the dying sun, its shadow nothing more than that of a bird.
Behind him he found the darkening sky sprinkled with tiny fire rain, debris from the battle too small to worry about, burning up in the atmosphere.
The breeze made him shiver once again, and he suddenly found cloth placed in his fingers. He looked down to find Thor placing a robe in his hand, the golden sunlight reflecting in his eyes. "What is this place?"
"It is no place special, O'Neill, just a part of Othalla. There are many beautiful places on this planet. This is just one of them." Jack was abruptly reminded of many a sunset on Earth. It was true, they were all beautiful. Thor continued. "I just thought it would be nice to watch the sun set while we talk." He gestured towards two chairs, one human size, one standard Asgard. Wrapping himself in the offered cloth, O'Neill complied.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the breeze and the odd calls of birds in the distance, their song heralding the end of the sun's daily journey. It was O'Neill who broke the silence first.
"Thor, I don't know what I can say to thank you for saving Earth."
"You need not say anything, O'Neill, we could do no less for one who has done the same and more for us." He turned to Jack. "And as a member of the Alliance, Earth's stature in the universe has changed."
"About that, Thor, I have no official sanction from my government regarding this Ambassadorship thing."
"I am aware of that, and I promise you I will set things to right."
O'Neill turned abruptly in his direction. Uh, oh, what was Thor up to? "How?"
Thor smiled. "Do not worry, O'Neill, I have been around a long time, I know what I'm doing."
Oh, shit.
"Thor, don't risk our alliance for my sake, it is worth more than that."
Thor just looked at him, still smiling slightly. "Trust me, Ambassador."
Jack didn't know what to say to that, so silence reigned for a few moments longer. The sun continued to drift towards the horizon in silence.
Thor breached the quiet this time. "Do you still have the box, I sent you?"
The box? Oh!
"Yeah, I do, excuse me a moment." O'Neill stood, and with his back turned to Thor, retrieved the box from where he had hidden it. One flick of his hand and it was full size in his palm. He turned back to Thor and offered it to him.
Thor looked at him with some amusement. "Dare I ask you where you have hidden it all this time?"
Jack flushed slightly, but shrugged. "I've had to hide things in worse places."
"You will need to open it, I can not."
"Oh." O'Neill sat down, and, holding the box in one hand, he tapped it with fingers of the other, and it opened. He held it out to Thor.
Thor didn't take it. "It is yours, O'Neill, I'm sure you will find it use for it. However, please take out the last object, it is of some importance."
Jack reached into the box and pulled out a small amulet on a silver chain. It was about the size of his thumbnail, an upside down, incomplete, outline of a silver teardrop, its rounded apex pierced by a tiny shaft of blue crystal, a single diamond like gem suspended from it.
He had wondered at its purpose when he had originally opened the box, Thor's message had said nothing of it, so he had left it in the box, not wanting to lose it. He handed it to Thor.
"This is your sign of office." Thor touched a hand to his neck and suddenly a similar amulet appeared on his chest. He brought the two amulets together and a blue light flared between them. As he separated them, Thor's crystal dimmed, but O'Neill's continued to shine.
Thor stood, and before O'Neill could say anything, the chain was around his neck.
Surprised, and not a little edgy, Jack resisted the urge to back away. "Uh, what is it?" He fingered it, bringing it up towards his face in the fading light. The blue shine had dimmed.
"All five Ambassadors of the Alliance wear one of these. It is a sign of office, and can double as a communication device. Using this, you can contact Niikrahl, Renaya, myself, or even Tethys, at any time." Hah, the day he needed to contact Tethys, hell would freeze over. "It is easily hidden, and I will show you its full capabilities before you leave Othalla." Thor touched his own amulet, and it vanished from sight.
'How'd you do that?" Thor reached over and placing O'Neill's considerably larger fingers in the right places, showed him. The Amulet disappeared without a trace.
Jack ran his fingers around his neck and found nothing. "Oh, great, how am I supposed to be able to find it when I need it?"
Thor smiled at him in amusement. "Place your hand on where your neck meets your torso, and tap twice."
O'Neill did as he was told, and the amulet appeared beneath his palm. "Cool." A flick of his fingers and it disappeared. He did it again. And again. And again. "Amulet goes on, amulet goes off. Amulet goes on, amulet goes off."
Suddenly a voice interrupted him. "What the mikbar do you think you are doing O'Neill? I'm trying to sleep here!"
Jack dropped the amulet like a hot brick, and Thor provided him with an extensive demonstration of Asgard laughter.
Okay, perhaps he should learn how to use it before he started playing with it.
He turned to Thor, who was still giggling - a giggling Asgard, who would have thought? - and said, "Okay, show me what to do."
**********
It didn't take long, but by the time Thor had finished instructing Jack, the sun had disappeared over the horizon, and the sky was getting dark, the wind chilly.
But before he they went back to civilisation, O'Neill had one more question.
"Thor, what will happen to Frere?"
The Commander looked away, but O'Neill could see that the subject was a sensitive one. "I do not know, O'Neill, it will not be up to me. The Goa'uld has been removed, and the Nox have extradited it, having a prior claim on its punishment, but Frere's crimes before his possession are still grave."
"Have you worked out how the Goa'uld got their slimy hands on him?"
"As far as we can determine the Security Advisor was the first Asgard possessed by a Goa'uld."
"There was more than one?"
Thor's eyes looked darker than usual in the fading light. "I'm afraid there were several key Asgard infected, including the Security Advisor. They were not detected because Asgard physiology can not support a Goa'uld."
O'Neill frowned. "Then how?"
"Genetic manipulation. The machine Loki used to alter your genetic structure was also used on the Asgard required to become hosts. Frere is no longer the Asgard I once knew, he has forfeited his chances to reproduce, he will die when his body fails this cycle." Thor's tone was sad. Frere may have turned into a traitorous enemy, but O'Neill shouldn't forget that he had once been Thor's friend.
Something suddenly occurred to O'Neill. "That machine, could it have the potential to help solve the problems your people are having with reproduction?"
Thor looked up at him. "Indeed, that is our hope. At least some good could come from this. Our scientists have it now, we can but wait and see."
O'Neill yearned to ask further questions of Thor regarding the fate of the Asgard, but now was not the time. "How did Frere get hold of it?"
"Apparently, he located the technology while on an exploratory mission. He saw its immediate possibilities, but instead of bringing it to the attention of the Asgard Medical Authority, he turned to Loki. He planned to use the technology to remove the Asgard from your galaxy, leaving it free for the Goa'uld, and allowing us to focus on our own problems." Thor trailed his foot in the dust in front of his chair, obviously unnerved by his former friend's actions. "While he was setting up the scenario, with Loki in your galaxy, they were both captured by Anubis. Frere talked his way out of death, and a pact between the Goa'uld and the two traitors was sealed. Anubis aimed to remove the Asgard from the equation, and Frere offered to help him do it. Consequently, we were captured and the plan executed. Anubis, however, wanted one guarantee. He demanded that one Asgard be given to a Goa'uld as security in case the plan failed. Frere was foolish enough to comply."
Thor was silent for a moment, his eyes still tracking the movement of his foot in the dust. O'Neill waited ever aware of what that plan had cost the both of them.
Thor took a breath and continued. "Frere chose the Security Advisor, and as soon as he returned to Othalla, used the machine, and the poor man had his life stolen from him." Thor suddenly became angry. "It wasn't enough for him to kill innocent people with a plague, he had to take the lives of some of our most honoured citizens, piece by agonising piece! Chella may never recover. He sacrificed so much during the war with the Replicators only to have his life taken from him during a time of celebratory peace." Thor's foot kicked the ground, and dirt and dust went flying.
O'Neill jumped, he wanted to help Thor, but there was nothing he could say, nothing that could be done, and they both knew it. Thor let out a breath. "I am sorry, O'Neill, it seems I need some time to reconcile myself with our new reality."
"There is nothing to apologise for, Thor."
The Asgard didn't answer, and continued to stare at his feet, but a moment later, he continued. "Once their initial plan failed, due, in no little part, to you and myself, Anubis enacted his secondary, more conclusive plan. As both Frere and Loki were captured by the Asgard Security Force, as Security Advisor, Chella had direct access to both them and the machine. Frere was implanted with Psyphus, a Goa'uld with an extensive history of political infiltration, and Anubis made his attempt to conquer Othalla."
"What tipped you off?"
"I had been aware of dissension in the Council for quite a while, but after the events involving Frere, I chose to delve a little deeper. There are factions within our government that do not agree with our current pacifistic attitude. Many call for more aggressive tactics to solve our problems. Some, like Frere, choose to ask us to hide our heads from the universe and look after ourselves. However, a balance between the two extremes is all we should achieve otherwise we would find ourselves as tyrannical as the Goa'uld." He took a breath, his frustration with his government obvious. "For my investigative attempts, I was shot. They attempted to use me as a tool to drive popular opinion against our current policies. A side effect was to expel you and your team from the planet. I feel this was done because your team is most recently familiar with the Goa'uld, and both Teal'c and Major Carter are able to sense a Goa'uld's presence. The Security Advisor did not wish to take the risk of discovery."
"So that is why we were so suddenly sent home."
"After my assassination attempt I realised the situation was becoming more dire. I took steps of my own and contacted the Alliance."
Something suddenly occurred to O'Neill. "Kalta - he was a member of one of those factions, wasn't he?"
Thor sighed. "Again, I must apologise, O'Neill, I had no knowledge of Tala's political leanings, I can only be grateful I did not allow him access to further information. The members of that group are now in custody, charged with crimes against the state, and your person. They will suffer what they deserve, but all I can say is that I am sorry."
"Thor, you can't control everything."
The Asgard looked up at him in the near dark. "Perhaps, O'Neill, you should listen to your own advice. None of this tragedy was your fault, yet you continue to blame yourself."
Jack suddenly found himself unable to look Thor in the eye. His own words, so simple to say, yet so difficult to follow. He knew it would be a long while before he could look at recent events objectively. There was too much pain, too much hurt, and too many deaths for him to think straight.
"Thor, all I can say is that I am sorry for everything that has happened, and the part that I played in it. If I could reverse all those deaths, I would do it in a heartbeat."
"I know." Thor's reply was quiet, but it said so much.
Again a silence stretched in the dark, but neither of them made a move. O'Neill found the cool breeze stimulating, the dark restful, and it seemed Thor felt the same.
So they sat, on top of a mountain, watching the stars come out.
**********
At some point later, O'Neill realised that it had become quite cold, not the best conditions for a pneumonia sufferer to be in. If Janet were here she would have had his hide, and despite his reputation as a difficult patient, he was not stupid.
The thought of Janet had him thinking of home again. He had made the decision earlier, and it was time to act on it.
"Thor, I think it is time for SG-1 to go home."
The Asgard looked at him, the starlight outlining his form in the dark. "You are still injured, O'Neill."
"Nothing that Doc Fraiser can't handle, and I really think it is time. I need to go home."
Some of his earnestness must have been in his voice, because Thor bowed his head. "Very well. I will take you."
It was time for SG-1 to go home.
*********
Thor was a man of his word. He grabbed a starship, gathered up SG-1, all their belongings, and took them home.
There was the inevitable medical protest, but O'Neill had had enough, and, surprisingly, once the anti-coughing gadget was removed, and a couple more Asgard wands were waved over him, he found himself fairly stable. He still had to be wary of speaking too much, and a bottle of tablets to sooth his throat was shoved into his hands, but he was mobile, coherent, and he was going home. No coughing fit was going to stand in his way, no matter how many doctors frowned at him.
The trip across galaxies was uneventful, but even though SG-1 was mainly concerned with its coming fate, O'Neill could see that Thor had something up his sleeve. But he didn't actually realise the level of its ambition, until it came time to beam down to Earth. All the team stood ready to transport down, but Thor took O'Neill aside first.
"O'Neill, I would ask you to accompany me for a short visit."
Jack was immediately suspicious. He narrowed his eyes at Thor, noticing the twinkle in the Asgard's. "Visit where?"
"I would prefer that you trust me in this matter." Was that a smile? An upturn of his mouth?
"Oooookay."
So they beamed down.
Into darkness.
What the?
A light suddenly appeared as Thor held out one of his handy stones, and their surroundings came into relief. They were in a large room, antique furniture arranged neatly, and in front of him a large four poster bed was outlined in the dark.
"Thor, where are we?"
His companion didn't answer him, and an exclamation came from the direction of the bed. A bedside lamp suddenly snapped on, and O'Neill flinched at its sudden brightness. A man was sitting up in bed, nightcap askew, looking for all the world like Scrooge during the visit of the ghost of Christmas Past. A woman, possibly his wife, was waking up beside him.
"What the hell! Who are you?"
O'Neill finally got a good look at the man's features.
Oh, shit!
He found himself staring into the face of the President of the United States
Thor stepped forward.
"Sir, we need to have a talk."
*********
FIN.