The sun was blazing brightly in a cloudless blue sky, and a mild breeze took the edge off the heat of the summer day. It was a perfect afternoon for a Little League baseball game. Mark's excitement was contagious as he practiced his swing for the hundredth time. Today's game was going to be extra special: Dad was home on leave for the first time in what seemed like forever, and this would be the first game of the season that the whole Carter family would be in attendance. Sam felt happier than ever as she and Mark waited impatiently for their parents to emerge so they could leave for the ballpark.
Mark shifted his bat from hand to hand, looking up when the back door slammed and Jacob stepped out into the driveway.
"Come on, Dad!" Mark said eagerly. "Coach Mayes said we had to be there at 3:00!"
"Be patient, Mark, your mother's almost ready," Jacob answered, tossing his son a baseball cap. "Forget something?"
"Oops," Mark said with a sheepish grin, catching the hat and jamming it onto his head. With the cap properly in place, he swung his bat back over his shoulder. "Hey, Dad, watch my swing."
"All right, let's see it. Look out for your sister."
"Get out of the way, Sam," Mark said automatically, then eyed an imaginary ball coming towards him and swung vigorously at it.
"Home run!" he crowed triumphantly, even as the bat flew from his hands. Sam barely had time to react before it struck her solidly in the shin. Pain exploded through her leg, and she fell to the ground with a yelp.
"Sam!"
Her father was running towards her, yelling her name. Only, oddly, he didn't really sound like her father anymore...
"Sam!" the voice came again, and she sat bolt upright to see not her father and brother, but Daniel leaning towards her and an Uruk towering over them both, spear poised to strike at her injured leg again.
"Get up," he snarled.
Carter obeyed, struggling to her feet with Daniel's help and shaking the last remnants of the dream from her mind. With an effort, she tried to focus on the situation at hand rather than the throbbing pain shooting through her leg.
The Uruk moved slightly to the side and another figure seemed to materialize behind him. Carter recognized him as the man who had leered at her when she and Daniel had first been brought to the tower. She tensed involuntarily, her toes curling inside her boots.
The man drew his thin lips upward in a humorless smile, and he let the silence stretch between them before speaking.
"Saruman was most intrigued by your weapons," he said, his tone smooth and oily. "He would like to...speak with you in person."
Turning, he gestured to the Uruk, who prodded Daniel into the center of the roof. Carter followed suit as quickly as she could, in an attempt to avoid a jab from the Uruk's spear.
The stringy-haired man stepped into the roof's center, his manner almost casual. Carter resisted the urge to shift away from him. He made her feel uneasy, even though she sensed no symbiote within him. Perhaps he was Saruman's lotar.
The transport rings ascended from the roof, interrupting her musings. The rings retracted seconds later, leaving them in what appeared to be Saruman's throne room.
Like the exterior of the tower, the room was black and menacing, the walls appearing rough and jagged. Pale light streamed through a window, combining with several torches to give the room a dim illumination. The bleak atmosphere was in stark contrast to the ostentatious, golden hallways the Goa'uld seemed to prefer.
Aside from the throne against the wall, the room contained only a pedestal near the middle of the chamber. Daniel craned his head to get a better view of it. A bowling ball-shaped object, covered with a dark cloth, rested on its center.
Without warning, a pair of tall, double doors opened, seemingly under their own power. An imposing figure strode through, his walk slow and stately.
Carter and Daniel's guard inclined his head slightly. "My lord Saruman."
Darkness had settled over the forest, with a sliver of moon providing light for the small camp at the edge of the woods. Having been unable to come up with a suitable rescue plan, the group had decided to get some sleep--as much as was possible on the root-strewn ground at the forest's border.
O'Neill, on watch, propped himself up against a tree, ignoring the roughness of the bark against his back. Across from him, Martouf was also on watch, sitting cross-legged with his zat'ni'katel by his side. The others slept several feet away, with the exception of Teal'c, who had entered a state of kel-no-reem. The silence of the forest was broken only by the rustle of the wind in the trees, and the occasional loud snore from Ferretti.
Movement suddenly caught O'Neill's eye, and he instinctively raised his P-90, training it on a figure emerging from the sleeping area.
"Don't shoot, Jack," came Jacob's voice. "It's just me."
"Jacob? What are you doing up?" O'Neill whispered loudly, lowering his rifle. "It won't be your watch for a while yet."
"Couldn't sleep," was Jacob's succinct answer as he tried to find a comfortable seat on the ground.
"Ferretti's snoring keeping ya awake?" O'Neill asked dryly, shooting a dirty glance in the direction of the oblivious Major.
"Actually, it has more to do with the fact that my daughter's a prisoner of a Goa'uld and that, as of yet, we have no good idea of how to get her and Daniel back," Jacob replied, a little shortly.
"We'll think of something," O'Neill said after a brief silence. "We're not leaving here without them."
Silence fell again, intermingled with snores. After several minutes, O'Neill felt around in the brush at the base of the tree where he was sitting. Finding a small stone, he flung it in Ferretti's direction. He was rewarded with a muffled yelp, then the snoring stopped.
"Finally," O'Neill muttered.
"What of a Tel'tak?" Martouf spoke up suddenly.
O'Neill blinked. "What?"
"Could we use a cargo ship to rescue Dr. Jackson and Samantha?" Martouf asked. "We could have one sent from Vorash and use the transport rings to pick them up."
O'Neill scrunched up his face skeptically. "Wouldn't it take too long to get here?"
"I'd say it would take at least two or three days to get here by Tel'tak," Jacob said slowly, turning the idea over in his head. "It could work, though."
"Daniel and Carter may not have two or three days," O'Neill pointed out.
"If you can think of a better idea..." Martouf let his voice trail off. "I agree that time is precious, Colonel, but considering the number of Uruk Jaffa, I see no other option."
O'Neill opened his mouth, then closed it again, thinking it over. Martouf did have a point--there were so many Uruks prowling Isengard that any rescue attempt on foot would be suicide.
"All right," he said at last. "Jacob, contact your guys at the Gate and send them through to Vorash--the sooner that Tel'tak gets in the air, the better. I'll wake Ferretti and let him know what's going on."
Daniel half expected to be pushed to his knees and ordered to bow before his god as Saruman crossed the room and lowered himself onto the throne. But the lord of Isengard seemed content to let his prisoners remain upright.
While all Orthanc seemed to be jet black, Saruman was robed in white, with long hair and beard to match. On first glance he looked elderly, but he conveyed undisguised power and authority. Carter regarded him intently, the naquadah in her bloodstream alerting her to his symbiote. If there had been any doubts as to whether or not Saruman was a Goa'uld, there were none now.