This story is mine, mine, mine but I don't own anything else.
99 Jahre Krieg
Liessen keinen Platz fuer Sieger
Kriegsminister gibt es nicht mehr
Und auch keine Duesenflieger
Heute zieh ich meine Runden
Seh die Welt in Truemmern liegen
Hab' nen Luftballon gefunden
Denk' an Dich und lass' ihn fliegen
99 dreams I have had.
In every one a red balloon.
It's all over and I'm standing pretty.
In this dust that was a city.
If I could find a souvenir.
Just to prove the world was here.
And here is a red balloon
I think of you and let it go.
============
At the precinct, the lead detective on the investigation, Detective Rice, showed Daniel and Sam to an airless, dark-green, room. He made no attempt to hide his resentment at their involvement in what he viewed 'should' be a police matter.
He hovered as they analysed the printed data that was in a variety of dog- eared, coloured, folders, "so," Rice began, pulling a cigarette packet out of his threadbare, sports jacket, "why's the Air Force 'so' interested in these three murders?" He asked, routinely tapping the filter tip on the cardboard of the pack without looking up.
"I'm afraid that's classified information Detective Rice," Sam answered, looking towards Daniel.
The detective sighed and rested against the wall for support, his cynical, mahogany, eyes burrowing deep into Jackson's unruffled expression.
"But you think you know who did this?" He probed, using his years of experience to read the Egyptologist.
"You can be sure that 'if' we did, the perpetrator will be brought to justice," Daniel replied, trying to hold the man's resentful gaze.
"Military justice?" Rice asked, his eyes focusing, for a moment, on the flame from his lighter as it blazed against the tobacco.
"Sir," Sam initiated, ready to commence with the National Security spiel but was cut short as Rice searched for more answers.
"Doctor Jackson, is that a medical title? Are you some sort of shrink?" He took a lung full of nicotine, the cigarette glowing between the 'v' of his yellowing fingers.
"Detective, please, if you would give us some space here?" Sam requested, getting up from the chair to stress the point.
Rice flicked the end of the cigarette, dispersing ash into the air and shook his head in frustration. He moved away from the wall and pulled his trousers up with his free hand, rattling the change in his pockets. He opened the door, looking back at both of them with distaste, before exiting the room.
=====
The lift doors welcomed Jonas to level two with a non-committal hiss, opening on a corridor that mirrored every other floor at the SGC. He made his way along the passageway to a small office; a formidable nurse was stationed outside. She smiled vaguely at him, which took the harshness from her severe haircut and conveyed an affability that had been hidden in her, rosy, weathered face.
"Can I help you?" Her voice was clear and commanding, as she looked him over, taking note of his non-military appearance.
Jonas leant against her desk, clutching his notebook for comfort, "Jonas Quinn to see Doctor Booard," he announce softly.
She hit her keyboard with force, scanning the screen which displayed an electronic diary, "ah yes," she replied, crinkling her hazel, green eyes, "Mister Quinn, Doctor Booard apologies but he's running about fifteen minutes late, he's in the infirmary at the moment." Her voice inadvertently sparkled at the mention of the Doctor's name and Jonas sensed an unrequited love hiding beneath the austere, lieutenant's uniform.
"If you'd like to follow me, you may wait in his office."
She got up from her swivel chair and showed Jonas through the door, "fruit tea?" She commanded more than asked.
Jonas sat down in the synthetic, leather, armchair that was offered, "um, yes please," he replied, taking note of the abstract art that was displayed on the walls.
"We've blackcurrant or lemon and ginger," the Lieutenant posed efficiently, checking some boxes that were by a drinks machine.
"Um, blackcurrant please," the Kelownan returned with a smile that was overlooked.
The machine began to gurgle and hiss loudly with steam, "doughnut?" She directed, thrusting a cardboard patisserie box under his nose, "I believe the jellied ones are your favourite."
Jonas opened the box and looked at her puzzled. She sighed but her face softened, "Doctor Booard likes to make all of his, his, 'visitors' feel relaxed and at home. So he takes the time to find out what they like, food and drink wise, so he can offer it to them during their sessions here."
Jonas took out a doughnut and bit into it nodding as he did, "thank you," he said, looking for her name badge, "Lieutenant, Lieutenant Wright, um would you like one?" He offered her the box.
She looked down at the variety of cakes that the doctor had ordered in, especially for Quinn, and shook her head; no the Doctor had been quite insistent, this morning, that they were only for the alien. She smiled at the memory, he was normally a very placid man but this morning there had been a fire, a zeal, inside of him that she had so often desired to see.
She handed Jonas the fruit tea, "I know most people, on this base, think a psychiatrist is waste of resources," she cocked a unkempt eyebrow at the Kelownan, "but he's doing good work here and he really cares about each case he's given."
Wright held his gaze for a moment and Jonas found himself colouring up under her scrutiny, "he, he sounds like a good man," he replied, with a nervous smile.
"Yes he is," she acknowledged making her way towards the door, the leather of her shoes creaking as she walked, "yes he is," she whispered to her heart.
========
Sam closed the orange dossier she'd been reading and looked across at Daniel; "they found obsidian fragments in the cut on the nurse, Rona Clarence," she said, looking sadly down at the small, headshot that accompanied the file.
It was slightly out of focus, taken by a friend or family member at some sort of church function. The girl held a plastic cup to her lips, her eyes downcast, trying to avoid the camera.
Sam sighed and rubbed her eyes, the light in the room was intensely bright, "the, um, incision was so precise they think that the perpetrator had medical training; they even brought her boyfriend, a doctor at the hospital, in for questioning." She closed file.
Daniel knotted his eyebrows in thought, "same here, with the other unsolved murders of the student and lawyer, last month. Obsidian fragments, found in the cut," he replied, crossing something off his notepad.
Sam lent back in the Formica chair, "so, do you think it's him?" She asked, trying to dispel the everyday image of the nurse from her mind.
"Yeah, the killings match the same pattern as those on Kelowna," Daniel replied, resting his chin in his hands.
"If, if you cross reference these with the more recent murders, on the FBI database, I'd say that Huitzilopochtli's been here, on Earth, for at least ten years," he sat back in the chair and massaged the back of his neck that moist with perspiration.
"Ten years, without raising suspicion, are you sure?" Sam asked, stretching her legs under the desk.
Daniel looked at her, "he's been careful to blend in and not draw attention to himself. I, I think he's probably spent the majority of them somewhere remote, where nobody asks too many questions," he lent forward again.
"Sam, our guy's a survivor, he's knows how to avoid detection, that's why he's going it alone, plus the fact he doesn't need the veneration, anymore, like other Goa'ulds. His main goal, in life, is taking the force, the energy, the Kai from others by removing their hearts; that's what he believes makes him omnipotent."
"But Daniel ten years is a long time."
Daniel nodded, "I think he's been unable to leave, maybe because of our Deep Space sensors or maybe his craft..."
The door opened and a young, uniformed, officer entered juggling two cups of coffee in his hands and a clipboard under his arm, "Detective Rice thought you might like some refreshment," he said, the words sounded rehearsed.
He placed the hot beverages, carefully, on the table and emptied some sugar and cream packets from his pockets before putting the clipboard down.
Sam smiled at him, "thank you um..."
"Officer Keller, Ma'am," he replied, rubbing a sleeve across his glossy name badge.
"Thank you Officer Keller," Sam acknowledged.
He returned her smile, expanding the freckles that adorned his face, "you found what you were looking for in them files?" He asked, leaning on the gun that was positioned at his hip, trying to establish an air of authority that his tender face betrayed.
"We're nearly done," Daniel agreed, looking up.
"Good," Keller replied, and then quickly added, "not good that you're, you know, 'nearly done', I mean, it's good that you found something useful," his face took on the expression of someone sucking a lemon.
"We knew that," Sam countered with a little smile; the Officer looked relieved but continued to loiter.
"Pretty hinky stuff, them ritual type murders," he continued, nodding towards the orange dossier.
Daniel agreed, "pretty hinky," he repeated, inadvertently looking down at the clipboard.
"What's this?" He asked, his attention drawn by the coloured still of a cadaver that was pinned to the board. He picked it up, eyes narrowing in thought and Sam noticed the colour drain from his face.
"It's, it's a John Doe we found two days ago, dead," he emphasised for Sam benefit, "on one of the cycle trails, had no type of identification on him at all. Thought it might be an IA, he has that foreign look about him, especially when you know how he died," Keller explained, leaning back on his gun, again.
"What did he die of?" Sam asked, her eyes not leaving Daniel's face.
The young man smiled, "well ma'am, that's a hinky thing, too" he lent forward and whispered, "seems there was something, g-gest, gestating inside of him," he pointed to the back of his neck, "around his spinal cord, some sort of parasite our Doc reckons. You know, like those stories you hear about on cable, in the jungle, where spiders and insects and things lay their eggs in people's ears and stuff. Sent the body off to the city lab for further investigation."
Daniel looked down at the photo again and recognised Huitzilopochtli's ex- host.
============
Jonas massaged his forehead with his fingers, applying pressure to the top of his nose. He felt exhausted, the tiredness weighing his body down, trying to coax him to sleep.
He looked up at the sterile wall clock, following the second hand that was washing the minutes away with its smooth movement. Just for a moment it seemed to stretch into an infinite expanse as his eyes focused and re- adjusted in their fight to stay awake.
He let out a sigh and tried to keep his mind occupied by untangling the abstract pictures that decorated the office but their vivid colours screamed and savaged his mind in a violent salsa.
Jonas rubbed his un-gloved, dewy, palm along his thigh as the heat of the room suddenly became unbearable and suffocating. He thought about leaving but his body couldn't make that decision, it was as if it had become detached from his mind, alone in a numbness of being.
The door opened and Doctor Booard entered, spilling the files he was carrying onto the floor. Jonas concentrated on the figure bent over to retrieve the fallen items, his mind processing the information in fatigued fragments while the eye inside him screamed to be heard.
=========
Daniel and Sam hurried across the busy police car park, weaving themselves through the maze of sun-burnished vehicles.
"The body will start to deteriorate soon, without the symbiote to sustain it," Sam began, as she matched Jackson's dedicated pace.
Daniel stopped abruptly and turned to look at her, narrowing his eyes in thought, "Daniel?" She questioned.
He slapped his palm on his forehead, "the Stargate," he cried in sudden understanding.
"Daniel?" She said again, placing her sunglasses, delicately, on her nose.
"How, how could I have been so stupid," his voice held an annoyance, as he fumbled for the car keys.
"Sam, what's, what's the first thing Huitzilopochtli does when he feels threaten?"
She looked to the ground as she deliberated before answering, "he changes hosts," she replied in realisation, "but how do we know he feels threaten?"
Daniel pressed the key fob so that the car doors unlocked with a functional click and flash of indicators, "we don't, for sure" he answered clearly, "but this link between himself, Jonas and the 'lost' Egyptians, I think, is strong enough to send him some sort of warning signal and he's here, in Colorado Springs, where there just happens to be a means of escape, the gate."
"So you think Huitzilopochtli can sense we're on to him?" She raised her voice slightly to be heard over the traffic noise of the freeway.
Daniel nodded, it seemed to make sense, "but he just can't walk into the base," Sam poised as she got into the vehicle, feeling the warmth of the leather seat against her back.
"He could if the host he's chosen is someone you'd expect to see there," Daniel responded, pulling the seatbelt across himself with a hefty tug.
"Sam, he's had time to plan this," he reiterated.
"But we'd detect the symbiote, Teal'c, myself..."
"He's managed to escape detection before," Jackson retorted, enticing the problematical engine to start with a practised turn of the key and a patient left foot.
Sam looked out the windscreen in reflection, "you think he might have some sort of drug or device that could somehow mask the presence of the symbiote?"
Daniel nodded, "yeah," he replied, reversing the car out of a tricky parking space.
Sam pulled at seat belt and clicked it into place, "but, then, surely Jonas would be able to sense it, if this link is so strong between them both?"
They both looked at each other, for a second, in reaction to her statement, "shit," Daniel cried hitting the gas peddle hard while Sam reached into her pocket and hit speed dial on her cell.
=========
Jonas watched the Doctor's mouth move, trying hard to focus on the sounds, trying to separate them into audible words. Again he rubbed his forehead in an effort to expel the thick haze that was clinging to his mind.
Booard sighed and shut the lid down on the box of doughnuts without looking from the Kelownan. He smiled, with secret lips, knowing the drugs he had laced them with were working their way through the alien's system.
He got up, from where he was sitting on the corner of his desk and walked behind Jonas to look at a yellow and blue-sponged portrait that was hanging there. He took off his half rimed glasses and chewed the end in consideration, "you must have many questions, still unanswered about your sister's death," he said, without turning round.
Jonas fought through the stupor to reply, "only one I guess," he said, in realisation.
"Which is?" Booard coaxed, turning his head slightly to view the image on the wall from a different angle.
"Why?" He paused feeling the words stumble from his lips with emotion, "w- why take her? All, all the other v-victims were adults. Her heart couldn't have satisfied Huitzilopochtli's craving for power."
"Hmmm," Booard nodded, as if digesting the alien's question, "what do you make of this painting?" He asked, pointing towards it with his glasses.
"I'm s-sorry?" Jonas stuttered, turning his weighty head towards the Doctor.
"I mean, is it art, a few random splodges of paint on a canvass? Tell me Jonas what do you see?"
Jonas looked at the painting, the confused colours making no shape or image in his throbbing mind, "I, I s-see," he faltered, his words slurring slightly; the world had suddenly become disorganized and faded in a moving kaleidoscope of assorted hues.
He looked deeper into the picture, watching it fluctuated in front of his eyes. He blinked and just for a second a fleeting image imprinted itself in his mind's eye; the image of a green balloon with a gold dragon printed on it.
An inner voice tried to tear its way through the vapour that was clouding his senses. He tried to process its information above the continual beat of his heart exploding in his head like a hammer against a metal anvil; its words left him cold.
Jonas tried to stand but his whole body was motionless in a web of narcotic twine. He swallowed, asking the question again, "why, why k-kill her?" The words tore through his soul, re-opening those wounds that had been with him since childhood.
Booard smiled disturbingly, like a spider with a fat fly, "because she was your 'sister'," he said cruelly, the Goa'uld no longer hiding beneath Doctor's skin.
"I sensed you, that day in the chamber, all those years ago, as I cut into the Egyptian. Oh, I could not see you but I felt your power and tasted the potency of your tonalli; all others, since that day, have left me hungry," he bent down and whispered in Jonas' ear.
"Then I saw you, with the girl on Kelowna, a lamb, an innocent, oblivious to your destiny, content to live in the rosy glow of childhood. I could still sense you, but only just, your flavour was sprinkled with the sugar dust of happiness," there was a lapse in his accent.
His eyes glowed with light, "do you know what makes you strong, Jonas? What gives each heart its tonalli?"
He didn't wait for the Kelownan to answer. "It is pain. Pain and suffering make you strong; give your souls their resilience, your hearts their essence. I know, for I have put many under the knife, seen their agony and terror as I cut to their core and there I have tasted it."
He grabbed Jonas' shoulder and massaged it roughly, "but yours, Jonas, yours is a taste to savour. For I sowed the seeds of your pain, when I took your sister from you and now it is time for me to reap what I have sown."
Huitzilopochtli pulled out an obsidian knife that was sheaved on his calf, "I've been waiting a long time for this heart and its tonalli to mature Jonas Quinn," he said, deeply inhaling the Kelownan's essence while fondling the back of his neck with an index finger. "It is time for you to join your 'sister'."
===========
Sorry to leave you there but that's my Cliff Richard, sorry cliffhanger.