Sam Carter woke to sunlight on her face. It was a pleasant feeling. Warm. Soothing. Peaceful. She enjoyed the warmth offered by the morning sun, extending her arms above her head, her muscles stretching luxuriously, easing the sleepiness out of her frame. Yesterday had been a good day. They had found the ribbon device, met the natives, and established that they were amenable to an alliance. What could be better?
Checking her watch, she was surprised to see it was already 1000 hours. Her forehead creased in concentration. What time did they get to bed last night? The last thing she remembered was talking with Lady Morgana. She wished she had gotten more of an opportunity to speak with Lord Kentigern last night. According to Morgana, he was involved in discussions with the representative from the village Glyn Cuch, some ten days walk from Meath. From first hand experience, Sam knew that local relations were more important than a few questions from an astrophysicist and gate traveler.
She didn't remember much about the stranger. He had been quiet and nondescript. But from what she observed, the negotiations had gone well between them. Lord Kentigern and the stranger had seemed to get along famously throughout the night. She hoped the negotiations with the SGC would go as well when they finally returned.
Sam sat up in her bed, squinting up through the small window to the cloudless sky above. Well, it's a nice day for a hike, she thought, remembering the trek to the village in the pouring rain. That hadn't been fun, but in the long run, things had worked out well.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, stretching her arms above her head once again, trying to wake up. She yawned widely making her eyes water. While she rubbed the moisture out of her eyes she rose quietly and padded over to the half-open door, pushing it open fully. The sitting room was quiet, the fire low, but still burning. She walked across the room, absently checking the clothes hanging near the fireplace as she stepped past them, noticing they were dry and warm. She bent down, grabbed the iron fireplace implement, and poked at the smoldering fire. She added a few logs and, within minutes, had built the fire up again. A smile came to her face as she rubbed her hands together, enjoying the warmth. It reminded her of her childhood, vacationing in the mountains with her family, sitting in front of the fireplace in the cabin they rented every year. Those were good times—at least until mom died.
A tap at the door brought her out of her reverie and back to the present. She crossed the room quickly and quietly, opening the door to reveal Nerys and another woman holding trays of food and drink.
"I am sorry to disturb you, but I thought you might like some sustenance this morning to break your fast."
Sam stepped back to allow them to enter. "Thank you, Nerys. You are very thoughtful. I'm ravenous. How did you know I was awake?"
They placed the trays on the table by the fireplace, the scent of fresh bread wafting on the air. Nerys turned back to Sam. "I did not know. If you had not answered my knock, I would have simply left these trays for you. I did not expect you to be awake for some time yet. Most are still asleep."
"I'm an early riser and besides, we have to be going soon. They are expecting us at home later today and we have quite a hike ahead of us."
"Yes, my lady. I understand. If you require anything else, please let me know." Nerys said, bowing slightly as she slowly closed the door behind her.
"Thank you, Nerys. This will be fine, perfect actually." Sam smiled again as the door closed. People this considerate and welcoming were a nice change from the rough and rowdy natives they were generally used to. For some reason, no matter how friendly the inhabitants were, SG1 usually managed to get themselves into trouble. It was a knack. This time, though, she was actually going to look forward to returning to start the negotiations.
A voice cut into her thoughts. "Major Carter, are you well?"
She turned to Teal'c, not surprised he was up and realized she was hugging herself trying to keep warm. And to top it off, she was smiling to herself. She moved to the fireplace and the steaming food.
"I'm fine, Teal'c. Actually quite rested. How are you doing this morning? Feeling better than you were yesterday?" She quickly took stock of the breakfast items on the trays: fresh fruit and breads and freshly churned butter. She grabbed a roll that was still warm to the touch and got busy buttering it. The butter was creamy and sweet and melted into the bread. She also located a pot of some type of steaming black liquid—the local version of coffee she figured—and poured a cup.
"I am well, Major Carter," said Teal'c, standing at parade rest. She glanced up quickly at him, noticing that he did look much better than yesterday. A good night's sleep always helps to put things in perspective. Teal'c looked toward Daniel's room. "Should I wake Daniel Jackson?"
Sam glanced at her watch, noting the time. She hated to wake him and she knew he was probably going to have a hell of a hangover, but what else could she do? "Yeah, Teal'c, you had better. I don't want to hear him complaining later that he didn't get enough time to get himself together. We should probably try to be out of here in an hour. That will give us plenty of time to get back to the gate and get some more samples on the way."
"I concur." He turned to the room, nudging the door open wider so he could pass through. Daniel was still asleep, lying on his stomach. He was tangled in the blankets, but yet he had somehow managed to be completely covered except for a tuft of hair that showed. Teal'c approached the bed, leaned down, and gently shook the sleeping form.
Soon enough, an eye opened and Daniel was greeted by a very close-up view of Teal'c's face.
"Teal'c," Daniel muttered. "What time is it?" He brought his hand up to his head. "Ughwhat was in that wine last night?"
Sam stood at the door, listening carefully. "Nothing that shouldn't have been. How are you doing?"
Daniel shifted in the bed, turning his bleary eyes to her. "Headache. Big headache. You?"
"I'm fine. Rested. So's Teal'c. Ready for some breakfast? We have to pack up and get on our way in about an hour."
"Food noGot anything else?" Daniel turned over and sat up slowly in the bed, probably trying to make sure the room didn't spin, Sam figured. By the time she returned only a few beats later, Daniel hadn't moved a muscle, his eyes closed tightly together. She placed a warm mug in his hand.
"Here, try this. It's the local version of coffee and it's not bad."
"Thanks," he said, opening his eyes and smiling gratefully as he cradled the cup between his hands, warming them. As he took an experimental sip, Sam could see him relax as the liquid spread down, warming his body from the inside. He took another sip before he tried to swing his feet over the edge of the bed. When his bare feet hit the cold stone floor he hissed and quickly pulled them back.
"Sam, can you toss me those socks?" he asked, indicating a small pile near her feet. He placed his mug down carefully beside him on the bed, doing his best not to spill its precious contents. She fished through the pile of clothing, finding the socks he'd indicated. He caught the socks she threw him, quickly putting them on his feet.
"Daniel, it's warmer out here if you can manage to hoist your lazy butt out of bed," she said smiling. It was fun to tease Daniel—especially when he was in this kind of a state. Besides, he was usually so good. It wasn't every day that you got to see Daniel waking up with a hangover. It rarely happened and especially not on a mission. Besides, now it was so easy to pick on him. Teal'c stood silently between, them watching the exchange.
Daniel glanced up, annoyance crossing his face for a second before he realized she was pulling his leg. "Yeah, yeah. When did you say we had to leave?"
"Soon. I'd like to get out of here within the hour. That should give us plenty of time to get back to the gate and pick up some more samples along the way. Think you can manage that?"
"Sure, Sam," he said, taking a large gulp of his beverage. "I just have to get dressed. You know what, Sam?"
She turned back to the door and Daniel. "What?"
"I think we should negotiate for some of this stuff, too," Daniel said, holding up his mug. "It's pretty good. Cleared my head already."
Sam smiled affectionately, comfortably. "Ya sure you betcha. I'll make sure that's on the list, right below cultural exchange of information."
"Actually, Sam, coffee should be just above it, if you're going alphabetically." Daniel smiled.
"Daniel, get yourself together. We move out in 45 minutes." Sam said walking back to her room.
XXXXXXXXXX
Thirty minutes later, SG1 was standing in the great hall before Lord Kentigern, bidding him farewell.
"It was enlightening to meet people such as yourselves. I look forward to renewing our acquaintances when you return."
"Lord Kentigern, it is our pleasure," Daniel said, stepping forward. "We shall return and when we do we shall exchange knowledge of our cultures and our peoples and work on building a mutually beneficial relationship between the two." He bowed in respect and stepped back. Teal'c and Sam echoed his action.
"Thank you, Daniel Jackson. Your words ring true. I look forward to this time of which you speak." Lord Kentigern looked past them at the figures approaching. SG1 turned to see Egan and Hywel. "These will guide you to the great stone circle and keep you safe along the way."
"Thank you," said Sam. She paused a moment before continuing. "My Lord, I was hoping to speak with the Lady Morgana before we departed. Is she available?"
"She wished to be here this morning to bid you farewell, but other matters have taken her attention. She sends her regrets, but also her wishes to see you when you return."
"Please tell her that I look forward to seeing her again as well." Sam turned to SG1. "Are we ready?" A glance at Teal'c and Daniel showed they were. "Lord Kentigern, thank you for your hospitality and for your guides."
"You are more than welcome, Samantha Carter," he said, smiling broadly. "May your travels be pleasurable and safe."
"This way, if you please," Egan said quietly, indicating the doors. SG1 followed quickly. They had a long walk ahead of them and it was already getting late. Nerys waited at the doors for them, a pack in her hand.
"My Lady," she said, handing Sam the package. "Here are some breads and dried meats to take with you for your mid-day meal. I would have given you wine as well, but I see you already have something to drink," she said, indicating the canteen from which Daniel was drinking. Sam was sure he was still nursing a whopper of a headache, but between the local coffee and the aspirin the blinding pain should have gone away, leaving only a dull throb. A dull throb was a lot easier to tolerate.
Sam nodded and took the package gratefully. "You have all been so kind to us. Thank you. We will bring this with us." She smiled and followed Egan and Hywel out the door into the bright sunshine.
It was a beautifully crisp day—sunny, bright, and warm in the sun. There was also a cool, pleasant breeze. Daniel was busy staring at everything and everybody as they walked down the main road. She could see his mind working, taking in everything. She wouldn't be surprised to see him hunched over his computer tonight trying to jot everything down before the memories of this place could fade—not that they would, Sam thought. She knew it would be a long time before she could forget this place and its people.
The hike back to the gate went quicker than she thought it would, maybe because Daniel couldn't stop asking questions about what he had seen. It made for interesting conversation. She was still amazed at how patient Egan and Hywel were. She had to admit that they were also asking their own fair share of questions, though. Along the way, she was able to grab samples of the local plant life, some of which Egan pointed out had special properties to heal. You could never tell where the next medical breakthrough would come from, so as long as the medical community didn't ask where exactly they found it, everything would be okay. It wasn't as if you could explain that the cure for cancer came from a planet halfway across the galaxy. She made sure she got a little bit of everything. It would keep the botanists back at the SGC busy for a while.
The MALP was right where they had left it, sitting in front of the gate. She checked her watch. It was just about 1300 and they had a little time to do some local exploration before they dialed home. They tried to convince Egan and Hywel to stay and eat lunch with them, but they declined, saying they had to get back to the village.
Once their guides had departed with friendly hugs and farewells, SG1 settled in for lunch. Daniel took the remainder of the afternoon puttering around the ruins near the gate while Sam wandered around snagging additional rock and soil samples. The ground wasn't nearly as soft and muddy as it had been the day before.
Teal'c stood patiently, ever vigilant, gazing out across the hills and valleys that could clearly be seen from their vantage point. Flocks of birds soared through the skies, taking refuge in the trees in the forests below. Sam sighed quietly, realizing she had been staring at the vista before her for several minutes. It was a beautiful world, so full of life. She was actually disappointed that they had to return home so quickly. But, they had their orders.
She sighed, walking back to the MALP, placing the last rock in its bag before strapping everything to the MALP. It was time to go home. Teal'c was ready, standing beside her. She glanced around, looking for Daniel. He wasn't in sight.
"Daniel, are you about ready?" She called out. His head poked out from behind some rocks almost immediately.
"Sure, Sam. Just give me a minute. You can start dialing home if you want." He ducked back down.
She turned to the DHD and began inputting the symbols for Earth but started frowning as soon as her hand hit the first glyph. "Daniel, did you look at the DHD before we went to Meath?"
Daniel's head popped back over the rocks, a puzzled look on his face. "No, Sam, I didn't. You said everything looked like it was in order when we got here. Is there something wrong?"
"I'm not sure. The DHD just feels wrong."
"Feels wrong?" She could almost feel his frown across the clearing. Teal'c's eyebrow was heading up his forehead, his normally impassive face showing concern.
"I don't know." She tried to explain while she punched another glyph. "It's almost like the DHD is covered in molasses or something. My hand tingles a little when I touch the glyphs, but it seems to be working fine."
"Are you sure we're going to be okay?" Daniel apparently had given up whatever had had been doing and was walking carefully to the gate, avoiding the loose rocks, his journal in hand.
"We should be. I'll send the MALP through first and warn General Hammond that we might have a problem," she concluded, punching the last few glyphs.
Once the wormhole was established, she sent the iris code through and briefly informed General Hammond of the situation.
"Major, send the MALP through and we'll let you know what happens on this end," ordered General Hammond. While she had been talking to the General, Teal'c had maneuvered the MALP toward the gate, and was now waiting for Sam's signal.
"Sir, Teal'c's about ready to send the MALP through."
"Thank you, Major."
While they watched the MALP vanish into the event horizon, Sam looked around for what she hoped was the last time this trip. Catching Daniel's eye, she spoke up, trying to break the uneasy silence. If this didn't work, they weren't getting home anytime soon. "Did you get everything you needed?"
"Yeah, I guess," he answered, his eyes straying back to the whirling blue liquid before them. "I copied down some of the symbols on the stones. I'm going to try and match them up when I get home."
Behind him, Sam noticed a lone darkly colored bird settle on a tree limb. She pulled her attention back to the present when she heard Hammond's voice cutting through the air on her radio.
"Major Carter?"
Depressing the button, she answered. "Yes, sir?"
"It seems like everything is fine on this end. The MALP is through without any problems."
"Thank you, sir. We'll be through momentarily. Carter out." She turned to the rest of the team. "Sorry. I didn't mean to worry anyone needlessly" she began.
"Apology is never needed when caution is required," Teal'c replied favoring her with a level look. "It is always wise to be cautious when gate travel is involved."
"Yeah, Sam. It's no problem. I'd rather be safe than sorry, myself," Daniel said.
"I know, but I made you all worry for nothing."
"Speak no more of it Major Carter."
"Thanks, Teal'c, Daniel, Sam said, flashing both of them a grateful smile. "Teal'c, why don't you head on through."
"Very well, Major Carter." Teal'c nodded toward Carter and stepped through the vortex.
A grin brightened Daniel's face and Sam knew something was sure to come out of his mouth. Sure enough, a beat or two later, Daniel started speaking. "You know Sam, all in all, I haven't felt this satisfied about a first contact in a long time."
"I know what you mean." She paused before continuing. "You know, Daniel, I sometimes envy your wide-eyed innocence. Even though you've been through some horrible things, it always amazes me that you can be so optimistic about the basic goodness of people." She turned away, gathering her thoughts. Looking back, she gazed directly into his eyes. "It's nice to finally be able to see that there are still some good people left for us to find."
Daniel returned her smile, his appreciation at her words clearly evident on his face. "I know. Let's go. Teal'c's going to think we're not coming."
When they stepped through on the SGC side of the wormhole, Teal'c was at the bottom of the ramp, maneuvering the MALP out of the way. Some SGC staff members were already unloading the sample bags. Colonel Yearwood and SG5 were getting ready to ship out and were loitering in the gateroom, waiting for SG1's return. They had a quick mission, checking in with the natives on a planet that SG2 had encountered several months ago. General Hammond stood in the control room, watching the activity. If he was on base, he liked to welcome the SG teams back—call it tradition.
Once Sam and Daniel stepped through and the iris closed behind them, he leaned forward to speak into the microphone, a perplexed expression on his face. "Welcome back SG1. Where's Colonel O'Neill?"
Sam looked at Daniel and Teal'c at the bottom of the ramp. They all wore similarly puzzled expressions. She stopped at the bottom of the ramp, looking up at Hammond as if he had three heads. "Colonel who, sir? This is all of SG1, back safe and sound. And we have good news to report about the people on the planet."
Hammond's eyes narrowed. There was no use arguing here, out in the open. "SG1, report to the infirmary immediately. We'll debrief when you've been checked out by Dr. Fraiser."
"Yes, sir," she said, stepping down from the ramp and following Daniel and Teal'c out the door to the infirmary. Something wasn't quite right, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She shook her head as the door to the gateroom slid shut behind her. And who was Colonel O'Neill and why would he have shipped out with SG1? She shrugged her shoulders, pushing the thoughts aside. She had a report to write tonight. It was time to start getting her thoughts in order. It was never too early to start.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Janet, really, I'm fine," Sam said for what seemed like the hundredth time since she had gotten to the infirmary. They had already been here three hours and she was getting tired and fed up. No post-mission exam ever took this long. She glared at Dr. Janet Fraiser, Stargate Command's CMO, and was rewarded by the stick of yet another needle in her arm. "Ow! What's come over you, Janet? Your bedside manner tonight leaves something to be desired."
"Sorry, Sam. I'll just be a minute more," Fraiser said simply, stepping back. She drew the curtain around the bed and a very annoyed Major Carter. Fraiser shook her head in disbelief. From her preliminary tests on all three members of SG1, they were in perfect health and nothing was physically wrong with them. Mentally was another matter, although they seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be in their right minds. What she couldn't fathom was how they could forget someone as close to them as Colonel Jack O'Neill. Something was wrong and she was determined to find it.
She poked her head into another curtained area to check on Daniel. He was busy scribbling in his journal, nearly oblivious to the nurses around him. He just got annoyed at them when they interfered with his writing. That was typical Daniel.
She sighed softly and went to check on Teal'c. He was meditating. Again, normal for Teal'c.
She walked back to her office and to a patiently waiting General Hammond. He was standing in front of her desk looking a little out of place.
"General Hammond, sir," she said, closing the door behind her. She knew why he was here. She just wished he wasn't, since she didn't have much in the way of good news. "I don't know what to tell you, sir. They are SG1 and, from all the preliminary tests, they are the same people who left here yesterday morning. I just can't figure out how they could completely block out Colonel O'Neill."
"Doctor, could it be some kind of drug or mind control? A group hallucination? A shared consciousness? Our people have been exposed to some strange things over the years," he suggested.
She moved behind her desk and wearily dropped into her chair. Over the past few years, the SG teams had managed to bring home an interesting array of diseases and conditions, but this one was stranger than most. It definitely made her job more interesting—especially since she was the CMO in a facility housed some 28 stories underground. The most some of her colleagues in similar positions had to put up with was the random and dreaded "red tape" paper cut. Sometimes she wished life was so easy, but all things told, she wouldn't give up this assignment. In the past few years she'd witnessed first-hand more advances in medical science—from the practical application of nanotechnology and genetic engineering to the healing effects of an alien symbiote—than had happened in the past fifty years. Give this up? Never would be too soon.
Hammond settled easily in her guest chair across the desk from her and patiently waited for her to pull her thoughts together. "I don't know, sir. I wish the explanation were that easy. SG1 has been exposed to a variety of alien substances, but this is different than anything else we've encountered. If I knew SG1's symptoms were the result of some type of drug or substance, at least then I'd know what I should be looking for. All my initial drug tests have come back negative, but the more detailed blood work might show something. I won't get that back for a few hours yet and I don't even know what I'm looking for." She paused for a moment, wiping her hand across her face, weary. She wasn't sure if it was her exhaustion that made her ask, but the question came unbidden to her lips. "Sir, what kind of people could take away memories without leaving a trace?"
"I don't know, Doctor. All I do know for sure is that I have a missing officer and his team is in the infirmary with no memory of him going missing. They are the answer and I intend to get it from them." Hammond stood, walking to the door. He turned before he opened it.
"General, I hate to ask this, but if they could take memories away, what else could be missing? What could they have taken from them?"
"That was my first thought, Doctor," Hammond said, looking grim. "I've already changed all the codes that Colonel O'Neill and the rest of SG1 used."
"Sir, are you going to send another team back to look for Colonel O'Neill?"
"Right now, I can't in good conscience send another team back to the planet when we don't have more information about what happened to SG1 in the first place. I have no idea what else they might have forgotten. Until I can get more substantive material, I'm not going to send anyone back. I know that's not comforting, but Colonel O'Neill is very resourceful and quite capable of taking care of himself." Hammond took a deep breath before he spoke again. "Are they well enough to leave the infirmary?"
"Sir, I can't keep them here because they're fine as far as I can tell. I would recommend having them confined to the base. They could be carrying something we still can't detect," she said, rising from her chair to follow the General.
"Agreed, Doctor. As soon as you have anything, let me know." Hammond walked out the door and into the infirmary where SG1 waited. She stood by her door, watching SG1 carefully. The curtains had been pulled back and they were all lounging in the infirmary, waiting for the other shoe. She could tell they were uneasy. She'd kept them here longer than she usually did without a good explanation. There was something going on and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. She eavesdropped while General Hammond stopped at Sam's bedside, where she paced back and forth—a tendency much like that of the commanding officer she had completely forgotten.
"General, sir," Sam said, coming to attention.
"At ease, Major. Dr. Fraiser has released you from the infirmary so we'll debrief in one hour. Why don't you get changed and grab something to eat?" Fraiser smiled when she watched him turn on the charm—smiling in as fatherly a manner as he could, without letting his worry show through. General Hammond had good instincts. He knew it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, at least for now. They didn't know anything, so why upset them? That time would come soon enough.
"Yes, sir. We'll do that." Sam smiled as he walked away, the relief clear in her face. Finally, they were getting out.
Sam walked down to where Daniel and Teal'c were resting. She stood before them, hands deep in her pockets.
"The General got us sprung. We have a briefing in an hour. Anyone up for some dinner?" She looked at her watch, realizing the hour. "We're already late. Hope they kept something warm."
Teal'c's eyes had snapped open as soon as Sam began speaking. He rose to stand at Jackson's side. Jackson, on the other hand, looked up absently from the notes he was writing in his journal, words on his lips. How many of those journals he had, Fraiser would never know. Hundreds, maybe thousands, containing his impressions of all the worlds they've visited. Some good, some bad.
Daniel's eyes slowly focused on Sam, but he was still in his own world. Working on autopilot, he hopped off the bed. "Sure, Sam." Teal'c nodded his head in agreement and followed Sam and Daniel out.
Fraiser watched them leave from her vantage point by the door of her office. While they acted normal, there was something missing—a big something missing. She sighed and turned back to her charts and test results. Time to get back to work.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Sam, what if what they're saying is true?" Daniel asked as they walked down the drab gray corridors to the commissary.
"What?"
"Didn't you hear them in the infirmary? They were saying something about us leaving our fourth behind. Could it be that we have another team member but we just can't remember him?" Daniel looked worried and tired—the whites of his normally bright blue eyes turning reddish. He rubbed at them angrily, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the weariness away. They entered the commissary, noting the distinct lack of people. The emptiness was good. At least they could talk without worrying about an audience, without worrying if people thought they were nuts.
"Daniel, I don't know," Sam said, shaking her head, displeased at the very thought that they would leave someone behind. They were SG1 and that just didn't happen. She picked up a tray and reached for a ham and cheese sandwich, gesturing with her free hand. "From what you saw, do you think those people we met could have possibly done anything to us, especially in the few hours we were there? They have no advanced technology. They live in a primitive culture and society."
"But Sam, who are we to say whether a society is primitive or not?" Daniel looked adamantly at Sam, daring her to argue the point as he followed behind her, absently grabbing a sandwich from the case. "I mean, compared to the Tollan or the Nox, we are a primitive andyoung society and look what we can do."
"I get your point Daniel, but how could they do something to all of us? Teal'c and I are usually immune to most of the things we come in contact with, thanks to the naquadah floating around in our bloodstream."
"But see, that's what worries me. What if they could? What if they can control our minds and take away our memories?" Daniel put a slice of apple pie alongside the tuna salad sandwich he had picked up. He grabbed a cup and began filling it with coffee. At least the coffee was hot.
"Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said, placing a Caesar salad on his tray, "the Goa'uld do not have the technology to which you refer. It is unlikely that the people of Meath have such an ability."
"But that's just it, Teal'c," Daniel said getting excited. Sam could see his tired eyes light up from within as they usually did when he was engrossed in his subject. "What if they do have some type of rare ability?"
"But Daniel, these people were originally from Earth. How could they have changed so drastically? It's not like humans have special powers. We don't have x-ray vision or mind control abilities," Sam argued, sitting down at a table in the far corner of the room. Just in case someone walked in, she didn't want to be the center of attention—but if she knew the base grapevine, SG1 already was the center of attention today. No need to add fuel to the fire. Daniel and Teal'c sat down across from her, the conversation continuing.
"Yes, but what if they weren't the only ones on the planet when the Goa'uld got there?" He frowned at the tuna sandwich in his hand and placed it back on the plate without taking a bite, concentrating on the apple pie instead.
"Daniel Jackson, if that were the case, would they have not evolved further than what we have observed?" Teal'c poked at his salad, mixing the dressing around before digging in with gusto.
"I don't know, Teal'c, but that's the only answer I can come up with," Daniel said apologetically.
"Let's wait and see what else comes back in the tests Janet ran on us and we'll go from there," Sam suggested, polishing off half of her sandwich. She was hungrier than she had thought. "I still plan on recommending an alliance with them."
"I agree, Sam. I'm also interested in finding out more about that ribbon device we found. I wonder whose it was." Daniel swallowed a bite of his apple pie and then pointed his fork at Teal'c as another thought occurred to him. "Teal'c, did your weird feeling ever go away while you were there?"
"No, Daniel Jackson, it did not. As soon as I returned to the SGC I felt like myself once again."
"What could have caused such an adverse reaction in Teal'c?" Daniel asked turning back to Sam, a perplexed expression on his face.
She shrugged and frowned. Her fingers ticked off the possibilities. "I don't know. It could be anything, the air, the water, the soil, the plants. He could have had an adverse allergic reaction to something there for all we know."
Daniel smiled. "Isn't that my line?"
She returned his grin. "Usually, I would agree." Looking at her watch, she rose from the table. "I'm going to go to my lab and start running some tests on the rock samples we brought back. I'll meet you in the briefing room in 30 minutes."
"Okay. I think I'll just sit here and finish my coffee. It'll give me a chance to write some of this stuff down before I forget." Sam and Teal'c quickly turned back to him as he cringed slightly at his choice of words. He ducked his head sheepishly, grimacing. "Sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Daniel Jackson. If what General Hammond has told us is correct, we have all forgotten." Teal'c rose from the table. "I will join you in the briefing room when it is time." He inclined his head to both of them and walked out of the commissary.
"Don't beat yourself up, Daniel," Sam said. "Like Teal'c said, we're all in the same boat. We'll figure this out eventually."
"Yeah, but what if they're right and we're too late?"
XXXXXXXXXX
Sam sighed deeply, settling herself into her lab chair. Her desk was covered in paper and files from various projects. Sometimes she wished she had more time for research, but she didn't think she would ever be able to give up the thrill and excitement of first contact.
A few minutes later, a light tapping at the door, pulled her attention away from some of the lab reports she was working on. Janet Fraiser stood at the door, her arms filled with papers and files, a hesitant expression on her face.
"Hey Janet, come in. What can I do for you?" Sam asked, leaning back, stretching the kinks out of her lean frame.
"Hey Sam," Janet said, stepping into the dimly lit office. "Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk with you."
"Sure, but I have to be in the briefing room in a few minutes. What's up?"
"I just wanted to show you something," Janet said clearing a spot to put down her armload of paperwork. From within the pile she pulled a folder and placed it in front of Sam. "Do you remember any of these?" she asked, opening to the first page.
Sam picked up the picture, her eyes narrowing as she concentrated. "No, Janet," she said, pointing to one of the people in the photographs. "Who is he? He's not too bad looking, a little worn around the edges maybe. Why do you ask?"
"How about any of the others? Do you recognize anyone?"
Sam flipped through the photos, smiling as she recognized Daniel and Teal'c and herself in several, but the same man appeared in every image. "No. I remember most of these missions, but I've never seen this guy before." Sam looked up, smiling broadly at Janet. "I know, you're trying to hook me up again and you had someone in the labs alter the pictures for you. You know they did a good job. I can't tell how they spliced them together."
"I didn't do anything, Sam. These are real pictures."
"Janet, you know me and my memory. I don't forget a thing. I'm sure I'd remember this guy if I'd seen him before," Sam closed the file in a huff as she slid from the chair. "Look, this was a great little practical joke, but I have a debriefing I have to get to."
"Sam—" Janet started, obviously upset with the way the conversation had gone.
"Janet, look I'm sorry I called your bluff and all, but I don't want to be late," Sam said, picking up the files she needed for her meeting. "I'll talk to you later."
"Fine, Sam," Janet said quietly as Sam stepped out of the room, her response lost in the sound of Sam's retreating footsteps.
XXXXXXXXXX
Jack O'Neill woke to complete darkness. Not the darkness normally associated with nighttime, but an all-encompassing darkness—heavy, smothering.
"Huh?" he said, hearing the sound echo off the walls. He tried to sit up but discovered that his muscles were stiff. It was like he had slept in the same position for hours. His mouth was cottony as if he hadn't had anything to drink in days. But that couldn't be right, could it? Come to think of it, he didn't remember closing the door either, but it was apparently closed now.
He cautiously sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the edge to rest his bare feet lightly on the cold stone floor. The room was cool and the air hitting his legs and arms made the hair stand up on end. He rubbed his hands briskly across his arms, trying to warm them.
His head felt a little fuzzy, but from what he could tell, he was in one piece. He rubbed a hand across his face, trying to clear his mind, and encountered a few days worth of stubble. That was not encouraging. He waved his hand in front of his face, trying to see it before him, but was unsuccessful. The blackness was absolute.
It was time to do a little reconnaissance.
His initial feeling when he woke was that he had to be in a very small room inside the castle in which he had fallen asleep. There's only one way to find out, he thought grimacing. He leaned forward, his hand outstretched, feeling for the wall he instinctively knew was there. Sure enough, only inches away—and much closer than he had originally thought—was a solid stone wall. He got up; swaying slightly as his stiff muscles tried to adjust to the new position. The darkness didn't help with his equilibrium.
This was not looking good, he thought, as he felt along the wall, searching for a door. He found it soon enough. The room wasn't large, barely big enough to fit the bed in which he had woken. The door, of course, was like every other door he had seen here—big, thick, and impenetrable.
His watch was gone and in his exploration of the dark room, he noticed his pack was not there either. The rest of his clothes had also absconded, leaving him with only his black T-shirt and boxers. Not the best attire for any long-termsituation. How long he had been in here—wherever here was—he did wasn't sure. He could feel a few day's worth of stubble on his chin, but that just confused him. It couldn't have been that long, could it? All he was sure about was this was not the same room in which he had fallen asleep.
Where was his team? He tried calling out to Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c, his voice echoing strangely in the small windowless room, but got no reply. Maybe they were incapacitated. Maybe they were still unconscious. Maybe they were somewhere else.
With nothing to see, he decided that since he had few other options, he would sit and wait until someone came for him. Not that he had much choice in the matter, he thought ruefully. He settled himself down on the bed, pulling the blankets over him.
How much time passed before someone came for him, he didn't know. He drifted in and out of sleep while he waited. He tried walking around, just to keep the muscles from stiffening up too much, but the room didn't give him much in the way of space for movement and besides, he was very tired. That in itself should have tipped him off that something was wrong, but he was too tired to realize. He was sleeping lightly when they came, but he heard them in the adjoining room. Muted voices. More than one.
"Hey!" he said, getting up and pounding on the door. "Hey, what's going on? Where's my team?"
Moments later, he heard scraping on the other side of the door. He stood back, waiting for the door to open before him.
The light blinded him and he covered his eyes with his hand, trying to squint through slitted eyes and fingers at the figure that stood before him. He was grabbed roughly by the arms and dragged into a larger room and into the light, his eyes tearing, as he tried to make sense of the blurred images before him. He was placed in a chair and two pairs of hands held his shoulders, effectively confining him to the chair.
This is not a good sign, he thought, wiping the tears from his eyes. His eyes were adjusting, but it was taking some time. Once his eyes focused, he was surprised to see Lady Morgana before him.
"Lady Morgana?" he asked, confused. He had to have been in his cell a long time in order for him to be so sensitive to the dim lighting in the room. That worried him, but he tried not to let anyone notice his discomfort and confusion. "What's going on? Where's the rest of my team?"
She gestured to the two men behind him and immediately he felt them remove their hands from his shoulders. They stood back, within reach, but at least they weren't holding him down any more. It was a start.
"Your team departed two mornings ago," she said matter-of-factly. "I watched them go through the great stone circle."
"What?" O'Neill said, disbelieving. "They wouldn't have left without me."
"Whether you believe that statement to be true or not does not matter. It is simple. It is a matter of facts that can be verified very easily. They are gone. You, however, are here because I wanted you to remain." She smiled and stepped closer to him, holding his face in her hands. She gazed directly into his eyes. "And, soon enough, you will wish to remain here with me, of your own free will."
O'Neill tried not to flinch as she stared into his eyes, but it was tough. Especially since he sat there in his boxers and his black shirt. Somehow he had managed to misplace the rest of his clothes. He made a mental note to himself: from now on, remain fully clothed at all times. "I don't think so."
She stepped back, a pleased expression on her face. "I knew you would be stubborn, but I assure you of this: you will be mine."
O'Neill's facial expression indicated that he thought that would happen about as soon as hell froze over or pigs started flying, but he kept his mouth closed, his comments to himself. He had spotted the door several minutes ago, but he had yet to figure out how he was going to get through it. He was working on a plan, however.
"You can do this the easy way or you can be difficult. It is your choice. Either way has the same outcome."
"Lady, there is no way I would stay here with you. No. Nadda. Nope. No way. You must be outta your cotton pickin' mind to think I would stay here." He looked at her directly, accusingly. "Besides, don't you already have a husband?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, looking down her nose at him. "Lord Kentigern has his uses, but one day he will outlive his usefulness and I will require someone new. You are that someone. You will teach me the secrets of the stone circle and we shall rule this world side by side."
"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no." O'Neill said, shaking his head emphatically, his hands gesturing wildly. His eyes were as cold as steel. "There's no way I'm staying here with you and there's no way I'm going to tell you anything about the Stargate. What part of No' don't you understand?"
She smiled at him. She was enjoying this. That little fact worried him. It worried him more than he was willing to admit to himself.
"Come, leave him to his thoughts. Perhaps they will convince him, if I cannot." She motioned for the two men to leave the room. She followed behind them but paused at the door, turning back to O'Neill. "We will speak of this again, soon."
She closed the door behind her and he heard something slide down on the other side. He quickly got up, yelling through the closed door. "Hey! How about some food? How about my clothes?" He banged on the door for a little while, but either they were ignoring him—which was highly likely—or they had left the area. He tested the door while he was at it, and sure enough, it was secured in place from the other side. There was no budging to be done. He was stuck in a big, empty room with no heat, no light, and from the looks of it, night was fast approaching. Great, he said to himself, just great. Now what?
He stumbled back to the room where he had awoken hours ago, grabbed a blanket off the bed, and wrapped himself in it. He prowled around the main room, looking for a crack, something, some way to get out. He found nothing except the obvious exit from the room—the thick wooden door. As soon as he had the opportunity to escape, he would make the best of it. But, since there was nothing else to do right now, he settled down to wait.
The time alone gave him a chance to think and that was not always a good thing. On a positive note, at least, he was sitting in the large empty room instead of trapped in that small room in the dark. At least there was a little light from the windows at the ceiling, a good twenty feet above his head. The small, dark room just brought back unpleasant memories of Iraq and those memories wouldn't do him much good here.
What if she was telling the truth about his team? What if they had gone back home? Why would they have left willingly? Did they think he was dead? If so, how did he supposedly die? A quick examination showed him what he already knew; he had no injuries to speak of. If they thought I was dead, he mused, why didn't they insist on bringing back the body? Unlessthey did bring something back. His mind was awash with the possibilities.
O'Neill, you're getting maudlin, he chided himself. But, how else would they return home without him? They wouldn't leave him behind. He'd trained them better than that. It was simple: we don't leave our people behind. It was their standing order, their rule, and their motto. They knew that. But from where he sat, wrapped in a blanket, slouched against the thick stone wall across from the door, they had done just that.
His stomach growled uncomfortably. He was hungry and thirsty. His mouth was cottony and his tongue felt huge. Who knew how long it had been since he had last eaten or drunk anything. The way he felt, it had been quite some time. A day or more. If his team left two mornings ago, then it was closer to three days. That wasn't good.
Waiting was always hard to do, especially for him. He was a man of action. He'd rather be doing something, anything. Waiting gave you time to think. To think about the things you had left behind, the life you'd had, the life you could have had, and the life you wanted. It gave you the chance to think about the people in your life—past and present. It gave you the chance to examine the choices you had made in life. The choices that were right, and those that were wrong, and those that were dead wrong and had cost a life.
They'll come back for me. I know they will, he thought drifting off to sleep.
XXXXXXXXXX
Jack O'Neill again woke to darkness. It was becoming a habit and one he wasn't hoping to continue. Sometime during the night, he had shifted his body to lie on the floor. He lifted his head, trying to see through the high windows. From his vantage point, the sky above was dark and clear. The light from the moon provided a little illumination, but not enough to be useful in any way.
He realized a moment later that he wasn't alone. He turned his head, squinting in the darkness. He could feel the presence of someone, but he couldn't see him or her, although he had an idea just who it might be. He sat up slowly, resting his back against the wall. He pulled the blanket closer around him trying to keep the cold at bay.
"Are you going to stare at me all night?"
Instead of an answer, a light flashed in the darkness. Lady Morgana placed the now lit candle on the floor next to her. She had moved the only chair in the room to the wall opposite from where he sat and was perched upon it. He was certain that there were guards outside the door. There was no way she would be here alone with him without some sort of protection. She wasn't stupid, that he could tell. She was probably the smartest one here.
"You know the answer is still going to be no." The cold from the floor and the wall were seeping into his bones. He was getting too old for this. He pulled the blanket tighter around his body wishing he had some more clothes on. Next time I sleep with all my clothes on, no matter where I am, O'Neill quipped to himself. I wonder where my boots went, and my pants, come to think of it, he thought as he eyed the Lady Morgana suspiciously. She wasn't here for the repartee. Of that, he was sure.
He held his tongue. He waited. He was the epitome of patience. He had all night. He could wait. He had nowhere else to go. Carter would have been proud.
He groaned inwardly at the thought. Carter, his team. He hoped his team was okay. Please let them be home safe and sound like she said they were, he thought. Please don't let them be stuck in this cold, damp castle far away from home. It was bad enough he was here. If he was the only one they wanted, maybe for once, he could protect his team. Maybe for once, no one else would have to die because of him.
Lady Morgana shifted in the chair. She was still staring. He could feel her eyes upon him. They never left; her gaze never faltered. He lifted his head, returning her gaze with a determined, hardened look.
"Why must you be difficult?"
The words were spoken softly, barely audible across the room.
"Because it's my nature," he replied simply, smiling humorlessly in the half-light from the candle.
"You do not understand our situation."
"So, explain it to me." His eyes were hard, determined, his voice steel.
She took a breath, as if to settle her thoughts. "You would not understand," she finally said.
"Why? What wouldn't I understand? That you're just someone else looking to live forever? That you're just looking out for numero uno? That you're just one more alien having delusions of grandeur? I understand that well enough. With people as shallow as you, you're not that hard to figure out." O'Neill found himself on his feet without realizing he had stood up. He settled the blanket around his shoulders as best he could. He was mad. He was tired. He was angry. He was cold. He was hungry. He didn't give a damn and he had finally had enough.
Lady Morgana stood, her posture stiff with anger. "Just who do you think you are speaking to a Lady in such a manner and tone?" she asked, her voice raised in anger and surprise.
"I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill. That's all you need to know. I don't answer to you. You don't own me," he shot back, pacing around the room.
"Well, Colonel O'Neill, perhaps you shouldn't judge us so harshly. Your motives for coming here were not philanthropic."
He couldn't argue with that, but he didn't have to tell her that. "And just how would you know?"
"From the questions you ask, to the weapons you carry, to the very members of your team."
He stopped suddenly, turning to face her, his eyes hard and cold. "What about my team?"
"You command a Jaffa. Surely you do not think we are stupid. You may think we are a primitive people compared to you, but we are not stupid. Far from it."
He waved his hand absently as if the very action could make her, this conversation, and the whole planet go away. "Teal'c's harmless."
"To you perhaps he is harmless, to us it is another matter entirely. He is at your command. He answers to you. We are familiar with the Jaffa and their leaders. If need be, we can defeat them—and you—again." Her eyes flashed with anger.
"What do you mean again? When were the Goa'uld here?" O'Neill vaguely remembered Daniel digging up a ribbon device at the ruins near the Stargate, but there wasn't any other sign of Goa'uld technology. What was this woman talking about? His eyes widened as he thought about what she had said. "You think I'm a Goa'uld?"
"You do have a Jaffa under your command."
"Yeah, but if you hadn't already noticed, my eyes don't glow and I don't go around pretending to be a god and trying to take over the planet—unlike some other people I know," he said looking pointedly at her. "Besides, Teal'c's not like that. He left the service of his false god years ago to join us in our fight against the Goa'uld."
"So then, we are on the same side. Why do you choose not to aid us?"
She was determined, he'd give her that, but he'd had enough. "Because," he said, getting in her face, "I don't particularly like domineering, egotistical women who think they can bat their eyes at me and think that I'll just roll over for them. I'm not that kind of guy." He had gotten close to her and with a quick movement spun her around, one hand across her face to stop her from screaming out and the other wrapped around her waist, effectively pinning her arms at her sides. He started moving across the floor toward the small side room. She struggled, but for the moment he was in charge. The element of surprise had given him the upper hand.
He spoke quietly, harshly, into her ear. "Now, we'll see how much you enjoy this nice little cage. I think it's time I went exploring."
He got her inside the room, quickly releasing her and tossing her toward the bed, shutting the door behind her. He secured it quickly, sliding the wood in place. The dull thuds started almost immediately. She was pounding at the door. She'd give that up sooner or later. Now, he thought, rubbing his hands together, it was time to get rid of the guards.
The door was closed, so peeking out of it was not an option. Peeking would just give him away. Besides, he was black ops trained—there was no peeking in black ops. He just had to go for it. He had plenty of training in hand-to-hand combat. He was sure he would be able to make a fairly clean getaway. That is, if the guard was where he thought he would be.
He shrugged off the blanket, braced himself, regulating his breath, and gave himself a mental count of three before he swung the door open quickly, surprising the guard. The guard was right where he figured he would be standing. O'Neill moved quickly. A blow to the back of the guard's neck rendered him unconscious immediately. The guard slumped at his feet without raising a cry of alarm. Actually, without a peep. For a big guy, he sure fell easily. So far, so good, he thought. Not bad for a half-naked old guy who was a little worn around the edges. Bra'tac would have been proud.
He was glad there had only been one guard. If there had been two or more, he might have been in trouble. He was still a little shaky on his feet. Dehydration and lack of food would do that to you. The sudden exercise didn't help either.
He started moving cautiously along the hallway, his bare feet hardly making any sound on the tiles. He tried to take his mind off the cold and the dampness of the castle. Wandering around in your skivvies in a dark and drafty castle was not generally recommended. Neither was getting left behind in that castle, come to think of it. He chuckled to himself. Not a good sign, Jack, he thought. You're talking to yourself.
Torches in the hall provided adequate light. He figured he was in an unused part of the castle, since many of the rooms he was passing were dark and empty of furniture. One or two had furnishings, but they were few and far between. He passed several dark doorways leading to other parts of the castle. One such doorway led to a narrow passageway that sloped upwards, toward the center of the castle, probably to a turret or something similar.
Luck was not with him tonight, however. Unbeknownst to him, two figures stepped out from one of the darkened doorways he passed. While he was peering around a corner, they came up quietly behind him.
"Colonel O'Neill? What are you doing out here?" the first figure asked quietly, eyeing the scantily clad, barefoot, and shivering Colonel. O'Neill's head snapped around at the sound behind him, quickly recognizing Turlough, but surprised he hadn't heard him approach. For big guys, they sure could be quiet, he thought absently.
"What?" he asked. Where had they come from? They stood for a moment, staring at each other, confused.
Turlough and his buddy came to their senses quicker than O'Neill did. They lunged for him, realizing that Lady Morgana was nowhere to be seen. He sidestepped Turlough and managed to throw a good left hook. It connected solidly, but didn't stop him. O'Neill shook his hand out, wincing in pain. He felt as if he had just punched a brick wall—and it might not be that far from the truth. If he had thrown the punch any harder, he might have broken his hand. His knuckles were tender and sore already and he was just getting started.
Turlough shook off the punch and threw one of his own. O'Neill, usually good at ducking, found his reflexes weren't up to snuff tonight. He took the punch square on the jaw. He stumbled back, his head thrown back against the wall, hitting it hard. He slumped back, shook his head, but kept his feet. He saw stars but shook it off. Turlough's buddy, seeing an opening, decided to take advantage. One of his fists got through O'Neill's feeble attempt at defense and landed solidly in his middle. O'Neill thought he felt a rib crack and a sudden pain flared up his side. He took a breath, trying not to curl up in a ball to protect the sore spot. He had to keep on his feet.
Even though his head was ringing, he continued to put up a fight. He dodged a number of punches, but managed to catch quite a few. At one point, he was sure another cracked rib was added to the mix.
In the melee, he vaguely noticed Turlough's buddy was gone. He didn't have time to think about what that might mean for him in the long run. All he could think of was trying to get out of this in good enough condition to walk out of here. He knew he was slowing down, that there wasn't much time left. The dehydration had left him weak and this beating was doing a number on whatever stores of energy he had remaining. A hard punch to his solar plexus knocked the wind out of him and he instinctively bent over to protect his already bruised ribs. That was going to leave a mark, he thought vaguely, realizing Turlough was coming in for the kill. He knew it was a losing battle, but he couldn't just give up. He halfheartedly threw a few more punches that were easily sidestepped. After a brief struggle and a few more well-placed bruises on his already aching ribs, O'Neill found himself pushed face-first against the wall, his cheek uncomfortably rubbing against the stone, his arms pulled tightly together behind his back. His cracked and bruised ribs, pressing into the wall, spread fire all along his side. For a gentle guy, Turlough sure packed quite a punch—so did his friend come to think of it. His body ached and his head was swimming.
Apparently, Turlough's friend had gone down the hall to release Lady Morgana from the room in which O'Neill had locked her. He had also stumbled over the guard O'Neill had incapacitated who was already starting to come around.
Lady Morgana strode down the hall, her head held high, and her green eyes blazing.
She spoke once she got near the struggling man. "O'Neill, I see you have chosen your path." She leaned in closely, whispering harshly in his ear. "Before we are done, you will beg for my mercy. You will beg for my forgiveness. I will see to it. But know this; remember this night. From this point on, you belong to me. "
O'Neill renewed his struggle, trying unsuccessfully to break the hold Turlough had on him. But it was no use. His energy was just about gone and the adrenaline rush was passing.
She turned to Turlough, issuing an order. "Bring him." She turned, striding back down the hall toward one of the darkened doorways he had passed, surprisingly enough, the same doorway Turlough and his friend had come through earlier.
O'Neill had little choice but to follow as Turlough pushed him along, still holding onto him with a secure grip. His arms were starting to ache because of their awkward position behind his back. It was also doing a number on his bruised torso, straining the already sore area. Through the door a narrow passageway led to an equally narrow staircase leading deeper into the castle's foundations. Torches lit the way. It got cooler and damper as they descended.
Someone had left the light on, O'Neill thought vaguely as they passed yet another set of torches burning brightly. Apparently, someone had been planning on coming down here whatever the outcome was tonight.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and Lady Morgana pushed open a door. They passed several rooms, clearly dungeons, but from the looks of them, infrequently used. Those cells were not their destination—at least for now she had other things on her mind, other plans. He sighed slightly, relieved that he wouldn't be spending time in one of those cells, but none too happy about the current situation.
Turlough was holding his arms so tightly that the circulation was starting to leave his hands. The floors down here were dirt covered, peppered with pebbles and larger stones and his bare feet were taking a beating. Apparently, not too many people came down this way.
She strode to the end of the corridor, opening the door at the end. Instead of being lit by torches or candles, she pressed something just to the inside of the door and the lights came up—modern lights in what could be considered a Goa'uld inspired decorator's nightmare. It didn't take a scientist or an archeologist to figure this one out. This did not belong here. His eyes widened in surprise. He tried struggling again, but Turlough's grip hadn't loosened. It wasn't time to start panicking—at least not yet. But this didn't look good.
"Sit, Colonel," she said indicating a single wooden armless chair in the middle of the room. He didn't have a choice in the matter. Turlough sat him down hard, releasing his grip on his arms. O'Neill thought better of fighting right now, especially with Ugly standing guard at the door. He was just about the biggest thug he had ever seen. Besides his circulation was just coming back and it was giving him a bad case of pins and needles. He rubbed his hands together carefully, trying to hasten their recovery. Once some of the circulation was restored, he rubbed a hand lightly across his jaw, wincing when he encountered a tender spot. He'd have a nice bruise in the morning that was for sure. His searching fingers moved to the back of his head. The matching bruise there wasn't feeling so hot either. He withdrew his hand, looking at his fingers. No blood. That was a good thing.
Meanwhile, Lady Morgana rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a pair of trousers similar to those worn by all the men in the village, and some wool socks. She threw the items at O'Neill, but they ended up on the floor at his feet. "Put these on. I do not want you succumbing to the elements. We are just getting started."
O'Neill obeyed slowly, but bent down a little too quickly. He got lightheaded and almost sprawled on the floor. Turlough's hand was the only thing that stopped him from toppling over. He dressed carefully, mindful of his newly acquired bruises. Once he was dressed, he sat back in the straight-backed chair, waiting. His eyes widened when he saw what was in her hands.
"Now wait a minute," he said, starting to look a little panicked. "Just what do you think you're doing with that? You can't think you're going to put that on me!" She held a metal collar in her hands and was advancing on him. Attached to the collar was a short metal chain.
Instead of answering him she ordered the guards to hold him. After great deal of swearing and struggling on the part of O'Neill, the collar was placed around his neck. It closed with a hiss, sealing itself. You could not tell where it ended or began. It was as if it was one piece of metal.
Turlough still held him firmly and for good reason; there was murder in his eyes.
"How dare you!" O'Neill said through clenched teeth. "How dare you think you can treat human beings as animals. You're just as bad as the Goa'uld—even worse. You try to pass yourself off as a human being. At least with the Goa'ulds, you know where you stand." His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. If only he could get loose
"Don't be so dramatic, O'Neill. This hostage chain will not hurt you. It will just teach you obedience." She walked around the room slowly, causing O'Neill to follow her with his eyes. With Turlough's hands firmly planted on his shoulders, he wasn't going anywhere else.
"You see, O'Neill, this is one of the many tools we will use to convince you to help us. You see, it could be much worse. When we overthrew the Goa'uld on this planet a millennium ago, they were forced to leave their technology behind. We are not the primitive people you thought we were. We used their technology, our metals, our special gifts, and our methods to improve on what they left behind. If you are lucky, you will never need to experience some of the more inventive methods we have of obtaining your obedience."
O'Neill was furious, but held his tongue. She stopped in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. If looks could kill, she would be dead—several times over. No such luck, however.
She clicked her nails on the metal collar. "This device cannot be removed by the wearer, only by the one who placed it around your neck. This will teach you humility and it will teach you your place in our society." She paused for a moment, letting the statement sink in. Apparently, she wanted to make sure she had his undivided attention.
"Until you agree to help us, you will be considered lower than our enemy. To us, you are worthless and you will be treated as such. You have no value in our society. Everyone here contributes something to our village and it is because of that contribution that each person continues living. You, on the other hand, are only living due to my mercy. And it is only due to my mercy that you will continue living. I have every right to kill you where you sit."
"So, what's stopping you?" he growled.
She paused, her eyes narrowing. "This night, I have asked myself that question many times. I believe you will be very useful to me once I can convince you that it is in your best interests to aid us."
"Well, that will never happen."
She leaned in close, an evil smile on her lips. "Never say never, Jack O'Neill. I have broken bigger men than you, and I've done it many times. I've actually already begun. Tonight, I take your dignity from you. I have already taken your team. There is nothing left but your misplaced loyalties, your almighty holier-than-thou attitude, and your life." She stood, turning her back to him.
"My team? What do you mean? What did you do to my team?" He tried struggling, but the goons weren't letting up.
She walked to the door, turning to address the guards. "Place him in the first cell and secure him there. We'll continue this discussion in the morning. I'm tired of this conversation, his endless dribble."
They acknowledged her order, echoing "Yes, my Lady" as she retreated down the hall.
O'Neill's angered cries followed her out. "What the hell did you do to my team? What did you do to my team?" The last call ended in a strangled cry. His mind was whirling. What had she done? How? Why? He had no answers, only questions.
Once she was gone, they roughly dragged him to his feet and led him down the hall, switching off the light and closing the door behind them.
At least they know how to clean up after themselves, he thought, laughing to himself. He must be going crazy. This was so not happening.
As ordered, they brought him to the first cell, leading him to the back wall. Pushing him to his knees, Turlough secured the end of the chain to the wall. They left without a word, leaving the door open. It wasn't as if he could reach it, some ten or more feet away, especially since his chain was barely two feet long. He tried pulling at it but managed only to irritate his neck. At this point, choking himself was not an option.
He contemplated his situation and realized that they couldn't have left him in a more uncomfortable position. Not only was it impossible for him to stand, he couldn't sit either. He had to spend the night on his knees. This was not going to be fun, especially since his knees were already protesting and he had only been here a few moments.
He carefully checked himself over, making sure he wasn't in worse condition than he felt. He probed carefully around his ribs, feeling them give a little more than they should have. Pains raced up his side and he gasped, seeing stars. Just about what he had expected, but that didn't make him feel any better. They were definitely cracked, perhaps even a little displaced, but it didn't feel like they had punctured anything. At least that was a good thing.
He tried to settle himself in the best he could, getting as comfortable as possible. Who knew when he would get the chance to sleep again, he thought. He had to take every opportunity to save his strength—something, he noted absently, he didn't have a lot of lately. Soon enough, with his back against the cold, damp rock wall, his head drooped forward, and he was asleep.