And i hope to have the next chapter up later tonight!
Sam hadn't made the conscious decision to take a nap, but suddenly she found herself being startled awake from where she had fallen asleep at the table.
"Get up, Tau'ri!" one of her Jaffa guards bellowed, bringing her quickly to her feet in a defensive position. Or rather, what was supposed to be a defensive position. She had in reality been overwhelmed by dizziness and a strong sense of queasiness at her abrupt change in position, and had rather awkwardly sunk to the floor with her hand over her mouth. Her stomach turned, but she fought it and climbed to her feet.
Before she could get back to work—as she was assuming that was the desire of the Jaffa who still stood before her—the door to the cargo bay opened and four Jaffa walked in. Her two regular guards, the largest of the bunch, grabbed her forcefully by her arms and marched her from the room without explanation. The rest of the Jaffa followed in formation, she supposed in case she was any trouble. She almost laughed out loud at that notion. At this point, she was out of breath from the walk!
After several minutes of walking they reached a very familiar set of doors. Sam took a deep breath and swallowed her dread. The doors opened and she stepped, with as much confidence as she had the energy to muster, into Olorun's throne chamber. He stood in front of the throne with his hands clasped behind him, smiling coldly at her arrival. She did not return his smile as the Jaffa forced her to her knees, instead communicating her loathing with a sharp glare.
"For a scientist of such reputable skill, I imagine you have progress to report," Olorun stated with an air of challenge. He stooped to her level and grasped her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Or are the legendary SG-1 as incompetent as I believe?" He gave a final sneer, glancing at her disheveled state, and stood. "What have you discovered?"
"I understand now the original purpose of the nanites, and how they have been modified," Sam began, thinking that this was considerable progress considering her current health and the small amount of time she had been working. She hadn't even had a full twenty-four hours to work on this!
"And a cure?" he pressed with feigned nonchalance. He paced slowly as he spoke, as if she was not worthy of his attention.
"I don't know how to stop it yet," she confessed, "but I'm getting close." She was bluffing there, but hoped he wouldn't call her on it. She in reality had no idea how much longer this was going to take.
"That is good to hear," Olorun responded, but in a manner that made her question his sincerity. He was up to something, and she wasn't looking forward to discovering the specifics.
"Perhaps all you need is sufficient motivation," he said with a leer, pausing his movement to turn to her. "I have sent for one of your teammates," he explained. "All you need is sufficient motivation, and I'm sure this will be resolved quickly. Is the threat of torture to your teammates sufficient?" He took her wide eyes as an affirmative.
Olorun's first prime was given the privilege of choosing the teammate, and escorting her back to the cargo bay. Ro'tak whispered his choice to one her guards, and dispatched a group to gather him. Ro'tak led her and a group of Jaffa back to the cargo bay himself. When they reached the cargo bay Ro'tak followed her to her workspace while the rest waited outside.
Sam didn't have the chance to get back to work before she felt her feet swept out from under her by the Ro'tak's staff weapon. Her reflexes and strength were weakened by the toll the nanites were taking on her body, and she felt cold fear in he bones as the Jaffa straddled her and held a knife to her throat.
"I have grown tired of this game," he sneered, spitting his words in her face. Her arms remained pinned by his knees and her legs by his weight. The knife was cold against her fevered skin.
"If you harm me your god will have you killed," she warned him. "I am your only chance to survive this."
"This is merely an exercise by my god to demonstrate for all the impotence of SG-1," he rationalized. "You will find no cure, as you have not the powers of a god. If it is the will of my god I will die of this plague. It is a punishment for all Jaffa for the disloyalty of shol'va's like your friend Teal'c." There was a fire in his eyes—an anger and appetite—that worried her.
"That's not true," she argued, knowing even as the words left her mouth that they would do nothing. "Olorun is no god! And he can't stop the plague! But I can."
"You cannot." He was certain. "But if we are both to die soon, I see no reason not to take advantage of what my god has delivered to me." He ran his free hand through her hair, grasping her head and pulling her into a rough kiss.
She resisted, trying to squirm out from underneath him, without progress. He used the knife to slit her t-shirt open, and initiated another bruising kiss as his hands groped beneath it. Her moment came as he forced his tongue into her mouth, and she bit it—hard. The attacker yelped and pulled back. In this brief moment of distraction she was able to pull one of her arms out from underneath his knees. Blood poured from his mouth but she barely noticed as she used her now free arm to gouge her knuckles into his eyes. He cried out in pain and took his focus off her momentarily. It took energy she didn't know she had, fueled by adrenaline and terror, to roll sideways and throw him off her. Crawling away as quickly as she could, Sam searched for a weapon. Anything! The wrench-like tool she had spotted earlier would be handy, but she was at least fifteen feet from the lab table it was on. Crawling wasn't getting her very far, and the Jaffa was quickly recovering to pursue her. As he lunged for her she grabbed one of the empty boxes she had used as a stool and swung it behind her toward his face. He batted it away before it could connect and tackled her, and she screamed out as she felt the bones in her left wrist snap.
He used her pain against her, grabbing that wrist and pulling her to her feet. She saw stars as he pushed her forcefully up against the wall with his body, and her head stuck the wall hard. He forced her legs apart with his knee, and reached for the zipper of her BDU's. Sam refused to submit, pushing the agony of her broken wrist and the pounding of her head to the back of her mind. His positioning put her left leg slightly between his, and she lifted her knee to his crotch with as much power as she could, forcing him into a distracted crouch. The Jaffa continued to hold her to the wall with his body, but was not being nearly as careful now. She suddenly saw her opportunity, and grabbed for the knife in his hand. As she grabbed for the hilt he tried to move it away, slicing into the palm of her right hand. She ignored the pain and fought for the knife. Her left wrist was almost useless, but she used it anyway. Deciding she wasn't worth the effort or the pain she was inflicting he turned the knife towards her chest, intent on ending this. They were both gripping the knife and forcing it towards the other when the door to the cargo bay opened. The Jaffa had returned with the chosen teammate.
In a moment of desperation Sam forced the knife between Ro'tak's ribs and into the his heart, ending both of their struggles. As his life drained out of him and onto her hands, she paused only long enough to take a breath before shoving him away from her. She still had the knife, and knew of only one way she could use it to her advantage against the Jaffa who now had their weapons raised. Still leaning against the wall, with the body of Olorun's first prime slumped on the floor at her feet, she raised the knife to her own throat. She pressed the bloody knife hard enough against her neck to draw beads of blood that dripped down her neck.
"You cannot win," one of the Jaffa stated arrogantly. There were five Jaffa in total facing her, all with zats raised. Only three of the five aimed at her, but she knew they would not risk firing at her in such a clearly weakened state. The remaining two Jaffa had their zats raised and aimed at the teammate they had chosen to use for motivation: the Colonel. His hands were bound behind his back and a black hood blocked his vision. She could read the tension in his body and knew he would kill to know what was going on at that moment.
Obviously word of this incident had spread quickly, as Olorun walked through the door himself a moment later, flanked by Jaffa. He wore the hand device, but Sam knew it was useless as well in this situation. It would only put more pressure on the knife.
Sam spoke before Olorun could, asserting control of the negotiation. "If you want me to continue working for a cure, I need a gesture of good faith."
Olorun actually laughed. "Good faith? I do not believe you understand who you are dealing with, my dear."
"I could say the same to you. This setup has to change. No more Jaffa in the room with me. You can have as many outside as you feel you need, but none in here."
"I find it hard to believe that you are willing to take your own life for the sake of privacy," he rebutted.
"I'm not finished," she spat. "I can find a cure, but I can't do it by myself. The colonel stays."
"That I unacceptable," Olorun protested. "You cannot expect me to allow you and your teammate to conspire unobserved."
"That's the deal, take it or leave it."
"If you kill yourself I will end the lives of your friends as slowly and painfully as possible," he threatened.
She dreaded doing that to her friends, but knew she had no choice. "I'm dying anyway, and if I die before I find the cure they face the same fate. I have nothing to lose." It was a lie. She had plenty to lose, including the man in front of her.
Olorun paused, considering. Perhaps her teammate would be of use to her in speeding up the process. Sweat poured from her face and blood soaked her clothing. Her left arm hung loosely at her side, but he could see the bruising from the break. And as she waited for a response her breathing was heavy and raspy.
"I will allow it," he said with confidence, as if it had been his idea all along. "You are too pathetic at the moment to pose any threat, and may require his assistance. As a demonstration of my graciousness, I will indulge your weakness."
"I want to keep the knife," she demanded, keeping it pressed against her pulse. "Against a group of Jaffa you know I stand no chance even with a knife. You have nothing to lose."
It was a true demonstration of Olorun's desperation, which he was doing his best to hide, that he agreed. "One dagger against my forces, with you already imprisoned and weak, is nothing more for you than a security blanket. Keep it with you, but if you betray or fail me, I will use it to slit the throats of your companions myself."
"Agreed. Leave the Colonel and myself. I will contact you through the Jaffa outside the door with news of my progress."
"You do not have long to live," he reminded her. "Two days at most. Work quickly." With that he signaled for the Colonel to be zatted once and abandoned, still bound and hooded. He crumpled to floor, and was still. The Jaffa followed Olorun from the room, and she assumed were posted outside the door.
The relief and shock that hit her were just too much and she could stand no longer. With silent tears dripping unnoticed from her chin, she slid to floor with the knife now at her side.
Please review! It gives me the motivation to write faster (and you've seen how much my writing has slowed since i've been swamped with school).