YESTERDAY.
by Lingren.
Italics...indicate the internal conversation between the host and his Tok'ra symbiote.
Previously:
Now he was assured that with all that Jack had gone through for the past 40 years that he was indeed the right man for the job; providing he was alive and discovered by SG-8.
Chapter 14
When Major Thompson stumbled quickly from the wormhole's rough ride his subordinates immediately restrained him.
"Whoa! What's up guys?" he asked puzzled by his team-mates reactions.
"Big drop down there sir. Dennison nearly took a tumble. Jones managed to stop him from taking a nose dive," Captain Baker informed him.
Thompson stepped nearer to the jagged edge of the gate platform cautiously, and peered down into the gorge, along side the others.
"Wow!" he sighed heavily, grateful that his team stopped him in time.
"That could have been nasty," Baker stated.
"No kiddin'!" Dennison gasped, thinking the same thing, and silently thanking his team-mate for saving his ass.
A noise behind them startled them and as one they spun round, bringing their P-90's up in defence.
The lone figure that stood cautiously eyeing them up, stepped back in panic, his eyes wide in distrust as he took in their weapons pointed at his chest.
"Dennison, you're on! Make nice with the native."
"Hi! Em...we're not gonna hurt you. We're from the planet Earth! Friends!" he said, trying to recall what Dr. Jackson had taught him to say.
It wasn't working so far.
The native stood there watching his every move.
Dennison dropped his weapon, leaving it to dangle from the strap around his neck and spread his hands wide in a gesture of openness.
Still, the native stood silently.
Dennison turned to his team-mates in frustration.
"I wish Daniel were here, he'd know what to say and do."
"Yeah, well Dr. Jackson ain't here, so like I said...make nice already!"
"Like I'm not tryin'?" Dennison sighed, and turned back to the alien. "Daniel!" he muttered aloud. "Where the hell are you?"
"Dan...yell?" the native stuttered, pointing to Dennison.
"He's a mimic!" Jones laughed at Dennison's failing efforts.
Joe Dennison sighed again and scratched his head; this was getting them nowhere, fast.
"Lt. Dennison!" he said pointing to his own chest. Then he indicated the rest of his team. "Major Thompson, Lt. Jones, Captain Baker."
The Lieutenant then pointed a finger at the native and asked him his name.
"Dan...yell," he nodded turning to point behind him to the distant hills.
The young warrior beckoned to them with both hands.
"Dan...yell!" he repeated and stepped backwards indicating that they follow him.
"Sir...I think he wants us to follow him!"
"Really? What made you think that?" Thompson jibed.
"Well, maybe it was the hand gestures sir," Dennison replied wryly.
"No kiddin'? Boy, you're sharp today!" the Major quipped. "Lead on Lieutenant."
The four soldiers followed in the native's wake and every now and then, the young warrior would check over his shoulder to see if they were still there.
He led them a fair distance through the pleasant landscape, probably about five miles from the gate, so the Major discerned, when they came upon a village.
The other inhabitants came out to see the procession. They rarely got to see outsiders.
Thompson never relinquished the hold on his P-90, neither did Jones or Baker, but Dennison hadn't bothered to stay on the alert, walking instead with his hands resting lightly over the butt of his gun in a relaxed pose. He didn't want to frighten these people any more than they already were. Most of the villagers that they passed, eyed them with suspicion. Mothers hid their children behind their backs and hovered near their huts. The men were more curious than alarmed, but Dennison read a warning in their faces.
"I don't think these people will do us any harm sir. I think we can lighten up a little," he said gesturing at their guns.
"Dan...yell," the native said again and pushed Dennison towards the door of a hut.
Thompson was immediately on guard again, and brought his weapon up into the native's face.
The little man jumped back in horror, looking scared stiff, but he smiled pleasantly and pointed to the door again, nodding.
Dennison pushed the gun away from the man and calmed his CO down.
"It's okay sir. I don't think he intends any harm."
Thompson sighed.
"Okay, but only you go in. If it's safe we'll enter too."
"Yes sir."
Dennison entered the hut and squinted around the dark interior. He could make out a low cot against one wall but that was all there was. He turned back to the native who had joined him with a frown.
"Dan...yell!" he grinned, pointing towards the cot.
Dennison peered at the cot again and this time could barely discern a shape, lying there.
The native pushed him towards it still smiling widely.
He approached the bed cautiously and the dark shape morphed into a man.
"Oh my God!" he gasped. "Major!" he yelled over his shoulder loudly.
Thompson dashed into the hut, his gun held high ready for action. However, when he entered into the darkness, he only saw Dennison kneeling down beside a bed, the native beaming widely hovering at his side. He gingerly made his way over to him.
"What the hell Lieutenant?"
Dennison's beaming face turned towards his CO as he approached.
"Sir, it's Colonel O'Neill!"
OoOoOoOoO
SATURDAY MORNING.
General Hammond leapt to his feet as soon as the klaxons began their wailing. He was down the steps to the control room before the gate had even stopped spinning.
He watched anxiously, whilst trying not to appear too eager. The gate exploded with a rush and he turned to the technician for confirmation.
"It's SG-8 sir."
He had to look astonished; they officially weren't due back for another 12 hours yet.
"Open the Iris," he commanded. "Then get a medical team down there. They're too early, there must be something wrong."
The sergeant called the medical team after opening the trinium shield covering the open wormhole.
Hammond calmed his racing thoughts. They were much later than he had anticipated. If they had met up with Jack near the gate, then they should have been back hours ago. The dread which had settled in the pit of his stomach solidified as the team stepped through the gate carrying Jack on a home made stretcher. Hammond's heart dropped to his shoes with concern.
Major Thompson looked up and caught the General's eye.
"Sir! Look who we found?" he grinned, as they lowered the Colonel to the ramp.
Dr. Frasier came hurrying into the gate room and her heart stuttered and palpitated loudly in her throat at the sight of the man they had all assumed to be dead.
Snapping from her shock, she moved in to examine him.
"Major, explain?" Hammond gasped as he looked down at the supine figure of his 2IC after he'd hurried into the room.
It's a long story sir. The natives had him in a hut, and they didn't know what to do with him. It's my guess that he fell and injured himself as he exited the gate sir. There's a fair drop in front of the DHD and the wormhole gave us a rough ride. If he shot out of it anything faster than we did, then he wouldn't have stood a chance."
Hammond vaguely wondered why Kanan hadn't healed him, but then maybe the Tok'ra had also been injured, or perhaps he was dead. He wouldn't know the answer to that until Jack was examined by the Doctor.
"Very well Major. We'll debrief now."
"Yes sir!" the Major answered smartly.
Janet soon had Jack lying on a gurney and they rushed him away to the infirmary.
General Hammond turned and called up to the technician behind the glass of the control room.
"Have SG-1 paged to the briefing room!" he ordered.
"Yes sir!" the sergeant grinned. It would be his pleasure.
Jack O'Neill, the scourge of the SGC was back.
TBC
A big 'Thank you' to everyone who reviewed, your comments are much welcome and appreciated.
Just one more chapter to come folks...with the long awaited fluff.