This chapter was requested by Union-Jack2.0, and I admit that it is something I've been thinking of for a while. It's set between chapters 2 and 3 of this story.
The New Guys, part 4
"Somehow, the phrase 'that's another fine mess you've gotten us into' springs to mind Jonas." O'Neill lamented as he hung from the cell wall by his wrists, "And who the hell is this guy anyway?"
"Mars, Roman god of war." The young man explained, "According to the legend, he was the father of Romulus and Remus, the mythological founders of Rome…"
"You could have just said 'Mars, Roman god of war' and left it at that…" O'Neill rolled his eyes, "And how likely is he to be very angry with us?"
"Mars is a minor System Lord, and will likely present us to Anubis in an attempt to curry favour and influence." Teal'c speculated in his usual deadpan way, "He has very few Jaffa under his command, but a disproportionably high number of ships."
"So we have been captured by a frustrated god of war?" O'Neill sighed, "We never get any brakes."
"Try looking on the bright side Jack." Carter suggested, "We're not dead yet."
"The keyword there was 'yet'." O'Neill shook his head, "I appreciate the attempt to make me feel better Sam, but it's not working…" He stopped when he heard shouting from outside, followed by some very off-key singing, interrupted by sporadic gunfire.
"When you walk through the storm,
hold your head up high,
and don't be afraid of the dark."
"You know something." O'Neill raised an eyebrow, "That sounds a lot like Sergeant Garang…"
"Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart,
and you'll never walk alone!"
"That's Sergeant Garang." Carter nodded, "But what's he doing here?"
"Does it matter?" O'Neill asked, "WE'RE IN HERE!"
"Allright?" Sergeant Garang's grinning face appeared at the cell door, "What you lot doing in there then?"
"Just hanging out." O'Neill quipped.
"Don't worry; we'll have you out of there in a jiffy!" The former Ghurkha attached something to the doorframe, "You might want to look the other way…"
The door exploded inwards, narrowly missing Carter and Jonas. The smoke started to settle as Garang and Privet Fred Jones stepped through. They quickly untied SG-1, allowing O'Neill and Carter to embrace one another.
"I thought the rules said no hank-panky off world?" Garang laughed, almost missing the Jaffa who ran through the doorway.
The initial swing of the warrior's staff weapon was aimed too high, and missed Garang's head entirely. The Jaffa recovered quickly, but the Sergeant had already drawn his Kukri and held in tightly in his right hand.
Dodging the next attack, Garang let out a loud cry as he span round, the curve-bladed knife slicing cleanly thought his attackers neck, all but severing his head. A second blow to the already dead mans abdomen impaled the immature Goa'uld symbiote inside.
"Wow!" Jonas blinked.
"Aye, well the bastard had it coming!" Jones shrugged, lifting his automatic shotgun to his shoulder and covering the door.
"What was it you said there?" O'Neill asked Garang.
"An old Nepalese war cry, not something I'd want to repeat in English." The Sergeant almost blushed, "Not in mixed company, anyway."
"So you speak Nepalese?"
"Both me parents where from Nepal, and they decided that it was important that I understood both sides of my cultural heritage. That said, you don't half get some funny looks when you say something in Nepalese with a thick Liverpool ascent."
A loud explosion rocked the compound, showering everyone with a layer of dust.
"That'll be the captain." Jones headed through the door, "He does love fireworks…"
Outside the cellblock looked like a scene from Pandemonium: smoke hung over the main courtyard, with several fire still burning. Wounded Jaffa were staggering around, shocked by the intensity of the attack. One spotted SG-1 and their rescuers, but a single well-aimed shot from a hidden location dropped him like a stone.
SG-1 kept running until Garang called a halt, "Need to make shore the Stargate is still clear."
They advanced slowly, the two SAS soldiers taking the lead as they edged forward. Captain McPherson was waiting for them a short distance from the Stargate.
"Good to see you're still alive." The English officer smiled, "We managed to lead most of the Jaffa away from the trail you took, but it's only a matter of time before they realise that there's only one way we're getting off this planet and double back."
"Any sign of anyone?" O'Neill asked.
"I sent Mick up to have a look."
It was ten minuets before Privet Mick Wright made his way back to the rally point, a grim expression on his face, "Jaffa, platoon strength, with at least two heavy weapons. The Rupert seems to be some short-ass git with a Ben Her fixation."
"That will be Mars himself." Teal'c nodded solemnly, "He would want to recapture us himself in order to impress Anubis."
"Ok, This is the plan." O'Neill drew a rough circle on the ground, "Captain, take you team and go round on the right until you're almost in line with the Stargate. We'll go round to the left, catch them in a crossfire…" the sound of staff weapons being readied interrupted him, "Or maybe not…"
"So, the legendary SG-1 though that they could escape?" Mars strutted back and forth in front of the prisoners, "I only hope that Anubis allows me to be there when he executes you."
"You know if you're that stuck for things to do, there are some good films in the cinema at the moment." O'Neill suggested, "Maybe you could catch a matinee?"
"Silence!" Mars sneered, "I will teach you to respect your gods!" He walked along until he stopped in front of Fred Jones, easily the tallest of the prisoners, "Starting with you."
"Hey, Pal, can yer mammie sew?" Jones had a dangerous look in his eye, "Aye, well stitch this!"
There was a loud crack as his head connected with that of the System Lord with impressive force. Mars staggered back: cross-eyed but still on his feet.
"Aw right?" Jones looked at him, his head cocked to one side, "Big toughie, is ye? Once more wi' feelin'!"
There was wet crack, and blood flew everywhere as Mars' nose shattered under a second impact. The Goa'uld fell to the ground like a puppet with the strings cut.
"You just head butted a System Lord into unconsciousness!" O'Neill blinked.
"Aye, well the bastard shouldn't have looked at me funny." The SAS trooper shrugged, "Who did he think he was anyway? Coming along and giving it the big 'I AM' shit!" He looked round at the assembled Jaffa, "Aye, come and have a go if ye think you're hard enough!"
"That will do Jones." McPherson slipped a small knife out of his pocket and cut the rope binding his hands together, "No need to take it personally."
"Yeah, good idea." O'Neill nodded as his own restraints were cut, rubbing his wrists to get back his sense of circulation, "You're up Teal'c."
"Jaffa, Kree!" The former First Prime looked at the still shocked Jaffa, "Mars is a false god, like all the other Goa'uld. They are not worthy of our obedience. Our people can and will be free, if you will stand with us!"
Nobody moved for what felt like an eon, waiting to see what would happen next. O'Neill eyed the Stargate nervously; trying to work out how quickly they could reach it and dial out.
Finally, one of Mars' Jaffa removed his armor and dropped it were the Goa'uld lay. The others followed suit, until they were all standing in just their regular clothes.
"Did we win?" Sergeant Garang asked no one in particular.
"We didn't lose." O'Neill shrugged, "Teal'c, you stay here and organise everything to get them to one of the Free Jaffa camps. We'll go to the Alpha Site and report in.""
"Indeed." Teal'c nodded before walking over to talk with the other Jaffa.
"What about him?" McPherson asked, pointing his knife at Mars, "What do we do with him?"
"Leave him: he can explain to Anubis how he managed to lose both his prisoners and his Jaffa in one go." O'Neill grinned, "Just wish I could be there for that discussion…"
The End
