On a Slow Ride Through Molasses – Part six
"Am I drunk?"
"Sorry, sir, I didn't hear that?" Sam leaned forward, getting closer to the colonel in an effort to catch his whispered words. She frowned as she realised his speech was slightly slurred.
"Drunk. Am I?" This time his words were clear, but accompanied by a snicker and a small upward twitch of his lips, his eyes remaining closed. "Yoda, sound like I do."
Her frowned deepened and she reached a hand, placing it on his forehead. His lack of reaction to her touch was even more worrying than his peculiar words.
Colonel O'Neill didn't feel hot and the cut on his head seemed to have healed without infection. Jaahn had provided them with some basic medical supplies, including antiseptic with which she had cleaned the wound. She had refused the medicine, including the painkillers Steffen had obtained from the hospital he worked at. He'd insisted at first, but as soon as she explained that their effects might not be the same for them as for the locals he acquiesced.
The bruising was still vivid against the colonel's pale skin, but his face seemed to be losing some of its gauntness. She jumped back a little as she shifted her gaze to find deep brown eyes staring up at her.
"So why do I feel like this?"
"Like what, sir?"
His face twisted as if in pain before he answered. "Like I've spent the weekend getting friendly with several bottles of Jack Daniels."
"Dizzy?"
He nodded. "Yes, and distant – you know, that sort of strange fuzzy feeling that you're not really there."
"What about your vision?" She raised a hand in front of his face, holding up three fingers. "How many fingers, sir?"
O'Neill squinted his eyes, peering intently, then relaxed back into the pillow, his face a mixture of emotions. "Can I plead the Fifth?"
"Colonel…"
He sighed in resignation. "Okay, I don't know - some number between one and four I'd guess. It's all a blur." He shifted on the thin mattress that now served as a bed. "Here, help me up."
Sam knew better that to protest, and to be truthful, could understand the colonel's desire to be upright as people moved around him. She took his forearm in a firm grip and pulled, and he was soon leaning against the wall, panting from the exertion. She waited patiently as he got himself back under control.
"So, Carter? Diagnosis?"
"I have to be honest, sir, I don't know. Your head injury may be worse than we first thought – perhaps even a hairline skull fracture."
"So, getting up not a good idea?"
She smiled. "No, sir, probably not."
"Ah." Her smile broadened as the Colonel gave her one of his trademark smirks. "But seeing I'm up, I may as well stay up – right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sweet." He turned, frowning, as one of Jaahn's men walked past, offering a grunted greeting. "What's going on?" His eyes narrowed and Sam recognised the commander coming to the fore.
"Jaahn's set up a headquarters here. He and his men have been very helpful."
"Weapons?"
She shook her head at his question. "No, sir, but they've given us food and medical supplies and he's pledged his help in an assault on the gate." She looked closer to make sure her CO was still taking in her words and felt reassured at his annoyed nod to continue. "It's still closely guarded, although the search for us in the city seems to have been scaled down. Jaahn and Major Ferretti have agreed that only a full assault would succeed."
"Isn't that risky given we have no weapons? What's the number of guards? Have you seen the situation at the gate for yourself?" She had to shake her head and his frown deepened. "I want Ferretti to report to me with full details of his observations and recommendations." He snapped his orders, and she pulled back a little, startled.
"He's with Jaahn now, going over some plans. I'll get him." Sam hesitated, but continued regardless. "But, I have to say, sir, that you're in no condition to be making decisions."
The colonel's eyes grew cold, immediately making her dismiss any lingering worries that he wasn't fully aware. "I'm fine, Major."
She steeled herself to reply. "I'm sorry, sir, but you aren't fine. You've been barely awake for most of the past four days."
Sam waited, seeing the colonel's eyes drop from hers as the reality of his injury finally sunk in.
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Four days? He hadn't been asleep for four days.
O'Neill struggled to dispute the major's words, sifting through his memory for anything he could remember, but coming up with only vague images. He was only dimly aware that Carter had left, and it came as a surprise when Lou slid down the wall to sit beside him.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
He nodded, taking a quick glance around to check they couldn't be overheard. "I hear you've been making plans."
"Yes, sir. I reconnoitred with Jaahn last night and confirmed that the gate was heavily guarded. It looks like the best plan is to attack just before dawn. With Jaahn's men we have the numbers to succeed."
"And when exactly is this attack to take place?"
"According to Jaahn, there's a religious festival in three days time. We're hoping the guard will be reduced, at least of locals anyway ."
Jack shrugged, an uncomfortable feeling moving down his back as if something was brushing across his spine. "You seem to be placing a lot of reliance on Jaahn's information."
Ferretti gave him a quick, searching look, then turned away to watch one of the local men walk past the doorway on the far side of the room. "He's been very helpful. Without him we'd still be in prison and you'd…" His words trailed off.
Jack heard the continuation of Lou's sentence as if it had been spoken aloud.
And he'd be dead.
Perhaps true, but he wasn't.
"I obviously don't trust quite as easily as you do. What about his men? What do they think about risking their lives so we can run home?" His words caught in his throat and he coughed painfully.
Lou leaned over, picking up a flask and pouring some water into a mug. "Here."
Jack nodded his thanks, sipping the liquid slowly, glad to see his hand was steady enough to hold the cup, as Lou answered his question.
"I haven't spoken to Jaahn's men. He's the only one who speaks English – the others speak the same language as the guards in the prison and Daniel can't get a handle on that at all. Apparently English is only spoken on the Western Continent. Jaahn's mother came from there."
Something was nagging at Jack's mind, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He took another sip of the slightly sweet water. "What happens after we go home? They're going to have to eliminate everyone near the gate or their cover will be blown. Is that possible?"
Ferretti shifted again, the major's eyes sliding away from his as Jack waited for a reply. Several moments passed without an answer. "What aren't you telling me?"
"I've agreed to take Jaahn and his men with us. We can send them to an unoccupied planet."
So many questions whirled through Jack's brain that he didn't know where to start. He contented himself with an incredulous exclamation.
"You've done what?"
"It isn't like we haven't done it before, sir. And they've …"
Jack interrupted, his voice sharp. "We've taken groups of defenceless civilians, including women and children, through the gate. Not a well-armed militia group."
"Well…" Again Lou hesitated and warning bells started ringing in Jack's head. "Their families are coming with us."
"Just how many people are we talking about, Major?"
"Approximately one hundred and fifty, sir. Some of the single men have opted to remain behind and defend the gate."
Jack took a breath, his carefully maintained air of normality slowly becoming submerged in the rising tide of pain and dizziness. He forced his next words out through clenched teeth, aware of Lou's worried stare.
"You're prepared to allow one hundred and fifty potential hostiles into the SGC. I don't think so, Major."
Lou dropped forward, getting to his knees and moving around to look Jack straight in the face. He shook his head vehemently. "That's just it, Colonel – they aren't hostiles, they're allies. We've had more than a week to get to know these people and they are worth saving. They hate the Goa'uld as much as we do, and deserve the chance to live a peaceful life with their families without fear of oppression. Isn't that what we want?"
Was it?
Jack blinked, trying to clear the fog from his eyes. Why was he so against Jaahn and his people? Was he being irrational? He could only repeat what he had already said.
"I don't trust them."
It was a gut feeling, but he had found his gut feelings were usually right. Maybe if he spoke to Jaahn and his men he could pinpoint exactly what it was that was causing him so much worry. But he couldn't – hadn't Lou told him Jaahn was the only one who spoke English?
He shook his head, straightening his body and feeling the room lurch sickeningly sideways.
That wasn't right.
"Jaahn was talking to that Steffen. I remember that. Steffen was arguing with him."
"They have been arguing about the details a little. Steffen is Jaahn's second. I asked what the problem was and Jaahn said it was that Steffen insisted on being one of the ones to remain behind." Lou looked pained. "It's basically a suicide mission."
Jack ran a hand over his head, feeling the greasy stickiness of hair left too long without a wash. "No, that wasn't it. It was about overhearing something . . . " He let his voice trail off as he became less sure of his recollection. He shut his eyes, trying to pull the memory forward and failing.
"Jack," Lou's words were almost whispered, and Jack felt the touch of a hand on his arm. "You couldn't have known what the argument was about. Steffen doesn't speak English."
He shook his head again, slipping sideways, the mug falling from suddenly slack hands.
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