Okay, so I really didtry to update quickly. However, it was a mite unrealistic for me. My Muse is preferring to play in other universes, school is coming to a head with finals looming, and I'm at an end to my pre-written stuff that just needed editing. But, on the bright side, this is a longer chapter; longer than most of the other ones, at least.
So here's Chapter Six, hopefully not the last for the next eight months.
3:27 P.M., Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, SGC
Outworld, from what the Kombatants had said of it, was a dangerous place. Dangerous enough to warrant fast transportation rather than heavily-armored transport.
Sam suggested returning to the SGC to requisition trucks and other supplies. With little other option, everyone consented the cross-country trip to Colorado and sign the non-disclosure agreements required to enter the SGC. Xander balked at the idea of signing a paper that, essentially, kept him from using his rights as a U.S. citizen until Buffy and Willow glared at him. Then he meekly wrote his name and said, "But hey, we get to see a top-secret base that no one else in the country knows about—again."
When Jack called the SGC to inform the General of the impending arrivals, Hammond seemed rather baffled at the request for nine copies of the agreements and to prepare himself for a rather eclectic group to come to the base. Jack was almost certain that the General was going to deny it, but suddenly the Texan said yes and hung up before Jack could even blink. Returning to the group, Jack wondered for a moment whether to ask the Defenders if Rayden would stoop so low as to hoodwink his superior commander, then decided against it. Sonya had said she'd kick the next person's ass who questioned Rayden's intentions, and she seemed like a person who kept her word.
The speediest way to Colorado was via Rayden's portals, which made many cringe. However, reminded about their missing friends, they braved the portal and stepped through.
Sam noted that she managed to stay on her feet this time, though she still felt ready to be sick. Xander was less adept, vomiting as soon as his knees hit the ground. A couple others were close to losing their stomachs, but they held it well.
"Where are we?" Sub-Zero asked quietly, eyes already scanning the surroundings. Sam felt a prick of envy at his rapid recovery, though she reasoned with herself that he had more experience.
The Colonel looked around from his knees, wincing as he creaked back to a stand. "One of the storage areas, probably on Level 4. Smart of Rayden to dump us in here rather than in front of Hammond."
"Don't put it past him," Jax advised. "Rayden's good for a god, but sometimes he forgets mortals don't always find the humor in what he does."
As soon as everyone had regained their bearings, Jack opened the door and led the way out. A few technicians paused in the hallway and stared.
"C'mon," Sam motioned. "We need you to sign the agreements first. It's good that we're not past many of the security checkpoints."
As they filed into a meeting room General Hammond rose from his seat, eyes glaring hard at his premier team. SG-1 fell into relaxed attention, as did Sonya and Jax. Everyone else arranged themselves close to their group, eyes notably focused anywhere except the General. Buffy considered for a moment walking up to the bald man, sticking out her hand, and chirpily greeting him with a thoroughly southern California Valley girl accent, but he didn't seem like a man to be crossed. Besides, Giles would scold her and rub his glasses so hard he'd break them.
"SG-1, who are these people and where's Dr. Jackson?" Hammond wasted no time with pleasantries after everyone signed the non-disclosure agreements, switching his gaze from one face to another.
"Well, sir," Jack said lightly, "we're the ones who have to save the world. And Danny got himself kidnapped. Again. We're here to request permission to requisition arms and get . . . some . . . transportation . . . sir," Jack drifted off, noting his superior commander's stormy look get worse.
"Colonel, you are aware that the Head of the Appropriations committee is currently here, to 'assess' the SGC's budget? If I so much as approve an extra box of paper clips, I'll be pinned by Kinsey as negligent and wasteful."
"Sir, this is an emergency," Sam put in.
"Yeah, like Apophis Round One all over again," Jack added. "Except worse."
Buffy wondered at Jack's addition of 'Round One,' but dropped it as the General seemed honestly concerned. "Are you certain of the level of this threat, Colonel?"
"Hanbi has already circumvented our line of defense once, General Hammond," Teal'c advised. "All precautions should be instigated to prevent his impending arrival on Earth."
Hammond frowned, then sighed something almost too soft to hear; Sam thought it was along the lines of, "Should have retired then and there, and not take the easy job." She decided she had been hearing things, and tuned in when Hammond said, "Alright, I've got Siler busy distracting Kinsey at the moment on Level 25. Go requisition what you need in terms of firearms, and return to my office at sixteen hundred hours. Major Carter, follow me."
Caught off-guard by the request, Sam could only shrug at the others as they filed out to their separate locations. The large group was rather disgruntled at the elevator ride, especially when they unloaded only to pile into another elevator. They finally made it to the storage, where Jack shoved several zats into their hands.
"One shot stuns, two kill, three disintegrates. Keep that in mind when you aim," Jack told them. "Good with long distances, but if Hanbi or his soldiers have shields they might not work."
Buffy handed her zat to Giles, nose wrinkled. "I'll stick with my Scythe. It goes better with my clothes. And it doesn't feel so. . . weird."
They had barely finished gathering the last of the grenades (Jack insisted on them; he apparently felt they brought good luck on missions) when Sam barreled into the room, shutting the door with a huff. "Liu, do you think Rayden can open a portal in here to transport us?" she asked before anyone could inquire after her flushed face.
"Sure," the Champion replied, brows furrowed. "He'll need to know where we're heading, though."
"Carter, what's going on?" Jack drawled cautiously.
"Kinsey nearly barged in on us," Sam answered. "Hammond managed to see him and shoo me out before Kinsey could really have a look at me, but we'd better go before Kinsey puts two and two together."
"So much for wheeled transportation, then," Xander sighed.
Sam smiled, one that Jack and Teal'c recognized as her devious side showing itself. "No, that's what the portal is for. We're heading to Nevada."
"Nevada?" Sub-Zero frowned. "What the hell is in Nevada?"
Jack stared disbelievingly at his 2IC, then guffawed. "Hammond is letting us use the X-303 on this mission?"
"Technically, sir, it's the BC-303. And yes, he did."
"What's an X-BC. . . what you said?" Buffy looked curiously at her other companions; none of them seemed any wiser about it, which meant she hadn't missed some important break-through in the scientific community recently.
"You'll see," Sam said, aiming her next comment at Liu. "The location is Area 37-92, Nevada. Can Rayden—"
A portal crackled to their collective left, halting her sentence. Jax said, "Well, he always did love eavesdropping on us way back when, why would he stop now?"
Jack grimaced at the sight of the portal, turning to his comrades with a sigh. "My knees are getting too old for this. Let's head out, campers, before Kinsey tracks Carter down and put Hammond into any more trouble."
"'Campers?'" Willow muttered under her breath. "Scoobies sound so much better than 'campers.'"
Sam waited until the last person (Xander, who took a moment to gather his nerves before braving the wild ride) went through, taking a deep breath and jumping.
Just hang on, Daniel. We're coming to get you. Just hang on.
Abaddon
Faith awoke with a groan, eyes fluttering open. As she finally focused her eyes, Dawn's face greeted her with an anxious look. "I think she's waking up!" Dawn said, though her voice sounded incredibly muted.
Two other faces, Kitana's and Daniel's, hovered over hers. "Faith, are you alright?" Daniel asked, his voice also quiet.
Grunting, Faith sat up slowly. Her head spun, and it took a minute for her to focus. "Yeah. Five by five." Or maybe two or three, she thought privately as her own voice sounded distinctly softer. "What happened?"
"A Screamer knocked you out," Dawn replied. "Do you remember?"
The Slayer frowned. Yes, she remembered. And she was thoroughly disgruntled. "Those things won't get the best of me again," she grumbled, standing with the help of Kitana's hand. She spotted the crook of her arm, which had a blood stain on it. "Where did this come from? I don't remember me ever tossing in my sleep."
"The guards came again," Kitana answered. "They took two vials of your blood. Whichever ritual Hanbi is intending to invoke, he apparently needs a certain amount of blood respective to the host."
"We tried to fight them off, but," Daniel shook his head. "It didn't work. When they brought the Screamer in, we had to play nice."
Faith nodded. "Good idea. I'm still a little deaf in one ear from that last one." She cracked her neck, which did some good in clearing her hearing.
"Why do you think they need our blood?" Dawn asked quietly, rubbing arms that were undoubtedly bruised from the guards' rough treatment. "What sort of ritual are they going to perform?"
"Whatever it is, it can't be good for us," Daniel sighed. "The only fortunate thing I can see in this situation is that they can't complete the ritual without Stryker."
"There is also a time-factor," Kitana spoke up from her meditation. "Otherwise, they would have taken all of our blood at the same time."
"S-so, maybe the others will get here before they finish," Dawn said hopefully, eyes turning dark with worry. "'Cause, I don't know about any of you guys, but after they're done making us bleed, I don't think they would really need us for much longer."
Faith winced. Dawn was right. Hanbi might need their blood, fresh blood, one at a time, but as soon as the last vial was filled he'd have no use for them. They would be dead as soon as he could manage it. Four less people to contend with.
Cracking her knuckles, Faith shoved at the door once more. The iron door refused to budge even an inch. "Dammit, why the hell can't I bust through this door? I've broken stronger things than this!"
"It might be spelled," Kitana said. "Hanbi must have been planning this for some time, long enough to know how to prevent our escape."
"I wonder where the others are," Dawn whispered as she sat slumped against the wall. "Has it been a long time since we got abducted?"
"It might be," Daniel replied. "It might be that it's only been an hour on Earth since we've been caught. It might have been weeks."
Kitana folded her hands in her lap, head leaning back on the wall. "They will find us. And I hope they don't kill Hanbi before they let us out."
Faith agreed with her sentiment whole-heartedly, although Dawn and Daniel seemed a bit averse to the idea. She slammed her fist one last time against the door before sprawling on the floor to rest. She would kick the guards' asses next time they came in to draw blood, even if she had to cut off her own fingers to plug her ears.
Maybe she'd get to kick Hanbi's ass, too.
4:39 P.M. Earth MST, Outworld
"I suppose this is a better use of our tax money than paying the wealthy," Sonya breathed, staring out the bay window with the others. Some, including Xander, Willow, Jax, and Liu, nodded dumbly beside her. Giles and Nightwolf were seated beside Sam in the cluster of navigation computers, the former gazing at the technology warily and often, to the Scoobies' amusement, cleaning his glasses while the latter watched Sam with an intensity Sam would compare more with a hawk. Eerily Kiva watched, too, and if Sam didn't know any better she could have sworn the wolf comprehending most of what she was saying.
Jack sat in the captain's chair, more because he was the most familiar with the ship Prometheus (aside from Sam, who was needed to navigate) than an accedence of power. Teal'c, Sub-Zero, and Buffy stood near the rear of the bridge, all preparing themselves for the fight looming ahead.
The cracked earth underneath them zoomed past, dotted occasionally by foliage, rocks, or the threatening natives. The main screen, blocking the most-direct front view, displayed the natives Nightwolf had referred to. The long, thick line trailed after them with blades erupting out of their arms and other appendages, and their jaws snapped in spite of their atrocious fangs—Jack was reluctant to call them teeth. Other creatures were four-armed behemoths and other disgusting monsters, some native to this world, some not according to the Defenders.
The Kombatants had spared some fighting techniques, most of them boiling down to an illegal car maneuver: "hit and run."
"Why couldn't Rayden open a portal closer?" Buffy asked, irritation in her voice. "Rather than fly for so long, we could've just had a portal open right to the doorway."
"So much mysticism is centered around the doorway that Rayden couldn't open a portal within five hundred miles," Sub-Zero answered. "The magic keeps the door closed against unwarranted intrusion. If he tried to open a portal as close as you suggested, we would have mutated beyond recognition into nothing more than the nomads down there."
No one complained about the road trip thereafter.
"Is that it?" Sam asked after two minutes from her seat in the navigation sector, pointing to a rusty archway seemingly reaching to the heavens above.
"It must be," Nightwolf said. "We can fly through the gate with the Prometheus."
"Past entering Abaddon, do we even have a plan?" Sub-Zero spoke up suddenly. Everyone turned to look at him. "Or were we going to act with American gung-ho idiocy and barge into Hanbi's territory guns blazing and nothing else?"
"'American gung-ho idiocy?'" Jack repeated, offended.
"Sir, he is right," Sam tried to soothe the ruffled feathers Sub-Zero's comment had elicited. "We should scout the area before breaking in and saving the others."
Jack grumbled, but agreed. "We'll scout, come up with the best way to enter, and put our 'idiocy' to work."
As they approached the gate (the apex of which now loomed over them ominously) Sam slowed the Prometheus. "How do we activate the entrance?" she asked.
Willow stepped to the front of the bridge, a look of excitement on her face. "I got a spell ready for this, when Rayden mentioned the gate," she explained. "He told me before he left that I'd need to concoct a spell."
Giles rose, a bit concerned. "Willow, are you sure this is—"
"It's okay, Giles," Willow nodded encouragingly. "I made it to use very little in the Black department. It's based mostly around White Magick, so I should be okay."
"Well, whatever it is you're going to do," Sonya said, alarmed. "Do it quickly, because the Shokans are—"
The Prometheus rocked, klaxons ringing throughout the ship. "What the hell was that?" Jack demanded as another force hit the bow.
"Something is firing on us," Sam typed rapidly over the keyboard. "I don't see any signs of an aerial assault, or technology in the vicinity."
"That's because it's coming from the Shokans," Liu said as another blast made the ship shudder. "They're attacking us from the ground."
"I'm going to want a better explanation than that when we're out of harms way," Buffy said as she stumbled to Jack's chair. "Willow, do it now!"
Willow snapped back to her task, lifting her arms and shouting in Latin,
"Open, Gate to an otherworld,
Take us through, open the stars to us,
Allow us passage through your doors,
Send us on our way, to Abaddon!"
The gate activated in a violent tornado, black interlaced with red lightning. As the Prometheus was pulled through, Willow collapsed to the ground, the lights flickered off, and the passengers of the ship lost all sense of discernment.
Unknown
For a moment, Stryker thought he had died. He couldn't move, he couldn't see, and everything was silent.
Slowly, breath by breath, Stryker reassured himself that he was alive. For one thing, he was breathing. For a second, it wasn't completely silent, just quiet. He heard footsteps and voices, though he couldn't pinpoint where they came from.
He still couldn't see anything. Mentally cursing his blindness, Stryker tried to move. Stiffly, he rolled to his right side and got his hands underneath his torso to push himself up in a sitting position. A wall behind him helped prop Stryker up.
The air was cool and smelled damp, as though he were underground. Where the hell am I? How did I get here?
Everything was jumbled in his head without images to link to the details. He remembered sand, heat, metal, and panic rising in his chest. Then there was a fight with an unknown enemy. One he didn't last long in, but given that he was blind and without Sub-Zero's extensive training Stryker forgave himself that loss.
The panic was returning. He felt it in his chest, constricting his lungs. Taking a deep breath, Stryker forced himself to calm down and take things one step at a time.
Alright, inventory. What do I have? Stryker felt for his baton, but his weapon wasn't there. His communicator had also been taken from him, and he cursed himself for not remembering the device before. This is what you get when you panic and don't think things through. Hell, this is what you get when you involve yourself with Thunder Gods and honor-bound monks and ice ninjas and otherworldly conflicts.
The footsteps were getting louder. Coming closer. Stryker tried to push himself up to his feet, but his legs wouldn't cooperate.
Something hummed, and the footsteps halted a few paces before him. Stryker stilled, trying to identify how many there were.
"State your name and affiliation," a voice, low, male, and echoing, demanded of him.
Stryker jumped; that was no human's voice. Once again Stryker wondered where he was exactly. "Captain Jean Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise. Who're you?"
The man to whom the eerie voice belonged didn't reply right away, but when he did his voice had lost its echo. "You're from Earth?"
Several observations and questions plagued Stryker. One was that, if this man hadn't already known he was from Earth, he wasn't responsible for his abduction. Two, it sounded like he wasn't anywhere on Earth, which wasn't at all helpful to Stryker considering his activities the past year fighting Shao Kahn. Third, how did the man know about Earth?
The last observation Stryker made was that the man didn't seem at all pleased he was from Earth.
"Are you with the NID, then?" the man continued to interrogate him, his voice not obtaining the strange echo but getting dangerously close to growling.
"I hate the NID, actually," Stryker said, wishing once more he had his sight. "Too corrupt for my tastes."
There was even more silence, in which Stryker heard feet shuffling. Two, three pairs of feet, Stryker tried to think without giving it away in his facial features. Still no idea if they're armed, which if they're keeping me prisoner they probably are. "You still haven't answered me, you know. Who are you people?"
There wasn't an answer, though he felt body heat very close to him. Fighting back a fidget, Stryker failed to withhold his surprise when a woman's voice asked, "Can you heal your blindness?"
Stryker wondered what sort of question that was. "If I could, do you think I'd still be blind?" And you still haven't answered my question yet.
The strangers were silent once more, and Stryker wondered if he had irked them one nerve too far. Footsteps moving closer to him only made the man more nervous, and he tried standing once more. He managed to place his feet firmly on the ground, but he had no strength to stand.
"Take it easy," the male voice, softer now, "I'm only going to heal the blindness. This might feel uncomfortable for a minute, but it'll help."
Heal the blindness? How? Are they gods? Relatives of Rayden? No, if they were Rayden would be here—what the hell!
A tingling curved around his head to the base of his neck, making Stryker squirm. Just as he was beginning to berate himself for letting someone so close to his head, the tingling left and the body heat near him lessened. "Can you tell any difference?"
No, I don't, everything is still as black as before and you made me a guinea—wait.
His eyes were shut.
Slowly, cautiously, Stryker blinked. Lights and colors swam together, making the picture indistinct. But as he waited, figures separated from the background and colors stopped swirling into one.
Three people stood before him, two male and the last female. They were all dressed in a strange mesh of beige-colored clothing. One man, the closest one to Stryker, was a balding man with light blue eyes and eyebrows lifted in an eternally skeptic appearance. In his hand was a strange gold device, with a jewel set in metal in the palm of his hand. The other man stayed by the entrance to his cell, hand held lightly at his waist; Stryker decided the man was armed. The woman had auburn-hair cut at her shoulders and dark eyes that made Stryker feel more like a test subject than a prisoner.
He wasn't sure which one made him feel worse.
"Did it work?" the woman pressed.
Stryker flickered his eyes between them, wondering which would be the safer answer. If he said no, he could always surprise these strangers on a later date. If he said yes, he could start a trust between them and avoid further experimentation.
The last thought more than anything made Stryker answer, "Yeah, it worked."
The bald man smiled. "Good. I hope you weren't lying before about you not being with the NID, or you're going to have one hell of a comeuppance."
"I wasn't. And for the last time, who are you people?" Stryker demanded, testing his legs' strength. They were recovering slowly, but steadily.
The man pursed his lips, then replied, "My name's Jacob Carter. She's Anise, and that's Perchak. We're known as the Tok'ra."
The feeling that he was missing something distracted Stryker when Jacob said, 'Carter.' It was as if he had heard that name before, very recently. He couldn't place where, though. He didn't know any Carter's, aside from this one.
He put it aside as another question popped into mind. "What's a Tok'ra? Is that some sort of conspiracy group?"
Jacob snorted. "Close enough. We're an opposition against the tyrants of the universe."
Stryker blinked. Tyrants . . . of the universe? Do they mean Shao Kahn? Why the hell weren't we told there was another fighting force out there? "So, you guys, you fight against Shao Kahn? Is that it?"
All three looked confused, though Jacob looked even more (if it was possible) skeptical. "You're either an NID agent who's very good at playing dumb, or you really don't know what's going on. I'm more inclined to say the first option, since an Average Joe couldn't have fumbled onto another planet light years away, no matter how accident-prone he is."
Depends on how 'average' Average Joe is. "I really don't know what's going on. Really. First I'm helping out my friend move stuff around, and the next thing I know I'm waking up in a desert and getting attacked by certain face-less people," Stryker accused, eyes resting on Perchak.
Perchak seemed undaunted. "You stumbled into our tunnels while we were still setting them up. We didn't know if you were friend or foe, and chose to exercise caution."
"We apologize about the incident," Jacob interrupted before Stryker could retort, "though we aren't very sorry about defending ourselves. Now, who are you, really?"
Stryker didn't know how much he should trust these Tok'ra, no matter Jacob's friendliness in curing his blindness. Reluctantly he said, "Captain Stryker. I'm with the New York riot brigade."
Jacob nodded, satisfied. "Alright. We're going to have to keep you here; safety precautions and all that. Did you want something to eat? The food isn't great, but it's a step up from starving."
Stryker almost declined, but his stomach rumbled with hunger. "Food would be nice, yeah."
"I will be back with your food," Anise assured him before Jacob could, leaving with graceful but quick steps.
Stryker gulped. "Is she . . . dangerous?"
"No," Jacob shook his head. "Unless you wind up as her test subject. Relax," he added at Stryker's widened eyes. "We're cautious, not sadists. I won't let her prod you with anything unless you consent to it."
Noting the switch between 'we' and 'I,' Stryker waited until they left his cell before rising to his feet. Emboldened by his sturdy stance, Stryker began to stretch and work his muscles.
Jacob seemed nice. And fighting against a tyrant was an occupation Stryker could sympathize with. But he was already involved in a fight, and his friends needed him. That took precedence over a stranger's need for aid.
An image of people—people he didn't know—flashed before his mind. Halting, Stryker waited for the vision to pass. Again that niggling feeling of forgetfulness tugged at him, but he dismissed it. He had more pressing matters to worry about.
Story notes: I wanted to useactual Latin for Willow's spell, but as I have never studied (and probably never will) Latin, this was as close as I could get. And when the Tok'ra build their crystal tunnels, I figured they have to have a starting point, one that isn't buried underneath the ground and solely accessible via the rings. That's how Stryker went from sandy surface to metal/crystal surface.
