This fic is a crossover with Joss Whedon's "Firefly". You don't need to know anything about "Firefly" to understand this, though you'll get some of the references more easily if you do. If you have no idea what "Firefly" is, here is the general history of the 'verse: 500 years in the future, we used up Earth's natural resources, so we left. We found a new solar system, with dozens of planets and hundreds of moons, and terraformed them to make them liveable. Only two superpowers survived, China and the U.S., so everybody speaks both Chinese and English fluently. Translation of Chinese phrases are at the bottom of the fic.
Firefly: SG-1
Part I: Morpheus' Poison
Jack O'Neill, captain of the Orion-class ship "Prometheus," stood on the catwalks above the cargo hold and watched as people moved in to and out of his ship, carting boxes in or leaving to get more. A level below him stood his dark-skinned second in command, Teal'c, directing the placement of the cargo, his deep voice carrying easily across the hold. The workers here were efficient, and Jack estimated that it would take another hour before the whole shipment would be loaded and they'd be ready to leave. He shifted his weight uneasily; ever since arriving, he'd had the feeling that something was not quite right, but he hadn't been able to put his finger on it. He was sick of this backwater, agricultural planet, and he wanted off before these hicks had him climbing the walls.
Just then, a petite brunette entered the ship. Moving around the boxes and people effortlessly, she climbed the stairs and stopped by Jack.
"Doctor Fraiser," Jack greeted her warmly. "How was your time planet-side?"
"Something smells familiar in here," she murmured to herself, and then her brown eyes focused on him. "These people have almost no medical supplies. I swear, Jack, if we don't get to a planet where I can restock, next time you get a bullet in you you're going to have to get it removed without anaesthetic." She frowned at him. "I can't do my job if I don't have the materials."
"Where's Mitchell?" Jack asked instead, avoiding the topic; earlier, when he had suggested that the doctor go with his pilot, Cameron Mitchell, he expected her to watch him and she knew it.
"I left him getting drunk with some villagers, telling tales of his grand adventures, a blonde under each arm," she said, and then continued, not so easily distracted from her goal, "You said I would have whatever I needed. Where is that wonderful, well-stocked infirmary you promised me?"
"Janet," Jack interrupted, raising his hands to placate her. "I swear I won't get shot until we resupply."
The doctor glared at him for a moment more, then rolled her eyes. "I'm going to take a shower. When you break that promise, holler."
Jack looked indignant, but before he could retort she was gone. His face settled into what he would deny was a pout, and then he turned back to the cargo hold. He wondered if one of those blondes Mitchell was reported to be hanging over happened to be his mechanic, Samantha Carter. He was sure she was infatuated with the flirty flyboy. Then said mechanic appeared at his elbow. "Can I help you, Carter?"
"Sir, we're going to need to refuel sometime soon," she said.
"Soon as in…?" Jack raised an expectant eyebrow, knowing he wouldn't like the answer.
"Sometime in the next five days, if we don't go for hard burn," she replied, clasping her hands behind her back.
"Carter, Persephone is at least a week from here," Jack snapped, frowning.
"I know! We just don't have that much fuel," Carter retorted. "We're going to have to set down somewhere in between."
"Tsai bu shi. We're cutting it close as it is," Jack countered. "I'm sorry, Carter. You're going to have to get some more out of what we have. We can refuel in Persephone."
Her jaw clenched, and then she sighed. "Yes, Sir."
He turned back to the cargo hold and met Teal'c's dark eyes. The man raised an eyebrow. Jack shook his head and shrugged. Teal'c nodded, then returned his attention to the people coming to and going from the cargo hold.
Jack pushed himself off the railing, secure in the knowledge that Teal'c would keep things under wraps, and went to call his wayward pilot back to the ship.
Jack relaxed in his cabin. Things had gone smoothly, he thought. There had been no complications with the cargo, none with the loaders, and the ship was in relatively good repair. They were about a day from the planet where they'd loaded their shipment. Jack wondered momentarily what was in the boxes, then dismissed the thought. He wasn't about to look too deep into this job, not when they needed the large price tag attached.
"O'Neill, I require your presence in the cargo hold," Teal'c's deep voice boomed over the intercom. A frown in his eyebrows, Jack threw on a shirt and opened his door. He stepped out of his room, sliding his door shut and locking it.
"Mitchell! How far are we from Persephone?" he called down the hall to the bridge.
"Can you not be so loud?" Mitchell groaned.
"You got yourself drunk, so deal with the hangover like a big boy. Now answer the question, hotshot," Jack retorted, lowering his voice nevertheless.
"About…five days," the pilot responded.
"Have you been burning out our fuel?" Jack demanded, entering the bridge proper.
"What?" Cameron asked, blinking at him in confusion.
"We're ahead of schedule," Jack clarified. "Are you burning hot?"
He checked. "A little more than usual."
"Cool down. We need that fuel to last us to Persephone," Jack commanded, and heard Mitchell's muttered "Yes, Sir," as he left.
Mere minutes later he was on the catwalk above the cargo hold. Clear of the boxes, next to the intercom, was Teal'c holding a broad-backed young man. Jack frowned. A stowaway? On his ship? How had that happened? "Teal'c!"
"O'Neill. I have discovered this man among the cargo," Teal'c said once Jack was in front of him.
"Really?" Jack said blandly, sweeping his eyes over his uninvited guest. The man raised defiant, bespectacled blue eyes to Jack's own chocolate. "Who the gorram hell are you, and what are you doing on my ship?"
"I thought it was fairly obvious what I was doing," the man said, and Jack thought he looked angry. Jack's frown deepened: the stowaway should be afraid of what would happen to him now that he had been discovered.
"What is your name, and why have you stowed away on my ship?" Jack demanded, motioning for Teal'c to release him. Teal'c did as asked, but remained ready to recapture him should the need arise.
The stowaway shook out his shoulders before replying, "I needed to get off the planet." He still avoided the name question. "You didn't look like you were taking passengers."
"So you stowed away. I could throw you in jail when we land," Jack pointed out.
"Not without endangering yourself," the other retorted, and anger definitely sparked in his eyes this time. "Your cargo is illegal."
"Is it?" Jack asked without inflection. He knew very well this job was illicit, but how his blue-eyed stowaway could know that was a mystery. "And what the hell is your name?"
"Daniel Jackson," the stowaway said shortly, then demanded, "Do you know what you're carrying?"
"I make a point not to ask," Jack replied scathingly.
"It's kassa," spat Daniel. "I'd recognize the smell anywhere."
"What smell? Captain, who is this?" Carter called down from the catwalk, her voice echoing throughout the ship. Jack suppressed a groan. Orion-class ships were very open, which meant everyone would be here within moments. And as he predicted, Mitchell came out of the cockpit and Janet out of the infirmary. They gathered around him, Teal'c, and the stowaway, curious.
"Jack?" Janet asked. Her gaze lingered on Jackson before turning inquiringly to Jack.
"This is Daniel. He stowed away," Jack replied succinctly. Inwardly, he sighed: he hadn't wanted to make this a big deal until after he had made a decision about the stowaway. Now, though, he would have to deal.
"If I'd known you were bursting to the brims with kassa, I wouldn't have," Daniel hissed.
Janet's eyes widened. "I knew that smell was familiar," she muttered.
"Doctor?" Jack prodded.
"Kassa, also known as dream dust, or Morpheus' Poison; depends on whom you talk to. It's one of the most addictive, potent, and lethal of the hallucinogens. Kassa was outlawed about fifty years ago," Janet said.
Noticing that grimness quickly replaced shock on the crew's faces, Daniel commented quietly, "None of you struck me as the drug trafficking type."
Jack looked at him. This was something he didn't need right now. Frustrated, he barked, "Teal'c, lock him up in one of the guest rooms."
"How much are you getting for it?" Daniel asked, leaping from anger to a one-minded determination. He let Teal'c take hold of his arm, but did not move.
Jack could practically see the gears turning in the man's head. The question was: what did Jackson want? Was he looking for a cut in the profits in exchange for his silence, or something else?
"None of your business," Jack snapped, consciously relaxing his hands from fists.
"I can guarantee I'm worth more," Jackson stated, ignoring the slight tug Teal'c gave his arm. 'Something else' it was, then.
"Teal'c, I wanted him out of my sight ten minutes ago," Jack hissed, glowering at his insolent captive. Teal'c tugged harder, a warning of what to come, but Daniel still refused to move.
"If you turn me in, you'll get more than for the kassa," Daniel tried again, eyes pleading.
Jack wondered where this had come from. Daniel had been angry they were shipping it, and now he was offering himself in exchange? Jack's eyes narrowed. He had a hard time believing that this single man was worth more to the Alliance than his whole shipment of kassa was worth to his buyer. And if it was true, if Jackson was really worth more, what could he possibly have done to earn such a bounty?
"Why won't you?" Daniel beseeched, drawing Jack back to the matter at hand. "Is it that much easier to condemn a thousand people you've never met than one you have?"
Jack held back a flinch. Somehow, the idea of handing over those passion-filled blue eyes to the Alliance turned his stomach. He glared at Teal'c, giving his permission to use force to remove the man from his sight. Teal'c jerked Daniel roughly. Shooting one last pleading look at Jack, Daniel allowed himself to be led away.
Mitchell piped up from his lounging position against the hull, "You think he was lying?"
"Not about the effects of the kassa," Janet inserted harshly. "The amount we're carrying could addict hundreds, maybe thousands, if the refinery is good enough. I wasn't exaggerating when I said that kassa was one of the most addictive hallucinogens."
Jack took a deep breath, knowing what he had to do and feeling the injustice of it biting acidly at the back of his throat. "It doesn't matter," he stated. "We've got a job to finish."
"Captain, with all due respect, I've seen what kassa can do, and it isn't pretty," the small doctor said, her frame shaking with rage. "We can't, in good conscience, complete this job, not now."
"Doctor," Jack started icily, locking eyes with her, "last I checked, I was still the captain; this was still my ship. We get this job done. Jackson's revelation doesn't change anything."
"It should," Carter said, breaking the staring contest between Jack and Janet. She added grudgingly, "Sir."
"It won't, and that's the end of it," Jack said.
"Captain—"
"Doctor. That is the end of it. Dong le ma?"
"Chur ni de," Janet snapped, and stomped out of the hold. Carter, with an angry look at Jack, followed her.
"Sir?" Mitchell said once the two women had left.
"Yes, Mitchell?" Jack asked tiredly, leaning against the side of the ship.
"Do we need the money that much?" Mitchell queried. He watched the captain, glad that he was not the one who had to make this decision.
"Yes," Jack answered simply. He pushed himself away from the ship, returning to his quarters.
Teal'c stopped at a room, opening the door. Daniel wordlessly stepped inside. Suddenly, Teal'c said, "You must not think ill of O'Neill."
"It's hard not to," Daniel admitted with a rueful smile. "He's willing to endanger so many people, just for a bit of money."
"It is more than a bit of money. It is a sizable sum," Teal'c replied. The large man had heard how much was offered. He'd been extremely impressed, and that was difficult to do. Nevertheless, he had never been able to shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Teal'c was almost relieved that the unease had been justified. Almost.
"How can you take money for killing people?" Daniel asked, shaking his head.
"He is in fact saving people," Teal'c said. Daniel's eyebrows rose. "His crew is counting on him for food, for money, and for a home. The Prometheus has become that home. He accepted this job, with great remorse, to keep our home in good repair."
"And how can he place five people above five hundred?" Daniel said, walking over to sit on the bed.
"O'Neill does what he must," Teal'c intoned. Daniel didn't answer, choosing silence over an argument.
The stowaway walked around the room, trailing his fingers over the walls, cabinets, and bed. Finally, he observed, "Nice quarters for a prisoner. Why don't you just throw me in the brig?"
"We have none."
"Of course," Daniel muttered, "freighters this size usually don't." He turned his attention back to Teal'c. "You can leave. I won't try to escape." At Teal'c's slight shift of expression, which Daniel took to mean the ship's 2IC didn't believe him, he added, "I swear."
Teal'c regarded Daniel steadily, then inclined his head and left. Daniel heard the lock turn and sighed, flopping down onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling, and whispered, "You better have gotten River out of there, Simon. I miss you, damn it."
Jack was contemplating blue eyes, space, and other meaning of life stuff when there was a rap on the frame of his door. Through the door, he called, "Yeah?"
"The stowaway has been secured," Teal'c's voice answered.
"Good. I'm going to get some shut-eye. Keep things under control," Jack said. Teal'c answered affirmative, and Jack felt the reverberation of his footfalls through the floor as he walked off. But though Jack tried, he couldn't sleep. He kept thinking of his captive, the way he had quivered with rage. Upon reflection, Jack realized that though there had been anger, no judgment lurked in the younger man's eyes. Was that why he had thrown Jackson in a guest room instead of the airlock, with the threat of opening it if he wasn't good? Jack gave a frustrated sigh. Why should he care? He had only just met this man, and already the man was forcing him to see things he would rather ignore.
The captain knew the right thing to do was dump the cargo, and he knew none of his crew would begrudge him that decision. But he had their welfare to think of, and the Prometheus had to be repaired soon or else she'd start falling apart. And they needed the money for fuel, most of all: to keep flying, to keeping working, to keep living. A small part of him whispered, to keep running away, but he pushed it aside angrily.
He really didn't need this right now.
Jack glanced at the chronometer by his bed and was surprised to find an hour had gone by. The captain sat, stretched, and unlocked his door. He glanced up to the bridge where Cameron was lounging, drinking something from a can. Jack hoped it wasn't alcoholic; the pilot knew the rules. Jack wandered down the hall into the kitchen. His medic was cooking something—more colored protein, yay—and down the hall, he could just make out the slight form of his mechanic in the engine room, futzing with the engines.
"What are we going to do with Mr. Jackson?" Janet asked him, and he tilted his head to look at her.
"I'm not sure yet," Jack admitted.
"Call me crazy, but there's something about him…" the doctor trailed off and sighed. "Are we really going to deliver the kassa as planned?"
"You know we have to," Jack replied, sitting at the table. Janet joined the captain, placing a bowl in front of him. He raised an eyebrow.
"Eat," she directed, and he obediently did as told. Jack had learned long ago that it wasn't worth arguing; she always won. "If it's the money, can't we—"
"We're not turning him over to the Alliance," Jack said harshly. "We don't deal in people."
Janet shot him a scathing look. "I wasn't about to suggest it, Sir. Why don't we just get another job?"
"We were lucky to grab this one when we did," Jack said.
Janet nodded absently. "Still…it doesn't sit right. What we're doing is the opposite of everything I was raised to honor. I don't like it."
"I know," Jack agreed, and they finished their meal in silence.
It seemed like Daniel had just closed his eyes when the ship shook roughly, almost throwing him out of bed. "What the—"
A quick glance at the chronometer showed it was eight hours since his capture. The ship shook again, and the door clicked open. Daniel raised an eyebrow; this was his chance to find out what was going on. He pushed the door open all the way and slipped out, closing it behind him. The ship quaked, more violently than the last time, and he stumbled against the wall. Daniel swore he heard shouting. He followed it, making his way past the empty infirmary, up two sets of stairs, through the kitchen and dining area, and past the crew quarters. Wrapped up in yelling at the pilot and the mechanic, the captain didn't notice Daniel at first. Then Teal'c spotted him. His deep voice immediately quieted everyone else, and Daniel could hear the pilot's small sigh as he was able to focus completely on flying the ship.
"How did you get out?" Jack hissed, taking an involuntary step toward Daniel.
"The door unlocked itself," Daniel replied. The ship shook again. "What's going on?"
"We're busy," Jack said. He turned on his heal to look out through the bridge windows.
"We're being shot at," the pilot elaborated through clenched teeth. Everyone struggled to regain their balance when he veered sharply to the right to avoid a blast.
"The Alliance has gained knowledge of our cargo," Teal'c added. Jack looked wrathfully at him. Teal'c continued, "Two Charger-class ships have ordered that we submit to arrest."
"Did you tell them about the kassa?" Jack asked.
"How would I?" Daniel shot back. "I was stuck in a locked room the whole time."
"Comm. units are small enough to be hidden without notice," Jack sneered. He jerked his head at Teal'c, who obeyed the unspoken order even as the pilot pulled another sharp turn.
Daniel took a step back and growled, "Look, I didn't tell anyone. I don't have a comm. unit hidden on me."
"How can I believe you?" snarled Jack.
"Because there is a price on my head," Daniel replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "Why would I want to risk going to jail?"
"Maybe you struck a bargain—" Jack started.
"I believe Daniel Jackson is telling the truth," Teal'c interrupted, grabbing the ship's console to steady himself as it shook again. Jack closed his eyes, resigned.
"It doesn't matter. Unless we stop like they've asked, we're dead," Jack said.
"Not necessarily," Daniel disagreed. Jack looked at him, slightly curious. "I'm more use to them alive."
"So what?" Jack asked.
"Tell them Negotiator Daniel Jackson, security code 4157, is on board this ship," Daniel said, eyes hard. Jack looked at Teal'c and nodded shortly, giving his permission despite his personal disapproval. Teal'c did as told.
"The Alliance ships have ceased fire," Teal'c reported after transmitting the message. "We are receiving a transmission."
A helmeted face appeared on one of the view screens hanging from the ceiling. "We were told you have a Negotiator Jackson on board. We demand you turn him over to us for processing."
Daniel knew what Jack was thinking when the captain shot him an incredulous, faintly horrified look. The Alliance's idea of processing was simple, a disgusting practice hidden behind an innocuous word. Daniel knew from his days as an Alliance Negotiator that all processing meant was torture—physical, mental, and if they could manage it, emotional. Hell, he'd met some of the twisted bastards the Alliance employed as processors; none of them were people he ever wanted to meet again.
"Why are you doing this?" Jack hissed.
"Because if you get the bounty money, you won't have to sell the kassa," Daniel stated simply.
"Jackson!"
Daniel could see the indecision warring within the other man, but ignored it. He went over to the co-pilot's chair and flipped on the camera. "My name is Daniel Jackson. I am willing to surrender, as long as the captain of this ship receives the bounty money and no mention of his possession of kassa is made."
"Hold," the man ordered, and the screen went blank. Moments later, the Alliance man reappeared and commanded, "Agreed. Prepare for docking and transfer."
"What are you thinking?" Jack cried.
"You get the money you need," Daniel said, struggling to keep his voice steady. The thought of willingly giving himself over to the Alliance when he'd spent a year running from them was not a pleasant one, especially when he considered what they would do to him. Trying to hide his fear, Daniel added lightly, "They won't kill me, if that's what you're worried about."
"Besides, if they want him that badly, wouldn't it be better to—" the pilot started, but Jack cut him off.
"I am not handing you over," Jack replied adamantly.
"Why not?" Daniel demanded. Why the hell was Jack stopping him? Jack would get his money for the price of a man he didn't know, and more than likely didn't care about.
Jack's eyes darted away from Daniel and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Finally, he said gruffly, "You owe me for stowing aboard my ship. I'm not letting you go till that debt is paid."
Daniel's eyes softened, reading behind the words to the meaning beneath. His gut instinct had been right: this man was a caring individual simply left with few options. "It's the only thing you can do."
Their eyes met, and something passed between them that made Daniel suck in a breath. The indecision left Jack's chocolate eyes. "Mitchell. Go for hard burn."
"Sir?"
"Now," Jack said in a tone that left no room for argument.
"Yes, Sir. Carter, Doc, did ya hear that?"
"Hard burn coming up!" Carter exclaimed. The next moment, they were gone.
"Okay, Carter, bottom line," Jack said. Everyone stood in the bridge. Teal'c and Jack were facing Carter and Janet, and Mitchell was lounging in his chair. Daniel was off to one side, head down, arms wrapped around himself. Jack ignored the part of him that wanted to comfort him, and reminded himself sternly that Jackson was a stowaway and in no way deserving of his sympathy. He was the reason they were in this position in the first place.
Which was completely unfair of Jack to even think. He'd made the call to go for hard burn; Jackson had offered himself to keep his ship and his crew off of the Alliance's radar. He sighed. If this was anyone's fault, it was Jack's own.
"Sir, we have enough fuel for another hour of travel at the most," Carter said.
"What will happen when we run out?" Cameron asked.
"More importantly, if we go for another hard burn, can we coast to Persephone?" Jack interrupted.
"No," Janet replied. "We won't make it. We'd die of thirst first, if we didn't pass Persephone all together."
"And if we do not go for hard burn?" Teal'c inquired.
"The Prometheus will slow down until all that's moving us is the fact that we never came to a full stop," Carter explained. "The backup power will keep the life-support systems active, but only just. If we do hit Persephone, the backup power will also be enough to land. But we'll most likely be starving and half-mad with thirst by then."
"Okay, that's not a choice. Ideas, anybody?" Jack asked, glancing inquisitively around their circle.
"We need to refuel," Carter stated.
"No money, not an option," Jack replied immediately.
"Not necessarily," Daniel said. He moved to the co-pilot's chair and began to work, flashing through charts of sectors of space. A moment later, a display appeared on the screen in front of him. "This is where we are. This is Athura Mazda, a popular refueling planet, since it's on the outer edge of the core. I have an acquaintance that owes me a favor."
"It's close enough. We can make it with what we have," Carter confirmed.
"Guess that settles it, then. Mitchell, would you do the honors?" Jack said.
"Yes, sir," the pilot said, and changed course. "Athura Mazda, here we come."
Athura Mazda's main city also carried the same name. The place was a whole lot like Persephone, Jack thought, but dingier. The streets were crowded with people, bicycles, rickshaws and stalls selling an assortment of foods, drinks, luxury items, and drugs. Stray dogs and cats scrounged in the sewers, while children played jacks or marbles in out-of-the-way corners.
Jack and Teal'c kept pace with Daniel, who was leading the way to his contact. The man had been tight-lipped about who this person was, but Jack didn't care as long as it got him the fuel he needed. Teal'c was there for intimidation purposes. Daniel abruptly turned down a side street and stopped before a shop whose bright neon characters proclaimed in both English and Chinese, "The Centurion: Associate of the Interstellar Trade Guild". Jack looked askance at Daniel; he knew that half of the ITG tradesmen were smugglers and petty thieves, since he had hunted quite of few of the bigger ones down once upon a time. Daniel was oblivious to his look, or else ignored it, and entered the shop. A bell jingled overhead.
"Welcome to the Centurion, an associate of the Interstellar Trade Guild and the finest purveyor of products," chimed a cheery voice from behind the counter. It seemed to be an automatic greeting, as the woman didn't look up from what she was doing: inspecting an object that looked fairly like an antique semi-automatic pistol.
"Vala Mal Duran behind a counter. Who would've guessed," Daniel said dryly. The woman's head snapped up, her eyes wide.
"My, my, Daniel Jackson. Didn't expect to see you this side of Athura Mazda again," she returned a moment later, having regained her composure. "But I suppose after that fantastic sex—"
"Which we never had," Daniel inserted.
"—it was rather difficult to stay away," she finished. "So, do you want to do the nasty, or what?"
Jack felt a flare of irrational anger ignite deep in his gut, and he narrowed his eyes at the woman.
"I've come to collect," Daniel said flatly. The flare died down to a low simmer.
With an attractive pout, Vala hopped over the counter and leaned against it suggestively. Her tone, when she spoke, was low and seductive, "I'll make it worth your time."
"Vala, I need money for fuel and a job," Daniel said, completely deadpan. "Not your body."
"But it's such a nice body," purred Vala, and addressed Jack and Teal'c, "Isn't it, boys?"
"It is indeed," Teal'c answered matter-of-factly, his face bland. Vala smirked.
"Look, woman, we're here on business," Jack snapped. The way she was eyeing Daniel like he was a piece of meat for sale at the butcher's inexplicably irritated him. He wanted to get what he came for and leave. Preferably now.
"Right, well, as you can see, business is what we specialize in," Vala smoothly replied. "What kind of business are you looking for?"
"Vala, money for fuel and a job, and you'll have paid your debt to me," Daniel interrupted. Apparently, he was as anxious to be out of there as Jack was.
"But I like being in your debt," Vala protested. "It gives me hope you might make me do something…" she slid a finger between her leather-clad breasts with a smirk, "kinky."
"Fuel, job," Daniel repeated, eyes narrowing as he folded his arms over his chest. "That's it, and that's all it will ever be."
"Fine," Vala sulked. She reached over the counter, showing off her flat stomach and long, toned legs, to pull out an electronic tablet. "Jobs. Classified by planet and by legal, illegal, just plain disgusting, and unknown. How much do you need for fuel?"
"Enough to get us to Persephone," Daniel replied. Vala handed the tablet to Daniel, who gave it to Jack, and then she hopped over the counter again. She took out two bags, and separated some of the money from the first bag into the second.
"Here. This should do it," she said, and tossed it to Daniel. He juggled the bag for a moment before catching it and gingerly handing it off to Teal'c. The dark man secured it to his belt with a solemn expression.
Jack was flying through the ads for jobs, looking for something that would keep him going, allow him to pay and feed his crew, and buy all the goodies Carter would doubtlessly want for the Prometheus. If he did find something, he'd dump the kassa into space. If he didn't…he had no choice but to deliver his cargo. It was that simple.
The ads flashed past him so quickly that he had to backtrack a few to find the one that had caught his eye. He raised an incredulous eyebrow. Black market beagles? As in, the dog? Jack shook his head imperceptibly. Someone was paying quite a hefty sum for them, too. Well, that was decided. He looked at Teal'c and Daniel, the first with an amused jaw-clench, the latter with a
decidedly cold look as he deftly avoided all of Vala's advances. Jack spared a moment of thought, wondering what Daniel had possibly done for this chick that she was in his debt, but then dismissed the thought as irrelevant.
"We done here?" he inquired.
"You have located a job, O'Neill?" the dark man asked with his usual severity.
"Yup," Jack said, inserting a data chip into the side of the tablet and downloading all the information to the beagle job. "We're gonna need some more money, though."
Daniel looked expectantly at Vala, who pouted cutely. Daniel's look didn't change, and she finally heaved a sigh and tossed him some more money. "Don't be a stranger!" she called out. Jack saw Daniel's hands clench and Jack casually flipped her the bird for him. Daniel gave him a look somewhere between amused, grateful, and annoyed before allowing Teal'c to lead the way back to the Prometheus.
Jack looked out the bridge window, feeling a sense of relief spreading through his veins. Their whole cargo of kassa was floating in front of the ship, and the hold was blessedly empty, if still faintly kassa-smelling. Fraiser told him it would go away with a proper airing out. But he had to admit, the glowing man by his side relieved him much more than the floating kassa boxes outside of his ship. He wasn't quite sure why, and he definitely didn't want to find out.
"Mitchell?" Jack said, more command than enquiry. "Blast 'em."
"With relish," cackled the pilot, who better angled the ship and then with a decisive, gleeful smile, fired on the boxes. Daniel was a little awed.
"You have weapons? I'm pretty sure Orion-class cargo vessels don't come with them," the younger man said.
"Like I'd go without them?" Jack snorted. "They're just a bit of defense."
"Why didn't you use them against the Chargers?" Daniel asked.
"Our puny lasers against their cannons?" Mitchell interceded. "We wouldn't have dented them, even if we had hit them."
Daniel blinked and said only, "Oh." Then, "Where's Teal'c?"
"Setting up our job," Jack replied smugly.
Daniel narrowed his eyes a little. "Which would be…?"
"Don't get your pants all tangled," Mitchell said. "Just some dogs."
"Dogs?" Daniel repeated incredulously.
"Beagles, to be exact," Jack added.
"Beagles," Daniel reiterated.
"You a parrot or something, Jackson?" Jack asked.
"Daniel," the young man corrected automatically. Jack stared at him. "Call me Daniel."
"Well, you can call me," Jack hesitated, then said, "Jack. You can call me Jack."
Daniel beamed, then faltered. "I suppose it's no use to settle in."
"Why would that be?" Jack drawled. He had no intention of letting this man out of his sight. Might get himself into trouble, maybe jail, and Jack just could not let that happen. But he wouldn't tell Daniel that just yet.
"Well, you're obviously going to throw me off at the next port," Daniel stated. Then to himself, "Don't know why you didn't leave me at Athura Mazda."
"I'm sure you'll come in handy," Jack said.
"What?" Daniel shot back.
"Move your stuff into the empty crew quarters," Jack continued. "We can work out your pay later, depending on what you're good at. Welcome aboard, Mr. Jackson."
Daniel's eyes widened, flabbergasted. Then, with a garbled, heartfelt thank you, he raced off the bridge.
"You sure this is a good idea, sir?" Mitchell asked.
Jack smiled a little fondly at the enthusiastic response his decision had garnered. "Not a gorram bit."
Tsai bu shi: No way
Dong le ma: Are we clear here?
Chur ni de: Screw you