Daniel kept his eyes trained on the floor. "Well, it's a bit complicated." He missed the worried look that Sam threw at the colonel. He raised his face a bit, choosing his next words carefully. "The NID brought me to a project of theirs, at Ain Ghazel in Jordan. Remember the cylinder we heard about?"
"Colored fish," Jack commented glibly.
Daniel grimaced. "It was there, and it wasn't what they thought it was, not by a long shot."
"Can you describe it?" Sam asked, eager to hear more.
Daniel frowned, his hands lifting in a parody of his usual verve. "It was about six inches," he measured out. "Metallic, though no one told me what type of alloy. It's very possible they didn't know. It was lightly engraved across its entire surface, though the pattern at first appeared more as a decoration than anything useful. The NID tested it and apparently received extensive energy readings from it. Lieutenant Sanders was convinced that it was some sort of compacted energy source."
"Sanders, huh?" Jack asked, looking Daniel up and down. "He do that?"
Daniel gently touched the corner of his mouth, which was split and swollen. "Ah, yea," he said, not really answering the question. Jack's brown eyes were fixed on the needle marks and bruising up and down his arms.
"They wanted me to open it, figure out how to work it, and so I had access to almost all the information they had collected so far."
"Did you figure out what it is?" Sam asked.
Daniel gave her a slight smile. "Well, it wasn't an energy source. The engravings weren't a language, exactly, either. The entire container was an incredibly complex puzzle-box, in fact. The energy readings came from the built-in security measures."
Sam's nose was wrinkled in confusion. "But for the NID to have traced any appreciable energy readings, and for them to have gotten the impression that it was an energy source far beyond the naquadah generator, those security measures must have been . . . extensive."
Daniel laughed a little, bitterness creeping into the sound. "Whoever created it in essence strapped a naquadah bomb – or two – to it, to ensure that whatever was inside was destroyed unless the correct person opened it."
Sam's eyes widened, and her shock was evident.
"I didn't manage to get hold of the actual cylinder," Daniel continued, ignoring the byplay going on around him. "When I got the opportunity to run, I had to take it. There definitely wouldn't have been another chance. The people holding me knew what they were doing."
"Daniel Jackson, by what means were you able to escape?" Teal'c's voice was low and soothing, neutral. Daniel closed his eyes for a moment.
"I was kept separate from the main area of operations. Every morning I was escorted by two armed guards and Lt. Sanders to my 'work station'," his lips twisted briefly, and then the emotion was gone. Daniel blinked, and explained. "They would bring me back to the holding area at the conclusion of each day. The point of greatest vulnerability was always going through the door – it was only large enough to admit one person at a time. Once I knew the routine, I was able to take advantage of that. I managed to knock them out and made a run for it. It took me about four days to get here – I lost a night to getting across the border. The NID site isn't that far, actually – just on the other side of the Dead Sea."
Jack blinked. "So they only held you for what – four days?"
"Only three, actually," Daniel said quietly. "I was sedated for most of the trip to Ain Ghazel, and it took me a little to wake up."
"Danny, I know you're good," Jack said, "but usually even you need more than three days to figure out an alien language, especially one you've never seen before, without any references." Jack always knew what his kids were up do. He may not have the specifics on how they did their jobs, but he knew their modus operandi. He'd seen how far Daniel had gotten with what he had salvaged from Earnest's planet – nowhere, and slowly at that. "Not to mention you were practically defusing a bomb at the same time."
Daniel winced a little, his mouth firmly shut, blue eyes fixed on the ground as if he had just discovered some meaning of life stuff almost under his toes.
"Daniel?" Sam asked, reaching for his hand where it rested limply on his knee. She gave his fingers a light squeeze, and smiled when his hand curled, somewhat on its own volition, around hers. He needed the contact.
Sam gently tugged his hand toward her, baring the inside of his arm and the cruel marks there. She gently touched a fingertip to one of the bruises, and Daniel shook, a little, drawing away reflexively, turning his head from her.
"Danny?" Jack asked, concerned by the reaction. He leant forward, to look at the young man sitting across from him. "What happened?" He would not accept silence as an answer.
Daniel grimaced in disgust. "They gave me something," he said finally. "I wanted to know what it was, and Sanders was more than happy to fill me in."
"Daniel?" Sam pressed gently, blue eyes wide with concern.
"Glutamate," Daniel returned, head lifting to stare straight at Jack. "A naturally produced neural chemical that stimulates the brain. I don't know any more than that – Janet could probably help you. The NID created an alternate isotope that would bombard the brain's receptor neurons and be relatively immune to the effects of naturally produced depressants."
He'd been forced to think, forced to work, unable to rest because even though his body was screaming its exhaustion, his conscious mind couldn't calm down long enough to relinquish control to his involuntary systems. It was a pretty safe bet that there was a lot of the chemical still coursing through his system, given his relative alertness and actions.
"They made you work for them," Jack said evenly, trying to keep his rage in check.
Daniel raised his chin proudly. "I may not have had a choice as to whether or not I solved the puzzle," he returned shortly, "But I spoke to no one, didn't leave anything I wrote down." He rubbed the side of his head gently. "It's all up here." He reached into a pocket, and pulled out a folded scrap of paper. "And here."
"What is it?" Jack asked, taking the paper and unfolding it. There was a meaningless series of scribbles, marks, dots and dashes on the battered scrap.
"I copied what I found on the parchment inside the puzzle box once I got here," Daniel sighed. He'd been afraid that the clarity of his memory would fade with the drug. "I destroyed the parchment and disabled the security devices before I put it back together. My guard was . . . distracted, and didn't notice." He'd waited nearly six hours for that chance, after figuring the puzzle out after the first day.
"What does it say?" Sam asked, glancing at the paper. Quite honestly she would bet that it made as much sense to her – upside down – as it did to anyone but Daniel.
A wry smile got away from the slightly abused archaeologist. "It supposedly gives the location of the Sibylline Prophecies. They were a series of eschatological prophecies recorded between 150 BC and 180 AD, by female priestesses in the service to the Greek god Apollo. The Muses were his servants, and his most famous temple was in Greece, at Delphi – commonly called the 'navel of the earth'. Virgil gives an account of the Oracle at Delphi in his Aeneid, where the Sibyl is described as a woman possessed by the god Apollo. She would write these prophecies on leaves on the cave floor, and when a wind rose the words would be jumbled and lost. She was persuaded by Aeneas to relate the details of his predicted journey to the underworld verbally rather than in written form. Other common mythological references say that the Oracle, usually a woman, would rave while in the grip of the god's power – after sacred herbs had been thrown on the sacrificial fire – and nearby priests and priestesses would interpret the message for the supplicant."
Daniel paused for a moment, before taking a breath and continuing on the same thread. "The Sibylline Prophecies are something slightly different. Fourteen books of post eventu – after the fact – revelations survive to this day. In actuality, many were written by various unnamed Jewish and Christian authors imitating the style of the so-called pagan prophetesses." He leant forward, still in full flow, gesturing at the paper Jack was still holding. "But I have reason to believe that the prophecies this parchment refers to are even earlier than the surviving books today. Book Three is the earliest surviving manuscript, a Jewish oracle that condemns Rome for idolatry and injustice, among other things. It also predicts the defeat of Rome by a Ptolemy who is more favorably inclined towards the Jews."
An emphatic finger touched the paper, and Jack glanced at it only momentarily before refocusing on the linguist, who seemed caught in full lecture mode. "Daniel?" he asked, stifling a smile and gently trying to urge the other man back on topic.
"This parchment mentions the later books only in passing; the main focus revolves around several earlier books that have not been discovered, or are believed to be destroyed. But, I'm almost certain that this common assumption is false. I also think that there are more books out there than most scholars believe – up to seven more preceding Book Three, skewing the chronology considerably."
"Daniel, what does this have to do with -" the teasingly impatient question was halted by an upraised figure.
"The Sibylline prophecies typically related a future defeat or disaster to the reader, although most of them were written after the fact," Daniel said quickly. "Apollo was the god of prophecy, archery and music. He was the grandson, after a fashion, of Cronos." Eyebrows rose at this – and no one needed help following the connection. "Legend holds that, in order to gain his seat at Delphi, he fought a mighty battle with a gigantic earth-serpent, and he was reputed to have an interest in healing." The serpent was the obvious clue, but Daniel was also giving more foundation to this by mentioning the healing devices. "His principal symbol is the sun, although that is more commonly the province of the god Helios."
Looking around the group, it was clear that this last connection escaped them all.
"So – what, you think this guy was a Goa'uld?" Jack asked.
Daniel shook his head slightly. "Actually," he said. "I'm not sure. He could have been a former host, or a Tok'ra, or even . . ." Daniel struggled with himself a moment before lowly admitting, "Or even a Harcessis."
There was a moment of stunned silence. "I'm lost," Jack freely conceded.
Daniel shifted in his seat, sighing deeply. "According to common myth, the birth of Apollo and his twin sister Artemis was a result of Zeus's . . . activities with Leto. When Zeus' rightful wife, Hera, discovered his betrayal – not an uncommon event – she was roused to fury and sent a serpent to pursue Leto to the ends of the earth, so that she would be unable to rest long enough to give birth."
"Obviously, the snake failed," Jack commented, sitting back languidly in his chair. The precarious piece of furniture nearly folded under him, and he jerked upright. Daniel gave him a small smile before continuing. "I believe that if we were to find these Prophecies, they could hold information useful to us."
Jack shrugged. "It's worth a try." If Daniel thought it might be worth it, even though Jack was a little skeptical, he'd just gotten his linguist back. They needed to rest up, and while Daniel's explanation had been remarkably thorough, it had also been strangely scattered. As if he'd thought over everything he ever knew, trying to understand what was going on, and had tied all his knowledge into one idea so massive that he himself didn't quite comprehend it.
As if his brain had been on forced overdrive for days, as if he hadn't eaten or slept in that time, as if he was on the verge of collapse. They needed to get back to the SGC, and Daniel needed to rest and recuperate.
Daniel's smile faded a little. "It's worth more than that," he said tiredly, reaching toward the paper once again. His eyes flicked over the nonsensical scribblings, before coming to rest on one line near the end. "This is a gate address."