Jack watched the stars drift across the night sky. There was a gradual lightening of the darkness and the stars winked out. Every muscle in his body ached. It took all his energy to breathe and all he could manage were small mouths-full of air that left tiny puffs of mist in the cold of predawn. He just wanted to lie there and wait for the sun, but a lonely fear ate at the back of his mind. Right now, this world was a deathtrap for anyone who came through the gate.
After two tries, he managed to sit up and pain stole what little breath he had. When he tried to stand, the agony spiked. He collapsed, retching. His head swam, and black dots appeared in front of his eyes. By the time he could focus again, the world was lighter and the sun had appeared over the distant mountains. With a breathless curse, he scanned the jumble of equipment that surrounded him for the med kit. He crawled over to it, pulled out another syringe of morphine and injected it. The drug hit and he closed his eyes against the rapid spin of the world. He laid back and waited for the drug to take full effect.
A heavy tiredness crept over him and a strange buzz filled his head. Sleep. He just needed a little sleep. What harm would there be in a short nap? Despite the rising sun, the surrounding world darkened and encouraged him to rest. Jack savored the peaceful feeling that drifted up his arms and legs, a comforting lullaby of numbness. The darkness deepened and Jack didn't want to fight any more.
Breathe, Colonel!
The sound of Doctor Fraiser's voice jerked him awake, and he gasped for breath. His eyes refused to open; his head throbbed. Was he in the infirmary? The bed was cold and hard. He must have broken a rib. His chest was bound too tightly. What was he was supposed to do? Thoughts were elusive and the memory didn't come. He was so tired. The darkness called to him.
You need to breathe!
His body followed the order, but it felt as if he breathed through a pillow. He lifted a leaden arm and attempted to push it away. His hand fell on his uncovered face. His heart pounded and his head swam. What was wrong? Why couldn't he get any air? Panic stabbed through him.
Breathe!
None of it made any sense, but he did as she commanded.
Again.
He focused on breathing. In. Two, three. Out. Two, three. In. Two, three. Out. The oppressive darkness lessened and awareness slid into his consciousness. Janet wasn't here. This wasn't even Earth.
It's the morphine, Colonel. Janet's voice faded in and out, a mere memory. She had told him something once, something about morphine and breathing. He forced his eyes open and continued to count his breaths. In. Out. In. Out. When he stopped thinking about it, the air didn't come.
The sun was high in the sky before his breaths would come without conscious effort and even then, he couldn't take a deep breath. His side spit fire when he moved and the ache of his other injuries had returned. Unable to climb to his feet, he rolled to the steps that led down from the gate and slid off the edge of the platform, somewhat surprised when his leg held. By the time he hobbled across the long grass to the MALP, his head swam from lack of oxygen. The air felt damp and a heavy, sweet fragrance drifted from clumps of deep violet flowers that dotted the field. The thick scent tickled his nose and he tasted it with each breath. When he reached the MALP, he leaned against it and stared at his hands through cloudy eyes. There was a blue tinge to his nails, and small, weak tremors shook them.
Collapsed lung. It was the only explanation. He tried to remember when it could have happened but there had been so many blows, so many injuries. If he'd broken a rib and it'd punctured the lung, he'd fill with blood and that would be about it. Even if the medical equipment necessary was on the MALP, he couldn't set up a chest tube. The fact that he wasn't coughing up blood gave him hope that wasn't the case. He just might be able to fix this on his own.
The large medical box was clearly marked with a large red cross and he flipped it open to stare at the alien looking instruments in it. Now what? Draw the air off with a syringe, he guessed. Then seal that hole and pray that the lung inflated. He hunted through the box and settled on a large syringe with a thick, evil-looking needle attached. It looked like something the doc would use. Another search through the box netted him a bottle of liquid bandage. It wasn't what the doc would use but it would seal the hole. He stared at the box and wondered if had missed some high-tech miracle tool. Not finding one, Jack pulled out some disinfectant wipes, closed the medical case and sank onto the soft grass.
The clasps on the flak vest refused to release, so he cut through them with his field knife. The last strap gave way with a sharp snap and, suddenly freed from the tight support of the vest, his ribs burnt with a fierce new pain. The battered vest was heavily damaged and, despite the injuries and wounds he had, he knew he'd been lucky. The near miss by the Jaffa staff weapon had melted the covering on the right side of the vest, and there were several other places where the outer lining had been completely ripped away, exposing the Kevlar plating beneath. He dropped the vest onto the grass with a silent prayer of thanks and quickly stripped off the outer shirt of his battle-dress uniform. Light-headed and out of breath, he tugged at his T-shirt, almost unable to pull it over his head. Caked with dust and blood, when he pulled over off, it reopened the wounds that it had dried to it. Raw cuts covered his arms and deep, mottled bruises colored his torso. Even the smallest of the cuts throbbed painfully with each heartbeat.
The grass was cold in the shadow of the MALP, so Jack stumbled further out into the glen, craving the warmth of the sunlight. He only allowed himself a minute to rest, though, and then he sorted through the gear he'd brought over. His stiffening muscles screamed in protest when he rolled onto his good side but he stretched through the pain and gingerly probed his injured side. Unable to think of any other way to delay the inevitable, he ripped open a wipe and swabbed clean a patch of skin over his ribs. The movement made his head ring, but he focused through the annoyance. The filthy wipe tossed aside, he pulled the syringe out of its sealed bag. The needle gleamed and he bit back the bile that rose in his throat.
It was easy to find the space between two ribs, and he placed the tip of the needle against his skin. It was an awkward position to be in and his abused body refused to bend the way he needed. He counted to three, and then counted to three again. He closed his eyes and jammed the needle into his side.
"Oh, God." He didn't think he could feel any more pain, but he was wrong. The bite of the needle caused his side muscles to cramp and he almost jerked the syringe free in the spasm. The needle scraped against a rib, and a strange, grating sensation traveled through his bones. The panic subsided and he opened his eyes.
A thin trickle of fresh red blood cut through the crusted dirt on his chest but he ignored it. How far in should the needle should go? If he hit the lung it would bleed — or bleed more, as the case may be. Gritting his teeth, he drew the needle out until he could feel the tip of it bump against the rib. His arms ached from the position he forced them into, and his side continued to twitch.
He gripped the needle tightly with his left hand and tugged the stopper up with his right. It slid easily up the barrel of the syringe, drawing nothing but air. When he had pulled it to the top, Jack paused. Now what? Why am I always unconscious when the doc does this? The tightness around his chest eased but it was still impossible to take a deep breath. After a second's hesitation, he pulled the stopper up just a little more, just to be sure to draw out as much air as possible. Instead, he yanked it completely out of the syringe. Panicked, he jerked the needle out of his side. He fumbled with the bottle of liquid bandage and managed to spread some of it over the area where he had inserted the needle.
His muscles cramped again, and he struggled to straighten his side to stretch the stitch away. When he inhaled sharply against the pain, he took his first good breath in hours. Relief at being able to breathe pushed all discomfort from his mind. He took another, even better, breath and laughed. The laugh changed to a cough, but that was fine, too. The last time this had happened to him, Janet had made him lay on his side for hours and threatened that if he didn't keep coughing, she'd put in a chest tube.
He lay in the sweet-smelling grass and coughed into the stillness, elated that each breath came easier than the last. The blueness of his skin diminished and the cobwebs in his mind drifted away. The suns soothed his tired muscles as he breathed. He wondered what Janet would say about his field medicine technique and didn't know if he should be happy he'd never find out.
&&&&&
"Chevron Seven, locked." Sergeant Harriman's voice rang through the control room. The gate sprang to life and then settled down into its familiar glistening blue.
General Hammond frowned down at the people crowded around the MALP in the embarkation room. None of them looked up when the gate opened. "Is there a problem, Airmen?" he asked.
Samantha Carter and Doctor Janet Fraiser, the two closest to the MALP looked up. "No, sir," Sam answered. "We just wanted to double-check that the equipment Dr. Fraiser added won't interfere with the camera."
"We had to make some minor adjustments, sir." Janet waved her hand at the equipment. "If the computers can read the signals off the MALP, we're set."
Hammond looked over at the Lt. Graham Simmons, who monitored the equipment. "Yes, sir. Signal is five by and we are recording."
"We're all set, Doctor."
"And the Tok'ra equipment?" Sam asked.
Anise, who stood at the back of the control room, studied a small handheld computer before she nodded. "It appears to be working."
"Very well." Hammond announced over the mike. "Let's do this."
Sam and Janet left the gate room and ran up into the control room. Janet stood behind Simmons, to watch the information as it came in from her equipment. Sam stopped next to Daniel and Teal'c; and Jacob left Anise's side to stand by them. Hammond nodded and then spoke over the mike. "We have a go."
In tense silence, they watched the MALP crawl up the ramp and push through the event horizon. Hammond's eyes already watched the video feed for the picture the MALP would send. The first image was of the DHD, or rather, pieces of the DHD that lay scattered around the clearing.
"That's weird," Daniel said. "It didn't look like that in Jack's communication with Vertas."
"No, it didn't," Sam agreed. "Are we broadcasting to the colonel?"
Walter nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. No response yet."
"If Jack doesn't want to be found, he may just ignore us," Daniel pointed out.
Walter shook his head. "I'm not receiving any signs of Earth technology on the sweep. It will pick up any readings for two miles, even passive use readings."
"Get a visual of the complete area," Hammond ordered. It was possible Jack had moved further than that away but Hammond didn't think so. Jack may not want contact with them, but the gate was a danger and he wouldn't be far from it. "He may have left some indication of what happened."
Walter moved the camera in a slow sweep. It was full daylight and the signs of Jack's activities were visible. The air had a reddish tinge to it and a fine crimson dust covered everything. Even the leaves on the trees looked bloody.
Hammond saw it a second before the others did: a slight movement in the brush off to the side. "Stop. Go back." The picture edged back. "There." He peered at the screen and fully expected Jack to come out of the woods to demand that they remove the MALP at once.
Instead, a young woman dressed in tattered clothes peeked out from between the leaves. She was gone so quick that Hammond almost thought he'd imagined it.
"Did you see that?" Daniel asked.
"Indeed," Teal'c said. "It appeared to be a woman."
Daniel looked over at Anise. "I thought you said this virus would kill all the people on the planet."
Anise ignored him as she studied the information on the handheld device that was connected to her monitoring equipment.
Jacob spoke. "It would, unless they'd received the vaccine. There were reports of experimentation going on."
Hammond frowned. "If there are refugees, Jack may not be alone on the planet, after all." If people needed help, Jack would be close by.
"I don't know, George. It's possible."
"That still doesn't explain why he doesn't answer us," Sam said. "Or why we can't pick up any of his power use."
"General?" Walter's voice drew Hammond's attention back to the technician. Walter pointed at the screen. The camera had stopped. It showed a group of people gathered to one side. They regarded the MALP suspiciously and pointed staff weapons at it. Several of the armed men stood guard over two captured Jaffa who lay bound in front of them.
"That can't be right," Sam said. "You said that the vaccine would kill the Jaffa."
"It does," Jacob moved closer to the display. "It would kill the symbiote almost immediately. Those Jaffa should be long dead, either from the vaccine or the virus." He looked over at the other Tok'ra. "Anise?"
"In a moment." Anise tapped at her screen a couple of times before she looked up. She frowned at them. "There is no indication of the active contagion in any of the readings."
"That's great!" Sam said. "That means that the colonel was able to destroy it without releasing any into the air."
"No," Anise said. "There is no sign of the active contagion, there are, however, indications of its basic components, as well as its inert form."
"What does that mean?" Daniel asked the question before Hammond could.
"It appears that the contagion had been released but that it was rendered inert or broken down into harmless components."
"She's right," Janet confirmed. "None of my readings find any of the active virus, either."
"How is that possible?" Hammond asked.
"I am not sure." Anise scrolled through the information before her. "I will have to do further study."
"There are several possibilities, sir." Janet spoke from her position behind Simmons, her eyes still on the incoming data. "From what I see here, it appears that there was something in the air that bonded with the contagion, and rendered it harmless or broke it downintoits basic, non-toxic elements."
"That is not possible," Anise said. "Such a process would take a great deal of time, perhaps years."
"Possible or not, it's the only hypothesis I have that explains these readings." Janet finally looked up from the computer screen. "I will need to do tests on the planet to verify it."
"You cannot send people to that planet." Anise crossed to Hammond. "It is an unacceptable risk. The Tok'ra council will never approve of such an act. We can gather all the information we need through this device."
"General, the only way we will be able to find out what happened is to go to the planet." Janet ignored Anise and moved to stand before Hammond. "Our readings indicate there is no danger from the toxin. The people on the planet verify those readings. Just to be safe, I have Hazmat suits and gear standing by. We can be through the gate and talking to those people in ten minutes."
"What about the DHD?" Hammond asked.
"We can take along a naquadah generator and do a manual dial to get home."
"It may be the only way to find out what happened to Jack," Daniel added.
Hammond glanced at Anise. "You say that you can get everything you need to understand what happened through that device, will you fully disclose that information to us?"
"We will share the results, yes."
"With all due respect, General, that's not good enough." Sam moved to stand next to Janet. "For us to be able to understand this contagion we need to have full access to all the data."
"You could not possibly understand what we have here," Anise said. "We would need to interpret it for you."
"He we go again." Janet waved her hands in a frustrated gesture and turned to Anise. "It sounds just like the story you gave us with the armbands."
"Enough." Hammond interrupted before the argument could escalate. The general looked at the monitor. The people on the planet began to approach the MALP, a mixture of fear and curiosity showed on their faces. They brandished staff weapons, zats and crude clubs, and looked more than willing to use them. Signs of recent battles stained their clothes and some were injured and sick. None looked welcoming. Even without the threat of contamination, it was a dangerous situation. How much would he risk to find out what happened to one disobedient and wayward colonel? Stupid question. There was more at stake here than just Colonel O'Neill, though. They needed to find out more about the threat posed by this virus, and Anise's answer left only one course of action open.
"Doctor Fraiser, Major Carter. You have fifteen minutes to get your teams suited up. Walter, shut it down. We will dial it again when they are ready to go."
Dr. Fraiser and the three members of SG-1 headed down the steps before he'd finished. After Walter disengaged the gate, Hammond turned to face the Tok'ra.
Anise's eyes flashed in anger. "This is a mistake, General Hammond."
"Perhaps it is," Hammond agreed. "But it is my mistake to make. If you would like to accompany SG-1 on this mission, I'm sure that we can accommodate you."
Anise glared at him before she shook her head. "That will not be necessary." She looked at her handheld and then back at Hammond. "Since this has now become a joint venture, would it be possible for me to have a room to analyze the information I have received so far? I will, of course, share all the pertinent conclusions that I discover with your staff. Provided, of course, that you will also share your data."
"Of course." Hammond marveled at how quickly the Tok'ra could go from indignant and demanding to diplomatic and demanding. The inherent imbalance in the information exchange hadn't escaped his attention, but he didn't press the point. "I will inform Dr. Fraiser and have our data transferred to you. Meanwhile, you can use the conference room up the stairs. My staff can provide you with anything you require."
Anise nodded and left Hammond and Jacob to stand in the mostly empty control room.
"I'm sorry about this, George," Jacob said. "Despite initial resistance, the council did decide that full disclosure was the best course"
"It's not your fault, Jacob," Hammond sighed. "If Jack would be a normal officer, he would have come to me with this as soon as Anise approached him."
Jacob gave a snort of laughter. "We all know if Jack were normal none of us would be here right now."
There was a long pause, and the usual hum of the control room filled the silence.
"We will get him back, George."
"Damn right we will." Hammond just wished he felt as confident as he sounded.
&&&&&
Jack didn't know how long he watched the sun move across the sky as he relished the ability to breathe. The feeling of success did nothing to ease the ache from his wounds, however. Pain sloshed in his head when he moved and exhaustion blurred the edges of his vision. If he concentrated, he could push it all to the back of his mind and enjoy the soothing warmth of the sun on his bare skin. He couldn't stay like this, though, no matter how enticing the thought was. The dirt and grime that covered his body itched and his cuts prickled as if spiders crawled across them. His wounds needed to be tended to and camp had to be set up. The gate still needed to be buried.
He rolled to his knees, breathed through the pain and managed to stand. The world slipped around him and his head spun. Everything was a second behind and felt a step out of reality. The deep breaths he took stabbed pain through his chest but filled his lungs. He waited for the oxygen to clear his head. He felt stronger but disconnected feeling didn't dissipate. Jack chose to ignore it.
The MALP stood only two yards away but Jack had to rest after he hobbled over to it. First order of business was to patch himself up or he'd not be around long enough to bury the gate. He dug through the supplies and found soap, towels and a fresh change of clothes. There was a small, fast moving river just to the west of the gate. It would be the prefect place to clean out his wounds. The water had been free of contaminates when the SGC had studied it and Jack hoped that if he stayed out of the stagnant pools, the stream would pose little danger.
The thought of water made his tongue feel like cotton. Not able to remember the last thing he had to drink, Jack dug a bottle of water out from the back of the MALP and drank half of it in one long pull. The liquid soothed his hot throat but cramped his stomach. He leaned against the MALP and waited for the nausea to pass before he slowly drank the rest of it. The fogginess eased somewhat, but the thrum of pain beat steadily in the background.
With the supplies tucked under his arm, Jack limped over to the medical supply box and grabbed bandages, disinfectant wipes, Polysporin powder and a brace for his knee. Every movement caused a new stab of pain and the world dimmed around him when he walked. After a minute's indecision, he chose a small syringe of morphine and quickly injected it. Numbness washed over him again, but he remained standing and he could still breathe. As much as he hated to use it, he knew he would never make it to the river without it.
The clearing appeared flat but the grass caught at his boots and the thick green covering hid dips and clumps of dirt. With his eyes on the ground directly in front of him, he heard the water before he saw it. The tall willow-like trees that lined its banks made it difficult to walk, but Jack followed an animal trail down to the edge of the stream. It was cool in the shade of the trees and he wished he'd brought a jacket from off the MALP. He slid down the grassy incline and sat on the small bank. It was even colder by the river, and he shivered in the misty air.
The tight knots of bootlaces almost defeated his cramping fingers but he worked them free and tugged his feet out of his boots. Out of their leather prison, they throbbed with every heartbeat. Once he peeled off his socks, he plunged his feet into the stream. The freezing cold stole his breath and cramped his legs but the water felt good against the rawness of his feet. He laid back and waited for his body to adjust to the cold.
When he was sure he could stand, he pushed himself onto his protesting feet. He unstrapped his pistol and laid it on the shore, then stripped off the remainder of his clothes. Without the bandage, his knee shook, but he could keep standing if he placed most of his weight on his good leg. Except for those that had been reopened when he pulled off his clothes, the cuts and abrasions that covered his body had begun to scab over. Not that that was a good thing. Most of them were inflamed and some leaked thick green pus. He dreaded the pain that would come when he cleaned them, but he couldn't leave the infections untreated.
He grabbed a cloth, antibacterial soap and began at the top. The water swirled sanguine around his feet as he worked and he watched as the bloodstained water was swept around a small bend in the river. The SG reports had stated that there weren't any predators in this area and he hoped they were right. The dirt-laden scabs had to be soaked off and then he rinsed out as much of the pus as he could. It worried him that every cut showed signs of infection; even the smallest nick had pus forming in it. He cleaned each one, biting back the pain that came when the soap crawled into the wounds.
He scrambled back up the bank and wrapped a warm, soft towel around his battered form. Cleaning the wounds had removed most of the pus and the cold water had reduced the redness and swelling. He actually looked like he might survive. After he dusted each of the wounds with a liberal dose of the Polysporin powder, he covered them with a sterile bandage. It took three boxes to cover them all. His skin felt hot to the touch, but his teeth chattered. Unable to come up with a good explanation for it, he wrote it off as nerves.
It was difficult to put the brace on his leg without aggravating the cuts on it but he managed, grateful to be able to stand without the threat of his knee buckling. He pulled on the clothes he had brought with him, but he didn't feel dressed until he strapped his pistol back on. For the first time in days, he felt clean. The warm socks felt good on his swollen feet even after he pried them back into his boots. Then he picked up his wet, filthy clothes and hobbled out of the willows' shade into the sunlit clearing.
Once back at the MALP, he unloaded the supplies and set up camp. Everything seemed to take forever, like he was working underwater, in slow motion. He started to set up the large tent he'd packed, then changed his mind and dug out the little one. It would provide enough shelter for the night and that's all he needed. Tomorrow, once he felt better, he'd set up camp proper. He was grateful that the tent almost set itself and he tossed a sleeping roll inside. Finally, he set up the naquadah generator and attached the electric camp light he'd brought. In the future, he would attach it to a pole, as the Jaffa had done back on Nirrti's planet. It would provide enough light to illuminate the entire clearing, until he ran out of light bulbs.
With the MALP almost bare, he climbed onto it and used the onboard controls to move it to the gate. For the next hour, he moved the weapons scattered around the gate back to his campsite. Without the MALP, he wouldn't have been able to do it at all. The sun was warm and sweat trickled down his face and back, but when the breeze blew, he shivered. His lightheadedness grew steadily worse, along with a heightened sense of touch that Jack always associated with fever.
Finished hauling the supplies, Jack took a moment to rest and downed several antibiotics and painkillers from the med kit. With luck, he wouldn't need any more morphine. He leaned back against the MALP and let his head fall onto the cold metal of the machine. His ribs burned fire, his knee throbbed with each heartbeat and, if he concentrated, he could feel each and every one of the cuts that he'd bandaged. His sweat soaked clothes stuck to his skin and he could see stains where blood and pus had soaked through. He pulled himself over to his food supplies and forced himself to drink some morewater. Although it hadn't been refrigerated, it burned a cold trail down his throat and chilled his stomach.
Jack tossed the half-empty bottle aside, pulled himself onto the MALP again and guided it back to the gate. Once he'd disabled it, he could rest. Too much time had passed already. He didn't have the strength needed to actually bury the gate, but he didn't need to. All he needed was to make sure that a wormhole couldn't form. And Sam had already come up with a fast and easy way to do that. He thought he should have left her a note to thank her for her genius work. Although he doubted she would appreciate that he had used it to strand himself on this world after he left them all behind.
Got that right, sir.
Jack knew that the voice was all in his head but he looked around and half expected to see his second-in-command standing next to him. She would have that look of acceptance and disappointment that she wore when she didn't understand his motives. He rubbed a rough hand across his face, surprised at how hot and dry his skin was. A half of water wasn't enough, he should've drank the entire bottle.
He maneuvered the MALP behind the gate and stopped at his best guess of where the center of the ring would fall, once he knocked over. Then he untied the last bundle from the MALP and pushed it onto the green grass. The bundle was made up of two different chemicals that, when combined, created a fast growing foam that would expand to the size of the Stargate and harden into a cement-like barrier in just under fifteen minutes. Jack really didn't understand it but if Sam were right, it would prevent the gate from establishing an event horizon. And really, how often was Sam wrong?
I was wrong about you. Sam's voice echoed in his head again.
Jack frowned. What did she mean by that? Wait. What did he mean by that? It was just his mind playing tricks on him, after all. Jack rubbed at a growing headache.
With the MALP close to the gate platform, he grabbed a small pack of explosives and climbed onto it. If he set the charges right, the gate would topple over and land flat on the ground behind the dais. Then he'd just have to activate Sam's Instant Wormhole Blocker, and everything would be fine.
You have an odd definition of 'fine' — it was Daniel's voice this time — stranded alone in a deserted world, hallucinating that your friends are talking to you.
Jack blinked against a sudden wave of dizziness. His knees buckled and he fell to the platform. Too lightheaded to stand, he half-crawled, half-rolled over to the gate.
You do not appear to be well, O'Neill. Perhaps you should rest.
"Perhaps you guys should leave me alone," Jack muttered aloud. "This is why I didn't tell you what I was doing. If you can think of a better solution let me know."
The voices didn't answer and Jack placed small squares of C-4 around the bottom of the gate.
&&&&&
"If he's not on the planet, where the hell is he?" General Hammond's voice echoed down the stairs from the conference room.
Daniel ignored the stares of the technicians in the control room and jogged up the steps. He understood the general's frustration. They had returned from the planet with the good news that the virus had been rendered benign. None of the people on the planet had tested positive for any traces of the contagion, nor was it present anywhere in the environment. Although Anise still hadn't agreed, Janet was sure that, over time, the planet had developed a counter-agent to the virus, one that provided a natural immunity. When Jack had destroyed the pyramids and released the virus, it had been neutralized. Nirrti's virus was no longer a concern.
However, they'd also returned without Jack. The people on the planet told them the story of the mysterious man who saved them and destroyed the houses of the 'evil gods'. They'd painted Jack as something of a supernatural being himself, able to withstand torture that would kill a normal human and to control fire and reign down destruction. Daniel would have been amused by it all, if Jack had been around to be uncomfortable by the deification. The people told how he used all his strength to destroy the pyramids and then had fallen beneath the rubble, unable to save himself. A few of the braver souls had uncovered him, gathered all his belongings and piled them to the side. Then, afraid of the power this amazing being exhibited, they'd hid and watched his resurrection from safety.
The story they wove of Jack's struggle to haul his equipment to the gate, his use of the gods' chaapa'ai, and of his magical communication with a spirit from another world, both fascinated and frightened. Jack's battered image from the communicator haunted Daniel's thoughts, as did the knowledge of everything that Jack had endured. Jack's disappearance through the gate a moment before he'd destroyed the DHD was painted as another selfless act to keep the evil gods from stealing them away again. It was clear that the only reason the rescue team hadn't been attacked when they came through the gate was they were dressed like Jack.
Anise's voice echoed around the conference room as he entered. "It appears he used the Stargate to leave the world after his communication with Vertas."
"But it doesn't make sense," Daniel took the seat between Sam and Teal'c. "Jack thinks he is a carrier. He believes that he will infect any world that he goes to. There's no way he would do that."
"I, too, am puzzled by his actions," Teal'c said. "However, that is how it appears."
"I don't care how it appears," Daniel insisted. "Jack would never go to another planet knowing that he'd kill everyone living there."
"Wait." Sam stood up; excitement flushed her face. "What if he knew no one would die?"
"Continue, Major," General Hammond ordered.
"An uninhabited planet. If he gated to an uninhabited planet, no one would die. He wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life trapped on a planet full of the dead and there would be no chance that we would ignore his request to leave him alone. I'm such a fool. This explains all of it."
"This explains all of what?" Daniel couldn't keep up with Sam's train of thought.
"Why the colonel sent a MALP and UAV through the gate. Why he blacked out the base."
With all the developments, Daniel had almost forgotten about what had started this all in the first place. "You think he's on P45-780?"
"No. I believe that Colonel O'Neill found an uninhabited planet to gate to after the mission was done. He sent the MALP full of supplies to that planet and then he blacked out the SGC to cover his tracks."
"Do you now believe that O'Neill intended to cause the power loss?" Teal'c asked.
"I do."
Daniel's protest was cut off by a small wave of Sam's hands. Her eyes glinted with a life that Daniel hadn't seen in them since Jack had left. If she thought she had it figured out, he would listen to her. He leaned back and waited for her to continue.
"In fact, I don't think it was a malfunction at all. We know Colonel O'Neill altered the surveillance feeds so we couldn't see where he dialed. I think he opened a gate to the planet he is now on and that's where he sent the MALP and UAV. It would explain why he used a UAV at all."
"It does?"
"Reconnaissance." Jacob answered Daniel's question. "Jack would have wanted to make sure that the planet was still uninhabited. He'd need an aerial survey to get the best look."
Sam nodded. "The UAV he used was a prototype, with a longer range and higher flight ability. He also added some extra monitoring equipment to it. It didn't make any sense when I first looked at it, but it's the perfect tool for locating long-range life signs. If I had wanted to know if the planet was uninhabited, that's the UAV I would've used."
She turned to General Hammond. "The reason we didn't find the equipment on P45-393 is because he sent them to an entirely different gate address."
"How is that possible? According to your own reports, the gate only dialed P45-393 and it had an open connection to that world when the power failed.
"Once Colonel O'Neill closed the gate to where ever," she waved her hand in the air, "he dialed P45-393 and inputted a computer program that would erase all record of the previous wormhole. Then he instituted a large area blackout that would force a hard reboot of the system, effectively masking everything he did."
From the silence that met Sam's explanation, Daniel knew they all thought the same thing. "Oh, come on, Sam. We all know Jack couldn't write a computer program to do all that."
"He didn't have to," she answered. "I did."
"Would you care to explain that, Major?"
"After the Touchstone incident, Colonel O'Neill asked me to investigate if it would be possible to illicitly use our Stargate. My research showed it would be impossible to secretly open a wormhole with our gate. However, in the report I submitted, I outlined the possibility of using our Stargate and then eliminating the gate coordinates from all the computers: primary and backups. I included the programs needed to do so."
"You believe that Colonel O'Neill used those programs to hide his activities?"
Sam nodded. "When the surveillance cameras came back on after the blackout, you can see the colonel pick up a piece of paper from the console. The picture isn't clear enough for me to be sure, but I'll bet it was my program."
Daniel groaned. "But that puts us right back were we started from. We still have no way to track where he went."
"We might."
Sam's smile gave Daniel hope. "You have an idea."
"Yes." Sam crossed to the computer on the side of the room. "We implemented a new diagnostic program last month. It compares how long it takes to dial each address. That's all it records, the address and the speed. It's not part of the normal gate computer system and the programs I submitted to Colonel O'Neill didn't include it. I didn't think it was important before because we thought we knew where the Colonel had dialed."
"Then all we have to do is find the one address on the list that we haven't dialed and that will be the address of the planet Jack is on?"
"Right." She gestured to the computer. "With your permission, General. I can access the information from here."
"Very well."
Daniel rubbed his arms, as if trying to warm himself up. "Once we have the address, we just have to drag him back here."
"And the sooner the better," Janet Fraiser's voice came from the top of the stairs. "Sorry to interrupt, General, but I have some information you need to see." She crossed the room and handed the general a small packet of papers. "Several of the refugees from Nirrti's planet are in critical condition in the infirmary and they all exhibit identical symptoms."
General Hammond asked the question they all had. "Is it the virus?"
"No, sir. But I believe it is related to the planet. All of them have wounds that have become septic. The infection has spread throughout their bodies at an alarming rate. They told me that several members of their group had died on planet from the same symptoms days after they received what should have only been minor injuries. I checked on the wounded from the planet, all of their wounds display indications of the infection.
"I've started them on treatment. A cocktail of antibiotics slows the advance of the infection but we need to isolate the bacterium that is the cause in order to develop an effective treatment. What I'm doing right now is just a stopgap. If we don't find a way to fight this specific bacterium . . . They have a day, two tops."
"What is the danger to the base, Doctor?"
"Minimal. I've initiated decon protocols on everything brought back from the planet as well as the personnel." She glanced apologetically at SG-1. "You will have to report for a complete scrub down immediately. All base personnel that sustained an injury in the last three days are required to report to the infirmary so we can monitor any possible cross contamination. It's all just a precaution, though. I don't believe there is a danger unless you incurred the wound on the planet."
The picture of Jack, battered and bleeding, flashed before Daniel's eyes and churned his stomach. "What about Jack?"
Janet's eyes were full of sympathetic concern. "I don't know. He was exposed. It's fast moving and becomes life threatening within days. We need to find him. Soon."
"I've got it." Sam's triumphant cry cut through the sudden stillness. She grinned over at them. "PT9-780."
It took Daniel a moment to remember that she'd been trying to figure out where Jack had gone. "Are you sure?"
"It's the only unauthorized gate address," she said. "He has to be there. I've sent it to the dialing computer." She snapped to attention in front of General Hammond. "With your permission, sir?"
"I'll hold off on dialing until you three complete the Doctor's decon protocols. Be quick."
Daniel bit back a protest and trailed after Sam and Teal'c as they followed Janet down the stairs. Sam was sure they had the right place but Daniel feared that it wasn't going to be that easy. Nothing with Jack ever was.
&&&&&
Jack placed the last small charge of C-4 and gently inserted the detonator. It wouldn't take much explosive to knock the gate over, the trick was to make the gate fall back and land right where it needed to. He put the remainder of the C-4 block into his pocket. He might need it later.
You always think that explosives are the answer to everything, don't you?
Jack blinked against the sweat that dropped off his forehead. Daniel's blurry form wavered in front of him. He blinked again and Daniel was gone. It had taken him far longer than he would have liked to set up the detonations. His team had become increasingly bothersome.
We're bothersome? You're the one always running off to play hero. Sam flitted around the edges of his vision. When's the last time any of us disobeyed orders?
Jack's laugh turned into a cough. "Dan'l," he choked out. "Never . . . never follows orders."
Not being military, I don't have to obey orders, you know. You should be happy that I follow as many as I do.
Daniel and Sam floated in front of him to merge into an indistinguishable blob.
"Stop that." Jack closed his eyes at the sight and leaned back against the base of the gate. He just needed to gather his energy before he pulled back a bit and blew the gate. A little rest, a short break from the annoying apparitions of his friends.
&&&&&
General Hammond took up his usual position behind Walter as the sergeant began the dialing process. Sam, Daniel, and Teal'c, fresh from a decon scrub, followed Janet down to the gate room. SG-3 and two medics waited at the bottom of the ramp, just behind the MALP the general insisted on sending in first. Sam knew it was the smart thing to do, but she still rankled at the idea that they couldn't just run through and save the colonel. Janet hadn't said so, but Sam knew that Jack's multiple injuries would speed the spread of the infection.
The gate spun to the first symbol and snapped into place.
"Chevron one engaged," Walter said.
Sam drummed her fingers as the gate spun again.
&&&&&
The cool stone felt good against his fevered face, as did the breeze that swept over him. The thought that he had to do something nagged at the back of his mind but he was too tired to try and remember what it was. If only the gate would be quiet, he could get some rest. Once he slept, he'd remember everything.
I do not believe you should sleep this close to the Stargate, O'Neill, Teal'c said.
Jack forced his eyes open. Teal'c was not to be seen, but the gate lit up above him.
&&&&&
Sam double-checked the ammunition for her P-90. She didn't expect trouble on the deserted planet, but years of training and experience made the action habitual. She glanced over at Daniel who bounced on the balls of his feet. The gate slid to a stop.
"Chevron two engaged."
&&&&&
As Jack stared at the Stargate, it warped in front of him and he blinked through the effect. Was the gate really opening?
Come on, sir. Can't you tell what reality is and what's not?
Sam sat next to him and wore a neon orange uniform. "Obviously not." He knew there was a reason he shouldn't want the gate to open, but he couldn't think what it was.
&&&&&
Janet reached over and touched Sam's arm. "It'll be okay. The colonel is tough, tough and stubborn. He'll be fine once we get him back here."
Sam smiled at her friend. "I know, it's just . . ." It just felt like she spent so much of her time waiting. She wasn't even sure what she was waiting for. She just knew she was afraid that by the time she figured out what she wanted, it would be too late to get it.
"Chevron three engaged."
&&&&&
Jack rolled to his knees and noticed that he held a detonator in his hand. He couldn't remember what it was for.
You're going to blow yourself up, remember? Daniel said. Blow yourself up, and take Ra with you.
Jack glanced at a skinnier, longer-haired Daniel. He wore different glasses and he held a candy bar in one hand. Jack looked back at the detonator. It sounded like something he would do.
Daniel told me once that you had a death wish. Sam stood next to him. This time she had on the dress she had been forced to wear when they had dealt with the Shavadai. Do you really want to die?
"No." Jack's thoughts scattered before him, like leaves on the wind. "No. I'm not going to die. I've had the vaccine." As he said it, the fog around his memory cleared. If he let the gate open, the virus he carried would kill everyone who came through. The detonator was for that.
The gate announced the arrival of another chevron. Jack stood. He had to blow the gate.
&&&&&
"I wonder what Jack will say when we show up," Daniel asked.
"Since he still thinks he's infected by an incurable virus," Janet answered, "I'm thinking it's a good thing we're sending the MALP through first."
"I didn't think about that," Daniel admitted. "He might not be too happy to see us."
Sam hadn't thought about it, either. It was typical. The harder she had to work to rescue the colonel, the less he wanted to be rescued.
"Chevron four engaged."
&&&&&
Jack stumbled down the steps. His team waited for him on the ground.
You sure you want to do this, Jack? You bury the gate and there's no way off of here.
"I knew it was one-way when I bought the ticket," Jack said.
Why would the Tok'ra require you to purchase passage to participate in this mission?
"It's a—" The sound of another chevron cut him off. He ducked down to use the platform for shelter and punched the detonator.
&&&&&
The gate shuddered and ground to a halt. A half a breath later, it started up again and inched toward its next destination.
"Sergeant?" Sam looked up at Walter.
"I'm not sure, Ma'am. It wasn't anything on our end. There were anomalous readings from the destination." He stared at his console. "All readings have leveled off and all systems are within acceptable parameters. There's no explanation for the anomaly.
Sam looked back at the gate, unwilling to do what she knew she should. "Hold the procedure, Walter. I'll check it out." The gate paused. "I'll be right back." She dashed out the door and up the stairs to the control room.
&&&&&
As the sharp echoes of the explosion died away, Jack stood and looked at the platform. Empty space stood where the gate had been.
"Still got it," he said.
It's easy to blow things up, sir. Even Marines can do it.
Jack's snappy comeback was cut off by the sound of the gate as it powered up again. He swore under his breath and limped around to the back of the platform. The gate had fallen where he had needed it to, but the dial-in was still in progress and the chevrons were still locked in place.
"Fine." Jack pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the package in the middle of the gate. When he shot through it, the chemicals would mix and the gate would be blocked for good.
That won't work, sir.
He ignored the image of Sam as she stood next to him. She didn't say anything more, and he wavered. "Why not?"
Sam morphed into a less helpful Daniel. You can't blow it up, what makes you think you can shoot it?
&&&&&
Sam did a quick scan of the gate diagnostics. She couldn't find an explanation for the gate's behavior.
"Major?" General Hammond prompted.
"I don't know, sir," Sam was forced to admit. "It had to be something on the other end."
"What?"
"I don't know, sir." She studied the monitor for a moment more, and then turned to Walter. "Let it dial the next coordinate only, then pause the dial again." She turned her attention to the gate below as Walter followed her orders. The gate made one complete circle and spun to a stop. The chevron marked it as the correct one and the gate paused.
"Chevron five engaged," Walter dutifully reported.
&&&&&
Jack glared at the phantom of Daniel. "Why won't it work?" he demanded.
Daniel melted into Teal'c, who stared at him impassively.
It came to him. "It would take too long to harden." The connection would establish before it was blocked. The forming wormhole would disintegrate everything in its path.
The fifth chevron lit up.
&&&&&
Sam continued to study the data from the gate. There was nothing wrong with any of it, but she couldn't account for the power surge. The data scrolled over her screen but she couldn't concentrate on it. It would be best to find out what was wrong before the dial continued, but she didn't want to. She wanted to save the colonel.
"Wait a minute," she said. "Let me check the colonel's dial-in to the planet and see if he ran into the same problem."
The seconds ticked by as she pulled up the gate-recording program she'd used to find the colonel. She scanned the data and ignored the panic that pushed at her.
&&&&&
The solution came to Jack all at once and, as all his most desperate plans did, it sprang into his head fully formed, like Athena from Zeus. He holstered his pistol and scrambled across to the gate. His injured body screamed in protest when he climbed onto it and rolled into the center of the ring.
This is not an advantageous position to be in, O'Neill.
Jack pulled himself to his feet and hurried to the bundle of gate-blocker. There were only two chevrons to go before it — and he — were disintegrated in the forming wormhole.
&&&&&
Sam looked up from the computer screen in front of her. The gate had dialed the planet without problems last time. The entire control room waited for her to make a decision. "There is nothing to explain the gate's behavior, sir. Readings look good on this end. I say we continue the dial."
&&&&&
Jack grabbed the heavy bundle and dragged it toward the edge of the gate.
I thought you were over this death wish stuff, Jack. Daniel wavered directly in font of him. Jack stumbled through the apparition. Exhaustion and the roar of pain in his head almost drowned out the hallucination.
&&&&&
General Hammond nodded. "Continue, Sergeant."
Walter put his hand on the screen and the gate groaned to life. Sam watched as the sixth symbol spun into place. She willed it to move faster.
"Chevron six engaged."
&&&&&
Jack panted with exertion. The ropes that bound the heavy package cut into his fingers.
You're in no shape to do this, sir.
Jack ignored the comment and concentrated on breathing and moving. He had three steps to safety.
The sixth chevron lit up.
&&&&&
Sam scrolled through the data as the gate continued its dial. Everything looked good and the gate turned smoothly, headed to the final symbol.
She looked up at the general. "I'll schedule a full diagnostic once we get the colonel back."
&&&&&
Jack took two steps and struggled to hoist the package over the edge of the fallen gate. His arms gave out and it dropped onto the ring. A wave of dizziness swept over him and he retched.
&&&&&
The symbol for the Tau'ri slid to a stop by the final chevron.
&&&&&
Jack fell to his knees and leaned against the gate as the fog in his head threatened to overwhelm him. The unlit chevron under his hands was warm. As he blinked at it, it started to hum.
&&&&&
Sam held her breath as the final symbol snapped into place.
"Chevron seven locked."
&&&&&
Jack's hands slipped on the slick stone as he pushed himself to his feet. The hum built and the gate warmed under his touch. He leaned into the bundle and it crashed to the ground. A dull glow appeared in the center of the chevron. Jack pivoted to follow. His foot caught. The brace twisted, broke. The hum became a buzz. His knee buckled and the sharp edge of the gate scraped along his leg. Jack's hoarse scream merged with the sound of the final chevron locking into place.
&&&&&
Separated by half a universe, the gates on Earth and PT9-780 exploded to life; each gate spewed a geyser of lethal plasma into the air that disintegrated everything in its path.
