Chapter 31
Jack grunted in pain as a particularly large Jaffa landed a fist the size of a cantaloupe on his solar plexus. The two other Jaffa holding him didn't let him crumple to the floor, but that worked to Jack's advantage as he lunged forward and attempted to tackle the Jaffa in charge of this beating. Jack had goaded the guards into his cell with that were universal. With Jaffa, insulting their hereditary lineage and a few sharp barbs about how their "god" was actually just a lying fake, nearly always worked. Well it worked two ways. Some of the Jaffa it made Rebels out of, or at least collaborators and sympathizers. Others it just made them mad. And few things in the universe, Jack decided, were scarier than an angry Jaffa.
But angry Jaffa worked for him. In fact it was probably better than a new Rebel Jaffa or a collaborator, he always felt bad if one of them ended up dead, and if his plan worked and he got out, these guards probably wouldn't have a very long life expectancy. Unfortunately that was the way Ba'al operated, and besides, Jack understood the costs of war. There were casualties and there were evil people and a pretty good definition of war was that people were being killed, and it didn't matter whether or not they deserved it.
He was a prisoner of war, and it was his duty to escape. And that's exactly what he planned to do.
SGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGC
Hours later after he had been through his daily chat with Ba'al and his time in the sarcophagus he found himself dumped alone in his cell. Even better since he had taken the precautions to not anger any Jaffa since that morning, he was in perfect health. Except for the sarcophagus addiction and that didn't count right now. He'd worry about that when he was under the thumb of a Napoleonic Power Monger.
Grabbing the knife-like object he'd stashed under a loose bit of wall that morning he stood and grinned.
His little cell was unlike the one he'd been held in the first time he'd been Ba'al's quest. That cell had been designed to hold prisoners, but not this one. This cell was a makeshift one. After staring at the walls of the small plain room long enough, he realized that it was familiar. The room looked almost exactly like the old wood storage room that had been in his grandparents house. The room had been in the cellar next to where his grandmother had stored her canned vegetables. That house had been heated by a wood burning stove and Jack could remember helping to stock the room for the winter.
The most important and most relevant aspect of that room was the door.
The door for the wood room could open from inside or outside, but if the door was closed it locked from the inside.
Standing in front of where the door appeared each time one of Ba'al's goons entered, Jack started running his hands along the wall trying to concentrate solely on opening the door. Since the door was a seamless part of the wall expect when opened he figured this place was not made by any kind of snakehead. Since the Goa'uld preferred bug thick very obvious blast doors and the Tok'ra had a preference for no doors, this technology was different, yet still familiar somehow.
The familiarity of this odd technology bothered him, but he had other things to worry about. Besides Sam could always tell him later where the door had come from, though knowing his luck it was Ancient.
Silently a previously seamless part of the wall slide back and Jack crouched out of the way with his knife. When no guard came through to investigate he moved silently and swiftly out of the room.
All he had to do was get out of the building, to the Stargate (assuming there was one) and Gate to a safe planet where he could barrow a GDO.
Piece of cake.
