Chapter 5 – Replicators
All Sam knew was noise. Noise and pain. Unfortunately, she couldn't isolate the cause of either and desperately tried to remember where she was exactly. What planet? What mission? It was obvious that she'd been captured and was being tortured but she could remember nothing. Even though she was lying face down unable to open her eyes, she could still hear a high pitched noise and, yes, there it was again. Pain.
Suddenly her arm was pulled and then pushed. Again. And again. The jerking movement caused her head to move and the resulting pain was excruciating. She fought back the vomit that rose in her throat, concentrating on the noise that accompanied the violence. The pattern kept repeating. A variation on the same theme but they were repeating in a fashion none the less. Words? Could they be words?
She instinctively knew that if she had any chance of surviving this hell, she had to figure out what her captors were trying to communicate to her. And so she drew on every ounce of her being, every piece of training the military had afforded her, and blocked out the pain the best she could. She focused on the sound and realized that her instincts had been correct. It was a voice, a high-pitched one at that, prompting her to try to narrow down which of their enemies it could be. Definitely not G'oauld or Jaffa. Doubtful it could be anything to do with the Lucian Alliance. The Ori? Unlikely. Without a frame of reference as to which planet she was on, she was left with nothing but confusion.
And the repetition of the words continued. She focused on the pattern. Word one. Word one. Word two, word three. Word one. Word two. Word three. Word one. Word one. Word one.
Sam's brain screamed out for the torture to stop and finally so did she.
"Stop! Oh please stop."
Her outburst had left her nauseous and shaking. She thought her head was going to explode from the violent bursts of pain that cut through her like shards of broken glass. As she breathed through the queasiness that enveloped her, and the pain began to subside a little, she became aware that the noise had stopped. She stilled and listened hard. She couldn't hear anything but she sensed that her captor was standing beside her. Sam thought that he would leave but she didn't hear any movement.
And as quickly as it had stopped, the voice started again. Only this time the words were being whispered instead of shouted.
Word one. Word two. Word three. At this quieter level Sam thought she would be able to at least decipher the sounds, so she concentrated on listening, blocking out all her other senses when the pattern began again.
Word one. Word two. Word three. Mommy. Word two. Word three. Mommy. Wake. Up.
Confusion and fear filled Sam. Who were these beings that could make her think that her daughter was with her. Replicators?
Oh God. That's why her head hurt so much she concluded and once again, bile rose up but this time not from the pain, but from the fear that consumed her. She had to get out of this situation. She had to find a way out of the cell in which they were holding her. She just had to open her eyes first. And so she did.
The light that hit her increased the pain tenfold but she knew that she couldn't close them again. Squinting slightly, she tried her best to focus. And then she saw it, standing right in front of her. A perfect replica of her five year old daughter, Emily, from her beautiful big, bright blue, eyes to her blond hair, falling to her shoulders in curls.
"Good Morning, Mommy", she said and broke into the most beautiful, heart-breaking smile Sam had ever seen. And she was terrified. She moved her head slightly to get a better look at the room and swallowed hard. It was a perfect reproduction of her bedroom showing amazing detail down to the make-up she had strewn on her dresser the night before.
"What do you want?" she managed to ask.
"I want you to get up Mommy".
"Why? Why me?" Sam murmured, desperately holding back the sobs fighting to escape.
The "child" looked thoughtful for a moment, choosing its words carefully.
"Daddy said that you were naughty last night. You went to a party and had too much beer. You stayed up way past your bedtime. Daddy told me to wake you up to get me dressed because it serves you right that you have an over hang".
And it was at that moment that reality hit Sam like a speeding train. She wasn't off-world. She was at home in her bedroom and the child that stood before her really was her little girl. Somewhere downstairs, banging doors very loudly, was Pete, her husband, who was obviously really pissed about the night before.
But what about last night? She searched her brain through the pain to remember what she had done the night before. She could recollect the Christmas Party. She remembered a steak dinner with some of the SG teams, the very thought of which made her stomach turn once more. But what happened after that? Where had she gone and with whom?
As she laid thinking, she became aware of a fuzzy cotton wool feeling in her mouth. A sweet taste mixed with the fuzz. Oh God! Cosmopolitans.
She rushed to get to the bathroom gently pushing Emily out of the way as she ran. She emptied the contents of her stomach, which included a large amount of vodka, into the toilet bowl, retching again and again, all the while hearing her daughter frantically calling out.
"Daddy, Daddy, quick! Mommy's really sick. Mommy's going blah in the toilet. Come quick!"
Sam sat back on her haunches, wiping her mouth and nose with toilet paper. She rested, exhausted, against the cold tile and thought of only one thing.
She was going to kill Jack O'Neill when she got her hands on him.