"Nothing, sir." Sam hustled back into the SUV, closing the door quickly against the frost outside, rivulets of snow dropping off of her boots. "They didn't stop here. No one in the diner recognized the pictures of either Daniel or Deavers."
"Damn." Jack restarted the car, the dashboard glowing redly with the blinking neon sign telling them to Eat At Marlene's. "They could have turned off, or they could have kept going. Carter, check in." He pulled out, scarcely looking for traffic. At one AM, deep in the mountains with snow on both sides of the lonely backwoods route, traffic was nothing more than a memory.
Sam pulled out her cell. "General Hammond? Carter, sir. Anything?" She started repeating the information aloud so that the other two could hear. "Lt. Baker did a fast and dirty financial check on Deavers. Apparently he's stretched out on his credit cards. Mostly food, wine, and clothing. Luxury items. An expensive car, for which he is currently behind on the lease payments and the word is out that a repossession is in the works. Nothing much in bank accounts that Baker has been able to find. Deavers has been spending everything just as soon as his paycheck comes in, sometimes sooner. Thank you, sir. Nothing on this end. We'll keep you posted."
Jack slowed down to take an icy patch. "Slow going. This weather'll slow Deavers down as much as it does us." He grinned, with no humor. "He boasted about being able to drive in snow. Grew up in it. Unfortunately for him, so did I."
"What did you say?" Sam turned around.
"Major?"
"You're right, sir: Deavers talked about growing up in the snow belt. He also mentioned that he had a cabin in the woods!"
Jack almost slammed on the brakes before he remembered that it would send them into an icy spin. "Back on the horn, major! Have Baker find out where that cabin is!"
All right, it's official: snow is damn cold. Especially when you're in bare feet. The shivering started almost as soon as Deavers shoved him out the door to land head first in a snow bank. Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god. The Goa'uld device was still only an annoyance, but the cold was more lethal. Daniel estimated that he'd be able to last three or four hours, but not much more. Optimistically he decided that running away would also generate more heat, and if he happened to be lucky enough to run across a wandering squad car wondering what half-dressed lunatic was out in the middle of the night in this weather…
"And you thought I'd let you escape, Dr. J.," Deavers chided him. "Hold still. I need to get this tighter." Deavers looped another length of rope around his ankles.
Daniel yelped. "Not so tight! You're cutting off my circulation!"
"That's the idea, Dr. J. Little bit of discomfort will be good for your state of mind. Helps the tuvatka're work, get you back inside where it's warm a little faster."
Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god. The buzz grated on his nerves.
"Take off his clothes. All of them." Teknet's eyes held a disturbing look. It wasn't just the glow.
"Lord?"
"I want to see him," Teknet said. The Goa'uld licked his lips. "I want to see his flesh. Stand him up."
Damn. Not only do I run afoul of a Goa'uld, I get one who hasn't gotten his rocks off for three thousand years. Needs to make up for lost time. Crap. He must have been a female in his previous host. I hope that's all.
Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.
Deavers hoisted Daniel to his feet, holding him in place. Daniel's own legs, tightly bound at the ankles, were unable to keep him upright. Teknet approached, and Daniel's blood ran colder than the snow he was standing in.
Starlight glinted on the knife in Teknet's hand, and the blade looked big. Teknet stuck the point under Daniel's chin, forcing Daniel to crane his head back to avoid having his throat cut.
"I am your god!" Teknet hissed. "Say it!"
"You are a damn parasite." It wasn't easy to spit with his head cocked back, but Daniel managed it.
Teknet backhanded him. Daniel's head rang. He spat blood.
Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.
Tied, it wasn't possible to remove Daniel's clothing without cutting, and Teknet didn't bother to try. He sliced through the tee shirt first, tossing the shreds away into the snow. The Goa'uld caressed Daniel's chest with his manicured fingers, tracing the muscles that were slowly growing there under the determined tutelage of the military. Daniel felt as though there was a horde of cockroaches crawling over him.
Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.
The belt was torn from his waist before Teknet attacked his pants. Daniel yelped when Teknet carelessly sliced into his leg. Warm blood trickled down.
Teknet dabbed at the blood with his finger, bringing it to his mouth, tasting it. Then he tasted the blood again.
Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.
Teknet is insane, even for a Goa'uld. Daniel wondered if he would get out of this alive. It wasn't the cold that would get him, it was the Goa'uld. He struggled in Deavers' grasp, unable to wrench himself away.
Teknet giggled, the sound echoing into the cold night. He plunged his hand deep into Daniel's shorts, reaching, squeezing and fondling. Daniel yelled in sudden terror, jerking helplessly. Deavers tightened his grip, laughing. Teknet sliced the remnants of Daniel's clothing from him and giggled again.
"You are mine, little Tau're," the Goa'uld crooned, drinking in the sight of his victim. "Before the night is over, you will beg me to do this to you."
"Go to hell!"
Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.
It was over. Deavers dropped Daniel into the cold snow, watching the archeologist choke back his disgust. Even the snow felt more welcoming than the Goa'uld's filthy hands, and Daniel gave a sigh of relief that he'd gotten off so easily. Deavers took another length of rope, tying Daniel's bound hands to his bound ankles, bending him backward until squirming itself was unrealistic. Daniel fought to keep from crying out.
Teknet spoke dreamily. "Come inside, First Prime. I wish to pleasure myself upon you." Through closed eyes, Daniel could feel the pair inspecting their handiwork. "This one has excited me, but must be trained if I am to have a scribe. Would you like that, scribe?"
"Go to hell," Daniel whispered with as much defiance as he could manage. My arms aren't being torn from their sockets. I don't feel my feet going numb.
"Perhaps not too trained," Teknet mused. He caressed Daniel's rapidly chilling cheek, eager to feel Daniel struggle to flinch away. "His resistance pleases me. I must make certain that it stays." He again caressed the flesh of his newest slave.
Daniel threw up into the snow.
Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.
The diner was bright, and cheery, and empty. The three had given in to the cold when Teal'c admonished them to maintain their own health—"you cannot effectively search if you are too weary to see the signs in front of you—" and had stopped for coffee. Teal'c himself opted for tea and a strawberry Danish to replenish himself, but the other two went straight for the hard stuff and refilled the thermos that Sam had packed with scalding hot black coffee. They chose a booth well away from the counter, eyeing the waitress/cook who had drawn the short straw and had to work the night shift. The last pair of truckers had walked out the door just as the trio entered, and they heard the semi rumble into action on its way to nowhere.
Sam returned to the table, coffee cups in her hands. The waitress wasn't bothering with the waitress part of her duties and settled for being the cook, which suited the trio just fine. The more distance between them, the more security. Win-win situation. If only the rest of this whole nasty affair was as easy, Sam thought as she put the mugs onto the red and white checkerboard-covered table in front of her teammates.
Jack's cell chirped at him, and the box was at his ear in a flash. "O'Neill. Yes, Baker? You find it?" Silence. The other two waited with baited breath. "No, that's not the one. It can't be. New Hampshire is half a country away from here. Keep looking."
"Colonel?"
O'Neill gave a tight little smile that had nothing to do with mirth or good humor. He tucked the cell phone back into his pocket. "Dead end. There was no cabin in Deavers' name, so Baker looked a bit farther. Deavers' family does have a cabin in the woods, but it's not local."
"New Hampshire," Teal'c echoed, having listened to Jack's end of the conversation.
"Right. Located some two thousand miles from here. And Route 73 outside is not the most direct route if he were headed there."
"But that doesn't make sense," Sam said. "I mean, Deavers told Daniel and I very clearly that he had a place in the woods nearby. Baker had to have missed it."
"And so have we, major. If that's true, Deavers could have pulled off anywhere between here and Cheyenne and we would never have known it. And it's not as though we can do a house to house search around here under the guise of national security. Too much geography, for one thing."
"And we still can't be certain that Daniel is even with Deavers," Sam added despondently. "What are we going to do, colonel?"
"Hammond has already kicked this upstairs to the National Security folks. They've moved people into all the international airports, and the borders are being closed. Baker is worried that Deavers is going to try to smuggle Daniel across the border into Canada and from there disappear into the wilderness until he can find a buyer."
"But you do not." Teal'c saw the doubt on Jack's face.
"You're right; I don't. A snatch of this magnitude, I'd be hearing some rustling in the undergrowth. A relocation here and there, another spy being planted, another one recalled. Large sums of money would be changing hands in preparation for some spirited bidding. Maybe even a submarine moved into position for a midnight pick up."
"And that's not happening," Sam said.
"No, it's not. Hammond agrees with me; his sources are saying the same thing. This just doesn't make sense."
"You think maybe Deavers is simply out to get rid of Daniel, to make room for himself on the team?" The implications of Sam's question were scary.
O'Neill was never one to lie to himself. "If that's the case, Carter, then we need to find Daniel, and fast. Deavers will have no reason to keep him alive."
Teal'c's knuckles whitened on his mug.
It was dark. A few stars peeked out between the clouds, but the moon was no more than a sliver and declined to share the borrowed light with the freezing man in the woods. From his position on the snow-covered ground, Daniel couldn't see any lights from Deavers' cabin. He was far enough away, he thought, that he wouldn't have been able to see any even if standing. That was a plus, as far as he was concerned. The more distance, the better.
Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.
The damn crown dug into his forehead, the minor irritant lost in the buzzing of his brain waves. Daniel could feel the intensity increasing as the cold robbed him of rational thought. Teknet was right, he thought drowsily. Hypothermia was slowing his mind to a crawl, and that was allowing the damn Goa'uld mind control device to take a foothold in his head. He was going to have to do something about it, and quickly if he didn't want to become like Deavers. Scribe to Teknet? He'd rather be dead.
Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.
Teknet is my—Daniel stopped himself in horror. Stay awake, damn it! Don't let Teknet win!
Gotta do something. Fight. What would Jack do?
Jack wouldn't have let himself get put in this situation in the first place. Jack was military, didn't have to worry about being grounded in favor of some young hotshot like Deavers. Jack didn't need an eager Beaver Deavers to run around picking up after him, tying his shoelaces for him.
Jack wasn't stupid enough to let Deavers lead him into an ambush.
That was what hurt the most, Daniel reflected bitterly. He'd trusted Deavers, tried to help the kid make something of himself. Of course Deavers was learning Goa'uld at a phenomenal rate. Who wouldn't, with their own private Goa'uld tutor at home? And Daniel himself? Daniel realized that he'd just about rolled over and begged for Deavers like a trained show dog. Give me a cup of coffee, and I'll be your best friend for life.
And if he was lucky, Daniel's life wouldn't be a long one after this.
No, that was a defeatist attitude. What had Jack said? Never give up?
Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.
I will serve Teknet—no! Daniel frantically rolled over, welcoming the pain that it brought to his arms to drive back the insidious thoughts. Gotta fight! Gotta hold on until Teknet can get here. I mean Jack can get here!
Warmth, he thought. Small, simple thoughts, straightforward ideas. Need warmth. His torn clothing lay in a heap at the edge of clearing. Daniel inched his way toward them, struggling against the ropes that held him fast. It wasn't much, but even burrowing under the pile of fabric would protect him from the slender breeze that stole his body heat.
Rocks and twigs dug into bare flesh. The stones were the worst: they had absorbed the cold and offered it back to Daniel with sharp edges. The shallow cut on his leg where Teknet's knife had slipped stung but he was reasonably certain that it was no longer bleeding. Hog-tied as he was, he couldn't see. Do him any good to observe the wound? Not really. Teknet would take care of him—
No! Daniel rolled over again, feeling a large stone bite into his ribs. He panted; gonna have another bruise there. A big honkin' one, as Jack would say. How long had he been out here? Hours, he thought, aware that his sense of time was disappearing with his ability to think. No. I'd be dead if it were hours. Maybe minutes…
Something softer brushed against his bare skin. Dead leaves, returning to the ground in an endless circle of life? Better than that; it was his tee shirt, shredded and torn.
But warm. He wrestled his body around, trying to crawl underneath it, to allow the fabric to ward off the cold breeze. His pants had to be around here somewhere, and with their greater length he could acquire greater coverage. There they were; he could see them as a dark mound barely visible in the starlight. He squirmed in that direction, grabbing the tee shirt rags with his teeth. He was not leaving it behind. He needed all the clothing he could get no matter what the condition.
The pants were torn apart, courtesy of Teknet's tailoring efforts, and Daniel found that to be a blessing. The legs, opened up, covered more territory, and Daniel inched his way underneath, wincing as the stones and fallen twigs dug into tender frozen flesh. No, not frozen. Not yet, at any rate. He couldn't feel his hands or his feet, but Daniel was more than willing to attribute that to Deavers' rope expertise. Frostbite was something Daniel didn't want to contemplate. He had enough to worry about.
Teknet is my god. Teknet will care for me—
Dammit! Daniel deliberately raked himself against the ground, using the pain to distract himself from the Goa'uld mind control device, crying out when the rock bit into his side. Don't have to worry about anyone hearing you out here, Daniel.
Think! he snarled at himself, using anger to fuel heat. How are you going to get yourself out of this mess? How would Jack do it? How is Teknet going to save you?
Dammit! He heaved against the ropes, scared that he couldn't feel the bite of the rope on his wrists. Flesh dying; he'd seen gangrene once, as a kid in Egypt. They'd brought the man into his mother's tent, his foot putrid and blackened. Please don't let me go like that. The man had screamed when they lifted him to the stretcher for transport into Cairo. Seven year old Daniel had never seen him again, never knew if he had lived, never even knew his name.
You know your lord's name: Teknet. Teknet is your god.
There were rocks in the torn pockets of his pants. Daniel didn't care; the cover was what he craved. It would do until his lord Teknet deemed it meet to come for him, to care for him.
I'm losing, Daniel realized. C'mon, Daniel. Fight it! Listen for the sound of Jack's voice. Find some way to contact him.
The rock in his torn pile of clothing weighed on him. Weighed on him? How could a rock get in there? Deavers had tossed the clothing to the side of the clearing. Rocks generally don't get up and seek shelter in trouser linings, at least not on Earth.
Not a rock. His cell phone.
Just as quickly, his spirits sank. So close, and yet so far. There was no way that Daniel would be able to manipulate the tiny buttons, even with speed dial. He couldn't feel his hands, let alone his fingers, and with them tied behind his back he couldn't see to compensate. And, realistically, here in the mountains the chances of poor reception were pretty good. Daniel's mind flashed onto the ad with the man speaking into his cell phone chanting, 'Can you hear me now?' as he trekked through the swamp but in Daniel's rendition the spokesman's eyes glowed with a Goa'uld-ish light, and giggled as he asked the question.
Jack, you always said my greatest weapon was my ability to talk. Bet you never thought that I wouldn't be able to use it.
Or could he? Better than waiting for Teknet to rescue his frozen carcass. Daniel began to inch his face over to where the cell phone lay waiting. How many bars did the battery show?
The cell warbled, and Jack grabbed it. "O'Neill. Find him?"
Silence.
Jack clutched the steering wheel with one hand, knuckles white. "Listen, whoever this is, it's three AM and I am not in the mood for any games—" he broke off. "Daniel?"
"Jack… Ja'…"
"Daniel, where are you?" Jack demanded. He pulled over, almost skidding on the icy roads. Sam flicked the overhead light on in the SUV. Teal'c leaned forward.
"Help…"
"Daniel, where are you?" Jack softened his voice, wheedling. The archeologist was clearly at the end of his rope. "Talk to me, Daniel. What happened? Where are you?"
Hand signals flashed. Carter pulled out her own cell, punching in a number she knew by heart. "General Hammond, we've got him on Colonel O'Neill's cell phone."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know, sir. Colonel O'Neill is trying to get him to talk. He sounds pretty bad, sir."
"I'll get choppers in the air, major, and satellite triangulation. Hammond out."
Sam turned back to Jack and nodded. He acknowledged her input, not stopping what he was doing. "I need you to tell me where you are, Daniel, so I can come get you. What do you see?"
"Cold."
"That's good, Daniel. You're cold. Are you outside?"
"Yes." It took too long for Daniel to answer.
"Daniel, you have to get out of the cold. Can you do that?"
Silence.
"Daniel!" Jack spoke more sharply than he intended. "Daniel, wake up! Is Deavers with you?" Because I'll kill him if he is.
"Tek… god…" Jack could barely make out the words.
"Keep talking to me, Daniel." Did he ever think he would say that particular phrase to Daniel? "Tell me what happened."
"Deavers… Tek…"
"Technology?" That didn't make sense. If Deavers wanted to snatch someone who knew Stargate technology he'd've grabbed Carter. O'Neill looked at his second in command in puzzlement but she was just as baffled. "Is there technology where you are? Did Deavers grab you to get the Stargate technology?"
Silence.
"C'mon, Daniel; gotta stay awake. Talk to me, Daniel." Concussion, he mouthed at the other two. Teal'c looked impassive, and Sam shook her head. Hypothermia, she suggested back. Didn't matter; whatever the cause, they needed to get to him right away if not sooner. "Daniel, talk to me. You said you're outside. Do you know where outside? How far did you travel with Deavers? Are you in the woods? Are there trees where you are? Need a clue, Daniel."
"Trees…"
"How about a cabin, Daniel? Did Deavers take you to his cabin?" Jack waited. "Daniel, talk to me. Is there a cabin there?"
"Cabin…"
"He is not capable of rational thought, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "We must hurry."
Sam was on her own phone. "They've got him, sir! GPS was able to triangulate the origin of the call some ten miles south from here." She listened to the voice on the other end. "General Hammond says that they can guide us there."
Jack shoved his cell into Teal'c's hand. "Keep him talking, Teal'c. Try to find out whatever you can." He hauled the SUV into a 1800 to head south, the tires skidding on the snowy surface.
Teal'c held the cell phone directly in front of him, looking at the tiny image on the screensaver. "We are coming, DanielJackson."
Teknet observed his First Prime sprawled on the floor and sighed. Deavers was shuddering, his pants down around his ankles. A trickle of blood leaked onto the wooden floor. The Goa'uld straightened his own clothing. "Clean yourself, First Prime, and fetch me sustenance. I hunger."
"Yes…lord…" It was almost a groan. Deavers had to grab the back of a chair to haul himself to his feet; more blood trickled down his leg. He staggered, and pulled up his pants.
"You have pleased me, First Prime. I am sated with pleasures of the flesh. I can now wait for the scribe's training to be completed before taking him to my bed."
"Thank you…lord…" Deavers went to one knee, hissing with discomfort, clutching at himself.
Teknet ignored his First Prime's distress and looked around at his surroundings. "We will move on as soon as the scribe's training is finished," he decided. "I require more room for myself and better furnishings; a private chamber. This world has grown since I ruled it, and I look forward to exploring the advances." He reflected on things best known only to a Goa'uld. "Apophis has fled, and Hathor. Nirti and Ra gone. Bah. They were weak. They called me a minor system lord, but I shall rule Earth, the beginnings of humanity, as they could not. We will see who is weak now!" He frowned. "What are you waiting for, First Prime? Fetch me food!"
"At once, lord." Deavers staggered to the kitchen area, hoping that there would be something in the cupboards that he could serve without too much effort.
Teknet took up his coat, being gracious by not requiring the First Prime to dress him. That favor would stop, he decided, as soon as Teknet acquired more acolytes. He would not rule this world by coddling the inhabitants. They needed to—what was the phrase used these days?—learn who was boss.
"I will see how the scribe is progressing," he told the First Prime. Again, the fool didn't appreciate Teknet's gesture at performing this task himself. Back when Teknet ruled Earth, his people would vie for the honor of serving Teknet in every little detail. Teknet scarcely needed to lift a manicured finger.
Perhaps it was time for a new First Prime. Perhaps the scribe—no, Teknet needed someone better able to fight and this scribe was too pretty to waste on such matters. Very well, Teknet would continue to allow this First Prime to serve him until a better one could be found. But for now, Teknet needed to check on the scribe. The one known as Jackson had knowledge of where Teknet had secreted his devices around the world, details that Teknet had forgotten three thousand years past. Teknet required those devices, therefore he required that Jackson serve him.
'Shopping list' indeed! Teknet made his way outside. Snow had started to fall once again, light flakes dancing on his cheeks. Pleasant, but only for a short while. The scribe should have succumbed to the mind control device by now. Teknet hoped that the man hadn't perished in the cold. That would be tiresome, needing to obtain another specimen from the Cheyenne Mountain simply to control the Stargate. The early stages of conquering a world were always so tedious.
Teknet picked his way to where he'd left the scribe. Hah, the man had crawled back to his clothing, seeking warmth, and he was still breathing; that pleased Teknet. His skin was blue, and he was filthy; he'd picked up matted leaves and debris from the forest floor. If the training was complete from the tuvatka're Teknet would instruct the First Prime to clean the scribe and make him fit for Teknet's presence.
Lovely pale skin. Teknet caressed the chest, tracing the muscles, letting his hands wander down toward the scribe's thighs, listened to the man moan as his only form of resistance to Teknet's intrusion. Teknet had lived among skins of a darker shade for centuries, though he'd heard of lighter-skinned peoples to the north with yellow hair. This must be a descendent of one of those illiterate tribes. The Norsemen had come a long way to have produced this specimen of a scribe. Teknet was pleased with Tau're's appearance. Teknet could demand the usage of this Tau're's flesh whenever he chose, in addition to using him as a scribe.
The man was, however, becoming too cold. The tuvatka're should have completed its purpose; it was time to have the First Prime bring this Daniel Jackson person back inside the cabin. Further exposure might kill him, and all of Teknet's hard work would be wasted. Teknet went to test the Tau're's response to his god.
Then he saw it: a flash of silver amongst the torn clothing. And heard a voice.
"DanielJackson, you must respond. Speak, DanielJackson. Do not allow yourself to fall asleep."
The voice might have been talking to the breeze blowing by, but Teknet understood what had happened. Technology had improved on this worthless planet while he slept for three thousand years, but Teknet had made it a point to catch up. He knew of this talking instrument of the Tau're. He cursed under his breath and threw the cell phone into the woods.
"Scribe," he commanded, "who is your god?"
The whisper wasn't easy to hear, even in the silence of the frozen winter night, but the meaning was clear in the devastating blue eyes: "Go to hell, snake!"
Another curse while Teknet decided on damage control. There was no time to waste. Teknet's enemies were coming for him. Clearly this human was a lost cause. Teknet ripped the tuvatka're from the scribe's forehead, stuffing the device into his coat pocket and jerking out a mewling cry from the naked Tau're. A second look assured him that the man would not live long. Already he was sinking back into a hypothermic lethargy. Too bad. Teknet had looked forward to using the scribe. Well, there would always be another. These Tau're bred like rabbits.
"DanielJackson! What has occurred? DanielJackson!" The cell phone could be heard in the distance, calling out.
Too bad, Teknet mused, walking swiftly away. The scribe would have given Teknet much pleasure, and not just for his mind.