AN: Sorry for the length of time between updates but I've been struggling with this, really struggling so big Thanks to My fab Beta Lori who'd I be still lost without. I've been suffering from the old curse of Writer's block and Lori helped me out so big big thanks.
Chapter 27
Jack works the edges of his new ball cap carefully as he watches the vision from the MALP: bend the brim too much, and it would interfere with his peripheral vision; bend it not enough, and bright light could shine under and blind him at an inopportune time. Realistically, a little voice tells himself that the life of his son is not going to depend on how well-worked a new cap is, but still his hands nervously work the brim before he jams the cloth firmly down onto his head.
"We're a go," he orders, having seen from the MALP that the gate on the other side of the wormhole has been left unguarded in a secluded, wooded clearing on a planet with favorable environmental conditions.
Even so, he unclips his P-90 from his vest and tucks the stock tightly against his shoulder as he steps through the wall of blue water, ignoring the wonder of bright lights and tight turns to arrive at the other end on alert. Scanning the tree line, he moves forward ten feet and takes up a position on point. Behind him, as the remaining four members of his team step through they take up similar defensive positions. Finally, when the Stargate has shut down, SG-1 carefully observe their surroundings.
"Okay, eyes and ears open. You see someone that isn't Xander, you shoot first and we'll ask questions later," Jack commands, and looks to Sam, who tells him in a low voice, "The UAV indicates that there's a settlement about four clicks northwest of here."
"Okay, move out!" Jack orders, again taking on the point position and heading off in the right direction, followed by Sam, then Daniel, with Cam and Teal'c bringing up the rear.
An hour ago he was eating dessert and wondering if he should ask Xander to come and stay with him at the cabin. Worrying if he should torture himself by asking Xander if he could have some pictures of the young man growing up. Now, he was on the other side of the galaxy, looking for an auburn-haired witch who'd been involved in something so messy back on earth that the United States Army had to call for help. And, oddly enough, that help had included his son. His son, who had no formal offensive training of any description, yet who'd rescued his mother and grandfather from the hands of the Trust. His son, who hadn't participated in even a local karate class, but who'd stood, eyes closed, in a hallway at Stargate Command and had dodged out of the way of a completely invisible attacker. His son, a stranger whom he desperately wants to get to know.
They all freeze as a twig snaps off to their left, and the group drops to one knee and brings their weapons up almost in unison. Jack holds up a tight-closed fist to indicates that there is a need for complete silence, yet, ironically, there is no need for the signal: the group has barely spoken since coming through the gate a half hour before. Jack scans the forest around him and sees nothing, so he spares a glance back at the more competent tracker, Teal'c, who shakes his head. There is nothing out there. Given the signal to move on, the team does so carefully, alert to the possibility of an ambush, with Teal'c's eyes searching the trees to ward off a possible arboreal surprise attack.
Hold on, Jack thinks. Hold on, Xander, Jack pleads. We're coming for you.
When you fall to the ground unconscious in a corridor deep underground, in a top secret and very secure military facility, some part of your brain logically expects to wake up there. Waking up with trees above you is a little off-putting. Rolling over and seeing the woman who tried her hardest to take over the world and kill all your friends, sitting cross-legged and watching you, will nearly put you over the edge.
"What the…?!" Xander demands, rolling away from the ex-goddess.
"You've been asleep for hours!" Glory complains, as soon as Xander's eyes meet hers.
"Unconscious," he murmurs back, pulling his body very painfully into a sitting position and resisting the urge to flee.
"What?" Glory whines.
"You had someone beat me up and kidnap me; therefore, I wasn't sleeping, I was unconscious, and having to wait for me to be conscious again is your own damn fault."
Xander reaches for the back of his head and winces when his hand finds a crust of dried blood. At least it was dried, which meant that the bleeding had stopped.
"Urgh! Whatever," Glory snaps, rising to her feet gracefully. "Well, come on then!" she orders, starting off through the woods.
It's seeing a butterfly damned near as big as his head that puts him onto the fact that he probably isn't in Kansas anymore, and so he forces himself to jog and catch up with Glory -- who was making remarkably good time in stilettos -- despite the pounding behind his eyes which seems to throb even harder every time his feet make contact with the ground.
"Where are we?" he asks, panting as he catches up with her.
"I'll give you a clue. It's not Earth," Glory fires back, turning to glance at him wearing her most smug expression. "The people I work for don't often hear the word 'no'."
"See, now, I still can't quite get a handle on that," Xander baits, dropping a few steps behind so Glory must turn to look at him. "The great Glorificus on somebody else's payroll? Taking orders and playing the company's game, are we?"
"Shut your face. I could still break you in half with my pinkie."
"Yeah, you could, but oh, no! You might get fired!" Xander cries dramatically.
For a second Glory looks like she might actually carry out her threat, but beyond her the forest opens up into a clearing, and Glory notices and turns around without another word. Standing in the middle of the clearing is a temple -- small, as temples go, but decked out with gold leaf and carved architecture, and if he hadn't just been kidnapped and marched through the woods after a pissed-off former goddess, Xander might have stopped to enjoy the craftsmanship that went into building the structure. Hand-carved wooden pillars and ornate stairs led up towards a dark door, set amongst sandstone.
His eyes sweep the structure left to right, as Xander follows Glory into the very centre of the temple, where she stops outside a set of closed double doors.
"In there," Glory states, pointing at the doors with a manicured, buffed, and fire-engine-red-painted nail.
"You're not coming in?" Xander asks as Glory backs away from the doors, and the ex-goddess glares at him, huffs, and turns away.
He's not sure what he's expecting to see through the doors, but it certainly isn't an old man in an expensive suit working on a laptop -- all the while perched on a luxurious throne made of solid gold.
"Huh!" Xander states in surprise, and the man looks up. Straight away, Xander gets the intense and off-putting feeling that he's met this man before.
"Alexander, I trust your journey here wasn't too unpleasant?" the man says, breaking into a grin and closing the lid of the laptop.
"Well, I was kicked, whacked over the head, and forced to spend more than a second with Glory, so I'm going to go with 'it pretty much sucked,'" Xander retorts, stepping away from the door and walking further into the room.
"The offer for you to come voluntarily was extended, and you rejected it," the man replies casually, stepping off the throne and moving towards Xander.
"Should have taken the hint that maybe I didn't want to come," Xander suggests.
"Believe me, Alexander, if I could have let you be, I would have."
"Really? So why am I here?"
"That, Alexander, is simple. I need you to save the world."
"Huh?" Xander spits in surprise. "'Cause the other side wants me to do that, too, and I'm fairly certain that means that you'd lose."
"Well, that's only if you make the assumption that there are two sides," he answers. "We're trying to save the world, Alexander. Later, there will come a time when a battle between ourselves will decide who rules it. But first and foremost, the world must be saved."
"See, I was kinda warned about this," Xander states, rubbing a hand to his brow. "I think I was warned about this. 'Men who are coming to use me for their own purposes.' I'm pretty sure that's going to turn out to be you."
"It may well be. But, regardless, we are offering our services to the champion."
"Well, I'm not the champion. Even if I were, what makes you think I'd need your help?"
"Because you have no idea of what is coming, and if you did, then you would accept all the help you can get," the man replies.
"You know what would be great? If someone would just stop all the banter and end-of-the-world crap and tell me straight out, in plain English, what the hell is going on!"
"I believe I can do that," the man agrees with a smile fit for somebody's grand-pop. "My organization has unfortunately -- inadvertently -- triggered a potentially apocalyptic event. And as we were responsible for making this mess, we thought it beneficial that we clean it up."
"That wasn't plain English, and I still have no freaking idea what's going on," Xander warns.
"I work for a group of people who use the same technology your father uses to explore the galaxy, in order to exploit it. Our remit is to acquire, by any means necessary, advanced technology which we can use to increase technological standards on Earth."
"You're raiding the universe to find weapons," Xander summarizes in disgust.
"That's part of it," the man admits.
"So, how'd you start Armageddon?"
"Some of our teams encountered a race called the Ori, who are converting the universe to their religion and wiping out any worlds that fail to comply."
"Like early Christian explorers."
"With weaponry far more powerful than nuclear warheads."
"And you pissed these guys off?" Xander says in alarm.
"Basically, yes. And as a direct result from our contact, the Ori are now on their way to Earth, to convert us or to destroy us," the man answers.
"So, why not tell the army, or whatever?" Xander demands in confusion.
"Because the army can't help us."
"Really? Why not?"
"Because the United States military are not listed in a prophecy -- a prophecy that states that salvation from this crisis will come from you, Alexander."
Xander snorts in disbelief. "I'm listed personally, am I?"
"It is the prophecy of the two suns."
"You say that like I'm supposed to know what the hell you're talking about," Xander snaps angrily.
"'The sun was lost to the sky, and night opened, and from the heavens came destruction. The sun was lost, and once the sky recovers him, the crusade can be led to resurrection."
"Oh, come on! That could mean anything. How about an eclipse of some kind?"
"No. It relates to you and I, Alexander, because you see, my name is Mr. Skye, and you are the Lost Son."
Xander seems to be about to protest again, but stops. Mr. Skye watches as the boy's whole body tenses.
"I know you," Xander says, more to himself, really, than to the man he's talking with.
"I was following an order, Alexander. An order that would potentially allow the greatest advancement in technology our world had ever seen."
'You're too special, Charlie, that's why. You're just too special.' Xander's mind plays over the words he had been remembering, and his eyes snap up to the man standing opposite him.
Mr. Skye involuntarily takes a step back, as the stone-cold gaze captures his.
"I'm too special," Xander says out loud.
"You were too loved. Other men might have coped," Mr Skye explains.
"So you shot me in the head?" Xander demands, his voice quiet.
"I did what I was told to do. At the time, it was for the best."
"And now you want me to clean up your mess?"
"I want you to save the world."
"I'll do that, anyway, but I don't think you'll be around to see it." Xander is watching something behind Mr. Skye, and smiling.
Mr Skye freezes, and his heart starts to pound in his chest, because now, as he turns his head to fully view what he had caught in his peripheral vision, he is confronted by the sight of Jack O'Neill, weapon drawn and aimed at his head, murder in his eyes.
To Be Continued
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