Chapter 11

The first thing Sam noticed as she floated back to consciousness was the beeping of the monitors and the murmur of voices. The second thing was that her limbs felt heavy, as if she were fighting the gravity of a giant planet, and that everything felt sore, as if she'd sparred with Teal'c for a week. She thought she should try to move, to see if her arms and legs really were too heavy to lift, but she wasn't sure she was up to the effort. So she drifted for a bit, trying almost lazily to remember what had happened to land her in the infirmary this time.

"Sam?" she heard a voice say softly almost at her ear. "Sammy?"

Sammy? she mused. Who would be calling her Sammy in the infirmary? Only her father called her Sammy, or sometimes Mark when he was trying to annoy her . . . or maybe. . . . Her mind drifted again, and she thought she might doze off, but then she had a niggling little memory of starting to drift earlier and then . . . and then . . . dying?

No, that couldn't be right. But still she couldn't shake it, the memory: feeling a moment of peace, a moment of no pain at all . . . no pain. . . .

"Sammy? Thatta girl, Sammy. Time to wake up."

Sam opened her eyes and blinked and sure enough saw her father leaning over her. She blinked again, wondering if he were a hallucination and thinking he might disappear that fast, in the blink of an eye, but, no, he was still there, looking exhausted but also very, very happy to see her. What had. . . .

Her memory came back to her then, not so much with a rush as with a thud. Daniel, the poison, the pain, wishing she could, finally, just die. . . .

"Sam?" her father asked, still waiting for a response from her, something to tell him she was really there behind her eyes.

She stared at him silently for another moment, not long, she thought, but apparently long enough for his eyes to grow more worried and his jaw to work nervously as he started to look around the infirmary, ready to call for help.

"Dad?" she finally said. His eyes snapped back to her and he smiled.

"Yeah, Sam, it's me."

"You came," she whispered, and his smile became more of a grimace of apology.

"We would have been here sooner," he said, "but we. . . ."

"Doesn't matter," she said. "Am I . . ."

"You're fine, Sam. You're going to be fine."

"The poison?"

Janet appeared over Jacob's shoulder. "The poison is completely out of your system," she said. "And Jacob and Selmak have reversed the cellular damage with the healing device." She stepped around Jacob's chair and put her hand to Sam's neck to feel her pulse, despite the monitor beeping rhythmically on the other side of Sam's bed, then asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Sore. But . . . O.K.," Sam said.

Janet smiled. "Is that O.K. in an SG-1 sort of way, or O.K. in a regular person sort of way?"

Sam shrugged a little but didn't answer, then raised her head to look around the infirmary. Hadn't the colonel and Teal'c been with her just before. . . . She suddenly remembered the colonel running from the room as the klaxons sounded, and her heart skipped a beat. How long had she been out? If neither the colonel and Teal'c were there, had they gone for Daniel? Were they O.K.? Was Daniel?

Janet, reacting to the rapid beeping of the heart monitor, leaned over her. "Sam?" she asked. Her father leaned forward too, looking anxious, and she took a deep breath to try to calm herself. Panic wasn't going to help anyone, least of all her team.

"Daniel?" she asked, knowing her question was all the explanation Janet and her father would need.

Her father suddenly looked grim, and Janet shook her head. "There's no news yet," her friend said. "The Polistians haven't made contact."

Sam felt the news like a kick to the gut. Nothing? Daniel was still trapped on that planet, alone, probably in agony and they'd heard nothing? How long had it been? She looked at her father for an explanation. "Then we're waiting for a ship?" She asked. "Or we're Gating to one? Have Teal'c and the colonel already left? How many teams did they take?"

Jacob grimaced and shook his head. "There's no ship, Sammy," he said. "Jack and Teal'c went to talk to Helemut, the Tok'ra I came with, and I know he'll contact the council to make a formal request, but we've got nothing even close now."

Sam shook her head as if denying his words. "Dad, this is Daniel we're talking about. We can't just leave him there. I can give you the coordinates of the Polistian world. We can Gate to your closest ship and be there. . . ."

Jacob sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam. You know Selmak and I would do anything in our power for Daniel, but the Tok'ra are stretched thin. . . ."

Sam felt a surge of anger, even knowing she was being unfair to the man sitting at her side. The colonel was right, she thought, the Tok'ra only take; they never give. Not looking at her father, she flung the sheet and blanket off her shoulders, with an effort that was much greater than it should have been, and started to sit up. She wasn't going to lie in an infirmary bed and do nothing while her teammate was still in trouble.

"Janet," she said, pulling the heart monitor lead from her finger and ignoring her father's plaintive Sam and her own exhaustion, "could you remove the IV, please. And could someone bring me my clothes?"

"Sam, I'm sorry, I can't discharge you yet," Janet said, giving her a gentle push to get her to lie back down. "I'd still like to monitor your condition, and you need to rest."

Sam resisted the gentle shove, and sat up fully, swinging her legs around the side of the bed and trying not to wince as her sore muscles protested. "I'll rest when Daniel's home," she said, then seeing that Janet was about to refuse again, softened her tone. "Janet, please, I need to do this. I had you, the colonel, Teal'c and the whole SGC taking care of me. Daniel has nobody. We can't . . ." Sam felt her voice start to crack and she took a deep breath to get ahold of herself. She had been ready to die the pain had been so bad. And Daniel was going through that alone?

She tried again. "I need to help, Janet. Please."

Janet sighed and glanced toward her father. Sam didn't look behind her, but she knew him well enough to know the look of exasperation that would be on his face.

"All right," Janet surrendered. "Jacob, you'll stay with her?"

"We will not leave her side," Selmak's voice came back.

Sam shook her head, feeling some of her anger abate. Her father, no doubt, had been tempted to use much more colorful language. She saw Janet hide a small smile at Selmak's more tempered response, and Sam gave her own grim smile back as the doctor pulled out the IV needle and put a bandage in its place. Sam nodded her thanks, and then, waving away Janet's offered hand, pushed herself to her feet.

"I'm fine," she said, in true SG-1 fashion, and headed out to find the other two members of her team.

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Warning in this section for violence and graphic imagery, mostly contained in one short paragraph. Please don't read it if you think it will upset you.

". . . and let it be known to all who come here the debt of gratitude we owe to the SGC and the people of Earth. For, expecting naught in return, they take us now from our intemperate planet to a new land, a new world, where we, the Solkin, may thrive once again. May the Tau'ri be blessed in all they do, and may all who listen be safe in their travels. . . ."

Daniel felt as if the oxygen had been sucked from the room as the tinny voice was replaced by static and then silence. He opened his eyes in time to see Lioss's hand reach out and almost gently press the button ending the recording. Daniel forced himself then to raise his head and look Lioss in the face, to not flinch at the fury he saw there.

Knowing well he was doomed before he began, he said as steadily as he could, "I didn't know. If the Solkin were relocated by the SGC, I never. . . ."

With a speed Daniel didn't know Lioss possessed, the Polistian leaned forward and grabbed Daniel's throat with one hand, squeezing hard enough to make Daniel gag, but Daniel struggled to speak anyway. He had to stop this; he couldn't let these people die. "I'm telling the truth. I'll give you another world," he croaked. "I'll. . . ." Lioss, his eyes still black with rage, increased the pressure, choking off Daniel's air and his words with it. Daniel reached up with his good hand and grabbed Lioss's arm to try to pull it back, but the man's grip didn't loosen. Daniel's eyes widened as he struggled to breath, and he kicked out his legs to try to knock Lioss off-balance, but it was no good, and he wondered if he was going to die here and now with the others in the room. But then Lioss let go abruptly, dropping Daniel back in his seat, and turned toward the door, barking out, "Guards!"

As Scarface and Thug Two entered the room and came toward him, Daniel put his own hand to his throat and slumped back in his chair, sucking air into his lungs with painful breaths. The two men grabbed him by either arm and hauled him from the chair and propelled him backwards toward the far wall, opposite the tortured souls he had failed to save. Daniel looked over his shoulder and noticed for the first time the sets of chains hanging there, but before he could think to struggle, they had clasped his arms high above his head. Pain shot through his injured hand and down his arm and he let loose an involuntary cry, but the men ignored him. They took up position on either side of him, at rigid attention, and stared stonily ahead.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, this wasn't happening, this couldn't happen. Daniel watched in horror as Lioss gave a nod to one of the gray-uniformed soldiers and then all four of them drew their sabers and took one step forward toward the four prisoners and stopped at the ready.

"Papa?" the girl said faintly, sounding like a small, frightened child. The boy was weeping silently, and their grandmother had turned her head away, closing her eyes.

"Please," the father said, looking at Lioss, "please spare my children."

Lioss, who had his back to Daniel, didn't answer the man, but instead turned away from him to look at Daniel.

"You don't have to do this," Daniel croaked. "Don't kill them, and I'll give you what you want." Lioss continued to stare at him, unmoving, and Daniel went on, desperately: "I can get you weapons, technology, whatever you need; I know places even the SGC doesn't know. Spare them and I'll tell you."

Lioss didn't say a word, but a slow smile spread over his face, and Daniel held his breath and waited. Had he done it? Was the man insane enough to believe him? Then the smile dropped from Lioss's face and he spun back toward the soldiers. "Do it!" he snapped.

"No!" Daniel screamed, echoing the cries of the boy and his father. "No!" But the soldiers as one took another stepped forward and began to swing their sabers, slashing not once but again and again, and Daniel felt his mind slip temporarily from its mooring and he screamed incoherently and struggled madly against his chains as the living, breathing human beings he'd barely begun to know were hacked and sliced into bloody, lifeless pieces of flesh.

Mere seconds later it was over. The soldiers, breathing heavily with exertion, stepped back and replaced their weapons at their sides and stood at attention, facing the carnage and awaiting their orders. Daniel's last scream ended in a whisper—"No"—then he too was still. He wanted to back away, to run from what was before him, to hide from the screeching in his head, the voice yelling silently yet so loudly he thought his eardrums might burst: You did this. It was you. You did this. It was you. Without thinking, he went to put his shaking hands to his ears, but his arms were stopped abruptly by the pull of the chains and he let out a shout, part anger, part despair.

Lioss, who had stood casually by the table throughout the slaughter, turned at the sound to look at Daniel. The blood of his victims was splattered on his clothes, in his hair and even dripping down his cheek, but he made no move to wipe it away. Instead, he looked at Daniel almost quizzically, then smiled broadly as if they had just shared a wonderful joke, and the sight was so incongruous, so repulsive, that Daniel again felt himself losing hold on reality. Maybe this wasn't happening; maybe it really wasn't happening. This couldn't . . . couldn't have . . .

"Come now," he heard Lioss say almost jocularly, "surely this doesn't upset you? Wasn't this the deal we made?" And Lioss made a sweeping gesture with his arm to take in the mangled, lifeless bodies hanging on the wall.

Daniel eyes almost involuntarily followed the sweep of Lioss's arm, settling on the boy . . . what used to be a boy. God. Ashamed that his mind was playing tricks, that he'd tried to deny to himself that their murder had ever happened, he made himself look at each of them, then, committing to memory what evil and his own stupidity had done. To deny their deaths was to deny their lives, their sacrifice . . . their stupid, goddammed useless sacrifice. Daniel felt tears running down his cheeks, but he was helpless to stop them, so he closed his eyes and let them fall. What did it matter now anyway?

"I asked you, Wasn't this the deal we made?"

The question was yelled in Daniel's ear, and Daniel opened his eyes to see Lioss's face just inches from his. The humor was gone from the man's voice, and once again his eyes were black with rage. Lioss grabbed him by the chin and repeated, "Wasn't it?"

If Daniel could have spit in his tormentor's face then, he would have done it. He had never hated anyone more, had never wanted to kill anyone more than he wanted to kill Lioss then. There was no host this time to hold back his rage, no need for "intelligence" to stay his hand. If he hadn't been chained, he would have gladly strangled the life from him.

"Answer me!" Lioss screamed.

"You fu**ing murderous bastard," Daniel whispered with what was left of his voice. "You might as well kill me now because you will never get another answer from me."

Daniel expected to be struck, or strangled again, or killed outright, and true to form Lioss tightened his grip on Daniel's chin until Daniel thought he might actually break his jaw. Then Lioss moved even closer, and Daniel could feel his hot breath on his face as the madman almost whispered the next words. "No, you won't die. I will get my answers elsewhere, and you, you will suffer pain beyond human endurance. Believe me, you will beg to tell us what we want to know, you will beg us to kill you . . . but we won't."

Lioss abruptly let go of Daniel and said to Scarface, barely glancing at the guard, "You know what to do." Then he spun on his heels and walked from the room, shouting "Dismissed!" over his shoulder to the four executioners, who still stood at attention facing their gruesome handiwork. The soldiers remained unmoving until Lioss's footsteps faded in the corridor, then they relaxed their stances and looked at one another, sharing meaningful glances that Daniel couldn't decipher. Only one of the soldiers, younger than the others, barely older than the boy and girl he'd killed, failed to look at the others. Instead he looked only at the floor, and Daniel could swear the boy was trembling. Then one of the older men slapped him on the back and said, "Well done, boy! Come, let's clean up."

Daniel stared numbly after them as they left and only then looked to the twin thugs. They stood so close to Daniel he could feel their sweat through his clothes, and he could feel the muscles's in Scarface's arm against his side tightening and loosening as he clenched and unclenched his fist; Thug Two was shaking slightly and blinking rapidly, but otherwise the men stood stock-still, waiting, as the soldiers had before them, for the sounds to fade from the corridor.

When all was quiet again, Thug Two swore under his breath, then walked to the corner and vomited, the retching sounds making Daniel already roiling stomach jump and clench and the bile rise to his throat. His vision blurred and then cleared and he saw Scarface, looking gray and drawn, standing in front of him. The guard had pulled a flask from his belt, and he let it hang loosely from his hand as he waited patiently for his partner to finish. Daniel looked down at the flask and back at Scarface and saw the answer in the man's troubled eyes—You will suffer pain beyond human endurance—and Daniel, who had been half-hanging from his chains, swallowed dryly and forced himself to stand up straight. Still, he couldn't hide the shiver of terror that ran through him, and Scarface looked down and away.

Finally Thug Two stood from his crouch and, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, came over to stand next to Scarface. Scarface gestured with the flask, and Thug Two nodded in readiness.

"I am sorry," Scarface said, in heavily accented English, the first words Daniel had ever heard the man speak. Then Thug Two reached for him, grabbing his bruised jaw with one hand and his forehead with the other. Daniel, trying not to panic, clenched his mouth shut and tried to turn his head, but he was helpless against the much stronger man, so he started to fight in earnest, twisting and turning his body and grunting in protest. Thug Two simply pushed his weight into Daniel, trapping him against the wall, and squeezed harder, and Daniel's mouth was forced open. Daniel let out a strangled cry as Scarface raised the flask, and he curled his tongue back to try to keep the liquid from his mouth, and the first, familiar bittersweet drops dribbled from his mouth and down his chin. The guard who had alternately been so cruel and kind to Daniel pulled the flask back in frustration and stepped slightly to the side, and Daniel, his head pinned, found himself staring helplessly across the room at the mutilated remains of the family he'd shared such a short time with.

The family he'd killed.

Daniel felt the room expand and contract, and the voice in his head that had been silenced by Lioss's assault resumed its screeching condemnation. Thug Two tightened his grip on his jaw, and Scarface again stepped in front of him as he raised the flask once more to his lips, but Daniel could still see the corpses, could still see every horrific moment of their deaths.

He stopped struggling, and drank.