Chapter 13

Time became meaningless, thought impossible, hope lost. There was only the pain, a monster devouring him bit by bit. Minutes, hours, eons earlier he had begged in an unrecognizable, grating rasp, begged and pleaded for them to stop it, promising anything, anything if they would only end it, but they only laughed, and it never ended. It only grew.

The monster pulsed in his head, roared through his veins, screamed so loudly that if there were still the stomp of boots, the clanging of cell doors, the taunts of his captors, the cries of the tortured, he no longer knew it. And if there were still light and dark, still walls about him, he couldn't see them, for the monster had blinded him too, leaving only angry flashes of color and light, fluorescent patterns searing his retinas if he opened his eyes.

He was nothing; there was nothing. Only the monster.

Until, gradually, flitting around the edges of his consciousness, insinuating itself into the recesses of his brain, there was something else.

Voices.

Voices. And language, a clicking, sing-song, murmured sound, like pebbles tossed into a flowing brook. A dream language, and after how long he couldn't tell, dream movement too, soft, strange footsteps, his cell suddenly crowded, an audience to his torment.

And then suddenly the dream became real as the touching began, ice-cold fingers burning his flesh as surely as the fire within, turning and prodding, testing, and he tried to pull away, but he was still helpless in the monster's grip, and he could only cry out in his almost silent cry.

His body still jerked and convulsed. The icy hands grabbed his head to hold him still, and he felt metal against his lips and tasted a bitter liquid, and he clamped his mouth shut and tried to struggle against the vise grip, and the metal was pulled away, and the fluid voices rose and fell until one said, in a strange, forced English that was spoken, Daniel recognized even in his pain-induced stupor, through vocal cords alien to the human race: "Drink. It is the antidote."

Trust, though, was something lost with hope, a distant memory buried in the endless pain, and Daniel kept his teeth clenched and his lips tightly closed, but the hands gripped his jaw and forced his mouth open, and the first drops of the bitter drink were poured onto his tongue. Fear sent the roar of the blood screaming through his ears and he was once more not only blind but deaf, and the monster took him again, gnawing his organs, burning his flesh, twisting his limbs. . . .

Time passed. His body stopped its dance, the monster pulled in its claws, the burning receded, and before his conscious mind understood what was happening, exhaustion overcame him and he slid into unconsciousness, only to be woken again by the voices. A hand touched his arm and he flinched at the cold, but this time the cold didn't hurt, and that was almost as startling as the touch. There was still pain, in his hand, in his head, his throat, on his battered face and body, but. . . .

. . . . the monster, the poison, was . . . gone. He opened his eyes slowly, bracing himself for the burning and stabbing of the flashing lights, but that pain didn't come this time either, and instead of the searing colors, he saw, hovering above him, uncomfortably close, five or six blurred, warped faces. He blinked his eyes to clear them, wondering if he was hallucinating, but the vision still remained: Elongated humanoids (like Giacometti sculptures, he'd later think), grayish-blue or pale green in color, stood or stooped around him, staring silently back. Their limbs were skeletal, barely covered with flesh, and their eyelidless eyes, in contrast to the rest of their bodies, were small, almost square, their mouths a sideways oval. Daniel tamped down on the panic that gripped him, reminding himself that whatever else these beings intended, they had given him the antidote, but it was hard not to be afraid of something so . . . alien. He had a sense he had seen beings like this before, but his mind was still sluggish, his thoughts disjointed. Who were they? What was happening? Was he still captive?

Before he could ask, the alien beings began to speak to each other in their oddly beautiful language. Then one grasped his arm and said, in English, working its mouth around the strange syllables, "We must go," and started to pull him to his feet.

Daniel pulled back. "Where?" he tried to ask, but he managed only a croak, and the aliens pulled him upright and he stumbled with them toward the door of his cell.

"Where?" he tried again, and this time started coughing before any other sound escaped him. One of the pale green beings held a shiny black canister out to Daniel, and Daniel just stared at it, until the one holding his uninjured arm said, "Water."

Daniel reached for the canister, thinking inanely In for a penny, in for a pound, and tried not to consider what would happen if it wasn't water. Gray-blue released his arm, and Daniel grabbed the container and raised it to his lips and closed his eyes as the cool liquid slid down his raw throat. Water, yes, water.

But too soon the canister was taken from his hand and they were pulling him forward again, out of his cell, into the long hallway. There was no sound except for the shuffling of their feet and the muted alien chatter of two of the beings behind him. The cells they passed were open and empty, except for one, where a nude body of an old man lay, staring vacantly at Daniel as he stumbled by.

They reached the end of the hall and someone swung the prison gate open, and they were in bright sunlight, so bright Daniel had to close his eyes, and he found his head was throbbing in beat with his broken hand, and he went to his knees, suddenly so weary he didn't think he could keep going. But his gray-blue escort pulled him up again, repeating, "We must go."

"Where?" Daniel asked, this time making himself heard. "Where are you taking me?"

One of the other beings took his other arm, ignoring his wince, and the two started forward again, leaving him no choice but to get his feet underneath him or be dragged. Without slowing their pace, gray-blue said, "We return you to your planet."

"Home?" Daniel said, not believing that could be what they meant. "You're taking me home? But how. . . ? His voice gave out again before he could ask. Did they have a ship? he wondered mutely. Were they going through the Stargate? And how could they possibly know the address? Did they expect him to tell them? He couldn't tell them. . . . Daniel tried to force his thoughts into some kind of order, but they continued to swirl in numb confusion.

The aliens on either side of him spoke to each other above his head, more pebbles sounding in the brook, but neither answered him. They left the prison grounds, and a small boy spied them and fled. Daniel looked around, still blinking against the bright sun, and saw that the street was eerily quiet, not a sole around once the boy disappeared.

They rounded the corner into the large square, and Daniel gaped at the sight before him, tripping over his own feet and causing his escort to stop. In the middle of the square, dozens and dozens of uniformed men in rigid formation were on their knees facing the Stargate, heads bowed, hands behind their backs. Maybe 30 more of the aliens surrounded them, odd silver weapons pointed in the soldiers' direction. Daniel flashed on the mural in the hall outside Lioss's office, and suddenly he knew who these aliens were. They were the victorious enemy of the centuries-old war, the Omaygee. Or, Daniel's mind automatically adjusted with hardly any conscious thought now that he'd heard the language, more likely the O-ha-oma-ha-gayee. Astoundingly, the creatures who had become myth to the Polistians had returned, just as many of the people had feared. Now all around the square, those civilians stood, men, women and children, hundreds of them, staring silently, some crying, some looking on grimly, most looking shell-shocked.

And in front of the captive soldiers, a long, sturdy frame had been erected, and tied to the frame were the bodies of maybe fifteen men and women. Daniel stared nearsightedly at the blurred figures. The ministers, he guessed, from their clothes, and in the center, unmistakably . . . Lioss.

Dead. Lioss was dead. Lioss was dead. Daniel had imagined this moment, even prayed for it, and he'd thought he'd feel joy, elation that justice had been served, or, short of that, anger that he'd been robbed of the chance to kill the man himself. But instead, he felt . . . nothing, only emptiness and exhaustion. Lioss, and all the ministers, were dead.

He felt himself being moved forward again, toward the Stargate. One way or the other, it looked as if he were going through, whether to Earth or somewhere else, whether to be smashed against the iris or to walk into the SGC or to be held in some other far-off world, he didn't know. He felt a flutter of fear then, not for his unknown fate, but for the fate of Jack, Teal'c and Sam. Had they survived? Would he return home only to find. . . ?

They walked around the captive soldiers and past the executed ministers. The portly figure of one of the ministers—who was it, Counseler Praga?—blocked his view of the others, a grimace of fear still frozen on the simpering man's waxy face. Daniel looked away and behind him as he heard the familiar sound of the symbols being pressed on the DHD, and he saw one of his pale green companions methodically putting in an address. The Gate began to turn, and sure enough, the symbols for Earth began to light up. He glanced back, again, at the kneeling men, and toward the front, only a couple of yards from where he stood, he noticed one man, bulkier and taller than those around him, staring back at him. Scarface. Their eyes locked for a few seconds, then Scarface looked down and away. Daniel wondered, suddenly, what was to become of all those men. Surely they wouldn't all be executed, would they?

He turned to the blue-gray being still holding his arm, the one who had done most of the talking—in English, anyway. "What is going to happen to them?" he asked, gesturing with his head toward the soldiers.

The alien turned and looked at the kneeling captives and back at Daniel. "They will be punished."

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut for a moment trying to sort his thoughts into some kind of order. "Some of them were forced to do what they did, though. They didn't all have a choice."

The alien paused as if trying to understand Daniel's words, then said, "It is the law."

"But how. . . ?" Daniel had started to ask when the event horizon shot out from the Gate, and the pale green alien on his left side grabbed his other arm, and he was moving forward again.

"Wait," Daniel said, suddenly certain they were unintentionally pulling him—and themselves—toward their death. "There's an iris . . . a-a barrier. We have to. . . ." But it was too late; they were already stepping through.

Jacob stood next to Helemut in the Gate room at the bottom of the ramp. George was a little behind him, and in the back of the room stood Jack, Teal'c and Sam. Near the doors Janet Fraiser and two nurses held onto a rolling stretcher. There were only two guards, in the far corners of the room, and they were the only ones armed.

You are anxious, Selmak said silently.

Of course I'm anxious, he answered testily. We helped Helemut convince George to have the Gate room virtually unguarded while we invited an almost unknown race with superior technology to come through to Earth.

Helemut has explained that, Jacob. The Ohaomahagayee have become a paranoid, xenophobic race. They agreed to help only because adherence to the law is sacred to them, and even so, it took all of Helemut's persuasive powers to get them to trust that they could return Daniel to the SGC without being harmed. The light guard was part of the negotiation. We should not even have allowed SG-1 in the room.

Allowed? Jacob scoffed. Do you think we could have kept them away? Jack would have eaten through the blast doors with his teeth if George had tried, and Teal'c and Sam would have been right behind him.

Selmak laughed. He's not the only one, my friend. Your anxiety is not so much for Earth, but for Daniel Jackson. You are quite fond of the young man—as am I.

Jacob ignored Selmak as much as one could ignore a snake in his head (I heard that, Selmak said in mock anger). Anyway, damn straight he was worried. They had put off the Polistians not once but twice while waiting for Helemut to contact and negotiate with the Ohaomahagayee. In those five extra hours, anything could have happened.

Voicing out loud what he and Selmak had only been thinking, Jack blurted out from behind them, "Where are they? I thought you said these Omelet people would be here on time!"

"Steady, Colonel," George said, in that inimitable way of his.

"They will be here, Colonel O'Neill. I am quite certain," Helemut added.

"How can you be so sure? Something could have gone wrong. Maybe they're not as powerful as you think, maybe the damn Polistians. . . ."

Before Jack could finish the thought, the Gate began to spin. Jacob turned and waved him back, and Jack, who had walked forward as he ranted, scowled and stepped back to stand next to Sam and Teal'c, the tension and frustration radiating off him in waves. Jacob glanced at his daughter, trying to catch her eye, but she was staring straight ahead, biting her lip and clenching her fists so hard her knuckles were white, even against the unnatural paleness that belied her constant insistence that she was fine.

She will be fine. They all will, Selmak soothed, and Jacob hoped to hell he was right. He took a step back himself to allow Helemut to stand alone in front, and they all waited.

The seventh chevron locked, and the event horizon lit up behind the iris. A high beeping sound, lasting barely a second, came through, like a sped-up Morse code, and Sergeant Harriman announced from the control room, "It's the agreed-upon signal, General."

"Go ahead, Walter."

The iris spun open, and Jacob found himself holding his breath. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he heard Jack murmuring, probably unconsciously, behind him, and Jacob repeated the mantra in his own head. The horizon rippled, and a bony pale-green foot and leg appeared, and then three figures were before them at the top of the ramp.

Jacob released his breath, feeling more relieved than he'd ever admit. Standing between the strange blue and green Ohaomahagayee, looking shell-shocked, weak and battered but standing nevertheless, was Daniel Jackson, the man with more lives than a cat. Jacob watched as Daniel's blackened eyes took in Helemut, then himself and George, then widened in momentary panic before they settled on a point in the back of the room. Daniel squinted, blinked furiously, then seemed almost to sag in relief, and Jacob knew he'd seen his teammates.

Helemut held up his hand without looking back to remind them to stay where they were and to keep silent, then lowered it and took a single step forward. "Greetings," he said, in Goa'uld. "I am Helemut of the Tok'ra. We are honored by your presence and deeply in your debt for the service you have provided." He then spoke haltingly in a language neither Jacob nor Selmak had ever heard before, one that seemed to have more tones and clicks than actual words.

The Ohaomahagayee both bowed slightly, then, still holding fast to Daniel's arms, walked slowly down the ramp, heads pivoting back and forth as they tried to keep an eye on everyone in the room. Daniel sighed a bit, as if he were tired of being led, but came with them easily enough. Helemut stepped back, waiving Jacob and George back as well, so that plenty of floor space separated them from their visitors. When the three reached the bottom of the ramp, the aliens released Daniel's arms, and one said, in barely understandable English, "Our obligation is ended."

Daniel stood for a second as if uncertain what to do, took a step forward, shook his head and turned back. Bowing slightly as the Ohaomahagayee had done at the top of the ramp, he made a hum and a clicking sound, and then . . . all hell broke loose.

The Ohaomahagayee grabbed Daniel by his arms again, causing him to shout in pain, and started yanking him back up the ramp, all the time speaking loudly and rapidly in their own language. The other members of SG-1 started forward, yelling themselves, while George said, "What is the meaning of this?" Jacob looked from his friend the general to Jack, Sam and Teal'c and to the guards who had raised their weapons, and spun toward Helemut even as Selmak urged him to remain calm.

"Helemut?" he queried urgently, then let Selmak take over to talk to the Tok'ra he'd known for years. Selmak remained silent, however, as Helemut twisted toward the others in the room and said, "Please, you must remain calm. They are unarmed and have no where to go. Let me talk to them!"

"Stand down, people!" Hammond urged in response. "Colonel!" Selmak gave in to Jacob's urge to see what was happening behind them, and they looked back to see Jack frozen in indecision halfway across the room. "Colonel, Teal'c, Major," George said more quietly, as even the Ohaomahagayee had stopped talking at the cries of Helemut and the Earth general. Jack looked back at his teammates, then to his CO and up at Daniel. Jacob knew the man well enough by now to see that it was taking everything he had not to rush up the ramp and pummel the beings that had just made his teammate scream in pain. But once again the loyalty and respect George instilled in all his people had its effect, and Jack nodded and took two steps back.

Helemut, meanwhile, had started talking to the Ohaomahagayee in their own language. Both still held Daniel tightly by the arms, and he looked confusedly back and forth between them. The gray-blue one said something seemingly angrily, although it was hard for Jacob to tell, and Helemut shook his head and said, in Goa'uld, "I am sorry, I don't understand." The gray-blue one spoke again, this time more slowly, and for almost a full minute.

Finally Helemut looked at Daniel and said, "Dr. Jackson, they fear this is some sort of trap and wish to know how you know their language."

"What?" Daniel said, speaking for the first time, in a voice so hoarse it pained Jacob to hear it.

"I had told them that the people of Earth have never heard of their race and have no ulterior motives for this meeting. Given that claim, they do not understand how a citizen of Earth could know their language."

Daniel looked at him as if he were insane. "I don't," he said.

It was Helemut's turn to look confused. "You just thanked them in their language."

Daniel blinked at him. "I did?"

Sam gave a small giggle behind them as Jack murmured, "Jesus, Daniel," and Jacob himself was glad that Selmak had control because he too felt an overwhelming urge to laugh despite the seriousness of the situation. God, he really did love that boy.

"You did," Helemut confirmed.

The blue-gray Ohaomahagayee, who was evidently the spokesman, looked at Daniel and said in his strange-sounding English, "You deceive us. We freed you, yet you deceive us."

Daniel shook his head, looking overwhelmed and almost near tears. "No, no, I-I must have heard, I hear words and. . . ."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Jack spat out, "will someone just explain that he's a freaking genius, so Doc can get her hands on Daniel and everyone else can go home?"

Helemut's eyes widened as if he'd just had an epiphany, and he looked at Jacob. Selmak nodded, and said, "It is true. We have told you Dr. Jackson speaks well over twenty languages. His ability to learn and understand new tongues is, we believe, unparalleled in the galaxy."

Helemut began in English, "It is no deception," then switched again to the language of their "guests." He spoke for long enough that even Selmak began to get antsy, and Jacob had no doubt that his daughter, Jack and Teal'c, never mind Dr. Fraiser and George, must be practically jumping out of their collective skin. Daniel in the meantime was looking more and more pale and was starting to sway in his rescuers' grip.

Helemut stopped, finally, and the two Ohaomahagayee spoke in lowered voices to each other. Finally, the gray-blue one said in English, "We accept your explanation. We will depart immediately."

George, still standing a pace behind Jacob, sighed in relief, and said, "Very well. Please bring Dr. Jackson to the bottom of the ramp."

The Ohaomahagayee nodded, then walked—more quickly this time—down the ramp, Daniel in tow.

"Sergeant," George ordered, and the Gate began its spin. As hard as it was not to rush forward and grab Daniel, they all waited where they stood, in keeping with the agreement Helemut had made that no one would come near the members of the paranoid race. As the sixth chevron locked, the blue and green beings released Daniel's arms and turned toward the Gate. The seventh chevron locked, and the event horizon shot out, and the two walked up the ramp and disappeared into the wormhole without another word.

Daniel didn't watch his alien "friends" go or make a move farther into the room. Instead he just stood there as if to do anything else was more than he could fathom. Selmak started forward then, as did Janet and her nurses, George and of course his three teammates. But before any of them could get to him, his eyes closed and his knees began to buckle, and he crumpled slowly, almost gracefully, to the hard metal floor.