Stargate SG-1: Broken

by mirwalker

Chapter 4

Major Carter couldn't decide whether the old man with one arm was just bad at being inconspicuous as he followed her, or was not trying to hide his constant, attentive presence in the first place. He hadn't acknowledged when she smiled and waved to him at one point; but, if he'd been sent along by Britain to keep an eye on her, for her sake, as she thought he might, he probably wouldn't want to appear too cozy, in case others were watching. She too was keeping an eye out for visitors from the less friendly faction in the village; but if they were following, they were doing a much better job at remaining unseen.

Taking a little comfort from Hamdi's consistent vigilance, and not seeing him as a threat whatever his motivations, she continued her inspection of the tall spires she'd attributed to the Menagerie "Zookeepers." As she walked out the distance to the next nearest one, she reminded herself that this was all just a hypothesis on her and Daniel's part: That the sleek columns just seemed too out-of-place given the motley collection of beings and buildings on this planet, and too systematically placed around that the settlement to be anything but a means of observing the occasionally augmented, and clearly manufactured, community.

She approached the steeply angled base of the thin tower, counting out steps from the previous one; and confirmed it was exactly the same distance as between the others she'd visited. Like the others it was a deep black—no attempt to camouflage it against the scrub, rocks or sky. It was seamless, appearing to emerge from the ground and reach organically many meters skyward as if a single piece of whatever material it was made of. And she couldn't tell that either—despite trying to scratch off a sample with her knife, she hadn't even been able to mark the alloy, ceramic, or whatever it was. No energy readings, sounds, vibrations or any other indication of activity—just the smooth, matte finish surface gracefully arcing up to the bulb on top.

She needed additional equipment, and to get up to that… platform, if she was going to learn any more. For now, she pulled out her binoculars to map the dozen or so towers she could see; maybe a visual of their layout would provide some additional insight on their purpose or source. More immediately, she could see Britain showing Daniel more of the village's scraggly farmlands…

In between Carter's inspections and the village itself, Jackson and the blind leader of "the Broken" walked past a second set of cultivated fields. The mixture of plants in the sparse rows looked similar to those in the first set they'd visited earlier; Britain had explained that not a lot grew in the rocky soil. Like the inhabitants of the village, only the hardiest of plants survived; and the Broken got only the scraps of that scrappy growth.

They passed a communal kitchen, a very rudimentary blacksmith—largely repairing existing pieces or recycling them to new uses, and a small, empty livestock pen—unused since the town's only beasts of burden had died years before. For every question Daniel had, and there were many, Britain cheerfully provided whatever explanation, history, context or insight he could.

Eventually, they climbed another low rise beside the village, and sat down where Daniel could describe various features near and far, and Britain could name or explain them from memory.

"I'm just so impressed at how well the settlement has survived and melded the various cultures into a cooperative whole," Jackson summarized after he'd asked about everything he could think to ask. "I mean I know it hasn't been smooth or easy, but it's still quite an impressive bit of survival and social management…"

He turned to see Britain's eyes closed, and his head beginning to bob forward.

"Britain. Britain?" he asked, with a nudge.

Starting slightly, his guide sat up groggily, "Hmm? I am sorry, Daniel. You were saying?"

"I was talking too much, is what I was doing," he regretted, standing to head back. "I have kept you up way too late after your overnight watch; you must be exhausted."

"I am tired, but happy to share with you what I know. Thankfully, I do not have watch this night, and so can remain up with you." He let Daniel help him get to his feet, and waited to see where Daniel wished to head next.

"I'll bet we're all a little weary; it'll be getting late on Earth now too. We could all use a rest."

His radio crackled, as Carter sought him out, "Daniel?"

"I'm here, Sam. What's up?"

"I've done all I can with the equipment I've got, and just checked in with Colonel O'Neill. If we're OK, he'd like us to hang tight for a few more hours, until he and Teal'c can get back with more gear, some supplies and further instructions."

"Alright," he acknowledged, seeing that Britain was losing his struggle to stay alert. "We've covered a lot of ground here; no great revelations. I think we'll head back to the house for a little rest…"

"Sounds good; will head that way myself."

With a knowing pat to his host's back, Jackson offered, "Let's get you some sleep. If you take my arm, I think I can get us back."

With a quick bite of simple foods—Jackson and Carter didn't want to refuse their hosts' hospitality, but also didn't want to take from their meager food stores, the Stargate Command pair chose to sit up at the table as Britain grudgingly lay down for some sleep, and the other Broken went about their daily tasks. Talking quietly, the visitors compared notes while they waited for an update from Cheyenne Mountain.

"There's no apparent access points on the exteriors," Sam shared, showing Daniel a few photos taken on her pocket camera. "And there's no response or reaction to physical or radio contact. And with the equipment I have with me, I can't detect any energy readings coming from them—no apparent power source, no transmissions. As far as I can tell, they're ornamental."

"But you don't believe that."

"Not for a minute. Someone is sending beings here on a regular basis, and so has an active interest in what goes on here. Britain's told you that none of those sent seem to have deserved banishment; they don't know why they were sent. So unless the Keepers are here among the villagers or watching from orbit, those towers make for the best observation network."

Jackson nodded, "And beyond the towers, I know that Britain and I had a tail the whole time; I'll bet you did as well. So Rors can apparently spare at least a few sets of hands for surveillance over sustenance, and needs to- Which suggests he doesn't have any direct access to the towers."

"Britain sent Hamdi to keep an eye on me too," Carter smiled. "So, whatever intent the Keepers and Rors have in watching, I think we've found a vigilant friend in Britain too."

Jackson looked over to the corner where Britain had curled up, handy enough to keep an ear out if needed, and leaving another bed open if his guests desired to sleep more comfortably.

Carter smiled, and leaned back against a pillar, suggesting she did intend to get a little shut-eye. "Well, while we wait, I think we're as safe as we can be, here in this house." She closed her eyes, but left her hand on the weapon across her lap, just in case.

Thick, but dry, clouds blew in during the afternoon, bringing an early twilight to the area, compounded by blowing dust. Having shocked the on-duty watcher by emerging from the Ring, not dead as had been expected, O'Neill and Teal'c loaded up all they could carry off the MALP that returned with them, and locked down the rest on it. The semi-darkness also didn't keep them from noticing that they were followed on their way back to the town; they assumed the tail reported that they headed directly for the Broken house.

They entered the firelit room with a polite knock, to find Carter sitting at the table, wearing one and examining another battered alien headgear. Behind her, Britain had Jackson by the throat with one hand, as Daniel clutched his arm and made guttural, choking sounds.

His face contorted with effort, Britain sputtered, "Na Chappa 'ai. Kree! Kek na shol'va. Chel nac."(1)

Dropping his armload of supplies, O'Neill leapt in, pulled Britain off Jackson, threw him to the floor, while shouting at his second in command, "Dammit, Carter! Aren't you paying attention?"

From around the room, several Broken appeared with pulled knives and other sundry weapons, some defensively circling Britain on the floor, others challenging the returned SG-1.

Not gasping for breath, Jackson joined the protective ring around Britain, squatting to help him and chastise his own leader as he did. "He's learning Goa'uld, Jack; not trying to strangle me. Jeesh, give us some credit. Britain, are you all right? I'm so sorry."

Speaking more graciously than he looked or sounded, Britain assured, "I am fine."

Knowing his people had rallied to him, Britain patted and nodded to them; and they cast dirty looks at O'Neill as most backed away and filtered out of the room. Even then, it was clear they did not intend to go far.

Reaching for cloth to tend Britain's scraped elbow, Jackson resumed his lecture, "That really was not necessary, Jack. And it's not going to help make us any more popular with the locals."

With a look of apology to the room, and a quick, audible "Sorry" to Britain, O'Neill resumed his more cautious tone, "PR's your department, Doc. Besides, I think I've already ruffled some pretty big feathers in town by still being alive."

"Rors?" Carter asked, both to confirm there wasn't some new antagonist in the mix, and to encourage the shift from the tension within the room.

"He had us followed to and from the Gate," reported Teal'c. "I would guess that even now we are under observation."

"Not in this house; he has no friends here," insisted Britain, both from pride in his people, as well as to remind them he was still a participant in the impromptu meeting.

"Well if the alpha toad feels a little threatened by my natural charm and charisma… I'll just have to buy some more points in the polls while we're here." O'Neill began to look through the duffles he and Teal'c had brought with them. "Hammond's occupied with some lingering cleanup on Maybourne's rogue team;(2) and so wants to us to continue observing for a bit, to see what we can find out about those observation stations and the Zookeepers. We spent the day gathering some additional scanning equipment for you, Carter. And we brought some supplies to distribute or, better yet, trade for some of their more unique technology."

Carter's eyes lit up at a kit of scanning equipment he handed her, "We could use the cover of dark now to do some initial readings on the area and those towers."

"Sounds good. Let's go!" O'Neill ordered, eager to move past his unfortunate entrance, to productive actions.

Finished doing what he could for the grateful, but still on-edge, Britain, Jackson declined, "I'm going to stay here and… mend relations with our cultural liaison here. Britain and I could also do some initial sorting of the other supplies; he'll know where they're best used."

"Surprise, surprise," O'Neill murmured to himself, before announcing to all, "We'll check back in after a recon round, and maybe get some shuteye until we hear from the General."

As the rest of the SG-1 team exited, Carter got a nod from Daniel that he was indeed OK, that they were all OK.

Once several Broken had slipped out after them, probably to continue watch over them, Daniel turned to Britain still standing tensely beside him, "I'm sorry again, Britain. Jack…"

Britain waved him off, "You don't have to apologize for him. Again. I'm not surprised, and I have endured much worse than a scraped arm." He turned to the fireplace, literally shifting the subject, "As I don't have watch tonight, it is my turn to make evening meal for the house. Usually, Utuvien would help me, but she will again follow your friends for me. While I hate to ask a guest to prepare his own meal, would you mind assisting me? We can look at the supplies afterward."

Appreciating the return to whatever normal they had settled into in less than a day, Daniel smiled, "Of course; I'd be happy to."

At Britain's direction, they started the simple meal-making: boiling water, cutting limp plants, adding sparse seasonings, stirring. As the worked, Daniel continued their conversations, sharing more information and learning more about this new friend. "Do you always have night watches?"

"Yes. The lack of light makes no difference to me."

"Touché," he grinned. "You know, you take very good care of the other 'Broken'; and it's clear they look up to you as their leader in many ways. How did you come into that responsibility?"

"Not by bullying or monopolizing resources like Rors, if that's what you're thinking. We have to take care of one another because he and the others won't. Grandmum stressed the importance of doing our part, maintaining a proper home and remaining strong despite the situation."

"That's very British of her and you."

"Thank you," the namesake beamed.

"You've mentioned your grandmother on several occasions. But you haven't talked about parents or other family…"

Britain's smile faded, as he handed Daniel the single handful of dried meat scraps he'd diced. "My parents were killed not long after my birth, when a pair of predators came through the Gate and got to the village. I never knew them. My grandmum raised me after…"

"My parents also died when I was young," Daniel shared, feeling the need to reciprocate the confidence, and totally at ease in doing so with Britain. "I was raised by foster parents; my grandfather wasn't able to take care of me."(3)

Britain seemed a little surprised at the admission of hardship from the new friend; but also was enjoying the personal, versus survival, conversation for a change. "My grandmum never talked about my grandfather, though I discovered through the years that her mating with him was not by choice."

Daniel froze in place, and no small horror crept back into his voice, "Are you saying that she was raped?"

Britain confirmed with a practiced realism, "I know that there have been inhabitants here for at least seven generations, if not more. Menagerie was not, and is still not, always a safe or fair place."

"I can see that in how you and the others here are treated."

"It is the way of things for us," Britain shrugged. "We serve the community as best we can, stay out of their way beyond that, and take care of ourselves. Sometimes I think it is better that I can't see their stares any more."

"'Any more?'," Daniel startled. "You weren't born blind?"

"No. I could see until my dozenth year, when my sight began to fade. Within a change of seasons, I could see nothing," he recounted, as if it was just another fact in the recipe. "Can you please hand me the chipped yellow pot, hanging about a half an arm's length to the left of the mantle?"

Daniel turned to find the pot exactly where and as described. "So if you've been blind for more than half your life, how did you know where that pan was?"

"I run a proper kitchen, where everything has its place. And it helps all of us, whatever our challenge, to have things in set places where we know to find or avoid them. Beyond that, I keep track in my head of everything and everyone that comes in and out of the house and village…"

Daniel chuckled to himself at why he was still surprised by his friend's intimate knowledge of his own home. "That's incredible! You have an eidetic memory, an amazing linguistic capacity… Is there anything you don't do?"

"It's not amazing, Daniel," Britain pushed back, with a humble blush at the novel adoration. "It's necessary."

"You're right; I'm sorry... It's just that you do do quite a lot, and you're remarkably upbeat about the situation. No offense, but if I'd been orphaned on a strange planet, lost my sight and was stuck doing the dirty work for the village bully, I don't think I'd be so chipper."

"Stiff upper lip, Daniel. Is that not how we British are still on Earth?"

"Yes, I guess; on the whole. But still, don't you get frustrated?"

"Of course I do; I can't see," Britain reminded, finally allow a little emotion into his voice. "I get tired of getting lost, or fumbling for things, and for missing out on the colors of things. But, I'm not helpless; I've made a good life for myself. It's more others than blindness that brings me grief. I'm treated as stupid and worthless. They ignore me outright, or worse yet, they presume or pretend to help me—grab and lead, or shove me, treat me like a child."

His venting to a safe outsider shifted to a confession to a trusted insider. "That's where you're different. You offered your arm, and asked if you could help. You treat me, all of us, like we matter. No one's done that before."

Daniel played down his respect, "It's the polite, friendly and right thing to do, Britain. I'm sorry that is so exceptional for you." He took a moment to realize what else the disability and leadership role, in Menagerie, meant for Britain. "So, I'm guessing that you don't have a 'mate' here to treat you nicely?"

Britain blushed again, before returning to his matter-of-fact explanation. "No… I am older than all the Broken by far, save Hamdi, and who else would have me? Neither our company, nor our lineage is much sought after here."

Daniel bumped against Britain's shoulder intentionally, "I think you undersell yourself, especially considering everything you've survived and accomplished. For you and the others. No condescension intended…"

The pot they'd been working over popped at that moment, splattering on Daniel's glasses, and causing him to jump suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Britain tensed, worried over what new trouble had arrived.

"Nothing. Just the stew, splattered on my glasses," he said, wiping off and sampling the broth. "I'm OK. Tasty!"

"You wear spectacles?" It was Britain's turn to be surprised at Daniel for a change.

Daniel confirmed with an "uh-huh;" and Britain reached out to touch them, to prove it to himself. "You are also… Broken?"

"Yes. I mean, no," he corrected, letting Britain feel the evidence of the commonality, while challenging the local value judgment on the need for them. "Britain, just because the body isn't perfect doesn't mean it's bad or broken. We just have to do things a little differently, that's all. Utuvien. Hamdi. You. Me…"

Though he obviously could not see Jackson, Britain nonetheless stared at him—in his direction at least—with open admiration. "I have not met anyone like you, Daniel Jackson. And I have no idea what you look like…" He reached out again, hesitantly, "May I… learn your face?"

His fingers quickly tapped the lenses themselves, causing both men to laugh a little. Daniel slipped off the glasses obligingly, happy to provide the small succor to this impressive person who'd done so much for himself and his people, despite such hardships, beyond the quick hospitality and friendship he'd shown to Daniel and the team in just last day.

Using both hands, Britain gently traced Jackson's face. Daniel closed his eyes, just in case; and felt the rough fingers scan some kind of picture of him into Britain's memory.

Both startled as the front door opened; and Utuvien led a smiling Carter in by the hand.

"Daniel?" Sam called out ahead of them, just catching the physical connection before Daniel's eyes fluttered opened, and Britain turned back to the supper preparations.

As the other guests and escorts filed in, Britain called out, "Dinner will be ready shortly, Major. Utuvien, please gather the others. I do hope you will all join us for evenmeal?"

Carter nodded, with a quick look at Daniel, and helped move the Earth packages to one side of the filling room. It seemed getting comfortable was now very much the order of business.

NOTES

1. FYI, these phrases actually translate as "To the Stargate! Attention! Death to the traitor. Very cool!" Taken from various episodes.

2. O'Neill pretended to retire from SGC to help expose these thieves of alien technology in Shades of Grey (3.18)

3. We see Jackson's parents' death in Episode 2.04, The Gamekeeper; and we will learn a little more of his family history in Episode 3.21, Crystal Skull.