Daughter
A/N: Thanks so much for those of you who have dropped reviews and added this to your notifications. It's gratifying to know that you enjoy this as much as I do. Switching settings now. Let's have more fun, shall we?
Chapter 35 – Space Station
Elda stared forlornly at swirling blue outside the forward port. Her hands were frozen over the console, having just made the ship jump into hyperspace. She swallowed. It was hard to believe that she was even here.
She had just left Jasuf behind on Tek'ron. They barely had time to have a proper goodbye. She had no opportunity to find the guardsmen or his father. Not even the Hak'tyl knew she was leaving. The most she could do was hurriedly pack her possessions into a dufflebag and change into her travel suit. Jasuf collected extra food for them to bring along and had it loaded onto the ship. He made it a point to bring her powered staff weapon aboard for her.
Elda closed her eyes briefly, hoping to reset herself. She wouldn't be surrounded by Jaffa now. She'd need to adjust her use of language and her mannerisms to appear more human. Where they were going, people might not even know what Jaffa were.
She hit the commands to initiate auto-pilot and craned her neck to look at her passengers. "We need to get you added to the ship's registry as crew," she announced to Crawford and Smith seated in the crew compartment. Elda unhooked her harness and stood up.
They both turned and nodded. Elda waved a hand for them to come to her at the pilot's console. The marines unhooked themselves and stepped up. They did not don mag boots because Elda told them her ship now had a gravity-pack installed. With her fuel recently topped off, she had plenty of power to generate artificial gravity while in hyperspace. She no longer worried about being able to pay for fuel in the future. She could easily ask her family on Earth or her Tek'ronian tribes, plural, for currency if she needed it.
"Who wants to be first?" she asked.
Smith looked at Crawford and shrugged. "I'll go."
Elda leaned over the co-pilot's console and swiped through prompts on the heads-up-display. It glowed brightly to signal readiness. "Put your hand here," she instructed.
Smith placed his hand on a plain panel. A small door slid open and a metal cuff rotated out. It trapped his wrist onto the console. "Uhh, what's gonna happen?"
"The ship needs a sample of your genetic code."
"My what? Ow!" Smith desperately tried to pull his hand away but the wrist cuff prevented it.
Elda calmly released him. She didn't watch as he nursed a new puncture wound on the pad of his finger. Instead, she cycled through prompts on the HUD, adding Smith to the system.
"Damn, Elda!" he complained. "Coulda warned me!"
Crawford's eyes were wide. "What happened?"
"Fucking thing stabbed me."
"Next time don't volunteer to be first," Elda said drily. She turned around to make eye contact with Crawford. "Your turn."
He switched places with Smith and put his hand on the console. Crawford flinched, but didn't outwardly complain. When his hand was released, he took a look at his wound. "Aww, come on, Smitty, you bein' a baby about this?"
Elda smirked. The pair of men began to squabble about who was more manly while she added Crawford to the registry. "There," she declared. "The ship now thinks of you as crew."
The marines leaned in to look at the display. Smith pointed. "There's a bunch of names on that list."
"Yes, quite a few people have access to the ship now."
"What do those symbols mean?" Crawford asked, pointing at different icons next to the names.
"These green ones signify pilots. The blue ones are for general crew. You two can sit in this co-pilot seat with me and operate different functions."
"Cool." Smith squinted his eyes. "Is it me or does that say General O'Neill?"
Elda glanced at the HUD. "Yes, it does."
"So what, only people in command get to pilot the ship besides you?" Smith asked curiously. "I see Colonels Mitchell and Carter on there."
Crawford pointed. "Vala's on there, though."
Elda tilted her head. "SG-1 privileges I guess."
"What about Teal'c and Dr. Jackson?" Smith asked.
"Teal'c could if he wants to. Dr. Jackson isn't a pilot."
"Who are these other guys?" Smith inquired, pointing at names with crew icons assigned to them.
"Ah. Those are guardsmen from Jasuf's camp."
The pair of marines stared at her curiously. "Why?" Crawford asked.
Elda sighed. This is exactly why she preferred to fly with the Jaffa over anyone from Earth. There were so many fewer questions raised by her stoic Jaffa companions. "Jasuf's men and I went out on an op not too long ago. I added them as crew so they could get on and off the ship without me being there."
"Jasuf sent you on a mission?" Smith wondered.
"No, his father did."
"What?" The marines shared a look. "Why?"
Elda tried very hard to muster patience. "You two are ridiculously curious people." She could tell they were still expecting her to explain, despite her light complaint. She let out a breath. "Bunch of kidnappers took Jasuf and General O'Neill. The Jaffa and I went offworld to get them back." She rolled her eyes as she looked away. "Turns out they didn't even need me or SG-1 to come to the rescue. They basically rescued themselves."
"That's funny," Smith commented.
"Sounds like all those stories about O'Neill are true."
"What stories?" Elda asked curiously.
Crawford smiled. "About all the times he's gotten captured offworld and managed to get himself out of it."
Elda quirked a proud smile. Now she kind of wished they knew he was her father. She decided to change the subject. "So tell me what happened with Reynolds." She glanced back at the pilot's console to note how much longer they had until they reached the coordinates the marines had given her. It showed there was an entire day's worth of travel left.
The pair of them groaned. "We should sit down for this," Crawford suggested.
The trio casually took seats in the crew compartment. Elda placed herself in a spot where she could glance at the pilot's display from time to time to keep an eye on the ship's status.
Smith planted his feet on the deck and leaned his elbows onto his knees. "So remember how we told you we had to go undercover as Lucian Alliance?" Elda nodded. "We got in like we were supposed to. Pretended we were crew being rotated onto a Ha'tak vessel."
"We hung around for a while, just keepin' a low profile. Let the rest of the other guys simply get used to seein' us around."
Elda was familiar with that sort of operation. She and her mother sometimes did similar jobs, playing the long game to acquire objects of value. They happily posed as crew for as long as it took, enjoying the constant movement of a ship and its associated easy access to food. Those were times that they didn't have to constantly look over their shoulders for their Goa'uld hunters. The only reason those brief stints ended was because ships were valuable targets for the galaxy's nefarious swindlers. Ownership changed hands constantly. Or the ships simply got blown up.
Elda listened as the men continued to explain.
Crawford continued on. "Pretty soon, we figured out who today's major players are in the Alliance and caught on to what made 'em tick. We started strategically spreading rumors in the mess hall to pit a few of the leaders against each other."
"Oooh, sounds like drama."
"Yeah, it was."
"So then what happened?"
"Some of the rumors must have gotten traced back to us," Smith assumed. "Colonel Reynolds and Lt. Baker got sent down to a planet for a routine supply run. And then something happened, and they were callin' us for help on the radio."
"By the time we made it down there, one of the ship commanders was screaming bloody murder about how they weren't who they said they were. We were supposed to be part of the crew that had to go in and get 'em in some building they found to hide in."
"So your covers weren't compromised yet?"
"Luckily, no," Crawford said.
"Did you find them first?"
"Tried to. But me and Smith got separated onto different teams. We couldn't exactly extract them without blowing our own covers."
"And the guys we were with didn't deserve to get shot. They were just doin' their jobs."
Elda groaned. "Isn't that always how it goes? The underlings do all the hard work while leadership makes the decisions, good or bad." She seemed to be annoyed with the thought.
"Yeah," Smith agreed glumly.
"Then what happened?"
"I watched Colonel Reynolds get shot," Crawford said with a serious look. "The most I could do was argue that the ship commander wanted him alive so he could be questioned."
Elda grimaced. "So you kept him from being killed on the spot."
"Right."
"We had to load him up in this stasis pod," Smith went on, "and it froze him. Ship commander started negotiating with some sort of interrogator with a decent reputation. Seemed pretty pissed that the guy wouldn't come to him. He was on the road already. They'd have to send Reynolds all the way to where he was headed."
"At a space station," Elda figured.
"Yup."
"What about Baker?"
"Almost the same thing happened to him, but we got him to the gate while they were distracted loading up Reynolds on a long-range transport," Crawford reported.
"Once Baker was safe, we had to hurry up and catch up to the ship with Reynolds on it before it left. I caught a glimpse of the coordinates the navigator was inputting before I got caught," Smith said. "Crawfy had to pull me out of the fire."
"How'd you get to Tek'ron?"
"Hitched a ride on a cargo ship making a final supply run and high-tailed it to the gate."
Elda looked between each of them with raised brows. "Is all that a normal experience for you on SG-3?" she asked curiously, waving a hand at them.
Crawford and Smith shared a look. "That's basically a Tuesday for us," Smith deadpanned.
Elda smiled. "Right."
The space station was sprawling. At its core was a massive cylindrical structure that seemed to spin under its own power. Around it were several levels of docks spinning in the opposite direction of the core. Ships of all sizes and configurations were docked there. Smaller vessels whipped around them like insects, loading and unloading cargo from decompressed bays.
Crawford and Smith leaned over Elda as they stared out the forward port. They were all wide-eyed. "You ever seen this before, Baby Cakes?" Crawford asked.
"No." She craned her neck to get a better look through the window. "Not this one."
"Did humans build this?" Smith wondered.
"From what I understand, there aren't any human-built space stations. They're all remnants of civilizations that came before us," she explained. "Humans just stumble upon these things and take over."
"Like Christopher Columbus or something," Smith muttered.
"Who?"
"He's a guy from Earth history," Crawford offered. "Used to get a day off from school with his name on it."
"Then it turned out he was a jerk," Smith added.
"Sounds… interesting." Elda guessed Daniel would have had a more eloquent explanation than these two young human men. She chose not to dwell on it. The co-pilot's console lit up to indicate a signal was being received.
Elda reached over to slide the command functions for communications over to her side.
A transmission pushed through from the main control room of the space station. "Zersha shuttle, respond."
"Zersha shuttle, responding," Elda answered.
"Identify yourself and state your intent."
"Three human crew requesting a dock. We are here looking for work."
A pause. "Docking instructions incoming."
The co-pilot's HUD chimed and lit up with a new display. It showed a blueprint of the station with a proposed flight path for them to reach their newly assigned dock. Elda reached up to use her fingers to twist and zoom within the three-dimensional image, getting a sense of what she was being asked to do. The two marines behind her blinked at it in awe.
"Instructions received."
"Hold until the Alkesh nearest you clears its dock. Then you may proceed."
"Acknowledged."
Elda glanced out the port to see what the voice was referring to. An Alkesh bomber was indeed attempting to back out of its dock. The docking platform was still continuously spinning around the station as it did so. The efforts of its pilot were notable. One not only had to reverse the ship's thrusters to back out, but also do it at an angle so that the course would match the rotation of the dock. If the pilot screwed up, the dock would run right into the ship. There would be hell to pay back to the station if that happened. Of course, that's if the ship and the crew even survived the collision.
Once the Alkesh zoomed safely away, Elda piloted the ship toward their dock. By now, it had rotated to the opposite side of the station from them. She carefully maneuvered her shuttle around smaller, single-man cargo loaders zipping around the exterior of the station. One hit and those pilots would be exposed to the vacuum of space. Elda didn't even want to guess what kind of reparations she'd have to pay if she killed one of their workers by accident.
Space stations were considered their own sovereign states. Even the Goa'uld had to respect their authority while in their vicinities. They were essential hubs for commerce in the galaxy. Important trade and industry happened in places like these. The galactic economy quietly depended on them as neutral ground for important negotiations between parties that would otherwise be at war.
You didn't want to get on the wrong side of a station master. He could order just about any ship docked at his station to open fire on you. That was the silent agreement one made when approaching. You risked becoming a servant of the station while your ship was stuck in its docking clamps. If you wanted to be able to leave, you had to listen and obey.
The best thing to do was to keep your head down and not draw extra attention. That was Elda's specialty.
The shuttle had no airlock and the control room seemed to understand this. The station gave them an internal dock to use, one that gave the crew direct access to breathable air once they opened the hatch. A ring similar in size to a stargate awaited them. Elda delicately piloted the shuttle through it. Flashes of bright green flickered as her ship passed through the force field separating the compressed air of the station from the deadly vacuum of space. Once fully in, Elda rotated the shuttle 180 degrees so that it would be ready to leave through the docking ring later. She let the ship set down on the internal dock and power down.
She let out a breath. "We're in." She unhooked herself and stood up. The marines backed up to give her space.
"Now what?" Crawford asked.
"Now, we open the hatch and see who's outside waiting to greet us." Elda eyed their uniforms. "You two need to lose the jackets. They're too matchy. If we're here looking for work, we can't look like we already have employment from somebody else."
The boys glanced at each other and nodded. They shucked off their jackets and handed them to her. She stuffed them into a compartment in the storage console that inhabited the center of the ship. That left the men wearing just dark sleeveless tops without any insignia. Their well-built muscles were now on display because of this. Elda figured that could be advantageous, in case the only 'work' they could find required those muscles be put to good use.
Elda popped open another compartment at the top of the console to peek inside. She had noticed Jasuf slipping something in there while she was hurriedly getting ready to leave. She smiled at it, eyes quickly darting among its contents and counting. She planned to pay him back later with interest for this. She unconsciously fingered the blaster he had gifted her, currently housed in a holster on one of her thighs.
"Let me do the talking out there." The boys nodded. The hatch opened and she stepped out first.
A stout fellow stood waiting for them next to a motorized cart. He was holding a tablet in one arm. He wore a simple gray jumpsuit, stained with oil and grease. A small cap sat atop his head, doing nothing to tame the curled locks struggling to escape from underneath. A thick mustache adorned his mouth. "State your intent," his gruff voice called out.
"We're here to find work," Elda announced. "What is your docking fee?" She stepped up to the man with the marines in tow.
"Two hundred zimas per day."
"We do not have your currency. Will you accept galactic standard bars?"
"Depends on the purity of your bars."
"Believe me, what I have is pure. How much?" Elda had no idea what a zima would convert to in galactic standard currency. She had never heard of that unit of measure before today.
"Two thousand in bars per day."
She sucked in a breath. She was just going to have to go with it. They had no time to negotiate, and she wasn't even sure if the price he was giving her was fair or not. She would have been able to say with confidence in her own timeline, but not this one.
Elda held up a hand, signaling for the man to wait, then quickly stepped into the ship. The marines stood silently watching her. She came back with the appropriate amount of bars and placed it on the man's cart. He waved his tablet over them, scanning, then seemed satisfied.
"You have three station days to find work." He pointed up at gigantic digital timers counting down around the perimeter of the main station core. "When you do, start paying your fees in zimas. If you can't find work, be warned. Station closes to outsiders in three days."
"Closes?" Elda asked curiously.
"If you don't undock by then, you'll have to stay until we re-open," he explained. He could tell these people had no idea how things worked around here. It was part of his job to make certain things clear so they wouldn't cause more trouble inside the station once they found out. "Then your docking fees go up. Payment in zimas are required."
"Three station days," Elda repeated. She glanced at the timers. They seemed to be counting down in several languages, one of which included Goa'uld. "Okay. Thank you."
The dock worker left them, bringing his cart laden with heavy bars with him. He didn't seem interested in offering them any further directions. Once he disappeared, the trio all exchanged glances.
"Never would have been able to do that, Elda. Thanks," Smith said.
She nodded. "Now we need to explore this place a little bit and get a sense of what's here. Can you read any of that?" she asked, pointing up at the timers.
"Barely," Smith said.
"We got a crash course in Goa'uld from Dr. Jackson. Just enough to get by."
Elda was unsurprised. They were likely as illiterate in Goa'uld as she was in Earth English. She had to admit that since coming under Daniel's tutelage she had learned a lot. She even improved her literacy in Goa'uld.
But this was still going to be a challenge.
She realized she'd have to carry a lot of the weight while they were here. Elda decided to think of this as a training scenario, in which she was the instructor and the marines were her new students. If she could get them to be more independent and savvy like her, it would do them all a favor with finding Reynolds. But it's not like she could whip them into shape overnight. This sort of training would take time. Her own training had been life-long.
"Okay," she said aloud. "For now, let's stay together. Follow my lead. Don't make much eye contact with the locals. Try not to engage with anyone unless I'm there with you. We have no idea what their culture is like. We need to be careful not to offend anyone or draw extra attention to ourselves."
"Keep a low profile," Crawford agreed. "Check."
Smith nodded in agreement. "Lead the way, Elda."
Mitchell walked into the infirmary and went straight to a curtained-off area. Carolyn stepped out just as he was arriving.
"Hey, how's he doing?"
She shook her head and motioned for him to come with her. They found a small corner out of the way to talk. "Lt. Baker's barely conscious. Said something about Reynolds, but I couldn't make it out."
"So we have no idea what happened to the rest of SG-3?"
"Nope."
"Shit."
"What are you going to do?"
"Talk to your dad. We might have to go to their last known location and start asking questions. Although I don't know what good that will do."
"Whatever they had going on out there, I don't think it was good. The state Baker was in tells me they got into a serious fire-fight."
"Blasters or bullets?"
"Blasters."
"Alright, that helps. Thanks, Carolyn." Cameron refrained from touching her or showing any open affection. He simply smiled at her and left. He could do all that later in private.
Cameron made it to the control room, with intentions of using the back stairs to reach Landry's office, when he stopped at the sight of Vala hovering over the technician manning the dialing computer. "Princess," he called out.
She turned. "Elda missed her check-in," she said flatly. Vala's face was serious.
"Really?" Cameron thought back, thinking of calendar dates in his mind. He hadn't kept track of her scheduled check-ins. Typically it was Vala who dealt with greeting her over the line. It's what everyone expected of her, being the supposed big sister. He stepped closer. "Maybe she forgot. You try calling her?"
"We did. No answer on the radio."
"You try pinging her ship?"
"Yes. Nothing."
"Well, shit. Add that to the list," Cameron muttered. "SG-3 is missing. Except for Lt. Baker."
"What."
"He came through the gate overnight in a sorry state. Dr. Lam's got him stable up in the infirmary. But he's still out like a light."
"Cameron," Vala said meaningfully. "If both SG-3 and Elda are out of contact…"
"I know what you're thinking. Come on, let's go see the General."
A flurry of activity later yielded an unscheduled trip to Tek'ron for SG-1. Vala insisted that they go straight to the other village, the one filled with plenty of male Jaffa instead of the all-female Hak'tyl camp. Cameron wondered what that was about but didn't argue. The fact that Daniel and Teal'c readily agreed was enough for him to go along with it.
They were greeted by a Jaffa patrol on their way through the forest and dutifully escorted straight to Jasuf. He was outside directing other Jaffa, sending them off to perform various tasks around the village.
"SG-1," he greeted formally. He offered them a respectful bow.
"Jasuf, how goes it?" Cameron asked.
"I am well, ColonelMitchell. Have you heard from Elda?"
The Colonel frowned. "Actually, we came here to ask you that exact same question."
The Jaffa narrowed his eyes. "I would have expected them to relay a message to you by now," he said uneasily. "Perhaps they are out of range. The coordinates for that space station appeared quite far." He didn't fail to notice their blank stares.
"Of what do you speak, Brother?" Teal'c asked.
"Two members of SG-3 reported straight here after some sort of incident and collected Elda. They were concerned for the well-being of their commander. They left on her vessel with great haste."
"Aww shit," Mitchell muttered. He shared looks with his teammates. Vala's mouth twisted with worry. "Which two members? Do you know?"
"Smith and Crawford."
Cameron looked up to the sky. Reynolds would have diligently checked in with the SGC before running off on an unplanned escapade. But the younger two guys on his team? Maybe not. And now it sounded like they had roped Gracie along with them for their own SG-3-branded style of mischief. If Jack didn't kill them, he might surely kill Cameron instead, simply because he would need somebody's neck to wring.
Elda leaned over the railing curiously. If she looked straight down, there appeared to be three levels below them. If she looked straight up, there were another three levels above. The main core of the station appeared to be a series of concentric cylinders. A thick center column glowed brightly to illuminate the entire space. Within it were swirls of colored gasses dancing around and mixing, providing the power to rotate the station and generate its Earth-like gravity. Around it was a wide open space that spanned the entire vertical core. Lifts were strategically placed around the circumference to provide transport from one level to another. Small sleds moved up and down along designated tracks, bringing goods and other large items among the levels. Workers could be seen constantly loading and unloading those sleds.
The open center was surrounded by platforms, with each level designated a different color. Currently, Elda and her marine friends were on a blue level. The platforms themselves seemed to go on almost endlessly, forming the remainder of the space station. It would seem this place could house tens of thousands of people.
And people were everywhere. They all seemed to know exactly where to go and what business they needed to attend to. No one seemed to be paying them any mind. In fact, they were being completely ignored.
Elda figured that was a good thing.
"How the hell are we ever gonna find Reynolds in a place like this," Smith muttered glumly as he, too, stared about in awe.
"We're going to need to make friends," Elda declared. "Then those new friends could give us an idea of where unfortunate people like him usually end up."
"Alright," Crawford agreed. "But how do we know who to get cozy with? There's a shit-ton of people here."
Elda's jaw moved side to side as she thought. "Start with people who look like us. People who seem similar in age. That's what I usually do whenever I'm somewhere new."
The boys shrugged, not really seeing any problem with that idea. At least it was a start.
Elda locked eyes with both marines. "This might take a while," she warned them. "I know we want to find him as soon as possible, but we're coming in blind. And then there's the matter of our docking fees. Jasuf didn't give me quite enough money to last forever, especially if the fees go up."
"Yeah, about that," Crawford said, pointing at her.
Smith narrowed his eyes at her. "Why were you with him when we found you?"
Elda blinked rapidly as she looked back and forth between them. "Does it matter?"
Crawford smirked at Smith. "I think he's real."
"Who? The imaginary boyfriend? Naaaaaaah. Couldn't be," Smith replied, mouth now forming into a mischievous smile.
"I guess if she was gonna hit something, it might as well be the cream of the crop."
"Oh Gods," Elda murmured.
"He's like the prince on that planet, ain't he?" Smith questioned her.
She rolled her eyes. "Jaffa don't have princes in their culture."
"Yep," Crawford said, elbowing his buddy. "She's bangin' the prince."
"Go big or go home," Smith teased.
Elda groaned. If her sisters weren't around to torment her, then surely these two idiot marines could take their place. "Are you two done?"
"Baby Cakes, we'll never be done," Crawford told her sweetly. He grinned at her.
"A human and a Jaffa. That's a new one."
She sighed. Because of course her courtship was always the most interesting thing anyone had ever seen. "Look, we need to focus on why we're here. We need money in the form of their local currency. We need to find a way to get that."
"You mean, get a job?" Crawford asked, looking all around.
"I don't know yet. But we need to figure out something. If we don't find Reynolds in time before the station locks up, we're going to be stuck. And at that point, well…"
"I don't plan on hanging around here that long," Smith said.
"I can't guarantee we'll find Reynolds in a matter of three station days. I mean, look at this place," she said, gesturing all around.
"Well shit, Elda, why didn't you say so?" Crawford complained.
"I have been trying to say so!"
"Alright, alright," Smith said, calming them down. "We might need to split up."
Elda looked at him dubiously. "You two aren't ready to explore a place like this on your own."
"Elda, give us a little credit. We're not complete idiots," Smith argued.
She merely gave him a look. She held up an index finger and wagged it at the both of them. "Do not talk to anyone. The next thing you know, you're going to end up in some prison cell because you've said the wrong thing to the wrong person." The men rolled their eyes. "And don't tell anyone why we're really here or who we're really looking for!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Crawford responded. "I'm going to go that way…" he said, pointing behind him.
"Okay," Smith said. "I'll try going the other way."
"What exactly are you two going to do?"
"Well you said we need friends and a job. How 'bout we go get those things and then meet back up here, in… what… a couple hours?" Crawford said, looking directly at Smith.
"Yeah, okay."
"What!" Elda exclaimed.
"Baby Cakes, relax. It's not like we haven't done shit like this before," Crawford said confidently.
Smith laid a hand on her shoulder. "Believe me, we got stories."
She blinked at them worriedly. She might lose her team before she even really had them. Neither of them looked very concerned. Maybe that was their ignorance at work, but Elda hoped that they did have their own special charm they could use here on this unfamiliar station. So much for training them. If they were going to accomplish what they meant to accomplish, she'd have to let them go. There simply wasn't any time to do anything else.
Elda let out a long-suffering sigh. "Be careful," she warned, acquiescing. She gestured up at a timer glowing prominently above them. "When the second digit from the right in Goa'uld looks like a number 7 in Earth numerals, start heading back right here." She pointed at the ground beneath her feet for emphasis.
The boys glanced at the timer. They nodded in agreement.
Baker squinted hard at the harsh lighting of the infirmary. He grunted as he slowly tried to open his eyes. Pain shot through him when he moved. His eyes quickly shut back closed.
"Lieutenant," a strong male voice called to him.
Eyes still shut, he automatically responded, "Sir." His voice came out gravelly.
"Jack, give him a second," a female voice chided.
Baker breathed in. When he finally managed to open his eyes and take in his surroundings, he saw General O'Neill and Colonel Carter both waiting for him. The General didn't look very pleased. If he was here to see him from all the way in Washington, that couldn't be a good sign.
He tried to sit up, but another wave of pain stopped him. Colonel Carter reached out to lay a soft hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Lieutenant. Just relax."
"General," he tried to say formally, looking straight at Jack.
"Baker, mind telling us what happened to your team?"
"Sir, we got compromised," he said with a raspy voice. "Colonel Reynolds and I hid out in a building on some planet. Got chased by the crew we were runnin' with on that Alliance Ha'tak."
"How'd your cover get blown?"
"I'm not really too sure."
"Where's the rest of your team, Lieutenant?" Carter asked.
He blinked in surprise. "They're not here?"
The pair before him nodded no gravely.
"Well, shit, I don't know!" He suddenly grew worried. "Last I remember I was being dragged to the gate by our guys. And them saying something about chasing after the Colonel."
Jack and Sam glanced at each other. "They say anything about picking up Elda Mal Doran?" Jack asked.
"What?" Baker asked in surprise. Then he corrected his response. "No, sir, I didn't hear anything about that. But I was barely holdin' it together by the time those two pushed me through the wormhole." He tried to look down at his body to examine its state, but it was fully covered by a hospital blanket. "I don't even really remember getting here."
Jack muttered an expletive under his breath.
"Lieutenant, any idea where Reynolds might be right now?" Carter asked him seriously.
He looked back at her apprehensively. "No."
The trio met back up as promised on the blue level of the station. Elda looked at her marine friends expectantly. She found herself relieved that they were even standing before her, alive and well. "So?"
Smith reported first. "Found what looks like a medical facility back that way. Might come in handy. There was some sort of pricing board posted at the entrance but I couldn't really make heads or tails of it. Looks like you need cash to get treatment."
Crawford then followed. "I might have found a way for us to make some money. But it's kind of sketchy." His companions simply stared back at him, waiting for more information. He shrugged. "Looks like a fight club."
Elda let out a breath of annoyance. "Yes, because of course that's what you'd find."
"Hey!" Crawford complained.
"What about you, Baby?" Smith said, keeping them on track.
"I found a shopping district."
"Figures," Crawford grumbled.
"Oh shut up," Elda said as she pushed him. "We need more station-appropriate clothes. And food. We don't have enough to last us more than a day here. I also found a few vendors for weapons. But all of that is going to cost money."
"Not that I condone this kind of thing, but don't you know how to steal some of that shit?" Crawford quietly asked as he leaned in. "Maybe that would be faster."
She narrowed her eyes at him without amusement. "Just because my surname is Mal Doran doesn't automatically mean I am in the business of theft," Elda pointed out. "We did what we needed to fulfill courier contracts. It was never really called stealing so much as… acquisition for more appropriate owners."
"That's still stealing to me," Crawford said.
Smith looked between them uncomfortably.
"Are we here to question my past or to use my skills to their full advantage?" she said with a challenge.
Crawford moved his jaw around within his mouth.
Smith decided to distract them with something else to think about. "Hey, if we end up stayin' here more than a day, are we gonna have to sleep on the shuttle?" he asked. The query seemed to be a silent reminder that they were all stuck together for the time being, and that they better get along.
Elda and Crawford shared a glance. That was a good question.
"Maybe that's another thing we'll have to find then," Elda said. "Living accommodations."
"Not permanent ones," Crawford emphasized.
"Of course not. But as nice as the privacy of the shuttle is… and to have access to a lavatory… we will need to bathe at some point." She sniffed the air. "When is the last time you two had a shower?"
"Hey," Smith said indignantly, "We've been a little busy, you know." Crawford just shook his head at her.
"All the more reason we better make some money. Crawfy, show us this fight club thing you found."
"Yeah, maybe we can pick up a few friends while we're there," Smith suggested.