Daughter
A/N: Hope you're ready for some humor. Enjoy!
Chapter 36 – Acquisition
"Princess? What you got?" Jack asked Vala in the briefing room. He was there with Landry, Sam, and the rest of SG-1.
Vala hit a command on a tablet, prompting a screen on the wall to light up with a map of the galaxy. "The space station they supposedly went to is here," she stated, pointing at a bright red dot flashing on the display. "An entire day's worth of hyperspace travel away from Earth."
"Quite far, indeed," Teal'c intoned.
"And they had a head start," Daniel noted.
"They must be there by now on that station, if they made it at all," Vala said.
"What do we know about it?" Landry asked.
"Not much. I assume it isn't human-built. Most space stations I know of aren't. That doesn't mean it isn't human-controlled, though."
"Does it have a name?" Jack asked.
"If it does, I don't know it," Vala admitted.
"That's pretty far out from known Goa'uld territory," Sam noted as she studied the map.
"Right, but that's normal for a lot of space stations that are in operation today. Which leads me to believe that whatever people are there are well-established, likely having had little interference in their development by the Goa'uld," Vala concluded.
"So they could be advanced?" Daniel wondered.
Vala tilted her head, not disagreeing with the notion.
"Teal'c? You ever heard of something like this?" Jack asked.
"I am aware of such places, O'Neill. But I have not personally visited any of them. They were considered by the Goa'uld to be too far and too formidable to be worth the resources required to take in battle."
"Sounds like we could be dealing with something significant here," Cameron said.
"You know we've never had much reason to visit space stations around the galaxy," Daniel marveled. "Never really been on our radar."
"Such places serve as economic anchors for the galaxy," Teal'c pointed out. "Earth has mainly concerned itself with injustices being committed elsewhere."
"Teal'c is right," Vala said. "They're their own sovereignties. They take care of themselves and leave the galaxy's squabbles out of their affairs. Any bad things happening there don't seem to catch our attention. And vice versa."
"They police themselves, huh?" Jack said.
Vala and Teal'c nodded.
"What do you think Gracie and those two jokers from SG-3 are doing right now?" Jack was asking this directly of Vala. Her other self trained Gracie her entire life. It wasn't lost on any of them that Gracie often acted just like Vala. She was as close as they got to an expert on knowing how the girl thinks.
Vala's lips smashed together as she thought it through. "If the objective is to find Reynolds somewhere on that station, then I would imagine the three of them are exploring it and looking for a way to narrow their search." She looked around at the family. "They're probably somehow leaning on the fact that they're all similar in age. Maybe trying to make friends who can point them in the right direction."
Cameron squinted at her. "How fast do you think they could make friends who could help them out?"
Sam shared a look with Jack and smiled. "It's Gracie. Pretty fast."
Jack ducked his head briefly in amusement. "Yep."
Cameron smiled, thinking of how she'd twisted those Jaffa on Tek'ron around her little finger. Gracie really had one hell of a superpower. "Those marines on SG-3 can be pretty resourceful themselves. Combine that with Gracie's charm, and I bet they'll find Reynolds in a heartbeat."
"Here's to hoping," Daniel muttered.
"We're not going to leave it up to just them," Jack declared. "Sam? What do we have available to chase after them?"
"Daedalus, Sun Tzu, and Apollo are still running support in Pegasus. Hammond is running ops with SGs-6 and -15. Odyssey… well, we know they're busy."
Jack ground his teeth together. "We got nothing?"
"Nothing from our major battlecruisers, no," Sam reported with disappointment.
"Princess? Can you get us a ship?"
Vala smiled primly at Jack. "Of course I can."
Cameron smirked. "Can you get us a ship with decent life support this time?"
She threw him a snooty look in response.
"What about that Ha'tak you gave to Tek'ron?" Daniel suggested.
"Oh no. We are not doing that," Jack said immediately.
"Well, you know, Jack, it's not a half-bad idea," Sam tried to argue. She tilted her head at him, emphasizing what they both knew about its owner's significance to their daughter.
"They need their ship right where it is. We are not taking back a gift," he said with an air of finality. "Besides, they can't possibly have a crew ready to man it. Not this soon." The group could tell he was uninterested in arguing further. They chose to drop the subject.
"Ms. Mal Doran, work on procuring a vessel capable of reaching that space station," Landry ordered. "General O'Neill, if you don't mind, maybe we can have Colonel Carter join them to assist when they can finally go."
"Please," Jack replied easily. He looked to his wife. She nodded in agreement.
"Meanwhile, I'll send another team to investigate how and why SG-3's cover got blown."
The trio stared wide-eyed through metal chain-link fencing at the sight before them. "This is what fight club looks like in space?" Smith marveled.
Right now they were watching a pair of opponents beat each other senseless with metal poles. The two men were already bleeding heavily while a crowd roared and banged on the cage around them. The trio could see that some people from the crowd were holding data pads in their hands. A few of them would occasionally lean into each other to speak, then clink their data pads together.
"You ever see this before, Elda?" Crawford asked, closely watching the fight.
"We avoided things like this in my youth. Too many chances to be seen and noticed." Elda looked up suspiciously at the floating cameras hovering close to various events around the area. One camera ball was currently trained on the fight before them, broadcasting it to local screens nearby. Some people hovered over those images instead of trying to see around the crowd gathered close to the fight.
"Yeah, I guess the way you kick ass, you would get noticed," Smith surmised. He quirked a smile at her when she looked at him.
"What are you talking about?" she asked warily.
"Jasuf was that dude you beat in Exhibition, wasn't he?"
"You figured that out, did you?"
"I'll admit," Smith replied, "it took me a while. But am I right, or am I right?"
Elda rolled her eyes while smiling at him. "You're right."
Crawford distractedly spoke next to her. "So you kicked his ass, then what, he asked you out on a date?" His eyes were busy analyzing the fighting forms of the people in the cage.
She blinked and looked at Crawford. "Not exactly." Elda turned back to the fight and cringed when one of the fighters received a very nasty blow to the face with a metal pole.
"What you think, Crawford? Could you take 'em?"
"I dunno. This is pretty messy." Blood was dripping everywhere.
"Yeah, don't wanna screw up that pretty face of yours," Smith joked. Elda smirked while Crawford just shook his head silently.
"How fast could we make a buck if we win one of these fights?" Crawford asked. "Would it be enough to pay for all that stuff you say we need?"
Elda looked around now. "Not sure yet. I don't see any boards displaying costs or prices. Maybe I need to ask someone who works here." She turned back to Crawford. "Not even sure this is worth it. If we're going to achieve our objectives, we need to actually be in one piece to do it." As if to make her point, one of the fighters fell to the ground in a bloody, unconscious heap.
"Yeah," Crawford said, watching as the near-dead one was hauled away by workers, "maybe you're right." The victor's chest heaved heavily as he held up a fist in triumph. Then he leaned against the cage as exhaustion caught up with him.
"Welp, I don't see Reynolds around here," Smith announced. "Let's go."
The group attempted to exit when a large bouncer stopped them. "You haven't paid your fees," his loud voice boomed as he towered over them.
They each glanced at each other. Elda spoke for the group. "We were just looking."
"Entry requires admission," the big man reiterated.
Elda glanced at the entryway they used to come in. She hadn't seen any signage outside of it to indicate what the man was talking about. She wouldn't have bothered to enter if they'd be forced to pay to get in or out. She sighed. "What's the fee?"
"Eighty zimas in."
"Well, we don't have your local currency yet. Can I barter with you?" Elda quickly did a mental inventory of the weapons and tools she had on her person. She prioritized them, deciding which items she was willing to part with if necessary.
"Zimas only," the bouncer said, clearly eyeing her and guessing what she was thinking.
Elda huffed. "Surely we can't have been the first people to walk in here by mistake with no means to pay your fees." The marines started brushing shoulders with her and glancing around. She sensed they were preparing to fight their way out, if necessary. But that was the last thing any of them needed. Drawing attention was the complete opposite of the goal right now. Getting thrown into a cell by local authorities would do Reynolds no good.
"No, you're not," the big man said with a sly smile.
His expression seemed to confirm Elda's suspicions. They would have to fight their way out, alright. But in cage matches. She let out a breath.
"If one of us wins a fight, will that cover us?"
Smith leaned in to whisper, "Baby Cakes, what are you doin'?"
"All of you must fight if you want to leave without paying in zimas."
"Aww shit," Crawford muttered. He glanced back at the cages where more matches were being started. He began to regret ever finding this place on the station at all.
"Boys, it looks like we're going to have to participate in these silly games after all," Elda declared. She rolled her eyes at the bouncer as he smiled wider.
"Ay, quit playin' around," Crawford warned, not wanting to believe her.
She ignored him and addressed the bouncer. "Ugh. Explain how this works so we can get this over with."
"Talk to him," the bouncer said, pointing at someone behind them.
The trio turned around to find a sharply-dressed individual sneering at them. He held a large tablet in the crook of his arm. His clothing was decidedly shiny, with sparkling beads catching the flashing lights of the fight club. A large satchel adorned his hip. "Welcome," he said.
Elda stared at him impatiently.
"So good of you to join our ranks. We always welcome fresh meat."
Their faces all scrunched up at this remark.
"Because you are new here, we will allow you the privilege of choosing your matches. Choose wisely. Consider the weaponry and skills required to compete. If you win, you get paid. If you lose…"
"That's how we get to leave without paying fees, carried away on stretchers," Elda grumbled.
Smith and Crawford shared worried looks.
"My, you are a smart girl. Perhaps that will serve you well in one of these matches."
Elda chose not to take that as a compliment. Instead she regarded the attendant with a serious expression. "If we win, how much will it be?"
"Each payday is based on the popularity of the opponents. But we're not savages. Minimum payment is equivalent to our admissions fee."
"Not? Savages?" Smith repeated incredulously under his breath. Elda shushed him by slapping his hand.
The man observed this and seemed to find it entertaining. He smiled brighter. "I see you do not yet own station data pads. Here. Take one. On the house," he offered, pulling one from his satchel.
Elda received it and stared. It was alive with color, and data was constantly scrolling across the screen. It seemed to be providing necessary information about this fight club that should have been otherwise displayed by physical signage outside. So that's why she didn't know there were any fees. Everyone was expected to retrieve that sort of information from these pads. When she looked up, the man had already left them to go bother someone else.
She tried holding it up toward a random fighter getting ready to enter a cage. Suddenly a heads-up display projected into the air above the pad, showing stats and pricing. Her eyes went wide. "This is how we figure out the best matches," she realized aloud. Elda tried holding the pad in the direction of another fighter, and the data dutifully changed. The boys leaned over her shoulders to see.
"Find someone easy for Crawford," Smith quickly instructed.
His companions both looked at him.
He stared back meaningfully. "So he doesn't wreck his pretty face!"
Crawford punched him in the arm forcefully.
The marines followed as Elda wandered around with the data pad held up in the air. She aimed it everywhere, eyes darting across the information as it streamed in. Eventually, she found someone who just might work. "There," she pointed. She was so busy studying the stats that she hadn't bothered to actually look at the opponent she was proposing for Crawford.
"No," he said immediately.
Elda brought the pad down to see. It was a muscularly-built female with a menacing look on her face. She seemed to have noticed that the trio was staring and jeered back at them. She pulled out a data pad of her own to aim in their direction. Her sneer became even more severe when she saw they were new in town. The data pad had zero data on them.
"What an excellent choice," an annoyingly familiar voice sounded off behind them. Their cheerful attendant clapped his hands and a nearby empty cage was opened. The man ushered them closer to it. He waved a polite hand toward the big female to invite her in. She entered without hesitation. When she turned around, she hit one of her fists into the opposite palm as she stared at them.
"Elda, I'm gonna kill you," Crawford said into Elda's ear.
"Don't kill me. Just defeat her. Then we can get out of here."
"I'm not hitting a girl."
"You just threatened me."
Crawford stammered, "It's a goddamn expression." He groaned. "Just… tell me what you can so I can get this over with."
"If you win, it's enough to buy us dinner downstairs. I bet you're hungry by now. I know I am."
"Fists for food?" he said incredulously.
Elda shrugged. "She specializes in full-contact combat. You said you like that M… M…"
"MMA?"
"Mixed martial arts," Smith reminded. They had once explained UFC tournaments to her.
"Yeah, that stuff. Think of it like that."
Crawford sighed heavily. Then he shook his head. He stepped into the cage and was promptly locked in. He glanced back at his friends guardedly. A camera ball immediately zoomed in through an opening at the top.
Their attendant reached over to swipe through a few prompts on the data pad in Elda's hand. It chimed in acknowledgement of his commands. "Enter a name there to identify your companion. Then any zimas he earns will automatically be attached to him."
Elda brought up a virtual keyboard and typed in Crawford's name in Goa'uld. She looked back up at the attendant, who nodded with satisfaction. He smiled at them in a manner that told her he was about to enjoy watching each of them get beat up. She turned back to look at Crawford in the cage uneasily.
Smith banged on the metal. "You got this man."
"Ay! How do we know when we win?" Crawford yelled from within the cage.
"When one of you falls to the ground," the attendant said simply.
"That's it?" When he turned back, his opponent was already swinging a fist toward his face. Crawford backed up suddenly to dodge her.
"Oh, whoa! Not the face!" Smith shouted. "His girlfriend might break up with him!"
"Shut up, Smitty!"
The dueling pair began their fight. But as the match went on, Elda could tell that Crawford was holding back. Minutes ticked by. He did more dodging and defensive blocking than anything else.
"This is taking too long," she murmured. "Why won't he hit back?"
"Cuz she's a girl," Smith answered nonchalantly.
"That doesn't make any sense. An opponent is an opponent."
"That's just how he is."
"Well, he's not going to win. Smith, get him good and mad."
He blinked at her, then grinned. "Sure. I can do that." He began banging on the cage forcefully to make sure he caught his buddy's attention. "Ay, stop being a pussy, motherfucker! Kick that chick's ass already. I'm hungry!"
Elda shook her head. Whether it was Jaffa or human, young men would always resort to obscenities to encourage each other.
But Crawford kept defending himself.
"Get your ass together, Marine! We ain't got time for you to be no Zeus!"
This got his attention. Crawford turned his head toward Smith. "What did you just fucking call me?" he said angrily.
"Zeus, motherfucker!" Smith started cracking up.
Elda smiled at Smith's delight. "What does that mean?" She watched as Crawford suddenly began to hit his opponent back, with full force and no mercy. Apparently, whatever Smith had said was working.
"It's an acronym for lazy-ass marines. Zero Effort Unless Supervised. He hates it."
"Huh. And here I thought Zeus was the name of a once-powerful Goa'uld who lorded over the others."
Smith laughed more. "Nope. Not for us!"
Before they knew it, Crawford's opponent was down on the ground. His friends cheered. The data pad chimed. Elda held it up curiously toward Crawford as he was let out of the cage. The display showed a meter rising up and a number representing his winnings flashing on top. "Wow. That's more than dinner. That's breakfast, too."
"Sweet," Smith said as he leaned over her shoulder. Crawford stepped over to them, dripping in sweat. He hardly looked amused. "Ayyyyy!" Smith greeted him cheerfully. "Nice one, man!" He smacked him on the back forcefully.
"Can we go now?" Crawford complained.
"Smith and I still need to take our turns," Elda responded calmly. She looked at the other marine. "You wanna go next or should I?"
"Rock, paper, scissors?"
Elda shrugged. The boys had taught her that playful game in the commissary back in the SGC. They each held out a fist and shook them, reciting the words. Then on the last shake, they revealed their choices. Smith lost.
"Alright, find me someone who can buy us lunch, too."
"How 'bout you just find him someone he can beat so we can get the hell outta here?" Crawford interjected. "We gotta remember why we're really here."
Elda shot for something in the middle. If Smith could win a match against this next combatant she found, they'd have enough to buy new clothes.
The marine went in confidently and won against a male opponent in hand-to-hand combat. However, it left him with wounds on his hands that he'd need to be seen in the medical facility for. That would eat into their earnings.
When Elda had her turn, she made sure to choose someone who specialized in fighting with a staff weapon. Her opponent was a skinny male human with a pretty face of his own. She was almost sorry to have beaten him up when she defeated him. She was less sorry when she saw that they had successfully earned enough to cover docking fees for a week if they needed it. Elda quietly thanked her beloved Jasuf for teaching her the moves she used to win so easily here.
They walked out of the fight club without resistance from the big bouncer, who eyed them curiously as they passed.
The cargo ship shook violently, nearly knocking the men of SG-1 off their feet. Vala quickly tried to hit a few commands on the pilot's console, but it didn't do much good. The ship continued to feel unstable. Sam sat next to her with white knuckles gripping the seat. Her side of the console was apparently inactive and not working. She couldn't lend much support as co-pilot right now.
"Princess," Mitchell complained.
"How did this happen again?" Daniel groused.
"Forgive me for the lack of quality inventory in the galaxy, Daniel," Vala spit back. "Now that many of the Goa'uld are gone, their leftover ships are left to waste away."
"The quality of Goa'uld-built vessels is indeed declining," Teal'c agreed.
Sam muttered, "Now more than ever I wanna buy me a Zersha shuttle like Gracie's."
The ship shook more, forcing the men to find things to hang onto just to keep from falling.
"What did the pricing booklet she got you say?" Vala asked as she struggled to pilot the ship.
"It says we can't afford Zersha."
"Well, that's too bad," Cameron said. "What are they? The BMW to the Goa'uld's little beater cars?"
"Something like that."
The cargo ship lurched, now forcing everyone to fall off their feet or out of their seats. The lights flickered dramatically. "Alright," Mitchell said loudly as he got back up. "I'm callin' it. This ain't gonna work."
Vala huffed. "Sorry. Looks like we're just gonna have to keep this thing for spare parts then."
"You think Zersha does trade-ins?" Sam wondered.
Vala considered her. "Like when Daniel turned in the old truck to help buy his new one?"
Daniel adjusted his glasses as he listened to them. "I didn't get much for the old truck but it was better than nothing."
"Hmm. I'm not sure if they operate like that. It's an interesting idea, though."
Sam sighed. She looked up at Cam standing near her. "What do you wanna do now?" She was deferring to him as current commander of the team. "Clearly, we aren't going to get far in this thing. Certainly not all the way to a space station."
The other Colonel brought a hand up to his chin in contemplation. "Remember how you said Gracie went back to Zersha to get that pricing booklet with Jasuf?"
"Yeah…" Sam answered, unsure of what he was getting at.
"What if we go there with him and get a friends and family discount or something?"
Everyone stared at Cameron quietly. He glanced around, noticing their looks of confusion.
"You know, he's our new ally? We could get a discount for his referral?"
"Gracie already secured a discount. We still can't afford Zersha tech," Sam reminded him.
"What about the naquedah his tribe promised us? Couldn't that sweeten the deal?"
Sam scrunched her face at him.
Vala looked considerate. "Well…"
"Oh, Vala, no," Sam tried to start.
"Hear me out, Sam," Cameron continued. "We don't have Elda Mal Doran with us to negotiate, but we got the OG Princess." He gestured toward Vala meaningfully with a smile. "And if what I heard was right, they can hand us a shiny new ship in minutes, complete with all the trimmings. We could be over at that space station to lend support in no time."
"You think," Vala said, reading his mind, "if we bring Jasuf along it will accelerate the process. Since he's a current client?"
"Right," he confirmed. Mitchell turned to Sam now. "Didn't you say the rep's kind of scared of him?"
Sam's mouth slowly transformed from a smirk to a full-on grin. "Yes. Yes, I did say that."
Her eyes darted about delightfully as she remembered the story Gracie recounted for her, when she visited Earth to drop off the catalog. With Jack's enthusiastic support, she did go back to Zersha HQ with Jasuf as her sole escort. He successfully intimidated the slimy Zersha representative and expressed his dissatisfaction over the man's treatment of Gracie. She said he even hung their current contract over his head, threatening to cancel if the guy ever tried to proposition her again. Gracie strategically swooped in to ensure the SGC got a 20% discount on anything it bought. Jack was very, very pleased.
Then he saw the prices they were expected to pay, even with the discount, and his smile disintegrated. BMW indeed.
By the way Sam was smiling, Cameron sensed he was missing something. His face twitched slightly over it.
Vala didn't give him time to dwell, however. "I say we do it." She turned around to choose Tek'ron as the new destination in the navigation computer. It spit out a proposed course and an ETA. "We could be over to Meil'nor's village in under an hour. Pretty sure his son won't mind assisting."
Daniel shared a look of amusement with Teal'c. "If it means helping Gracie, sure," he agreed.
Cameron looked at the linguist strangely. "She's got him twisted around her finger, too, huh? Just like that Jaffa patrol we met. Figures." He shook his head.
Teal'c smirked.
Still no one had bothered to tell Cameron that the two young people they were talking about were dating. It was becoming increasingly funny the longer it took him to figure it out.
"Sam, what do ya say?" he asked. "You're the one with access to the checkbook."
She seemed hesitant, but noted that everyone else seemed to be in agreement with Mitchell's suggestion. Sam glanced around at the dilapidated tel'tak Vala had acquired. It wasn't going to do them any good with helping her daughter. She grimaced briefly, then nodded in acquiescence. "I guess I'm getting my Zersha shuttle after all."
Smith held up the data pad toward the door of the medical facility. It instantly showed additional information that the signage outside lacked. His very basic understanding of Goa'uld writing told him that he had enough cash to pay for the services inside.
Elda had taken one look at his knuckles, busted open and bloody from his match, and decided he would need a professional to treat him. She didn't have the right medical supplies on board her shuttle to wrap his hands. And she worried that his wounds would become infected. They still didn't have access to hygienic facilities to cleanse themselves properly. She sent Smith to go get patched up while she and Crawford hunted down a place to wash up.
With the data pad secure in his hand, Smith stepped through the double doors of the medical facility. A box-like robot scooted forward on wheels to greet him. It flashed a message on its HUD, asking him why he was here. "Uhhh…." He looked around, not seeing any human beings to talk to.
The robot shot out passive lasers to scan him. It chimed as if it had reached a conclusion. Then it spun around in place once, to grab his attention, and started scooting away. When Smith didn't move, it paused and spun again, seemingly to emphasize its point. "Oh, you want me to follow you," he realized. "Cool. It's like Star Wars."
Smith was led into another room, where a female dressed in a white uniform was busy organizing medical supplies. The robot chimed again to signal their presence. She turned around to see Smith standing there awkwardly. The robot left.
When he caught sight of her, his eyes widened a bit. She was gorgeous. He instantly smiled and raised a hand in greeting. "Hi."
The motion drew the woman's eyes to his hand. "Hmm… let me see." She invited him to step closer and take a seat in a chair. She sat across from him to get a good look at the obvious wounds on his hands.
Smith focused on her face. She was tan-skinned with dark eyes, just like him. Her straight black hair cascaded down past her shoulders pleasantly. He found himself quirking a smile at her while she examined his injuries.
She looked up to catch him staring. Her brow raised. "Let me guess. Fight club?"
"Yeah," Smith said with surprise. "How'd ya know?"
"Because that's where all newcomers to the station in your age range and with your build seem to end up." She had obviously noticed his fit state as shown off by his sleeveless muscle shirt. She seemed to be about the same age as him, mid-twenties.
Elda's suggestion that they make friends on the station crossed Smith's mind.
"Guess I'm not your first patient from over there, huh?"
"No, you are not," she said with little amusement. She pulled medical supplies from a drawer on a nearby cart.
"Sounds like they keep you in business then," Smith quipped.
She glanced at him. "Not the first time I've heard that either." The woman began cleansing his wounds thoroughly with a clear liquid. The bloody mess dripped onto a tray she had set up beneath his hands. She tsked at the injuries. "Who did you fight against?"
"Some guy who thought he knew how to engage in hand-to-hand."
"Thought he knew?" she repeated dubiously. "Looks like he knew a little something," she said, gazing at his wounds meaningfully.
"Eh. I got distracted by my friends."
"You and your friends came here looking for work, didn't you?"
"It's like you can read minds."
She smirked. "No. But I can tell you there are better places to make zimas than fight club," she offered, twisting her mouth around the last few words with disgust.
"Oh yeah? I'm listening."
Her eyes darted to his exposed arms. He noticed. "One of my brothers runs a central station loading crew. He can always use more help. Especially during this busy season." Now satisfied that his wounds were properly cleansed, the woman pushed those supplies away and acquired a special pen tool. She stuffed one end of it with a tube of an unknown substance. It clicked when she closed the top.
"Loading? Like heavy lifting?"
"Correct." The woman ran her pen tool along one open wound. It extruded a goo-like material to cover the injury. The substance solidified into a flexible sealant.
"I could probably do that."
"I'll drop an address and a time on your pad. Go there and I'll introduce you to my brother. He'll tell you what he needs. You can see if you're interested."
He smiled at her. "I just might do that. Thanks for the tip."
She nodded as she continued her task with his wounds. "We'll be at one of the venues in the entertainment district. You could see what our station has to offer while you're there."
"What kind of venue?"
She put away the pen tool before responding. Her hands naturally held his as she examined her work. She lightly tapped at the newly sealed wounds to check that the sealant had solidified properly. Her hands lingered on his as she looked up to finally answer his question. "A dance venue."
"I like the sound of that."
She released his hands and held out a palm for his data pad. He handed it to her. She expertly entered data onto it while simultaneously extracting payment for her medical services. Then she gave it back.
"Hey, what's your name? So I know who to properly thank."
"Aurelia."
"Aurelia. Nice name. I'm Gordon."
"Hello, Gordon. Maybe I'll see you later?" She offered him a small smile.
He grinned back. "Yeah, maybe."
When Smith stepped outside, Elda and Crawford were there waiting. They didn't fail to notice his eager expression. They glanced at each other. "What happened?" Elda asked suspiciously.
He held up his hands to show them. "I got patched up."
"Uh huh," Crawford said. "What else?"
"I might have found something better than fight club."
His friends shared another dubious look. "Crawfy, is it me? Or does he have that look on his face?"
"You mean the look you had all over your face whenever you were daydreaming about your boyfriend?"
She scowled at him. "No, the one you had on your face every time you got to see your girlfriend the night before."
Crawford grinned. "Yeah, Smitty does look like that." He laughed.
They both now turned on him. He was busy watching them with a scowl of his own. He rolled his eyes and tilted his head. "I made a friend. This might be what we need to find Reynolds."
Elda smiled at him then reached up to pinch his cheek. "And is this friend attractive?"
Smith gave her a tight smile, not really enjoying being on the receiving end of this sort of teasing.
She decided to let it go and looped arms around the both of them. "Come on. We found a place to wash off the ick from fight club. And then we can eat."
The Zersha rep made them wait. Sam and Vala quietly grumbled as they stared at the water feature glowing with multi-colored lights in the middle of an elaborately-decorated lobby. Moonlight was gently illuminating the space, reflecting pleasantly off of crystalline walls. Sam wondered if they made it look so nice so you'd forget your time was being disrespected.
Eventually, Gen appeared. He didn't seem very eager to see them. In fact, he looked burdened, as if he had better things to do than greet these two potential clients.
So much for customer service.
"Have we met?" he asked with an even tone, after formally greeting them.
"We have," Sam answered.
"We first met in the presence of Elda Mal Doran," Vala reminded him.
Gen's face drew into a satisfied smile. "Ahh yes. And how is the lovely Elda? Well, I hope?"
Sam just wanted to punch him on the spot. She didn't like the sleezy expression on his face at all. What's worse? He was thinking about her precious daughter as he smiled.
Vala brushed her fingers along Sam's to calm her. "Well, enough. She is on a space station far out. We'd like to acquire an extra shuttle to go to her."
Sam held up the Zersha-branded tablet containing the pricing information. "Brought this so there's no question on costs."
Gen eyed the tablet. It was the sort he handed out to potential buyers ahead of time. He narrowed his eyes at the two women. "Which buyer are you representing tonight?"
"Ourselves," Sam said confidently.
"Ahh. Unfortunately I am retiring for the day. I would be happy to meet with you on this matter another time." He glanced down distractedly at a tablet in his hands.
"We have already been made to wait," Vala said through gritted teeth.
"Yes, I apologize for the miscommunication." His apology hardly seemed genuine. "I do have openings in my schedule for tomorrow afternoon. I would be happy to see you then."
Sam and Vala looked at each other, completely annoyed.
He smiled insincerely at them and turned around. Gen suddenly stopped at the sight of a Jaffa towering over him with an unamused expression.
The women smirked.
"You will give them your time now," Jasuf said forcefully.
Gen's mouth opened and closed as he blinked rapidly. He let out a nervous laugh and turned back to the women. "Please," he said more graciously now. "Step into my office." His robes swept around him as he turned quickly to lead them away.
Jasuf watched him go, waiting on Sam and Vala to follow. He inclined his head toward them respectfully.
"Sam," Vala said quietly. "He's a keeper."
Her friend looked satisfied. "Definitely."
The trio went early to visit the address Smith had acquired. They wanted to check it out and see what they might be getting into, before they were unwittingly pulled into another mess without knowing it. They carefully observed the area.
For the moment, the corridor was empty. There were crowd-control ropes set up alongside buildings, leading toward brightly-lit entrances with logos on top. Flat projections rose up from the ground at various points, featuring photos of young people smiling. Words in several languages scrolled across their pictures, identifying who they were and what they were known for.
With no one around, Smith felt comfortable stepping closer to one of these advertisements to eye it. "That's her," he said, pointing in surprise.
"Who?" Elda asked as she and Crawford joined him.
"Aurelia. The girl I met in medical." The image showed the woman in question surrounded by a group of people.
"Pretty," Elda remarked easily. She stared at her manner of dress in the photograph. Then she studied images of other young women featured by the other projections. Elda was trying to get a sense of what fashion looked like here so she could copy it and blend in.
"What does this say, Elda?" Crawford asked curiously. He was still focused on the first ad.
"Uhh…" She waited until a Goa'uld translation scooted along the image. "This is a dance crew. They're known for… I can't make out this word. Might be a specific genre or something. I assume they perform in these venues."
Crawford addressed Smith. "You said she wants to introduce you to her brother?"
"That's what she said," Smith reported. "Said he might wanna hire me for what sounds like manual labor."
"That could be an opportunity to see more parts of the station," Elda decided. "Maybe catch a glimpse of where stasis pods would be housed." She glanced back at the girl in the advertisement. Smith was the one who made initial contact. And he was charming enough to be invited here. Elda realized that she could train him. He already seemed to be off to a good start. "Smitty, Darling. You now have marks," she announced.
"Marks?"
"Yes, that pretty girl and her brother. You're going to work those marks and get us the information we need to find Reynolds. Welcome to your first acquisition job." She tilted her head and smiled at him.
Smith blinked. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Really?"
"Really."
Crawford clapped him on the back in approval. He had always liked Elda's stories about her exploits out in the galaxy. She sounded like a spy sometimes, picking one or two people to prey upon to reach her objectives. It was usually to steal something. Today, though, it would be to rescue someone. She was about to show Smith the ropes. Maybe this would be fun to watch.
"Okay," Smith said hesitantly. "How do I work marks?"
Elda locked eyes with him. "Can you dance?"
"I can dance."
"Are you sure?"
"Elda, come on."
"Well, I haven't seen it. You two never took me out like you said you would."
Crawford gave her a meaningful look. "You've been offworld every second you could get."
She shrugged sheepishly. He wasn't wrong. "I think Smith should ask the pretty girl to dance. Might make her warm up to him."
"Then what?" Smith asked.
"Make conversation. Focus on the fact that you're new here. Let her feel like she's in a position to educate you about her world. She'll feel important. When the time is right, you might be able to steer the topic toward our objective and get the information we need."
"How am I supposed to know when the time is right?" Smith asked curiously.
"It's going to be a judgement call. And there's no guarantee you could get her to talk about where stasis pods are kept. Especially on the first try. But that's why it's good that you have a second mark to work. If the brother sees her warming up to you, and doesn't mind it, then you can get on his good side. If he hires you, even better. Then you'll get additional chances to talk with either of them and learn what we need to know."
"What about you and me?" Crawford asked.
"We'll run support in the background. Smith is going to be focused and his situational awareness will suffer. We can carefully observe everyone else around him to make sure he's okay. We could look out for more marks to possibly work, too. He might not be successful right away. And that's okay. With three of us on this job, it increases our odds of success."
Crawford glanced at the entrance for the club nearest them. "Well, Elda, you did promise you'd take us to a space club."
She grinned at him. "Time for a wardrobe change then." She held up the data pad that also represented the money they now possessed. "Let's go shopping."
"Sweeeeeeeeeeet," Jack said when he saw the new shuttle Sam brought home to the SGC.
"You like?" she asked, smiling next to him.
"I like. So, what's the plan now?" He stepped forward across the metal grate and the temporary deck created by modified Tok'ra tunneling crystals. Jack peered into the open shuttle with hands in pockets, noting it looked about the same as their daughter's. They ventured in.
"The team is working on loading this up with supplies. Then we'll head out to the space station. We already found a space gate address that's on the way. It'll shave an hour or two off the drive. Hammond will follow once it finishes up its objectives on the other side of the galaxy."
"You'll be out of range for communications," Jack pointed out. He scratched a fingernail along the spotless leather seats of the crew compartment. There wasn't a speck of dust or blood, unlike their daughter's shuttle a few weeks ago.
"I had been thinking about that. Dr. Lee and I came up with the idea of dropping a sub-space buoy half-way through the journey. It could act as a relay to bounce a signal off of. We simply loaded it where one of the warheads usually goes. We'll use the weapons array to release it."
Jack nodded, confident in whatever ideas his wife had.
"Sir," Mitchell called from the hatch.
Jack waved him in. Cameron dropped a box at the floor by the center storage compartment. It contained fresh fruit, MREs, and large water jugs for their ride. Vala soon arrived with a cart full of armaments. She wheeled it toward the back of the shuttle. Daniel and Teal'c walked in with large medical cases. They opened up storage lockers underneath the crew seats. Some lockers were filled with mag boots, but others were empty. Everyone busied themselves with securing their cargo around the shuttle. Jack observed them all with approval.
"A day there. A day back…" he started.
"And however long it takes to find Gracie and the rest of SG-3 inbetween," Sam finished.
Jack followed Sam to the pilot's console, where she began pre-flight procedures. "How's my buddy from Tek'ron?"
Sam quirked a smile as her eyes focused on the heads-up display. "Intimidating."
"Excellent."
"Jasuf didn't have to say much. But I think his presence helped a lot in the negotiations."
Vala came up behind them. She scooted around Jack to sit in the co-pilot's seat. "I wouldn't call it negotiation. We simply asked and received."
"Just like that, huh?" Jack said, amused.
"Just like that," Vala replied with a satisfied smile. She hummed. "Decent price, too."
"Maybe we should give Tek'ron another present. You know, for all their support."
"I let them keep the tel'tak Vala originally got us," Sam reported. "They could use the spare parts."
"Nice."
Mitchell stepped up. "We're ready," he announced.
Jack dropped a kiss onto Sam's lips and laid a hand on Vala's shoulder. "Bring our girl home." Then he looked at the rest of the team. "Bring home SG-3." He made eye contact with Cameron, Daniel, and Teal'c meaningfully. "Godspeed, SG-1."
"Thank you, sir," Mitchell responded.