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Title: Necessary Sacrifices 2/6
Fandom: SG1
Characters: All of them
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 53,110
Warnings/Spoilers: Mentions of episodes through the 4th Season
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Summary/Notes: Col. Jack O'Neill blacks out the base and then promptly disappears. What is Jack planning and what is he willing to sacrifice in order to accomplish that plan? Can the team find Jack before it's too late? What if it's already too late?
Necessary Sacrifices: Part 1 -- Part 2
"This is so not good," Jack muttered to himself.
He crouched in the underbrush and studied the five Jaffa who guarded the Stargate. So much for the easy part. No one was supposed to be guarding the gate. For that matter, no one was supposed to be anywhere on the planet at all. Typical lousy intel work. He shifted his attention to the clearing off to the left where three large Jaffa-style tents stood. From the equipment and supplies, it looked as if the Jaffa had been here for some time and planned to stay a while longer. The gate had to be disabled and he had to do it without letting anyone know that he was doing it. At the very least, he'd have to do it without being caught and killed.
Jack rolled onto his back and slid down the slight incline into the dry riverbed that circled the clearing. The stone-strewn gully provided perfect cover as he worked his way a mile upstream to his stash of equipment. The Tok'ra had thought it foolish to drop him and his equipment down so far from the gate. If he had gone with their plan, he would have ended up in the middle of the Jaffa encampment. It was a miracle the Tok'ra were still around; they knew squat about black ops. They may be great at infiltrating the Goa'uld as double agents, but real action always involved a Tok'ra death. Well, dying wasn't on his agenda, thank you very much.
Once safe in the small cave where he'd cached his equipment, he did a quick survey. He couldn't use the claymores or C-4. That would bring the Jaffa in the area down on him. What he needed was a distraction, preferably one that wouldn't alert them he was here. Of course, just because he couldn't blow things up, didn't mean he couldn't burn them down. As part of this mission, the Tok'ra had given him several containers of incendiary powder. Once lit by flame or explosive, it would burn hot enough to melt metal and burn for hours. With the amount of bad intel the Tok'ra had given him already on this mission, Jack was happy for the chance to try it out.
He put one of the canisters of 'Tok'ra napalm' in his satchel and dropped a flare into his vest pocket. After he double-checked the load in his P-90 and his pistol, he dug out a zat and secured it to his belt. Then he circled around the entrance to make sure there were no signs that pointed to the cave, and slowly worked his way around to the clearing. Fifteen minutes later, he crouched directly behind the Jaffa campsite.
None of the Jaffa were visible, but he could hear movement inside the tents when he crept close to the shelters. The incendiary powder looked like a trail of sugar and a smell like stale peppermint wafted from it as he poured it along the edge of the tent. He ran to the next shelters and duplicated the move. Then he retraced his steps to the cover of the wood, lit the flare and tossed it onto the white trail of powder he had just laid. It erupted to life with a quiet roar. Blue flames consumed the tents in seconds and sent their occupants running out in confusion and terror. Jack ducked into the underbrush and worked his way back to the gate. Smoke from the tents began to fill the air over the clearing and shouts from the Jaffa who fought the fires carried over to him.
The Jaffa that guarded the gate watched as the smoke rose and listened to the cries of their comrades. Jack could hear them argue, unsure of their duty. Another shout, this one a definite call for help, decided it for them. Two of the guards ran off and two more followed after, leaving only one, lone guard at the gate. He, too, seemed concerned with the flames, but he stood to his post. So it goes, the good soldier dies first.
Jack crept to the edge of the clearing and waited until the guard's attention was once again drawn to the smoke and flames, then he sprinted out into the open and zatted the guard. The Jaffa fell like a stone. Jack zatted him twice more, in hopes that a missing Jaffa would raise fewer questions than a dead one.
Ignoring the empty space where the dead Jaffa had lain not more than a second ago, Jack ran to the DHD and pulled open the control panel. He stared at the complex circuitry inside and fought to remember which doohickey did what. I am so over my head, here. After a moment's hesitation, he reached in, grasped a small greenish crystal and jerked it free from the machine. The DHD emitted a short moan, blinked twice, and then lost all power. Jack smiled to himself, pocketed the crystal and closed the control panel. Score one for the lucky inept. A blast from the burning tents rang through the air and Jack hoped he'd been lucky enough to destroy their armory.
It was the slightest whisper of movement that saved him, the tiniest suggestion of cloth rubbing on cloth and the faintest taste of ozone in the air. Jack spun and dove off to the side as the searing blast of a Jaffa staff weapon burned past his side. He rolled to the right, pulled his zat, and returned fire, a strategy that would have worked if there had been only one attacker. As it was, the two zat shots struck the lead Jaffa, but left the second one standing.
Jack continued his roll and ignored the burning pain in his side. The Jaffa shot again. The energy weapon blasted a hole into the ground where Jack had been a moment before and sharp fragments of rock bit into his face and arms. A second shot split the air next to his head. The wave of hot air from the passing bolt of energy singed his hat and left the smell of burnt hair hanging in the air. Jack spun out of his roll and turned his momentum toward his attacker. The Jaffa didn't keep up with Jack's sudden change. Jack dove under the staff weapon and drove his shoulder into the stomach of the Jaffa.
The Jaffa fell with a grunt. Jack slammed into the hard ground on top of him. The staff weapon clattered to the side and sent its final blast into the DHD. Jack's zat popped from his hand and landed out of reach. The Jaffa twisted and belted Jack across the face. Jack's world spun and his head rang. Something wet and warm dripped over his eyes and clouded his vision. Jack struggled to draw the knife sheathed at his side. The Jaffa grabbed for Jack's throat and squeezed. Jack fought to unsnap the leather band that held the knife in place. The world faded away and his blood roared in his ears.
The knife came free from its scabbard.
Jack pulled the knife across the Jaffa's throat and rolled free of the dying man's grasp. Gagging for breath, he stumbled over to the zat. Six shots later, the only signs of battle were the burn marks on the DHD. Jack picked up the staff weapon that still lay on the ground and tossed it into the tall grass next to the DHD. The camp still burned white-hot and another explosion pushed more flame and smoke into the air. He didn't know how long his fight had lasted. No more than a few seconds. No one arrived to investigate the sounds of the staff weapon blasts. The sounds and confusion of the fire must have masked the fight. After one last look around, he melted into the concealing brush in the woods.
It only took fifteen minutes to arrive safely back in his bolthole. He sat on a low ledge of rock and took a personal inventory. The first blast had left an angry burn along his side that hurt like hell, but the flack vest he wore had absorbed most of the damage. The scorching on his face and neck wasn't severe and hurt less than did the bruises that the Jaffa's death grip had left. What bothered him most were the cuts and punctures caused by the debris the staff blast had thrown up. He wiped the dried blood off his face and covered the lacerations with some antibiotic cream.
Not a bad outcome, really. Three Jaffa were dead and his wounds were superficial. He pulled the green crystal out of his pocket and set it protectively on his stack of armament. Without the crystal, the DHD wouldn't work but if all went well, he would be able to repair it and get off this rock. The sounds of the Jaffa who fought the fire drifted in to the cave as he gathered the surveillance equipment he needed. It seemed the Tok'ra were right about the powder. The intel may have stunk but at least the equipment worked. With any luck, the fire would burn long enough to keep the Jaffa distracted while he reconned the area.
He might live long enough to finish the job after all.
***
The talk in the corridors of the SGC was all about Colonel O'Neill. Daniel could hear snatches of conversation as he hurried along to the conference room that SG-1 had commandeered. The speculation ranged from the mundane to the outrageous and Daniel fought the urge to eavesdrop on the rumors. Even after they had worked on the problem for twenty-four hours, the team didn't have any better idea what had happened than those who gossiped in the halls did.
Sam looked up from a report when Daniel entered. "What did the general say?"
"Nothing. Everyone he's talked to says that they have no operations going on that involve Jack." Daniel sat down, grateful to be able to rest. "He's afraid to push any harder because Kinsey already suspects that something is up. I think we're running out of time here. If we can't come up with something soon, Hammond is going to have to go with Jack's explanation in order to keep Kinsey from going after the SGC."
"I haven't had any more luck than the general," Sam confessed. "Teal'c reported back from P45-393. There's no sign of the MALP. They're doing a wider search in case something has walked off with it, but I wouldn't hold my breath. It's almost as if the colonel didn't send the MALP there at all."
"Then what did he do with it?"
"I don't know. I can't figure out how he could have done any of this." She rubbed her hands across her face. "We need to talk to him."
"Yeah, well, we can't."
"Why not?"
"We can't find him." He continued before Sam could interrupt. "Hammond sent a couple of Special Forces personnel over to his house this morning. The SFs reported that it was locked up tight and his truck was in the garage. The neighbors said he packed a bunch of stuff into a cab yesterday afternoon and left. The SFs are tracking it down now."
"Just. . . great."
Daniel thought that summed it up perfectly. By far the biggest mystery in the universe was Jack O'Neill. It was hard enough to understand him in normal circumstances; they didn't stand a chance when he started being underhanded. Daniel thought back over the conversation he'd had with Jack in his apartment and brought up the only possibility they hadn't covered yet. "I think we should contact the Tok'ra."
"What? Why?"
"Something Jack said to me at my house. Anise was here a week ago. She wanted to talk to Janet about the aftereffects of the armbands."
Sam nodded. "Yes. But she didn't talk to me."
"Me, either, but she could have talked to Jack."
"It's possible." Sam considered it for a moment. "So, this has something to do with the armbands?"
"I don't know, but I think we should check it out."
Sam nodded. "I'll see if I can get a hold of my dad. Meanwhile. . ." she pushed a report across the table at him, "see if you can find anything in this report."
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes until there was a knock at the door and Walter came in.
"Major. Dr. Jackson." He crossed to the table and handed Daniel some papers. "The general asked me to deliver this to you."
"Thank you, Walter." Daniel glanced at it. It was a report from the SFs sent to track down Jack. That was quick. He wondered what kind of pressure Hammond put on them to get results that fast.
"Sergeant," Sam's voice interrupted Daniel's perusal of the file and stopped Walter at the door.
"The MALP that Colonel O'Neill sent through, what was on it?"
"Ma'am?"
"According to the reports, the MALP was heavily loaded. What did Colonel O'Neill send through?"
"I don't know, Major. When he brought it into the gate room it was already packed."
"He loaded it himself?" Daniel asked.
Walter shrugged. "I could look into it for you." His eagerness to help wasn't lost on Daniel. The entire base seemed ready to jump to Jack's aid.
"Do that, Sergeant," Sam ordered. "In fact, I want you to look into what requisitions the colonel made in the past week. I want to know everything down to a paper clip."
Daniel looked over at Sam. "You think he sent supplies?"
She sighed and shook her head. "Assume nothing," she said.
In that case. . . "Then maybe we shouldn't stick to requisitions. We need to run a complete check for missing supplies," Daniel said. "Anything that Colonel O'Neill might've had access to and might need for a mission."
"That will take forever, Daniel," Sam said. "We'd almost have to do a complete inventory."
"All right," he conceded. "How 'bout if we just focus on the big stuff: survival gear, first aid supplies, the usual off world equipment?"
"That's still a huge job."
"I can get some volunteers to help," Walter said. "We could have it done in a couple of hours."
"Fine, Sergeant," Sam said. "I'll let the general know what you're working on."
Walter saluted and left.
Daniel grinned over at Sam. "Volunteering to do inventory, that's a new one."
"They're as worried as we are." Sam looked back at the report before her. "I don't think the colonel knows the type of loyalty he inspires in people."
"I doubt it." Jack's refusal to acknowledge feelings didn't end with his own. Daniel turned his attention back to the report Walter had brought in. He skimmed through it, stopped on the second page, and went back to read it again. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse. He put it down with a sigh and rubbed his eyes.
Sam looked up. "What is it?"
"Jack's movements since leaving home. The cab took him to the airfield where he hopped a transport up to Minneapolis. It looks like he's headed to his cabin. Hammond has sent someone round to collect him and bring him back here."
"That's good news, then."
"Not really. You know that stuff he packed into the cab?" He waited for Sam's nod. "He wouldn't let anyone handle it, but the crew on the transport thought it was armament."
"Weapons?"
"That's what they said."
"Why would he take weapons to his cabin?"
Daniel shrugged.
"Did they say what kind?"
"No, but it does say that it was several bags of armament. It's the only reason the crewman remembered it." He reached over to the phone and dialed an extension.
It was picked up on the second ring. "This is Sergeant Harriman."
"Yes, Walter. Dr. Jackson. Could you please add an inventory of the armory to your to-do list?"
"The armory?" Daniel could hear Walter's puzzlement. "If you think it's necessary."
"I'm afraid I do." Daniel hung up and looked back at Sam. "Walter will let us know if any weapons are missing."
Sam's concerned look mirrored his own. "Oh, Daniel, what is he up to?"
"I don't know, but it can't be good."
***
I just hate this. Jack lay in the tall grass and tried to find some good in his situation.
There wasn't any.
In the valley that lay before him, three Goa'uld pyramids glinted in the last rays of the setting sun. Dozens of Jaffa stood watch over people who cowered in the middle of fenced enclosures. Five tents were clustered together and Jaffa gathered around the open doorways. Large lights mounted on the top of tall poles that grew brighter with the gathering darkness. Movement along the edge of the woods told of the patrols that guarded the perimeter. This was not the secret, half-deserted base he'd been told to expect.
Jack's side ached with a sharp throb that he couldn't quite ignore and the blood from the cuts on his face and arms seeped into the bandages that he'd slapped on. He toyed with the idea of taking some meds to dull the pain, but he was afraid that it would dull everything else as well. He needed to have all his wits about him.
Jack backed off from the cliff edge and made his way to his cave of equipment. Sneaking in and blowing up an unguarded secret lab was one thing; infiltrating three guarded Goa'uld pyramids with the same intent was an altogether different animal. He was damn lucky he'd been paranoid when he packed for this mission or he wouldn't have had enough supplies. The Tok'ra had enhanced most of his explosives with a liberal application of naquadah and they had assured him that when combined with the incendiary powder, it would only take three or four of the new, improved C-4 to destroy the base. It wasn't that Jack didn't believe them -- yeah, right -- it was just that he always preferred being safe to being sorry. Thirty bricks of the 'super C-4', carefully marked with a large red x, sat off to one side. Even if the explosives weren't as powerful as the Tok'ra predicted Jack hoped that ten bricks would bring down a pyramid.
It would be full dark in less than an hour, until then, he'd lay some charges to provide distraction or retreat support. Jack pulled out a satchel and filled it with claymores. He didn't have enough timers for them, so he opted to set them with a tripwire. He didn't like the idea of setting booby traps that anyone could walk into, but if it worked out as planned, there wouldn't be anyone walking around to set them off. If it didn't work out as planned, well, any little annoyance he could be to the Goa'uld was good, even if it happened after he was dead.
As he set the claymores around the perimeter, he kept an eye on the Jaffa and their captives. The prisoners were dressed in different styles of clothing and huddled together in small groups. They were from different planets, Jack realized. The Jaffa at the gate weren't on guard duty; they were the welcoming committee. If the planet had been uninhabited, they would've had to bring in people from other places. A quick count gave him at least sixty prisoners in three different enclosures. He was relieved to see that there were no children in the clusters of frightened people. It was going to be hard enough to do what he had to without having to face the death of children.
Satisfied with the deployment of the claymores, Jack returned to his makeshift base of operations and sorted through his remaining equipment. The sniper rifle and most of the extra clips for the P-90 could stay behind. He strapped the extra 9-mm to his leg in an ankle holster, hooked the zat to his belt and hung a pair of night-vision goggles around his neck. The spare zat, a med-kit, some extra ammunition and the Tok'ra powder went in a satchel that he slung over his shoulder. The bag rested heavily on his hip and he had to readjust it so it didn't cover his pistol. Finally, he transferred all of the 'super' C-4 to a backpack. It was a heavy load and his side protested when he slung it onto his back, but there was no getting around it. If his intel was correct -- and that was a big if -- he had seven hours of darkness. If he didn't get this done before dawn, he wouldn't get this done at all.
He circled behind the pyramids. Two Jaffa patrols passed within twenty feet of him, but they didn't even glance his way. The Jaffa in the camp didn't pay any more attention to their surroundings then did the ones on patrol. Singed and soot covered Jaffa occasionally came from the path that led to the gate and reinforcements reluctantly headed back to the still burning fire, but there had been no increase in wariness or patrols. With all the things that had gone wrong with this mission, it was about time a break swung his way.
Jack scoped out the pyramids once more. With his field glasses, he could see that only the center pyramid was used. The other two showed clear signs of abandonment, with unfinished upper levels covered in dirt and debris. He would start with those.
The fading light of the sun barely illuminated the doorway of the first pyramid and Jack had to use his night-vision goggles to work his way around though the deserted corridors. The inside of the pyramid was as incomplete as the outside and several inches of powdery dust covered everything. No matter how slowly he moved, the thick dust billowed up with each step and hung in the stale air. Nothing had walked these halls in years. Jack had never been easily spooked but the absolute deadness of the pyramid weighed on his mind. The dank air tasted foul and the dust settled on him. It crept under his bandages and caked the bloodstains on his clothes. He followed the main corridor until he came to a three-way branch. Each tunnel looked as dim and haunted as the others.
Jack chose a corner, pulled a small handheld device out of his vest pocket and frowned at it as he turned it over in his hands. I should have paid more attention to the 'How to use the alien technology' part of the mission briefing. He flipped it back to the front and tapped at it. The device came on with an electronic whine and the top half lit up to display a small screen with a directional readout. Not so alien, after all. His flack jacket pinched against his injured side and the bruises he'd earned in this fight with the Jaffa were beginning to ache. He panned the handheld device in front of him, watching for any change in the read out. There was a small flicker of light when he pointed it to the rightmost tunnel. He pushed his claustrophobic fears aside and followed the directional down into the darkness.
The signal on the device grew brighter as he traveled further into the gloom. The green tint of his night-vision goggles added to the ominous feeling that filled the halls. An eternity later, he reached a heavy door that rated the highest signal on the device. The door groaned when Jack pushed on it and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He eased it open, watching for any traps or alarms. Jack didn't find any, and he surveyed the room. Tables and workbenches crowded the small space and shelves lined the walls. Ambient lighting began to glow when the door swung open and Jack slid the goggles to his forehead. Shadows of glyphs covered every surface of the room within, and Jack squinted at the barely illuminated writing that lay beneath the thick coat of dust that permeated the building. Daniel would love it here, he knew. He could almost hear Daniel expound on the wonderful enigmatic qualities of the writings. What a geek. Jack fought back a pang of regret for keeping everyone out of the loop on this. It was necessary. Even if they understood why they couldn't have come along, they'd still feel guilty. Now they would just be angry. One thing Jack knew was that anger was easier to live with than guilt.
A slight vibration in the handheld device jerked Jack's attention back to it. The display pointed to the far wall, where vials and boxes sat and gleamed in the new light. As Jack approached the containers, the handheld's vibration grew stronger and it emitted a high-pitched alarm. Jack stabbed at it with his fingers and it silenced with an angry whine. He dropped it into his vest pocket and waited for signs that something had heard the alarm. The stillness of the pyramid settled on him like a blanket. He swung the pack of C-4 off his back and pulled out ten bricks of the explosive. After he placed the bricks around the room, he connected the detonators. With one last double-check, Jack pulled out a can of the incendiary power and spread it around the room. He took care not to walk in it. The last thing he needed was to bring the fire out with him like a Wile E. Coyote cartoon.
Jack stood outside the room, detonation timer in hand. The charges could be triggered manually, but he needed a backup timer. The problem was deciding how long he should set them for. It had taken him just over an hour to find the room and place the charges. The second deserted pyramid shouldn't take much longer than that but the occupied one could be a problem. He needed enough time to complete the job, but not so long that the Jaffa would discover his sabotage. Deciding that dawn was his deadline for this job anyhow, he set the timers for five hours. The sun would rise on a dead world.
It took twenty minutes to wind his way out of the pyramid. The deep, velvet black of the night sky was set with stars arranged in strange constellations but it was a welcome sight after the suffocating closeness of the long forgotten passages. He drew in deep breaths of the fresh air and tried to rid his lungs of the pyramid's grit. The night air chilled him and the sweat that trailed down his neck and back left cold paths on his skin. The bandages on his face and neck had worked loose and he pulled them off with an irritated jerk. The cuts itched with caked-on dust but they didn't bleed anymore and the staff weapon burn in his side had ebbed to a tolerable level. After one more moment's recuperation, he worked his way around to the other deserted pyramid on the far side.
The tall lights illuminated the area in front of the pyramids, but the Jaffa seemed disinterested in watching either the prisoners or the surrounding darkness. Instead, they sat around a fire in the center of the corrals and talked among themselves. The fire by the gate still burned. Bright, hungry flames licked the sky just over the tops of the trees, but the Jaffa seemed content to ignore it. If only all Jaffa would be that apathetic. Jack studied the possible avenues of rescue and escape. If this were a rescue mission, it would be easy to sneak down into the camp, find a way to release the prisoners and--
He forced his thoughts and eyes away from the encampment and faded into the dark woods. This wasn't a rescue mission and there would be no escape for any of them.
Jack flipped on the night-vision, crept around the occupied pyramid to the one on the far side and scrutinized it. Unlike the first one that had looked abandoned, this pyramid looked battle damaged. Dark stains ran up the sides, looking like eerie green smoke through the goggles, and the top of the building was shattered and broken. Debris littered the approach to the entrance. Jack picked his way over the jagged edges of stone. He kept a close eye out for wildlife or booby traps but he made it into the pyramid without seeing either.
The evidence of fire was stronger inside, along with the scattered remains from explosive blasts. Jack slipped off the goggles and risked a light in order to study the damage. Staff weapon blasts marred the wall and a large part of the ceiling had collapsed and filled the corridor with of stone shards. His light glinted off a piece of metal and Jack eased several stones aside to reveal an old, dented staff weapon and the skeleton hand that had once held it.
This pyramid didn't just feel like a crypt, it was one. Jack flipped off his light and sat back on his heels while he waited for his eyes to adjust to the returned darkness. Whatever happed here happened a long time ago and may have nothing at all to do with why he was here now. Yeah, right. Jack stood, turned his back on the stone covered body and pulled the goggles on again. The battle damage and combatant remains did nothing to ease the oppressive dank emptiness. Jack made a mental list of the damage he ran into and tried to fill his mind with recreated battles rather than images of dusty ghosts.
The catacomb atmosphere grew as he followed the blinking directional of the alien device into the lower levels of the building. He had to crawl through several caved-in corridors and once had to backtrack several turns to work around a blocked passageway. The same fine dust covered everything in this pyramid. It worked its way into his clothing, clouded the lenses of his goggles and made each breath taste of grit and death. The further down he went the more skeletal remains he found. They lay along the halls, grinning sentinels that surveyed his intrusion into their grave. A paranoid feeling that he was being watched grew at the back of his mind, and he focused his attention on the signal and the floor directly in font of him.
Once again, he lost track of time. The surreal surroundings and blinking device blended to create a tunnel vision. He wasn't ready when the device split the silence with its sudden piercing alarm. A stone door loomed ahead of him. Unlike the door in the first pyramid, though, this one was several inches ajar, held open by the bones of a long dead Jaffa. Jack pushed against it but it didn't move. He pocketed the device, shrugged out of his equipment, and leaned into the door with his shoulder.
It moved with a loud, screeching groan. There was a muffled rumble somewhere above, dust showered to the ground. With a low, vibrating roar, the ceiling collapsed. Jack's ears filled with the splintering of stone and everything went dark.
***
"I just wish I knew what he thought he was doing," Daniel said.
Sam didn't have an answer, so she ignored him, as she had the first five times he's said it. Instead, she drummed her fingers on the conference room table and waited for General Hammond to get off the phone and join them. Daniel had given up sitting and paced around the room. Teal'c watched them both, elbows on the table, fingers steepled in front of him. Sam despised his calmness.
They had learned nothing new in the past three hours. The last time she had checked on Walter's progress with the inventory, he'd told her that he'd finish a lot faster if he didn't have to answer the phone every ten minutes. She'd read the reports so many times that she could quote them from memory. Colonel O'Neill had a future in fiction writing if his account was false. It was the most believable and well-supported report in the large stack of papers she'd been reading. Of course, the fact that he'd had his paperwork completed and handed in two hours after the incident and three hours before the general had demanded it should have been a tip-off that something was wrong. Colonel O'Neill never completed his paperwork before it was due.
Sam was about to join Daniel in his trek around the table when the general hung up the phone and walked into the conference room.
"Have a seat, Dr. Jackson, before I have to have new flooring installed."
Daniel had the good graces to look sheepish and took the seat next to Sam.
"That was Captain Jameson of the Minnesota Air National Guard." General Hammond took the seat at the end of the table. "There is no sign of Colonel O'Neill. The last anyone saw of our good colonel was the neighbor who gave him a ride from the nearest town to his cabin. She says that she left Jack standing next to the lake with a pile of supplies. She thought he was going to be there for a while and was surprised to learn that he was missing. No one else the captain spoke to even knew the colonel was in the state."
"We have no idea where he is now?"
"None," General Hammond replied. "But it's a small community, Captain Jameson is certain that someone saw something that will help. He has two men in the area and the local police are on the lookout."
"Excuse me, sir." Walter stood at the top of the stairs. He held several reports and waited for Hammond to nod him into the room. "We've finished the inventory. I have copies of the report here."
"Well done, Sergeant," General Hammond said. "What did you find?"
Walter paled as he handed out the reports. "Well, sir, there appears to be a large number of supplies that are, ah, unaccounted for." He flipped open the report that Teal'c hadn’t taken. Looking at it seemed to give him focus. "From the equipment that he requisitioned and the items that are missing, I'd say he has enough camping and survival gear for a long term stay somewhere, sir. We're missing tents, cooking gear, solar heaters, and basic survival tools. A telescope, binoculars and infrared night-vision glasses are also gone. In addition, we are short some basics from the infirmary. Dr. Fraiser says that they are short six field emergency kits that are there for backups, as well as a medical supply box for a field surgical unit. The report will list all of the basic and medical supplies that we believe Colonel O'Neill could have taken."
"What? Jack's going camping?" Daniel's incredulity wasn't lost on Sam.
"There's more than camping gear," Walter answered. "Lieutenant Harding, a biophysicists from the lab, heard what we were doing and told me that she saw Colonel O'Neill take one of the laptops from the lab last Wednesday. When she inquired, he made some comment about not being able to play solitaire with cards anymore. She said she knew Colonel O'Neill was always a little different, but that she felt she had to mention it now. I asked her to look into what else was gone and her list of missing supplies is included. The most notable item is a naquadah generator."
"One of my generators?" Sam flipped through the report and scanned the list. Some of the missing items were so obscure that she doubted the colonel had taken them, but the missing generator was one of the new models. The report also listed that there was a power converter missing. "If he's planning on using it for electrical power, it would last for decades. Unless. . ." A terrible thought struck her. What if he's not using it as an energy supply? She looked back at Walter. "What about the armory?"
Walter paused for a moment and visibly gathered his nerve before he continued. "We confirmed that we are missing items from the armory."
"What items?" Hammond paged through the report.
"They're listed on the last page, sir." Walter hesitated and then said in a rush, "A P-90 with two thousand rounds; an M-16 with five hundred rounds; two zats; two 9-mm's with a thousand rounds each; two regular issue knives; twenty Claymores and fifty bricks of C-4 with accompanying detonators and timers."
Sam's quiet "Wow" was drowned out by General Hammond.
"How the hell did he do that?"
"The best we can figure, Colonel O'Neill altered Wednesday night's duty roster so that Airman Michaels was to be relieved at midnight, but didn't pass that change along to her relief, Airmen Jenkins. When Colonel O'Neill passed by at 00:15 hours and learned that Michaels should have been relieved already, he offered to stand duty for her and look into the matter. When Jenkins showed up at 02:00 hours, he relieved Colonel O'Neill, who explained that there had been a mix up in the duty roster and that there wasn't any real problem. Both airmen say they thought it was odd, but that they felt Colonel O'Neill was just being a 'stand-up officer'."
"That leaves two hours in which Colonel O'Neill could have taken anything he wanted from the armory," the general said.
"Yes, sir." Walter set the report on the table.
"Could he have put this all on the MALP?" Daniel asked.
Sam thought about it for a moment. "Possibly. Especially if he took the weapons to Minnesota with him instead of sending them through the gate."
"How the hell did he get that much weaponry off my base without our security stopping him?"
Walter cleared his throat. "If I may, sir? I checked into the SFs standing entry duty. The colonel didn't remove anything from the base on Thursday, but Friday he removed a large number of boxes. Colonel O'Neill stated that they were full of recyclables he intended to donate to the local schools for their recycling drive."
"Are not all items leaving the base inspected?" Teal'c asked.
"Yes, and the boxes they checked did contain recyclables, but they admit that they didn't check all the boxes. It was Colonel O'Neill, after all."
The general said something under his breath that Sam couldn't hear, but she could make a good guess at what it was.
"Thank you, Sergeant," said the general aloud. "You have done excellent work."
Walter nodded, saluted and left.
"He couldn't have smuggled the generator out that way," Sam said.
"Why not?"
General Hammond answered. "Because the sensors we have installed at the entrances will detect the naquadah. It was a security protocol that we installed at Colonel O'Neill's suggestion. If he did take the generator, he must have shipped it through the gate."
After a moment of silence, Daniel spoke. "I suppose it would be too much to hope that he sent the weapons through on the MALP and took the camping equipment to Minnesota."
"Why would he send the weapons through to P45-393?" Sam asked.
"What would he be doing with weapons in Minnesota?"
Blaring klaxons spared her from having to answer. Walter's voice rang over the speakers, "Unauthorized incoming wormhole."
The four of them rose as one and headed for the stairs. A moment later, they stood behind the dialing computer and watched as a signal passed through the gate. Sam couldn't shake the feeling that it would be Jack's SG-1 signal.
"It's the Tok'ra," Walter announced.
"Open the iris," Hammond turned and nodded at Sam.
Sam let out the breath she didn't realize that she'd held. She nodded at the general and headed down the stairs, Teal'c and Daniel right behind her.
They walked into the gate room just as Jacob Carter walked down the ramp. "Sam," he said, smiling. "It's good to see you." The wormhole snapped shut and General Hammond's order to stand-down rang through the room.
"Dad," Sam gave him a hug in greeting. "I'm glad you could come so soon."
"I expected to hear from you earlier," Jacob said. "With the short time-line we're working on, I thought that you'd have started on this already."
Sam pulled away. "What?"
Jacob looked from her to Daniel and Teal'c. "Isn't Jack here? I thought he'd have some questions for me. Or is he already gone? Have you heard anything?"
"What are you talking about, Dad?"
Jacob frowned at them, and then looked up at the control room. "George, what's going on here?"
"That's the question I have for you, Jacob," Hammond's voice echoed through the PA system. "Come on up and we'll get to the bottom of this."
Jacob nodded and looked back at his daughter and her team. "Jack's not here?"
"No." Sam led the way up to the briefing room.
"Maybe it's best if he's not here," Jacob said. "He'd hate this mission."
For the first time, Sam hoped that this was all just an elaborate prank that the colonel was pulling. The alternative looked much worse.
***
It took Jack awhile to realize he wasn't dead. He blinked awake through the pain and the dust and peered into the darkness that surrounded him. A heavy weight pressed on his legs but otherwise he was unhurt. He fought to pull himself into a sitting position and tried to wrench his legs free but he couldn't move them. When he reached out into the darkness, his hands met cold stone where his legs should have been. Panicked, he rolled to the side. A sharp stab of pain shot up his leg, stole his breath and caused white lights to dance in front of him. Jack closed his eyes and let the wave of nausea and fear fade away.
After a moment, he opened them again. The pain was less and the air seemed to be clearing of grit, but the darkness blinded him. He waved his hand in front of his face and while he could feel the air move, the hand was invisible. With a frustrated sigh, he patted the floor around him and hoped his goggles hadn't been buried. It was too dangerous to shift the debris until he could see what damage it would cause, both to the building and to his legs.
His hand hit the goggles and a quick tug released them from the rubble. He slid them onto his head and they scraped over a new gash on his forehead. The pain of it clouded his vision and the world spun. Once able to breathe again, he dropped the goggles in place and flipped the on-switch. There was an electronic buzz and the world flickered green and fuzzy. The view in the goggles steadied and the room swam into focus in front of him.
A small portion of the ceiling had fallen when he'd pushed on the door. Dust drifted through the air and the skeleton that had been trapped in the doorway grinned at him. The walls around him groaned and shuddered but they held. The falling stones had pushed him back as it knocked him down and the fallen debris had landed on his legs rather than his head. It was a miracle he wasn't dead. Some miracle: trapped in a Goa'uld pyramid on a God-forsaken planet.
The pile of stone fragments on his legs was heavy and his left one ached from the pressure, but it bothered him more that he couldn't feel his right leg at all. He pushed himself up to a sitting position to get a better look at the problem. The pile of debris that spread out before him was two feet high and made up of small fragments of stone from the ceiling. The real problem was the one large slab of ceiling that lay on top of the debris that covered his legs. It could either pin him there forever or slide off and crush him.
Clouds of dust rose up to choke him when he cleared some of the smaller pieces away but he couldn't get enough leverage to move the heavy slab. He waited for the dust to settle and studied the pile again. His digging had only caused the stone to slip more his way. This wasn't working, so he changed tactics. His left leg was partially uncovered, so he dug at the dirt on that side. As soon as he had freed his thigh and knee, he eased his left foot out from under the pile of rubble. The large block teetered, slid imperceptibly toward him and then steadied. He flexed his leg, happy for the twinges of pain he felt, just as long as he could move it. If only the next leg was freed as easily.
Jack took a deep breath, leaned back and placed his foot against the stone. After two more deep breaths and the count of three, he gritted his teeth and shoved. The stone block grated against the debris it rested on, resistant to the pressure. He braced himself against the doorjamb and pushed again. The slab held for a moment, then slid back and sideways to ram into the door. The plumes of dust that filled the air choked him. The heavy stone door groaned and rained another shower of filth down on him but the ceiling held. Jack waited for the suffocating cloud to settle again. It only took minutes for a grainy blanket of dirt to cover him.
The crushing weight was off his leg but the numbness remained. After a moment's pause to gather his courage, he shifted his weight, and wrenched his leg out from under the pile of rubble. His knee twisted. A blinding pulse of agony lanced up his leg and white points of light danced in front of his eyes.
"Oh, God!" He slammed his fist into the ground and fought to ride out the wave of pain and nausea. Still got feeling, then. That's good. The pain usually ebbed after a couple of seconds, but this time it continued to burn, sharp and agonizing. It was almost impossible to focus but he managed to blink through the pain.
One heavy stone, still buried in the shale, trapped his foot and forced his knee to bend and twist at an unnatural angle; when he ran his hand down his leg and over his knee, he felt the telltale bump of a dislocated kneecap. He exhaled sharply through his nose, bent forward and pushed the stone off his foot. The weight eased but the pain remained. The kneecap had to be snapped back into place. Ideally, someone else should pull the leg straight after giving him something for the immense pain that the action would cause. Having neither help nor meds, he settled for biting down on the strap of the goggles before he straightened the leg. The kneecap slid back into place with a grinding snap. The pain peaked, the world spun. His muffled scream echoed around the room.
He lay back, breathing heavily. There hadn't been the burning rip nor the distinctive pop that accompanied a torn ligament. The pain had morphed into a penetrating tiredness that infected his entire body but that was far preferable to the brain numbing agony of a few seconds ago. He moved his foot, braced himself and flexed his knee. It was weak and sore and a slight grinding noise echoed through his bones when it moved. But move it did.
Relief gave him new strength. He managed to pull himself up, balanced on his left leg and flexed his right knee again. Encouraged, he put some weight on it. It held. Movement and use didn't cause any additional pain and he could stand on it when it was locked straight, although it threatened to buckle when he bent it. There was none of the usual searing pain from the abuse of torn muscles and he allowed himself the thought that there was no major damage. He could feel the knee stiffen, though, and he knew that even without a tear, the swelling and weakness from the dislocation would still cause him problems. An elasticized support bandage was stuffed into the bottom of the first aid kit in his satchel and he used it to bind his knee. The pressure from the wrap eased the pain and he could trust it with his full weight, even when bent. He didn't think he'd climb many stairs or run anywhere in the near future, though.
He leaned against the doorframe and took a moment's rest to look over the room. The goggles flickered and the static that snowed in front of his eyes obscured the details of what he saw. Cracks laced the ceiling and entire sections had fallen into piles of debris scattered across the floor. Tables and workbenches were half-buried in the rubble and he could see the naked bones of those who had died there.
It was a tomb; the first of many this planet would have. Jack dug the pack with the C-4 out of the dust and picked his way through the rubble. Like the room in the other pyramid, there were shelves along the walls, but these were damaged and broken. Shattered remnants of jars and containers littered the floor, layered between the strata of debris. Most of the damage was years old and shrouded with dust, but the collapse of the ceiling had dislodged several shelves and the new damage stood out against years of collected residue. Jack didn't know if the sudden chemical taste to the air was his imagination but the more he thought about it the more he could taste it. The walls closed in on him.
"Get a grip, Jack." He set ten charges of the red-marked C-4 around the room, then hobbled back to the doorway and traded his pack for his satchel. While use strengthened his knee, it still hurt like hell and shook with fatigue. The thick layer of dust hid debris and he had to kick the dirt away to find sure footing. The air was soon filled with a choking cloud of grit that spun like dust devils around him. After he inserted the detonators, he spread the contents of another can of the powdery napalm over everything. This place needed to burn.
The claustrophobia from the room didn't ease when he limped back out into the hall. He fought the feeling and, after one last look around the room, he synchronized the timers with the ones in the first pyramid. More than ninety minutes had passed. If he could make it out of the pyramid in thirty minutes, he'd have two hours before everything blew. One hundred-twenty short minutes to avoid the Jaffa patrols, infiltrate the occupied, guarded pyramid, place the bombs and get safely away. Piece of cake. The timer almost disappeared into the dust when he set it down; it's blinking numbers ominous in the inky blackness. The empty eye sockets of the skeleton followed him as he moved and ghosts skittered at the back of his mind. It took all his concentration to ignore the fear as he retraced his steps out of the pyramid.
The fresh night air was even more welcome this time and the open darkness finally dispelled the paranoia that ate at him. Jack hobbled to the side and placed his back against the solid stone wall. He slipped off the night-vision goggles and wiped the sweat away from his face. A large red orb of a moon had appeared while he'd been inside. It bathed the surrounding area in a surreal light that washed everything in blood. A violent shudder racked his body and he fought to keep his balance. It was so much colder out here than it had been in the suffocating closeness of the building. He refused to believe that his shivering came from anything other than the cool forest air. More sweat dripped into his eyes and he wiped it away, then stopped and peered at it. It wasn't sweat; it was blood.
He stared at it, a deep crimson in the red-lit moonlight.
Another powerful tremor shook his body and he sank to the ground as he rode out a wave of nausea. His head felt filled with rocks and his warm blood dripped down his cheek. A quick check revealed a large gash above his right eye and a goose egg-sized bump behind his ear. If he had a concussion, he was in big trouble. The stone felt cold against his face and it helped him focus.
The zat and some clips for the P-90 had been lost in the ceiling collapse. The night-vision goggles were damaged and his equipment, like himself, was coated in the talc-like dust. It would be a miracle if anything would work. Pain filled his head and he retched bloody grit onto the ground. He just needed to rest a couple of minutes and give himself a chance to acclimate to the cold. Shivers crawled over his skin and across his scalp. Just a minute's rest and he'd be as good as new. His eyes closed and the tremors in his arms and legs lessened, his ragged breathing loud in the silence.
***
"Dad, we're in the dark here," Sam said as she sat down at the conference table. "Why did you think we contacted you?"
"Because of the mission, of course," Jacob said. "The one that Anise was to propose."
"What mission?" Hammond asked the question before Sam could.
"Anise didn't talk to any of you?" Jacob Carter stared at the people assembled across the table from him.
"No," Sam said. "Anise didn't say ten words to me while she was here." She looked at her teammates.
"I didn't see her at all," Daniel confirmed. "Teal'c?"
"Anise did not engage me in conversation during her stay," Teal'c answered. "Neither did Freya."
Jacob looked over at the general. "George?"
"She said she just needed to talk to Dr. Fraiser. You better fill us in, Jacob."
"About three weeks ago, word reached the Tok'ra council that a planet that had once belonged to Nirrti had fallen under the control of Cronus. On this planet, Cronus discovered one of Nirrti's labs that had been abandoned and unused for centuries. It looked as if Nirrti had given up her research there, but Cronus sent one of his people to investigate it. He discovered that Nirrti had been working on a powerful contagion."
"Like the one she used on Cassandra's planet?" Sam didn't even try to keep the hatred from her voice.
Jacob's head bowed and Selmak spoke. "Not exactly. That virus, while powerful, wasn't airborne, had limited reproduction capabilities and was non-persistent. This new virus is several times more powerful, is airborne, reproduces itself rapidly and is persistent. From what we learned, a single infected subject could annihilate an entire planet in less then twenty-four hours and the virus itself could possibly survive on that planet for several decades. It would continue to infect anyone exposed to it." Selmak waited for them to assimilate that information before she continued. "The only positive aspect is that the virus kills quickly. Those exposed die within minutes."
Daniel stared at Jacob, aghast. "That's a positive?"
"Yes," Sam answered quietly. "It means that it would be restricted to one planet. It would insure that no infected subject could escape and carry the virus to new places." She kept her voice calm and focused on the scientific aspect of the conversation. "What information do we have on the contagion?"
"The microorganism remains dormant until combined with the activating enzyme. Prior to that exposure, it is vulnerable to extreme temperatures. Burning is the most effective manner of destroying it at this point."
"Then we firebomb the base," General Hammond suggested.
"No," Jacob took over the conversation. "We need to be sure that all samples of the virus are destroyed. None of the weapons we have available are powerful enough to insure that."
"What about a thermonuclear weapon?"
Daniel leaned forward. "What, 'nuke it from orbit'?" Is that the military's response to--"
"We considered that," Jacob interrupted. "There is concern that the penetrating nuclear radiation may have an unknown effect on the virus. The radioactivity and heat might combine to mutate the contagion. The planet also has very strong electromagnetic fields in its upper atmosphere. Our sensors can't penetrate it clearly enough to give us the readings we need to pinpoint the base or check for success."
"What does that leave us?" Sam asked. "Is there any possibility of a counteragent or a vaccine?"
Jacob shook his head. "We've not discovered a counteragent. There, is however, a vaccine, of sorts.
"Of sorts?" Daniel repeated. "What do you mean 'of sorts'?"
Selmak again took over the conversation. "While the virus is only fatal to humans, the vaccine has an unfortunate reaction to naquadah. None of the Tok'ra test subjects survived."
"Then I won't be able to have the vaccine," Sam pointed out.
"No. With the naquadah in your blood, it would kill you."
"I, also, would be unable to receive the vaccine," Teal'c said.
Selmak nodded. "It is fatal to all Jaffa."
"But we could distribute it on Earth," Daniel said. "We could start by vaccinating the personnel of the SGC."
Sam nodded. "Once we have a team inoculated, we can infiltrate the base and destroy the contagion." She may not be able to take the vaccine, but she could help make and distribute it.
"That was the plan that Anise was to propose," Selmak said. "Jacob and I convinced the Tok'ra council that the SGC would accept the mission but that we needed to be completely forthcoming with you."
"Forthcoming about what?" Hammond demanded.
"The vaccine is very difficult to make," Selmak said. "The exact effect of the drug on each person is determined by the individual's physiology; therefore, the vaccine needs to be tailored to each person that it is given to. The development of each individual vaccine takes days."
"So, no mass produced vaccine to distribute to the population," Daniel said.
Selmak nodded. "There is also a problem of persistence."
"Persistence in the environment?"
"No, individual persistence. Those who are vaccinated are protected from the effects of the virus but it doesn't eliminate the virus from their system."
"They would become carriers." It took Sam a moment to understand the full meaning of Selmak's statement. Her heart fell. "They would be the modern equivalent of Typhoid Mary. Immune from the effects but infecting everyone else they met.
"Yes," Jacob returned to the conversation.
"But only if they were exposed, right?" Daniel asked. "If they destroyed the virus without coming in contact with it, then it wouldn't be a problem. There would be no reason. . ." He faded off when he saw Jacob shake his head.
"Even with the best possible scenario, some of the contagion would be released. Our operative made it clear they stored activated contagion on the planet in order to test it on living subjects. When we destroy the production labs, some of the activated contagion will escape."
"That will kill everyone on the planet," Daniel looked across at Sam, appalled.
Sam shared his feelings but knew they didn't have the luxury of being scrupulous.
"From our information the planet has no intelligent, indigenous life forms," Jacob said. "There hasn't been for hundreds of years."
"You don't know that for sure. It's got to be a big planet."
Jacob shook his head. "There is no other way, Daniel. This planet was dead as soon as Nirrti placed her experimental lab there."
"Jacob Carter is correct," Teal'c added. "We must not let Cronus utilize this weapon. It is a necessary sacrifice."
"A necessary sacrifice?" Daniel's voice rose. "Is that what genocide is called these days?"
"What about our team?" Sam ignored Daniel. "What would happen to them?"
"They should be immune to the effects of the contagion," Selmak answered. "However, as I said, they will be infected."
"They will never be able to leave the planet," Sam finished. She felt sick.
"No."
"What?" Daniel rubbed his hand across his face. "First they release a virus that kills every other living person on the planet and then they'll be trapped there?"
"It is an unfortunate circumstance," Selmak said.
Sam pressed her hands against the cool wood of the conference table, the room close and hot around her. This was a suicide mission. No, this is worse. Whoever did this would have to live, live on a world that they had killed.
Necessary Sacrifices Part 3
Fandom: SG1
Characters: All of them
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 53,110
Warnings/Spoilers: Mentions of episodes through the 4th Season
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Summary/Notes: Col. Jack O'Neill blacks out the base and then promptly disappears. What is Jack planning and what is he willing to sacrifice in order to accomplish that plan? Can the team find Jack before it's too late? What if it's already too late?
Necessary Sacrifices: Part 1 -- Part 2
"This is so not good," Jack muttered to himself.
He crouched in the underbrush and studied the five Jaffa who guarded the Stargate. So much for the easy part. No one was supposed to be guarding the gate. For that matter, no one was supposed to be anywhere on the planet at all. Typical lousy intel work. He shifted his attention to the clearing off to the left where three large Jaffa-style tents stood. From the equipment and supplies, it looked as if the Jaffa had been here for some time and planned to stay a while longer. The gate had to be disabled and he had to do it without letting anyone know that he was doing it. At the very least, he'd have to do it without being caught and killed.
Jack rolled onto his back and slid down the slight incline into the dry riverbed that circled the clearing. The stone-strewn gully provided perfect cover as he worked his way a mile upstream to his stash of equipment. The Tok'ra had thought it foolish to drop him and his equipment down so far from the gate. If he had gone with their plan, he would have ended up in the middle of the Jaffa encampment. It was a miracle the Tok'ra were still around; they knew squat about black ops. They may be great at infiltrating the Goa'uld as double agents, but real action always involved a Tok'ra death. Well, dying wasn't on his agenda, thank you very much.
Once safe in the small cave where he'd cached his equipment, he did a quick survey. He couldn't use the claymores or C-4. That would bring the Jaffa in the area down on him. What he needed was a distraction, preferably one that wouldn't alert them he was here. Of course, just because he couldn't blow things up, didn't mean he couldn't burn them down. As part of this mission, the Tok'ra had given him several containers of incendiary powder. Once lit by flame or explosive, it would burn hot enough to melt metal and burn for hours. With the amount of bad intel the Tok'ra had given him already on this mission, Jack was happy for the chance to try it out.
He put one of the canisters of 'Tok'ra napalm' in his satchel and dropped a flare into his vest pocket. After he double-checked the load in his P-90 and his pistol, he dug out a zat and secured it to his belt. Then he circled around the entrance to make sure there were no signs that pointed to the cave, and slowly worked his way around to the clearing. Fifteen minutes later, he crouched directly behind the Jaffa campsite.
None of the Jaffa were visible, but he could hear movement inside the tents when he crept close to the shelters. The incendiary powder looked like a trail of sugar and a smell like stale peppermint wafted from it as he poured it along the edge of the tent. He ran to the next shelters and duplicated the move. Then he retraced his steps to the cover of the wood, lit the flare and tossed it onto the white trail of powder he had just laid. It erupted to life with a quiet roar. Blue flames consumed the tents in seconds and sent their occupants running out in confusion and terror. Jack ducked into the underbrush and worked his way back to the gate. Smoke from the tents began to fill the air over the clearing and shouts from the Jaffa who fought the fires carried over to him.
The Jaffa that guarded the gate watched as the smoke rose and listened to the cries of their comrades. Jack could hear them argue, unsure of their duty. Another shout, this one a definite call for help, decided it for them. Two of the guards ran off and two more followed after, leaving only one, lone guard at the gate. He, too, seemed concerned with the flames, but he stood to his post. So it goes, the good soldier dies first.
Jack crept to the edge of the clearing and waited until the guard's attention was once again drawn to the smoke and flames, then he sprinted out into the open and zatted the guard. The Jaffa fell like a stone. Jack zatted him twice more, in hopes that a missing Jaffa would raise fewer questions than a dead one.
Ignoring the empty space where the dead Jaffa had lain not more than a second ago, Jack ran to the DHD and pulled open the control panel. He stared at the complex circuitry inside and fought to remember which doohickey did what. I am so over my head, here. After a moment's hesitation, he reached in, grasped a small greenish crystal and jerked it free from the machine. The DHD emitted a short moan, blinked twice, and then lost all power. Jack smiled to himself, pocketed the crystal and closed the control panel. Score one for the lucky inept. A blast from the burning tents rang through the air and Jack hoped he'd been lucky enough to destroy their armory.
It was the slightest whisper of movement that saved him, the tiniest suggestion of cloth rubbing on cloth and the faintest taste of ozone in the air. Jack spun and dove off to the side as the searing blast of a Jaffa staff weapon burned past his side. He rolled to the right, pulled his zat, and returned fire, a strategy that would have worked if there had been only one attacker. As it was, the two zat shots struck the lead Jaffa, but left the second one standing.
Jack continued his roll and ignored the burning pain in his side. The Jaffa shot again. The energy weapon blasted a hole into the ground where Jack had been a moment before and sharp fragments of rock bit into his face and arms. A second shot split the air next to his head. The wave of hot air from the passing bolt of energy singed his hat and left the smell of burnt hair hanging in the air. Jack spun out of his roll and turned his momentum toward his attacker. The Jaffa didn't keep up with Jack's sudden change. Jack dove under the staff weapon and drove his shoulder into the stomach of the Jaffa.
The Jaffa fell with a grunt. Jack slammed into the hard ground on top of him. The staff weapon clattered to the side and sent its final blast into the DHD. Jack's zat popped from his hand and landed out of reach. The Jaffa twisted and belted Jack across the face. Jack's world spun and his head rang. Something wet and warm dripped over his eyes and clouded his vision. Jack struggled to draw the knife sheathed at his side. The Jaffa grabbed for Jack's throat and squeezed. Jack fought to unsnap the leather band that held the knife in place. The world faded away and his blood roared in his ears.
The knife came free from its scabbard.
Jack pulled the knife across the Jaffa's throat and rolled free of the dying man's grasp. Gagging for breath, he stumbled over to the zat. Six shots later, the only signs of battle were the burn marks on the DHD. Jack picked up the staff weapon that still lay on the ground and tossed it into the tall grass next to the DHD. The camp still burned white-hot and another explosion pushed more flame and smoke into the air. He didn't know how long his fight had lasted. No more than a few seconds. No one arrived to investigate the sounds of the staff weapon blasts. The sounds and confusion of the fire must have masked the fight. After one last look around, he melted into the concealing brush in the woods.
It only took fifteen minutes to arrive safely back in his bolthole. He sat on a low ledge of rock and took a personal inventory. The first blast had left an angry burn along his side that hurt like hell, but the flack vest he wore had absorbed most of the damage. The scorching on his face and neck wasn't severe and hurt less than did the bruises that the Jaffa's death grip had left. What bothered him most were the cuts and punctures caused by the debris the staff blast had thrown up. He wiped the dried blood off his face and covered the lacerations with some antibiotic cream.
Not a bad outcome, really. Three Jaffa were dead and his wounds were superficial. He pulled the green crystal out of his pocket and set it protectively on his stack of armament. Without the crystal, the DHD wouldn't work but if all went well, he would be able to repair it and get off this rock. The sounds of the Jaffa who fought the fire drifted in to the cave as he gathered the surveillance equipment he needed. It seemed the Tok'ra were right about the powder. The intel may have stunk but at least the equipment worked. With any luck, the fire would burn long enough to keep the Jaffa distracted while he reconned the area.
He might live long enough to finish the job after all.
***
The talk in the corridors of the SGC was all about Colonel O'Neill. Daniel could hear snatches of conversation as he hurried along to the conference room that SG-1 had commandeered. The speculation ranged from the mundane to the outrageous and Daniel fought the urge to eavesdrop on the rumors. Even after they had worked on the problem for twenty-four hours, the team didn't have any better idea what had happened than those who gossiped in the halls did.
Sam looked up from a report when Daniel entered. "What did the general say?"
"Nothing. Everyone he's talked to says that they have no operations going on that involve Jack." Daniel sat down, grateful to be able to rest. "He's afraid to push any harder because Kinsey already suspects that something is up. I think we're running out of time here. If we can't come up with something soon, Hammond is going to have to go with Jack's explanation in order to keep Kinsey from going after the SGC."
"I haven't had any more luck than the general," Sam confessed. "Teal'c reported back from P45-393. There's no sign of the MALP. They're doing a wider search in case something has walked off with it, but I wouldn't hold my breath. It's almost as if the colonel didn't send the MALP there at all."
"Then what did he do with it?"
"I don't know. I can't figure out how he could have done any of this." She rubbed her hands across her face. "We need to talk to him."
"Yeah, well, we can't."
"Why not?"
"We can't find him." He continued before Sam could interrupt. "Hammond sent a couple of Special Forces personnel over to his house this morning. The SFs reported that it was locked up tight and his truck was in the garage. The neighbors said he packed a bunch of stuff into a cab yesterday afternoon and left. The SFs are tracking it down now."
"Just. . . great."
Daniel thought that summed it up perfectly. By far the biggest mystery in the universe was Jack O'Neill. It was hard enough to understand him in normal circumstances; they didn't stand a chance when he started being underhanded. Daniel thought back over the conversation he'd had with Jack in his apartment and brought up the only possibility they hadn't covered yet. "I think we should contact the Tok'ra."
"What? Why?"
"Something Jack said to me at my house. Anise was here a week ago. She wanted to talk to Janet about the aftereffects of the armbands."
Sam nodded. "Yes. But she didn't talk to me."
"Me, either, but she could have talked to Jack."
"It's possible." Sam considered it for a moment. "So, this has something to do with the armbands?"
"I don't know, but I think we should check it out."
Sam nodded. "I'll see if I can get a hold of my dad. Meanwhile. . ." she pushed a report across the table at him, "see if you can find anything in this report."
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes until there was a knock at the door and Walter came in.
"Major. Dr. Jackson." He crossed to the table and handed Daniel some papers. "The general asked me to deliver this to you."
"Thank you, Walter." Daniel glanced at it. It was a report from the SFs sent to track down Jack. That was quick. He wondered what kind of pressure Hammond put on them to get results that fast.
"Sergeant," Sam's voice interrupted Daniel's perusal of the file and stopped Walter at the door.
"The MALP that Colonel O'Neill sent through, what was on it?"
"Ma'am?"
"According to the reports, the MALP was heavily loaded. What did Colonel O'Neill send through?"
"I don't know, Major. When he brought it into the gate room it was already packed."
"He loaded it himself?" Daniel asked.
Walter shrugged. "I could look into it for you." His eagerness to help wasn't lost on Daniel. The entire base seemed ready to jump to Jack's aid.
"Do that, Sergeant," Sam ordered. "In fact, I want you to look into what requisitions the colonel made in the past week. I want to know everything down to a paper clip."
Daniel looked over at Sam. "You think he sent supplies?"
She sighed and shook her head. "Assume nothing," she said.
In that case. . . "Then maybe we shouldn't stick to requisitions. We need to run a complete check for missing supplies," Daniel said. "Anything that Colonel O'Neill might've had access to and might need for a mission."
"That will take forever, Daniel," Sam said. "We'd almost have to do a complete inventory."
"All right," he conceded. "How 'bout if we just focus on the big stuff: survival gear, first aid supplies, the usual off world equipment?"
"That's still a huge job."
"I can get some volunteers to help," Walter said. "We could have it done in a couple of hours."
"Fine, Sergeant," Sam said. "I'll let the general know what you're working on."
Walter saluted and left.
Daniel grinned over at Sam. "Volunteering to do inventory, that's a new one."
"They're as worried as we are." Sam looked back at the report before her. "I don't think the colonel knows the type of loyalty he inspires in people."
"I doubt it." Jack's refusal to acknowledge feelings didn't end with his own. Daniel turned his attention back to the report Walter had brought in. He skimmed through it, stopped on the second page, and went back to read it again. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse. He put it down with a sigh and rubbed his eyes.
Sam looked up. "What is it?"
"Jack's movements since leaving home. The cab took him to the airfield where he hopped a transport up to Minneapolis. It looks like he's headed to his cabin. Hammond has sent someone round to collect him and bring him back here."
"That's good news, then."
"Not really. You know that stuff he packed into the cab?" He waited for Sam's nod. "He wouldn't let anyone handle it, but the crew on the transport thought it was armament."
"Weapons?"
"That's what they said."
"Why would he take weapons to his cabin?"
Daniel shrugged.
"Did they say what kind?"
"No, but it does say that it was several bags of armament. It's the only reason the crewman remembered it." He reached over to the phone and dialed an extension.
It was picked up on the second ring. "This is Sergeant Harriman."
"Yes, Walter. Dr. Jackson. Could you please add an inventory of the armory to your to-do list?"
"The armory?" Daniel could hear Walter's puzzlement. "If you think it's necessary."
"I'm afraid I do." Daniel hung up and looked back at Sam. "Walter will let us know if any weapons are missing."
Sam's concerned look mirrored his own. "Oh, Daniel, what is he up to?"
"I don't know, but it can't be good."
***
I just hate this. Jack lay in the tall grass and tried to find some good in his situation.
There wasn't any.
In the valley that lay before him, three Goa'uld pyramids glinted in the last rays of the setting sun. Dozens of Jaffa stood watch over people who cowered in the middle of fenced enclosures. Five tents were clustered together and Jaffa gathered around the open doorways. Large lights mounted on the top of tall poles that grew brighter with the gathering darkness. Movement along the edge of the woods told of the patrols that guarded the perimeter. This was not the secret, half-deserted base he'd been told to expect.
Jack's side ached with a sharp throb that he couldn't quite ignore and the blood from the cuts on his face and arms seeped into the bandages that he'd slapped on. He toyed with the idea of taking some meds to dull the pain, but he was afraid that it would dull everything else as well. He needed to have all his wits about him.
Jack backed off from the cliff edge and made his way to his cave of equipment. Sneaking in and blowing up an unguarded secret lab was one thing; infiltrating three guarded Goa'uld pyramids with the same intent was an altogether different animal. He was damn lucky he'd been paranoid when he packed for this mission or he wouldn't have had enough supplies. The Tok'ra had enhanced most of his explosives with a liberal application of naquadah and they had assured him that when combined with the incendiary powder, it would only take three or four of the new, improved C-4 to destroy the base. It wasn't that Jack didn't believe them -- yeah, right -- it was just that he always preferred being safe to being sorry. Thirty bricks of the 'super C-4', carefully marked with a large red x, sat off to one side. Even if the explosives weren't as powerful as the Tok'ra predicted Jack hoped that ten bricks would bring down a pyramid.
It would be full dark in less than an hour, until then, he'd lay some charges to provide distraction or retreat support. Jack pulled out a satchel and filled it with claymores. He didn't have enough timers for them, so he opted to set them with a tripwire. He didn't like the idea of setting booby traps that anyone could walk into, but if it worked out as planned, there wouldn't be anyone walking around to set them off. If it didn't work out as planned, well, any little annoyance he could be to the Goa'uld was good, even if it happened after he was dead.
As he set the claymores around the perimeter, he kept an eye on the Jaffa and their captives. The prisoners were dressed in different styles of clothing and huddled together in small groups. They were from different planets, Jack realized. The Jaffa at the gate weren't on guard duty; they were the welcoming committee. If the planet had been uninhabited, they would've had to bring in people from other places. A quick count gave him at least sixty prisoners in three different enclosures. He was relieved to see that there were no children in the clusters of frightened people. It was going to be hard enough to do what he had to without having to face the death of children.
Satisfied with the deployment of the claymores, Jack returned to his makeshift base of operations and sorted through his remaining equipment. The sniper rifle and most of the extra clips for the P-90 could stay behind. He strapped the extra 9-mm to his leg in an ankle holster, hooked the zat to his belt and hung a pair of night-vision goggles around his neck. The spare zat, a med-kit, some extra ammunition and the Tok'ra powder went in a satchel that he slung over his shoulder. The bag rested heavily on his hip and he had to readjust it so it didn't cover his pistol. Finally, he transferred all of the 'super' C-4 to a backpack. It was a heavy load and his side protested when he slung it onto his back, but there was no getting around it. If his intel was correct -- and that was a big if -- he had seven hours of darkness. If he didn't get this done before dawn, he wouldn't get this done at all.
He circled behind the pyramids. Two Jaffa patrols passed within twenty feet of him, but they didn't even glance his way. The Jaffa in the camp didn't pay any more attention to their surroundings then did the ones on patrol. Singed and soot covered Jaffa occasionally came from the path that led to the gate and reinforcements reluctantly headed back to the still burning fire, but there had been no increase in wariness or patrols. With all the things that had gone wrong with this mission, it was about time a break swung his way.
Jack scoped out the pyramids once more. With his field glasses, he could see that only the center pyramid was used. The other two showed clear signs of abandonment, with unfinished upper levels covered in dirt and debris. He would start with those.
The fading light of the sun barely illuminated the doorway of the first pyramid and Jack had to use his night-vision goggles to work his way around though the deserted corridors. The inside of the pyramid was as incomplete as the outside and several inches of powdery dust covered everything. No matter how slowly he moved, the thick dust billowed up with each step and hung in the stale air. Nothing had walked these halls in years. Jack had never been easily spooked but the absolute deadness of the pyramid weighed on his mind. The dank air tasted foul and the dust settled on him. It crept under his bandages and caked the bloodstains on his clothes. He followed the main corridor until he came to a three-way branch. Each tunnel looked as dim and haunted as the others.
Jack chose a corner, pulled a small handheld device out of his vest pocket and frowned at it as he turned it over in his hands. I should have paid more attention to the 'How to use the alien technology' part of the mission briefing. He flipped it back to the front and tapped at it. The device came on with an electronic whine and the top half lit up to display a small screen with a directional readout. Not so alien, after all. His flack jacket pinched against his injured side and the bruises he'd earned in this fight with the Jaffa were beginning to ache. He panned the handheld device in front of him, watching for any change in the read out. There was a small flicker of light when he pointed it to the rightmost tunnel. He pushed his claustrophobic fears aside and followed the directional down into the darkness.
The signal on the device grew brighter as he traveled further into the gloom. The green tint of his night-vision goggles added to the ominous feeling that filled the halls. An eternity later, he reached a heavy door that rated the highest signal on the device. The door groaned when Jack pushed on it and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He eased it open, watching for any traps or alarms. Jack didn't find any, and he surveyed the room. Tables and workbenches crowded the small space and shelves lined the walls. Ambient lighting began to glow when the door swung open and Jack slid the goggles to his forehead. Shadows of glyphs covered every surface of the room within, and Jack squinted at the barely illuminated writing that lay beneath the thick coat of dust that permeated the building. Daniel would love it here, he knew. He could almost hear Daniel expound on the wonderful enigmatic qualities of the writings. What a geek. Jack fought back a pang of regret for keeping everyone out of the loop on this. It was necessary. Even if they understood why they couldn't have come along, they'd still feel guilty. Now they would just be angry. One thing Jack knew was that anger was easier to live with than guilt.
A slight vibration in the handheld device jerked Jack's attention back to it. The display pointed to the far wall, where vials and boxes sat and gleamed in the new light. As Jack approached the containers, the handheld's vibration grew stronger and it emitted a high-pitched alarm. Jack stabbed at it with his fingers and it silenced with an angry whine. He dropped it into his vest pocket and waited for signs that something had heard the alarm. The stillness of the pyramid settled on him like a blanket. He swung the pack of C-4 off his back and pulled out ten bricks of the explosive. After he placed the bricks around the room, he connected the detonators. With one last double-check, Jack pulled out a can of the incendiary power and spread it around the room. He took care not to walk in it. The last thing he needed was to bring the fire out with him like a Wile E. Coyote cartoon.
Jack stood outside the room, detonation timer in hand. The charges could be triggered manually, but he needed a backup timer. The problem was deciding how long he should set them for. It had taken him just over an hour to find the room and place the charges. The second deserted pyramid shouldn't take much longer than that but the occupied one could be a problem. He needed enough time to complete the job, but not so long that the Jaffa would discover his sabotage. Deciding that dawn was his deadline for this job anyhow, he set the timers for five hours. The sun would rise on a dead world.
It took twenty minutes to wind his way out of the pyramid. The deep, velvet black of the night sky was set with stars arranged in strange constellations but it was a welcome sight after the suffocating closeness of the long forgotten passages. He drew in deep breaths of the fresh air and tried to rid his lungs of the pyramid's grit. The night air chilled him and the sweat that trailed down his neck and back left cold paths on his skin. The bandages on his face and neck had worked loose and he pulled them off with an irritated jerk. The cuts itched with caked-on dust but they didn't bleed anymore and the staff weapon burn in his side had ebbed to a tolerable level. After one more moment's recuperation, he worked his way around to the other deserted pyramid on the far side.
The tall lights illuminated the area in front of the pyramids, but the Jaffa seemed disinterested in watching either the prisoners or the surrounding darkness. Instead, they sat around a fire in the center of the corrals and talked among themselves. The fire by the gate still burned. Bright, hungry flames licked the sky just over the tops of the trees, but the Jaffa seemed content to ignore it. If only all Jaffa would be that apathetic. Jack studied the possible avenues of rescue and escape. If this were a rescue mission, it would be easy to sneak down into the camp, find a way to release the prisoners and--
He forced his thoughts and eyes away from the encampment and faded into the dark woods. This wasn't a rescue mission and there would be no escape for any of them.
Jack flipped on the night-vision, crept around the occupied pyramid to the one on the far side and scrutinized it. Unlike the first one that had looked abandoned, this pyramid looked battle damaged. Dark stains ran up the sides, looking like eerie green smoke through the goggles, and the top of the building was shattered and broken. Debris littered the approach to the entrance. Jack picked his way over the jagged edges of stone. He kept a close eye out for wildlife or booby traps but he made it into the pyramid without seeing either.
The evidence of fire was stronger inside, along with the scattered remains from explosive blasts. Jack slipped off the goggles and risked a light in order to study the damage. Staff weapon blasts marred the wall and a large part of the ceiling had collapsed and filled the corridor with of stone shards. His light glinted off a piece of metal and Jack eased several stones aside to reveal an old, dented staff weapon and the skeleton hand that had once held it.
This pyramid didn't just feel like a crypt, it was one. Jack flipped off his light and sat back on his heels while he waited for his eyes to adjust to the returned darkness. Whatever happed here happened a long time ago and may have nothing at all to do with why he was here now. Yeah, right. Jack stood, turned his back on the stone covered body and pulled the goggles on again. The battle damage and combatant remains did nothing to ease the oppressive dank emptiness. Jack made a mental list of the damage he ran into and tried to fill his mind with recreated battles rather than images of dusty ghosts.
The catacomb atmosphere grew as he followed the blinking directional of the alien device into the lower levels of the building. He had to crawl through several caved-in corridors and once had to backtrack several turns to work around a blocked passageway. The same fine dust covered everything in this pyramid. It worked its way into his clothing, clouded the lenses of his goggles and made each breath taste of grit and death. The further down he went the more skeletal remains he found. They lay along the halls, grinning sentinels that surveyed his intrusion into their grave. A paranoid feeling that he was being watched grew at the back of his mind, and he focused his attention on the signal and the floor directly in font of him.
Once again, he lost track of time. The surreal surroundings and blinking device blended to create a tunnel vision. He wasn't ready when the device split the silence with its sudden piercing alarm. A stone door loomed ahead of him. Unlike the door in the first pyramid, though, this one was several inches ajar, held open by the bones of a long dead Jaffa. Jack pushed against it but it didn't move. He pocketed the device, shrugged out of his equipment, and leaned into the door with his shoulder.
It moved with a loud, screeching groan. There was a muffled rumble somewhere above, dust showered to the ground. With a low, vibrating roar, the ceiling collapsed. Jack's ears filled with the splintering of stone and everything went dark.
***
"I just wish I knew what he thought he was doing," Daniel said.
Sam didn't have an answer, so she ignored him, as she had the first five times he's said it. Instead, she drummed her fingers on the conference room table and waited for General Hammond to get off the phone and join them. Daniel had given up sitting and paced around the room. Teal'c watched them both, elbows on the table, fingers steepled in front of him. Sam despised his calmness.
They had learned nothing new in the past three hours. The last time she had checked on Walter's progress with the inventory, he'd told her that he'd finish a lot faster if he didn't have to answer the phone every ten minutes. She'd read the reports so many times that she could quote them from memory. Colonel O'Neill had a future in fiction writing if his account was false. It was the most believable and well-supported report in the large stack of papers she'd been reading. Of course, the fact that he'd had his paperwork completed and handed in two hours after the incident and three hours before the general had demanded it should have been a tip-off that something was wrong. Colonel O'Neill never completed his paperwork before it was due.
Sam was about to join Daniel in his trek around the table when the general hung up the phone and walked into the conference room.
"Have a seat, Dr. Jackson, before I have to have new flooring installed."
Daniel had the good graces to look sheepish and took the seat next to Sam.
"That was Captain Jameson of the Minnesota Air National Guard." General Hammond took the seat at the end of the table. "There is no sign of Colonel O'Neill. The last anyone saw of our good colonel was the neighbor who gave him a ride from the nearest town to his cabin. She says that she left Jack standing next to the lake with a pile of supplies. She thought he was going to be there for a while and was surprised to learn that he was missing. No one else the captain spoke to even knew the colonel was in the state."
"We have no idea where he is now?"
"None," General Hammond replied. "But it's a small community, Captain Jameson is certain that someone saw something that will help. He has two men in the area and the local police are on the lookout."
"Excuse me, sir." Walter stood at the top of the stairs. He held several reports and waited for Hammond to nod him into the room. "We've finished the inventory. I have copies of the report here."
"Well done, Sergeant," General Hammond said. "What did you find?"
Walter paled as he handed out the reports. "Well, sir, there appears to be a large number of supplies that are, ah, unaccounted for." He flipped open the report that Teal'c hadn’t taken. Looking at it seemed to give him focus. "From the equipment that he requisitioned and the items that are missing, I'd say he has enough camping and survival gear for a long term stay somewhere, sir. We're missing tents, cooking gear, solar heaters, and basic survival tools. A telescope, binoculars and infrared night-vision glasses are also gone. In addition, we are short some basics from the infirmary. Dr. Fraiser says that they are short six field emergency kits that are there for backups, as well as a medical supply box for a field surgical unit. The report will list all of the basic and medical supplies that we believe Colonel O'Neill could have taken."
"What? Jack's going camping?" Daniel's incredulity wasn't lost on Sam.
"There's more than camping gear," Walter answered. "Lieutenant Harding, a biophysicists from the lab, heard what we were doing and told me that she saw Colonel O'Neill take one of the laptops from the lab last Wednesday. When she inquired, he made some comment about not being able to play solitaire with cards anymore. She said she knew Colonel O'Neill was always a little different, but that she felt she had to mention it now. I asked her to look into what else was gone and her list of missing supplies is included. The most notable item is a naquadah generator."
"One of my generators?" Sam flipped through the report and scanned the list. Some of the missing items were so obscure that she doubted the colonel had taken them, but the missing generator was one of the new models. The report also listed that there was a power converter missing. "If he's planning on using it for electrical power, it would last for decades. Unless. . ." A terrible thought struck her. What if he's not using it as an energy supply? She looked back at Walter. "What about the armory?"
Walter paused for a moment and visibly gathered his nerve before he continued. "We confirmed that we are missing items from the armory."
"What items?" Hammond paged through the report.
"They're listed on the last page, sir." Walter hesitated and then said in a rush, "A P-90 with two thousand rounds; an M-16 with five hundred rounds; two zats; two 9-mm's with a thousand rounds each; two regular issue knives; twenty Claymores and fifty bricks of C-4 with accompanying detonators and timers."
Sam's quiet "Wow" was drowned out by General Hammond.
"How the hell did he do that?"
"The best we can figure, Colonel O'Neill altered Wednesday night's duty roster so that Airman Michaels was to be relieved at midnight, but didn't pass that change along to her relief, Airmen Jenkins. When Colonel O'Neill passed by at 00:15 hours and learned that Michaels should have been relieved already, he offered to stand duty for her and look into the matter. When Jenkins showed up at 02:00 hours, he relieved Colonel O'Neill, who explained that there had been a mix up in the duty roster and that there wasn't any real problem. Both airmen say they thought it was odd, but that they felt Colonel O'Neill was just being a 'stand-up officer'."
"That leaves two hours in which Colonel O'Neill could have taken anything he wanted from the armory," the general said.
"Yes, sir." Walter set the report on the table.
"Could he have put this all on the MALP?" Daniel asked.
Sam thought about it for a moment. "Possibly. Especially if he took the weapons to Minnesota with him instead of sending them through the gate."
"How the hell did he get that much weaponry off my base without our security stopping him?"
Walter cleared his throat. "If I may, sir? I checked into the SFs standing entry duty. The colonel didn't remove anything from the base on Thursday, but Friday he removed a large number of boxes. Colonel O'Neill stated that they were full of recyclables he intended to donate to the local schools for their recycling drive."
"Are not all items leaving the base inspected?" Teal'c asked.
"Yes, and the boxes they checked did contain recyclables, but they admit that they didn't check all the boxes. It was Colonel O'Neill, after all."
The general said something under his breath that Sam couldn't hear, but she could make a good guess at what it was.
"Thank you, Sergeant," said the general aloud. "You have done excellent work."
Walter nodded, saluted and left.
"He couldn't have smuggled the generator out that way," Sam said.
"Why not?"
General Hammond answered. "Because the sensors we have installed at the entrances will detect the naquadah. It was a security protocol that we installed at Colonel O'Neill's suggestion. If he did take the generator, he must have shipped it through the gate."
After a moment of silence, Daniel spoke. "I suppose it would be too much to hope that he sent the weapons through on the MALP and took the camping equipment to Minnesota."
"Why would he send the weapons through to P45-393?" Sam asked.
"What would he be doing with weapons in Minnesota?"
Blaring klaxons spared her from having to answer. Walter's voice rang over the speakers, "Unauthorized incoming wormhole."
The four of them rose as one and headed for the stairs. A moment later, they stood behind the dialing computer and watched as a signal passed through the gate. Sam couldn't shake the feeling that it would be Jack's SG-1 signal.
"It's the Tok'ra," Walter announced.
"Open the iris," Hammond turned and nodded at Sam.
Sam let out the breath she didn't realize that she'd held. She nodded at the general and headed down the stairs, Teal'c and Daniel right behind her.
They walked into the gate room just as Jacob Carter walked down the ramp. "Sam," he said, smiling. "It's good to see you." The wormhole snapped shut and General Hammond's order to stand-down rang through the room.
"Dad," Sam gave him a hug in greeting. "I'm glad you could come so soon."
"I expected to hear from you earlier," Jacob said. "With the short time-line we're working on, I thought that you'd have started on this already."
Sam pulled away. "What?"
Jacob looked from her to Daniel and Teal'c. "Isn't Jack here? I thought he'd have some questions for me. Or is he already gone? Have you heard anything?"
"What are you talking about, Dad?"
Jacob frowned at them, and then looked up at the control room. "George, what's going on here?"
"That's the question I have for you, Jacob," Hammond's voice echoed through the PA system. "Come on up and we'll get to the bottom of this."
Jacob nodded and looked back at his daughter and her team. "Jack's not here?"
"No." Sam led the way up to the briefing room.
"Maybe it's best if he's not here," Jacob said. "He'd hate this mission."
For the first time, Sam hoped that this was all just an elaborate prank that the colonel was pulling. The alternative looked much worse.
***
It took Jack awhile to realize he wasn't dead. He blinked awake through the pain and the dust and peered into the darkness that surrounded him. A heavy weight pressed on his legs but otherwise he was unhurt. He fought to pull himself into a sitting position and tried to wrench his legs free but he couldn't move them. When he reached out into the darkness, his hands met cold stone where his legs should have been. Panicked, he rolled to the side. A sharp stab of pain shot up his leg, stole his breath and caused white lights to dance in front of him. Jack closed his eyes and let the wave of nausea and fear fade away.
After a moment, he opened them again. The pain was less and the air seemed to be clearing of grit, but the darkness blinded him. He waved his hand in front of his face and while he could feel the air move, the hand was invisible. With a frustrated sigh, he patted the floor around him and hoped his goggles hadn't been buried. It was too dangerous to shift the debris until he could see what damage it would cause, both to the building and to his legs.
His hand hit the goggles and a quick tug released them from the rubble. He slid them onto his head and they scraped over a new gash on his forehead. The pain of it clouded his vision and the world spun. Once able to breathe again, he dropped the goggles in place and flipped the on-switch. There was an electronic buzz and the world flickered green and fuzzy. The view in the goggles steadied and the room swam into focus in front of him.
A small portion of the ceiling had fallen when he'd pushed on the door. Dust drifted through the air and the skeleton that had been trapped in the doorway grinned at him. The walls around him groaned and shuddered but they held. The falling stones had pushed him back as it knocked him down and the fallen debris had landed on his legs rather than his head. It was a miracle he wasn't dead. Some miracle: trapped in a Goa'uld pyramid on a God-forsaken planet.
The pile of stone fragments on his legs was heavy and his left one ached from the pressure, but it bothered him more that he couldn't feel his right leg at all. He pushed himself up to a sitting position to get a better look at the problem. The pile of debris that spread out before him was two feet high and made up of small fragments of stone from the ceiling. The real problem was the one large slab of ceiling that lay on top of the debris that covered his legs. It could either pin him there forever or slide off and crush him.
Clouds of dust rose up to choke him when he cleared some of the smaller pieces away but he couldn't get enough leverage to move the heavy slab. He waited for the dust to settle and studied the pile again. His digging had only caused the stone to slip more his way. This wasn't working, so he changed tactics. His left leg was partially uncovered, so he dug at the dirt on that side. As soon as he had freed his thigh and knee, he eased his left foot out from under the pile of rubble. The large block teetered, slid imperceptibly toward him and then steadied. He flexed his leg, happy for the twinges of pain he felt, just as long as he could move it. If only the next leg was freed as easily.
Jack took a deep breath, leaned back and placed his foot against the stone. After two more deep breaths and the count of three, he gritted his teeth and shoved. The stone block grated against the debris it rested on, resistant to the pressure. He braced himself against the doorjamb and pushed again. The slab held for a moment, then slid back and sideways to ram into the door. The plumes of dust that filled the air choked him. The heavy stone door groaned and rained another shower of filth down on him but the ceiling held. Jack waited for the suffocating cloud to settle again. It only took minutes for a grainy blanket of dirt to cover him.
The crushing weight was off his leg but the numbness remained. After a moment's pause to gather his courage, he shifted his weight, and wrenched his leg out from under the pile of rubble. His knee twisted. A blinding pulse of agony lanced up his leg and white points of light danced in front of his eyes.
"Oh, God!" He slammed his fist into the ground and fought to ride out the wave of pain and nausea. Still got feeling, then. That's good. The pain usually ebbed after a couple of seconds, but this time it continued to burn, sharp and agonizing. It was almost impossible to focus but he managed to blink through the pain.
One heavy stone, still buried in the shale, trapped his foot and forced his knee to bend and twist at an unnatural angle; when he ran his hand down his leg and over his knee, he felt the telltale bump of a dislocated kneecap. He exhaled sharply through his nose, bent forward and pushed the stone off his foot. The weight eased but the pain remained. The kneecap had to be snapped back into place. Ideally, someone else should pull the leg straight after giving him something for the immense pain that the action would cause. Having neither help nor meds, he settled for biting down on the strap of the goggles before he straightened the leg. The kneecap slid back into place with a grinding snap. The pain peaked, the world spun. His muffled scream echoed around the room.
He lay back, breathing heavily. There hadn't been the burning rip nor the distinctive pop that accompanied a torn ligament. The pain had morphed into a penetrating tiredness that infected his entire body but that was far preferable to the brain numbing agony of a few seconds ago. He moved his foot, braced himself and flexed his knee. It was weak and sore and a slight grinding noise echoed through his bones when it moved. But move it did.
Relief gave him new strength. He managed to pull himself up, balanced on his left leg and flexed his right knee again. Encouraged, he put some weight on it. It held. Movement and use didn't cause any additional pain and he could stand on it when it was locked straight, although it threatened to buckle when he bent it. There was none of the usual searing pain from the abuse of torn muscles and he allowed himself the thought that there was no major damage. He could feel the knee stiffen, though, and he knew that even without a tear, the swelling and weakness from the dislocation would still cause him problems. An elasticized support bandage was stuffed into the bottom of the first aid kit in his satchel and he used it to bind his knee. The pressure from the wrap eased the pain and he could trust it with his full weight, even when bent. He didn't think he'd climb many stairs or run anywhere in the near future, though.
He leaned against the doorframe and took a moment's rest to look over the room. The goggles flickered and the static that snowed in front of his eyes obscured the details of what he saw. Cracks laced the ceiling and entire sections had fallen into piles of debris scattered across the floor. Tables and workbenches were half-buried in the rubble and he could see the naked bones of those who had died there.
It was a tomb; the first of many this planet would have. Jack dug the pack with the C-4 out of the dust and picked his way through the rubble. Like the room in the other pyramid, there were shelves along the walls, but these were damaged and broken. Shattered remnants of jars and containers littered the floor, layered between the strata of debris. Most of the damage was years old and shrouded with dust, but the collapse of the ceiling had dislodged several shelves and the new damage stood out against years of collected residue. Jack didn't know if the sudden chemical taste to the air was his imagination but the more he thought about it the more he could taste it. The walls closed in on him.
"Get a grip, Jack." He set ten charges of the red-marked C-4 around the room, then hobbled back to the doorway and traded his pack for his satchel. While use strengthened his knee, it still hurt like hell and shook with fatigue. The thick layer of dust hid debris and he had to kick the dirt away to find sure footing. The air was soon filled with a choking cloud of grit that spun like dust devils around him. After he inserted the detonators, he spread the contents of another can of the powdery napalm over everything. This place needed to burn.
The claustrophobia from the room didn't ease when he limped back out into the hall. He fought the feeling and, after one last look around the room, he synchronized the timers with the ones in the first pyramid. More than ninety minutes had passed. If he could make it out of the pyramid in thirty minutes, he'd have two hours before everything blew. One hundred-twenty short minutes to avoid the Jaffa patrols, infiltrate the occupied, guarded pyramid, place the bombs and get safely away. Piece of cake. The timer almost disappeared into the dust when he set it down; it's blinking numbers ominous in the inky blackness. The empty eye sockets of the skeleton followed him as he moved and ghosts skittered at the back of his mind. It took all his concentration to ignore the fear as he retraced his steps out of the pyramid.
The fresh night air was even more welcome this time and the open darkness finally dispelled the paranoia that ate at him. Jack hobbled to the side and placed his back against the solid stone wall. He slipped off the night-vision goggles and wiped the sweat away from his face. A large red orb of a moon had appeared while he'd been inside. It bathed the surrounding area in a surreal light that washed everything in blood. A violent shudder racked his body and he fought to keep his balance. It was so much colder out here than it had been in the suffocating closeness of the building. He refused to believe that his shivering came from anything other than the cool forest air. More sweat dripped into his eyes and he wiped it away, then stopped and peered at it. It wasn't sweat; it was blood.
He stared at it, a deep crimson in the red-lit moonlight.
Another powerful tremor shook his body and he sank to the ground as he rode out a wave of nausea. His head felt filled with rocks and his warm blood dripped down his cheek. A quick check revealed a large gash above his right eye and a goose egg-sized bump behind his ear. If he had a concussion, he was in big trouble. The stone felt cold against his face and it helped him focus.
The zat and some clips for the P-90 had been lost in the ceiling collapse. The night-vision goggles were damaged and his equipment, like himself, was coated in the talc-like dust. It would be a miracle if anything would work. Pain filled his head and he retched bloody grit onto the ground. He just needed to rest a couple of minutes and give himself a chance to acclimate to the cold. Shivers crawled over his skin and across his scalp. Just a minute's rest and he'd be as good as new. His eyes closed and the tremors in his arms and legs lessened, his ragged breathing loud in the silence.
***
"Dad, we're in the dark here," Sam said as she sat down at the conference table. "Why did you think we contacted you?"
"Because of the mission, of course," Jacob said. "The one that Anise was to propose."
"What mission?" Hammond asked the question before Sam could.
"Anise didn't talk to any of you?" Jacob Carter stared at the people assembled across the table from him.
"No," Sam said. "Anise didn't say ten words to me while she was here." She looked at her teammates.
"I didn't see her at all," Daniel confirmed. "Teal'c?"
"Anise did not engage me in conversation during her stay," Teal'c answered. "Neither did Freya."
Jacob looked over at the general. "George?"
"She said she just needed to talk to Dr. Fraiser. You better fill us in, Jacob."
"About three weeks ago, word reached the Tok'ra council that a planet that had once belonged to Nirrti had fallen under the control of Cronus. On this planet, Cronus discovered one of Nirrti's labs that had been abandoned and unused for centuries. It looked as if Nirrti had given up her research there, but Cronus sent one of his people to investigate it. He discovered that Nirrti had been working on a powerful contagion."
"Like the one she used on Cassandra's planet?" Sam didn't even try to keep the hatred from her voice.
Jacob's head bowed and Selmak spoke. "Not exactly. That virus, while powerful, wasn't airborne, had limited reproduction capabilities and was non-persistent. This new virus is several times more powerful, is airborne, reproduces itself rapidly and is persistent. From what we learned, a single infected subject could annihilate an entire planet in less then twenty-four hours and the virus itself could possibly survive on that planet for several decades. It would continue to infect anyone exposed to it." Selmak waited for them to assimilate that information before she continued. "The only positive aspect is that the virus kills quickly. Those exposed die within minutes."
Daniel stared at Jacob, aghast. "That's a positive?"
"Yes," Sam answered quietly. "It means that it would be restricted to one planet. It would insure that no infected subject could escape and carry the virus to new places." She kept her voice calm and focused on the scientific aspect of the conversation. "What information do we have on the contagion?"
"The microorganism remains dormant until combined with the activating enzyme. Prior to that exposure, it is vulnerable to extreme temperatures. Burning is the most effective manner of destroying it at this point."
"Then we firebomb the base," General Hammond suggested.
"No," Jacob took over the conversation. "We need to be sure that all samples of the virus are destroyed. None of the weapons we have available are powerful enough to insure that."
"What about a thermonuclear weapon?"
Daniel leaned forward. "What, 'nuke it from orbit'?" Is that the military's response to--"
"We considered that," Jacob interrupted. "There is concern that the penetrating nuclear radiation may have an unknown effect on the virus. The radioactivity and heat might combine to mutate the contagion. The planet also has very strong electromagnetic fields in its upper atmosphere. Our sensors can't penetrate it clearly enough to give us the readings we need to pinpoint the base or check for success."
"What does that leave us?" Sam asked. "Is there any possibility of a counteragent or a vaccine?"
Jacob shook his head. "We've not discovered a counteragent. There, is however, a vaccine, of sorts.
"Of sorts?" Daniel repeated. "What do you mean 'of sorts'?"
Selmak again took over the conversation. "While the virus is only fatal to humans, the vaccine has an unfortunate reaction to naquadah. None of the Tok'ra test subjects survived."
"Then I won't be able to have the vaccine," Sam pointed out.
"No. With the naquadah in your blood, it would kill you."
"I, also, would be unable to receive the vaccine," Teal'c said.
Selmak nodded. "It is fatal to all Jaffa."
"But we could distribute it on Earth," Daniel said. "We could start by vaccinating the personnel of the SGC."
Sam nodded. "Once we have a team inoculated, we can infiltrate the base and destroy the contagion." She may not be able to take the vaccine, but she could help make and distribute it.
"That was the plan that Anise was to propose," Selmak said. "Jacob and I convinced the Tok'ra council that the SGC would accept the mission but that we needed to be completely forthcoming with you."
"Forthcoming about what?" Hammond demanded.
"The vaccine is very difficult to make," Selmak said. "The exact effect of the drug on each person is determined by the individual's physiology; therefore, the vaccine needs to be tailored to each person that it is given to. The development of each individual vaccine takes days."
"So, no mass produced vaccine to distribute to the population," Daniel said.
Selmak nodded. "There is also a problem of persistence."
"Persistence in the environment?"
"No, individual persistence. Those who are vaccinated are protected from the effects of the virus but it doesn't eliminate the virus from their system."
"They would become carriers." It took Sam a moment to understand the full meaning of Selmak's statement. Her heart fell. "They would be the modern equivalent of Typhoid Mary. Immune from the effects but infecting everyone else they met.
"Yes," Jacob returned to the conversation.
"But only if they were exposed, right?" Daniel asked. "If they destroyed the virus without coming in contact with it, then it wouldn't be a problem. There would be no reason. . ." He faded off when he saw Jacob shake his head.
"Even with the best possible scenario, some of the contagion would be released. Our operative made it clear they stored activated contagion on the planet in order to test it on living subjects. When we destroy the production labs, some of the activated contagion will escape."
"That will kill everyone on the planet," Daniel looked across at Sam, appalled.
Sam shared his feelings but knew they didn't have the luxury of being scrupulous.
"From our information the planet has no intelligent, indigenous life forms," Jacob said. "There hasn't been for hundreds of years."
"You don't know that for sure. It's got to be a big planet."
Jacob shook his head. "There is no other way, Daniel. This planet was dead as soon as Nirrti placed her experimental lab there."
"Jacob Carter is correct," Teal'c added. "We must not let Cronus utilize this weapon. It is a necessary sacrifice."
"A necessary sacrifice?" Daniel's voice rose. "Is that what genocide is called these days?"
"What about our team?" Sam ignored Daniel. "What would happen to them?"
"They should be immune to the effects of the contagion," Selmak answered. "However, as I said, they will be infected."
"They will never be able to leave the planet," Sam finished. She felt sick.
"No."
"What?" Daniel rubbed his hand across his face. "First they release a virus that kills every other living person on the planet and then they'll be trapped there?"
"It is an unfortunate circumstance," Selmak said.
Sam pressed her hands against the cool wood of the conference table, the room close and hot around her. This was a suicide mission. No, this is worse. Whoever did this would have to live, live on a world that they had killed.
Necessary Sacrifices Part 3
