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Title: Necessary Sacrifices 3/6
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 -- Part 3
Jack woke with a violent shudder, his stomach heaved and the blinding pain in his head spiked. He rolled to the side and vomited. Weak and disoriented, he pulled himself to his feet and fought to clear his head. How long had he been out? Panic made his pulse race. The cover on his watch refused to obey his trembling fingers, so he ripped it off with his teeth. Forty minutes -- he'd been out for forty minutes. His head spun and the world danced in front of him.
"Damn it."
He leaned back against the wall, pulled a flask off of his belt and poured the water over his head. The C-4 would detonate in less than ninety minutes. If he couldn't get into the active lab and blow that before then, he'd never get close enough to destroy it. He took a pull of water, rinsed the sour taste out of his mouth and spat it on the ground. The red moon had crawled further across the sky and the clouds that lurked in front of it cast bloody shadows.
As he rubbed his knee in an effort to work some strength back into it, he considered his options. Unlike the first two, this pyramid had a Jaffa guard at the entrance and personnel inside. His original plan had been to scale the back of the building, creep into the unused portions and sneak down into the lower levels without being seen. There he would plant the C-4 and get the hell out. That is so not going to work anymore. He couldn't creep or sneak; he'd be lucky if he could limp and lurk.
A fine thread of desperation traced through him. There was no backup, if this mission went south there would be no second chance. The light from the Jaffa encampment drew his attention. If he allowed himself to be caught, they would take all his equipment. Even if he did manage to keep the C-4 and powdered napalm, there was no guarantee they would take him anywhere near the lab. He needed a distraction; something to keep the Jaffa occupied and out of his way long enough to get into the pyramid, gimpy leg and all. He needed something for the guards to chase besides him. He needed a jailbreak.
Not wanting to advertise his presence with the sound of gunfire, he searched the bottom of his satchel for the spare zat he'd packed away. It snagged on the first aid kit when he pulled it out and the medical bag fell to the ground. Jack picked it up and turned it over twice in his hands. The pain in his knee was tolerable but the ache in his head pulsed with each heartbeat and made it hard to concentrate. He dug out a package of ibuprofen and swallowed the pills dry before sticking the kit back. Zat in hand, he took one tentative step on his leg. It held.
The scattered rocks made it hard to walk as he worked his way toward the Jaffa and their prisoners. He could disable the lights at the power source with the zat, and a couple of well-placed pieces of detonation cord would knock some of the pen walls down. With any luck the prisoners would escape, the Jaffa would pursue and he would have time to get into the pyramid without being seen. He wouldn't have to run, climb or jump anywhere.
A small generator that sat on the other side of the compound, directly opposite the occupied pyramid, powered the lights. It rested several feet from the largest of the light poles, unfenced and unguarded. Jack worked his way down to the clearing, heavily favoring his injured knee. He crouched along the tree line, just a yard away from the door to the pyramid. A momentary thought of being able to sneak in through the front was dashed when two Jaffa appeared for a moment then returned inside. It would be better, anyhow, to have the people out of the cages when the bombs went. They wouldn't survive long anywhere on the planet but at least they would die free.
He studied the layout again and mentally mapped out his best route to the generator. With one last wistful look at the pyramid's opening, he swung both of his bags off his back. Speed and stealth were essential and he was in short supply of both; he didn't need to be weighed down by unnecessary equipment. He pulled a roll of primacord out of his satchel, cut it into two-foot lengths and slung the bundle of cords around his neck. After he moved some ignition caps to his vest pocket, he returned the unnecessary equipment and hid his bags in the shadows.
The Jaffa still sat around the fire. Some looked to be asleep. Jack hated to think what T would say about that. These were not top-of-the-line Jaffa. Lucky for me or I'd be dead. Jack steeled himself and then moved to the light pole. His limping run wasn't fast, but at least it was quiet. He leaned his shoulder against the pole and tried to hide behind its narrow protection. The clearing remained silent and he chanced a look. None of the Jaffa had noticed his run. Several pairs of eyes from the stockade watched him, though, and he held his finger to his lips. He prayed that they understood it meant they needed to be quiet. His eyes met theirs before they broke contact. Once sure they wouldn't give him away, he focused on the generator. It didn't look like it would explode if he zatted it. More than that, it didn't look big enough to cause a lot of damage if it did explode. Unless it's some of the nasty alien stuff that Carter is always messing with. Which, of course, it was.
Jack chewed his lip and considered his alternatives. There were none. He aimed at the generator. The zat's familiar sound echoed in the stillness and blue electricity danced around the generator. The lights dimmed but didn't go out. The Jaffa stirred and looked up at the lights. Jack swore and zatted the generator again. Without waiting to see the result, he turned and hurried into the shadows that hung around the fences. The lights flickered; then the compound was plunged into darkness. Jack ignored the shouts and cries and wrapped a length of primacord around the links between the fence sections. He stuck a detonator in each one, backed off a couple of feet and zatted it. The power surge triggered the detonator and the cord erupted in blinding fire, which seared through the metal connections and fell to the ground in pools of liquid flame. Before Jack could move, the prisoners acted. They rushed the side where Jack had burned the barrier free, shoved it open and fled into the dark woods. The Jaffa, confused by the blackout and drawn by the burning primacord, chased after them.
Jack faded away from the chaos and worked his way over to another one of the confinement pens. Five Jaffa still guarded the remaining prisoners and two more leaned over the malfunctioning generator. Jack detonated another set of primacord on this pen and the captives again swarmed through the opening it made. By this time, the prisoners in the last pen had gathered enough courage to try an escape without Jack's aid. The Jaffa, unable to contain the escapees, fired wildly into the running mass of people but were overrun in seconds.
Jack left the fighting behind him and crept toward the middle pyramid, secure in the knowledge that the pandemonium he started would continue. Four Jaffa ran out of the door in front of him. Jack flattened himself against the wall and willed himself to blend into the darkness. The sound of snapping electricity came from behind him, followed by an ear-shattering boom. A quick glance over his shoulder as he headed into the pyramid, showed a large, smoking hole and several dead Jaffa where the generator had stood. The last of the prisoners disappeared into the woods. The clearing was eerily empty.
Somewhere in the darkness an explosion echoed, followed almost immediately by another one. Claymores. Jack didn't know if they'd been set off by the escaping prisoners or by the guards. Don't think about it. It didn't matter. Either one gave him the distraction he needed.
Two more explosions rent the night as Jack worked his way back around to his bags. He moved the last the bricks of C-4 to the satchel and tossed the backpack aside. With one last double-check of his equipment, he melted into the darkness of the pyramid. The room was large, dim and still. Jack waited for his eyes to adjust and his breathing to slow. The torches that lit the entrance cast foreboding shadows along the floors and walls. Jack hugged the edges as he made his way down the main hallway. The red dust that layered the other pyramids clung to this one as well. He left a clear trail but he hoped that the shadows that hid him would mask them as well.
The upper floor's torch-lit corridors gave way to well-lit hallways. It was increasingly difficult to remain hidden. The lower level's bare walls and clean corridors may have made it easier for him to move, but it also made it easier for him to be found. He moved as fast as he could and followed the same path he had traveled in the other buildings. The smooth floors made the trip faster and he covered good ground despite his injured knee.
Several levels down, he pulled out the handheld device and switched it on. The signal was strong and steady, and he followed it to the left. He came to a group of rooms that looked well used. The largest of them held a ring transport device, the next two were living quarters and the final one looked to be a supply room. All were unoccupied. The device led him past the cluster of rooms. At the entrance to the hall on the other side, he paused to rub his knee and listen for any movement.
If the light on the handheld was any indication, the room he needed was just ahead and that's where he'd most likely run into resistance. He dropped the device into his vest pocket and gripped the zat tightly in his hand. His P-90 would be better, but gunfire would draw far too much attention. He edged up to the doorway and peered around the corner. The hall was short and ended at a closed door with a Jaffa guard in front of it. Jack took a deep breath, slid around the corner and zatted the guard, who fell without a sound. After waiting a second to be sure there were no reinforcements, Jack zatted the Jaffa twice more and then pulled out the handheld. The bright signal pointed to a solid stone door. He returned it to his vest and pushed the door open, zat at the ready.
The piercing squeal of the device cut through the air. Jack swore. It stuck in his pocket when he pulled at it and its scream filled the room as Jack stabbed at the buttons. As the alarm died, he was hit from behind. Colored lights danced in front of his eyes and he crashed into a table. The device and his zat clattered to the middle of the floor. His attacker wrapped a thick arm around his neck and held him as he hit Jack two more times in the side. The edge of the flack vest cut into the staff weapon burn and Jack choked for breath.
Jack gave with the onslaught and dropped to the floor. Pain shot through his knee when he hit the ground, but his attacker was pulled off-balance and stumbled. Jack rolled forward and freed himself from the assault. Another roll took him to the other side of the room, but he misjudged the distance and collided painfully with the wall. It took a minute for his head to clear. The Jaffa who attacked him rolled to the middle of the room and reached for the fallen zat. Jack pulled his pistol from his holster and fired three times. The Jaffa slumped to the floor and blood pooled around the body. Jack struggled to his feet, gun at the ready, but no one else came through the door.
Jack holstered his pistol and pulled out the last of the C-4, which he placed around the room. When he was done, there was just thirty minutes left on the timers. Barely enough time to get clear of the blasts. He took a moment to zat the body on the floor three times. The Jaffa disappeared, a pool of blood on the floor the only sign of his death. It only took a minute to spread the last of the incendiary powder around the room, and then he hobbled out and closed the door behind him.
The hallway was clear and he headed back out at a limping run. He made it all the way to the first room before he heard movement. The shadows hid him as he dodged to the side and pressed back against the wall. A woman in a long black coat, trailed by two Jaffa, strode through the pyramid. They headed toward the lab. As they passed his hiding spot Jack gripped the zat and held his breath. They didn't look his way. Jack watched them pass; and then turned to sneak out the door.
Two Jaffa materialized from the darkness outside and blocked his escape.
Jack reacted first. His zat shots split the air between them. As they dove to the side, Jack shot again. They disappeared into the shadows and he made a desperate attempt to run through the door while it was still clear. Shouts rang from behind him and the crackling sound of zat fire sang over his head. Jack dodged out the door and cut to the right. He hugged the wall and headed for the dark cover of the forest. On his third step, his foot twisted in a hole and his knee gave. He rolled with the fall and tried to stand, but his knee buckled. Before he could recover, rough hands grabbed him, pulled him to his feet and ripped the zat from him. A Jaffa loomed in front of him; his staff weapon hummed as it powered up. Jack braced for the shot.
***
The SGC conference room was silent. Daniel waited for someone to protest Selmak's plan. He wanted the general to demand an alternative. He willed Sam to come up with something brilliant. They couldn't just sit here and talk about condemning SGC personnel -- and an entire world -- to a certain death. They had to have a better plan.
Instead, Jacob spoke. "We're running out of time here, George."
"You can't order men to go on a suicide mission," Daniel protested.
"No," Hammond said. "They will need to be volunteers. How many men do you think you will need?"
"The fewer, the better," Jacob replied. "The base is small with only a few of Cronus' people, so it should take a small strike force." Jacob stopped and rubbed his hands across his face. "But it will take too long. Once the volunteers are chosen, we will have to develop the individual vaccines and transport them to the planet. Anise was supposed to have handled all of this by now."
"What if she did?"
They all looked at Sam. A familiar gnawing fear ate at Daniel's stomach.
"Jack." As he said it, he knew it was true. "Jack would be the logical person to choose for such a mission. He's done this kind of thing before."
"Anise has all his medical and physiological records from when we had the armbands." Sam moved forward to lean on the table. "She would have all the data she needed."
Jacob looked around the table. "And Jack's not here?"
"No," General Hammond said. "We don't know where he is. I knew he was up to something. Damn it!" He slammed his fist on the table. "Walter!" he bellowed.
The sergeant materialized at the door. "Sir?"
"Get Captain Jameson on the phone. I want to know where Colonel O'Neill is and I want to know it now!"
"Yes, sir." Walter snapped a salute and left.
"Even if Anise talked to Jack, why wouldn't he tell us about it?" Daniel asked
"If O'Neill thought that it would require only one man to complete the mission," Teal'c said, "he would accept the risk himself."
"We all know that Jack would jump at any chance to put himself in danger," Daniel said, not even trying to keep the bitterness from his voice.
"I have never known O'Neill to risk his life when it was not necessary, Daniel Jackson."
"Well, you haven't known him as long as I have."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow at him but Daniel continued before the point could be argued. "Even if this is all true, it doesn't explain where he is now."
"Is someone going to fill me in on what's happening here?" Jacob demanded.
"I will, Dad."
As Sam gave a summary of the past days, Daniel walked over to look down at the Stargate. It was so like Jack to go running off on a suicide mission without a word to anyone. Stupid SOB probably thinks that he's sparing us all a lot of worry and pain. He'd spent the last four years working with Jack O'Neill and he was no closer to understanding the man then he had been the first time he'd met him. That wasn't true: he understood him less than he did when he first met him.
As Sam's recitation of the weaponry Jack stole drifted into the back of his mind, he found himself thinking about why Jack would have taken that all with him rather than ship it through the gate. And how did he expect to get through the gate, now? None of this made any sense. Why ship stuff off planet and then walk away from the only way off that planet?
"General Hammond?" Walter's voice interrupted Daniel's thoughts and Sam's explanation of Jack's disappearance. "Captain Jameson is on line three."
Daniel watched General Hammond walk into his office and pick up the phone before he crossed back to the table and sat down next to Sam again. Jacob looked across at him.
"Sam says you suggested contacting me but you say you had no idea that Anise had talked to Jack."
"No," Daniel said. "It was just something he said. That he should've learned never to trust a snake."
Jacob winced. "I knew it was a mistake to send Anise, but she is the expert on this. She's not the most diplomatic of beings, I will grant you, but she's passionate. And Freya tempers her. The council thought she'd have the best chance to convince the SGC to help on this."
"Look, we still have no proof that she talked to Jack at all," Sam said. "I mean, even if she did, Jack's behavior doesn't make any logical sense. He'd still have to come to the SGC in order to gate to the planet."
"Actually, we want to restrict gate travel to the planet as much as possible, so the team would have gated to a nearby planet and then would take a tel'tak the rest of the way. The team would ring down with their equipment, while the tel'tak waited in orbit for confirmation the mission was completed."
"I thought you couldn't penetrate the atmospheric interference?"
"We designed a special base communicator; once on the planet it will provide a boost to the signal and we should be able to send transmissions between it and the ship. We can use the device to monitor the effects of the virus on the planet and communicate with the surviving members of the strike force. And, since it would be possible for a vaccinated person to carry the virus to other places, we would have to keep a tel'tak in orbit and ensure that no one ever left the planet."
The finality in Jacob's words wasn't lost on Daniel. 'No one' meant the SGC team as well as a pawn of the Goa'uld.
"Damn it, Captain," General Hammond's voice rang through the conference room, loud in the sudden silence. "You need to find him. A man can't just disappear into thin air."
It hit Daniel at that moment. "Damn him." He leapt to his feet and his chair skittered across the floor behind him. He ignored the looks the others at the table gave him, sprinted into General Hammond's office and skidded to a stop in front of the desk. "Ask him if there was any unusual air traffic in the area lately." General Hammond gaped at him, but Daniel pressed his point. "Ask if there were any UFO sightings."
The general's eyes narrowed in sudden comprehension and he turned his attention back to the phone. "Captain, I also want you to check into any suspicious or unusual air traffic."
Once sure Hammond understood what he wanted, Daniel walked back out to the three astonished people who sat in the other room.
"What was that about?" Sam demanded.
"We think that Anise talked to Jack and that he's planning to head off on this suicide mission without letting any of us know. Right?" He didn't wait for them to answer. "How was he going to do that? How could he get off planet without anyone, including General Hammond, knowing? What would we have done if Jack just dialed up a planet and walked through? Or if he disappeared on a mission?"
"We would endeavor to locate him and return him to the SGC," Teal'c said.
"Right."
"And we would send out search party's and rescue teams," Sam continued.
"We might even shut down operations here at SGC until we knew what had happened, right?"
"Such a precaution would be essential until we were aware of what had transpired." Teal'c said.
"And that would disrupt important operations. Put teams on hold. Perhaps even endanger them." Daniel paced around the table.
"Jack wouldn't want to do that," Sam protested.
"No." Daniel stopped by the window overlooking the gate room. "So how does he get off world without disrupting SGC operations or letting us know that he's going off world?"
"He had the Tok'ra do it," Sam said. "They picked him up in a tel'tak."
"Right." Daniel turned and looked back at his friends. "He's already off world."
Jacob shook his head. "If Anise had planned this, she would have informed me. I helped organize the mission."
"Not if Jack didn't want any of us to know," Daniel said.
General Hammond stalked into the room. "According to Captain Jameson there were several reports of UFOs around Jack's cabin early last evening but that radar didn't pick up anything unusual. The sightings were dismissed."
"I knew it," Daniel said. "If he was picked up at eight or so last night, that means he's been gone for," he glanced at his watch, "about eighteen hours. How long would it take to get to the planet?"
"If they take a tel'tak, it would take years," Jacob said. "I'm betting that they just flew to a nearby world with a gate. If they kept ship travel to a minimum," he paused, "I'd say ten hours. At the most."
"It's too late to stop him, then," Sam voiced Daniel's thoughts.
"Yes." Jacob said. "I'm sorry."
"We still need to verify this," General Hammond said. "Captain Jameson is working in Minnesota. Jacob, if you could contact Anise and find out what she knows?"
"I'll get right on it, George," Jacob said.
General Hammond sighed and addressed the three remaining members of SG-1. "Until we know anything else, I want you to keep working on it from our end. We're not going to give up here, people, until we know what happened. For all we know, Jack could be on his way home right now."
Teal'c nodded and Sam gave a curt, "Yes, sir."
Daniel turned back to look at the gate. He already knew what happened. Jack was on that planet and he would never come home again.
***
The staff weapon's opening sparked and raw energy arced around it. Jack smelled burnt ozone and felt the tightening grip of the hands that held him.
"Do not kill him." A cold female voice spoke from the dark opening of the pyramid. "Cronus will want to know what he knows."
The Jaffa lowered his weapon. The hands that held Jack spun him around, pulled off his pack and stripped him of his weapons and gear. The woman in the long black coat stood before him, a slight smile on her face.
"You are the Tau'ri, O'Neill." The voice wasn't a Goa'uld but it could have been for all the arrogance that colored it.
"They got the new pictures up at the Goa'uld post office, huh?" Jack struggled to stand on his own. He frantically tried to determine how much longer it would be before the autotimers went off. "And who might you be?"
"I am Juniel, faithful servant to Lord Cronus. My lord will be pleased that we have you."
"Yeah, well, anything to make old Crony happy." Jack kept the tone light. He needed an out. Twenty minutes. Can't be more than twenty minutes.
"Where is the rest of your team?" she asked. "Are they near?"
"Oh, I'm sure they're somewhere."
"Call for them."
"So not gonna happen."
She smiled and nodded at the Jaffa that stood on the right. Jack braced himself for a blow but the Jaffa kicked him in the knee instead.
Pain engulfed him and white lights danced in front of his eyes. "Oh, God." He gasped for breath and tried to focus. "Son of a. . ." Bile rose in his throat and he sagged against the Jaffa that held him.
"I do not have patience with such impudence," Juniel said. "I will give you one more chance. Call for them."
"Go to hell," Jack forced the words out through gritted teeth.
She nodded again and the Jaffa next to Jack tensed to kick him again. Jack bent his leg and went with the blow. He dropped to the ground and let his good knee absorb the impact. The Jaffa dragged him back to his feet and punched him twice in the side. Jack felt something give and he bit back a cry of pain. Maybe the knee would have been better. A sharp stitch in his side doubled him over when he tried to straighten up. The Jaffa released him and Jack fell flat on the ground. The pain in his side grew to eclipse the familiar ache of his injured knee. As the fire burned under his ribs, an iron-tightness stretched across his chest. He lay in the cool dirt and fought for breath.
"Call for them," Juniel ordered again.
Jack struggled to his knees. It helped to hold an arm tight over his sore ribs as he sucked in each shallow breath. "No." He wasn't sure he spoke loud enough for her to hear.
"You Tau'ri are such a foolish race," Juniel said. "You see your god. He walks before you, yet you deny him. You should be honored to have the opportunity to serve him."
Jack let out a short bark of laughter and grimaced at the pain that stabbed into his chest when he did so. "Crony's just an old snake head. Nothing but an overdressed, egomaniacal, scum--"
Jack hadn't seen either of the Jaffa holding a pain stick, but suddenly he was awash in agony. Pain exploded within him; it filled his every breath, his every cell, his every thought. Trapped between heartbeats and drowning in anguish, he screamed for release and felt the raw power sear through his throat and burn at his eyes. The pain was a living thing that clawed at him and devoured everything he ever was. It lanced through his mind, trailing torture and despair. It ate at his skin and ripped through his bones, a flood of white-hot torment that seared away every memory of safety and peace.
It ended as abruptly as it had begun and his heart beat once more. Somewhere, a great distance away, a voice spoke. "--sucking, glory hound with delusions of grandeur." Jack felt himself talk but couldn't remember what he'd said.
Juniel gave an order in Goa'uld and Jack endured another blast from the pain stick. He rode out the torture. When it ended, he collapsed to the ground, panted for breath and struggled to recall what he was doing there.
"You will do as I want, Tau'ri," Juniel said, "or you will die in pain."
Jack bit back a snide comment and forced himself to concentrate on recovery rather than antagonizing the enemy. The sweat that dripped off his face made little indentations in the dusty ground and his entire body shook with tiny tremors, an all too familiar aftereffect from the pain stick. His breath was raspy and ragged in the still night. Juniel was willing to let him recover some of his strength. Jack used the time to assess his situation.
The blood-red moon shed more than enough light to see how much trouble he was in. His pile of gear -- his weapons -- sat in a heap well out of his reach. Two Jaffa stood at his side and awaited Juniel's orders. He had no idea how close the other Jaffa were or how many more of Cronus' 'faithful servants' were still around. The safety wood's edge was a good hundred yards away, while the middle pyramid stood less than twenty feet from him. If the bombs went off now, he'd be caught in the blast radius. God, how much time was left? His watch was still on his wrist. He rolled to one side and groaned with the movement. The moan, designed to cover the sound as he pulled the Velcro cover off his watch, was only half an act. The digital display blinked three digits at him a split second before the heavy boot of the nearest Jaffa stamped on his wrist.
The cushion of dust on the ground spared him any broken bones, but it hurt like hell. The Jaffa ripped the watch off of Jack's wrist, then walked over to Juniel and handed it to her. Jack curled up into a protective ball and braced for another dose of pain stick that, fortunately, never came.
Juniel examined the watch, turning it over in her hand. "Did you think you could communicate with them without us knowing, Tau'ri fool?" she demanded. "Tell me how this works." She walked several feet closer to Jack and dangled the watch in front of him. "Call them and I will spare you."
The display read 8:48 before it blinked down to 8:47, then 8:46. Almost nine minutes. He could still make it to the gate if he could get away from here. If he couldn't get away. . . nine minutes was an eternity when faced with torture from a pain stick. The Jaffa that had handed Juniel the watch returned to stand next to him. As weak as he was, Jack had no chance of fighting them off, but he wasn't going to give in, either. "Spare me? How 'bout you bite me instead."
Jack doubted she'd ever heard the phrase before, but she must have understood his meaning anyhow.
"You will not defy me," she said. "Get him off the ground."
The Jaffa dragged Jack to his knees, and their hands bit into his arms. The pain of their grip was a tolerable trade off for the ability to stay upright, and he sagged back against their hold willing to get rest anywhere he could. He shifted his weight to ease the ache in his injured knee. Something hard and sharp dug into his leg. It took him a moment to remember that he still had a pistol strapped to his ankle, hidden by his pant leg. A sudden, desperate plan gave him hope. For it to work, though, he'd have to have the Jaffa release him and move away; he needed a clear shot at the three of them. There was only one sure way he could think of to get them to do that.
Juniel took several steps closer to Jack, the watch still held in front of her. The digital readout was 8:04. "I have heard of you, O'Neill of the Tau'ri." The display clicked to eight minutes. "I have heard many things that I know cannot be true." 7:57. "The tales of your arrogance, however, were obviously not overstated." 7:49. She offered him the watch once more. "Call for them, O'Neill of the Tau'ri. Even you cannot believe that you can withstand this." 7:39. She moved closer and crouched down before him, close enough to reach out and touch his face. "You may be strong, O'Neill of the Tau'ri. You are not that strong." 7:23. She ran her hand along his jaw. "No one is that strong." 7:19.
Jack smiled at her. "We'll see." 7:16. This was taking too long. What is she waiting for, an engraved invitation? "I've been tortured by Ra, Apophis and Hathor. What makes you think you can succeed where your so-called-gods have failed?"
Juniel's smile faded. "You are a fool." Her caress turned into a fierce pinch.
"So everyone keeps telling me," Jack said. 6:58. At this rate she was going to talk him to death. "But yet, here I am and they're dead."
Juniel hissed under her breath and jerked her hand from his face. She stood and shouted orders to the Jaffa. Jack didn't understand what she said, but the Jaffa released him. As he sagged to the ground, the Jaffa with the pain stick stepped back and the one on his right moved forward to stand next to Juniel. Jack fought to ignore the panic that rose in his throat at the thought of being hit with the pain stick again. He focused on drawing the pistol that was attached to his leg. Draw the gun and shoot the ba--
He dropped once more into the bottomless chasm of pain as the Jaffa jabbed the stick into his side, but he clung to the image of holding the 9-mm in his hand, the grip solid in his fist and the trigger cool against the heat of his finger. The agony roared around him and he fought for focus, ignoring his screams that echoed in his ears. Draw the gun. Draw the gun. Draw. . .
The nightmarish, burning pain ceased and Jack folded to the ground, his breath erratic. A deep moan escaped his lips as he rolled to his side. On its own volition, his hand moved to the pistol. He fumbled to pull up his pant leg and his weak fingers wrapped around the butt of the gun. There was a wonderful, distinctive sound as the holster released the pistol. His brain fought to remember what he had wanted to do but the familiar weight of the gun triggered the muscles to act before his mind could focus. He pushed himself onto his back and fired two shots into the Jaffa who held the pain stick. Both the Jaffa and weapon fell to the ground. Jack ignored them, rolled to his knees, and took aim at the Jaffa at Juniel's side. Jack's shot knocked the Jaffa off balance and made the blast from his staff weapon explode into the ground between them. Jack shot the Jaffa twice more before he moved the pistol to cover Juniel.
Juniel stared at Jack in open disdain. "You will not kill me, Tau'ri. My god will save me."
Jack's head buzzed and every breath caused a searing pain to burn in his lungs. "No one saved them." He nodded at the dead Jaffa and immediately regretted the action when the world swam in front of him.
"They are but Jaffa, I am a loyal servant of Cronus. I will be his next Lo'taur when I bring him your body."
"Yeah? That's so not gonna happen." He gathered his strength and pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. The movement caused his head to spin and dark spots to flash before his eyes. The pain in his side and the tightness across his chest bit at him again, and the blood roared in his ears. He blinked drunkenly at Juniel. His eyes couldn't focus. She moved, and he fired too late. The bullets split the air where she had been a second before. They hit the pyramid and ricocheted off into the darkness. Jack followed Juniel's movement with his gun. A loud electronic beeping cut into his foggy brain. On the third beep, he recognized it as the alarm on his watch -- the timer for the bombs. He snapped off two quick shots at Juniel and she crumpled to the ground just shy of the pyramid door.
There was a distant explosion and the ground shook as the C-4 in the first pyramid detonated. Jack turned and stumbled toward the center of the compound as a second explosion rocked his surroundings. Jack scanned the area and spotted several slabs of stone that lay off to the side. A third roar of C-4 echoed through the clearing as Jack limped over to the improvised shelter. He crawled under the stones and prayed they would provide him with enough protection from the explosions. As he pressed himself into the small hollow under the blocks, he tried to estimate how many seconds had passed. Those first explosions were two bricks of the 'super C-4', set to weaken the support structures of the pyramids and light the incendiary powder. Once the fire reached a high enough temperature the rest of the explosives would go. He had estimated that he should be a good half-mile from ground zero in order to be well and truly safe. Two hundred yards away, the first pyramid growled deep within and then erupted into a cyclone of flying dust and debris. The shock wave from the explosion ripped by Jack, just as he heard the second pyramid disintegrate into a ball of flying fragments. The stones above Jack shuddered and shifted. The last thing he remembered was thinking that at least no one would have to bury him when the C-4 in the final pyramid detonated and he was plunged into blackness.
***
Sam stood outside Jack's front door and chewed her lip. She shouldn't be here. The general had ordered her to get out of the base, go home and get a couple of hours' rest. She had left the base intending to do just that. When she got in the car, all roads led to Jack's house.
She knew the colonel wasn't here but she still reached out and rang the bell. It echoed through the house. There was no answering movement from inside. A moment later, she pushed it again and held it in for a full minute. The house remained quiet.
Without thinking about it, she dug into her pocket to pull out her set of spare keys and fumbled through them until she separated out Jack's. They all had keys to each other's places and Hammond had copies in his office as well; their job being what it was, it was necessary. The last time she'd used it was a year ago, when Jack had been trapped on Edora. That time, though, all of SG-1 had been here. She shouldn't be here by herself.
She put the key in the door and went in.
The house was clean and quiet. No overturned furniture, no signs of violence or foul play. It ironic that she was disappointed that everything looked normal. The thought stopped her and she looked around again. It didn't look normal; it didn't look normal at all. There were no scattered belongings or magazines lying on the tables or garbage in the trashcans. Everything was picked up and packed away, down to the knickknacks and pictures that usually sat throughout the house. It took five quick steps to cross to the kitchen. It was immaculately clean, no dirty dishes, no food sitting out. She pulled open the refrigerator door. It was empty. Not just the normal 'nothing but beer and ketchup' empty either. It was bare and smelled of bleach. Her heart in her throat, she pulled open the freezer. It was the same. "Damn him." She slammed the door shut as hard as she could. "Damn him."
"Sam?"
Daniel's voice startled her and she turned to see that he stood in the door, Teal'c right behind him. It took her a moment to find her voice. "Daniel. Teal'c. What are you doing here?"
"Same thing you are, apparently. We had hoped to find something to tell us that we're wrong about what Jack's doing."
"Well, we're not." Sam almost spat the words out. "Just look around."
Daniel spun in a circle and surveyed the house. "It does look like he cleaned up in here, doesn't it?"
"Cleaned out," Sam insisted. "Cleaned out. Look around. Does this look like Jack is coming back?"
"No." He walked around the kitchen and randomly opened and closed cupboard doors. "His office looks the same. That's why Teal'c and I came." Daniel glanced around the room, sighed and rubbed his neck
"God. I didn't even think to check his office." Her voice broke for a moment. Then she motioned helplessly around her. "He's gone."
"I am afraid that Major Carter is correct," Teal'c said. "It is apparent that O'Neill does not plan to return."
They stood together in the quiet of Jack's house. It should feel different; it should feel like Jack was gone. There should've been an emptiness about the place; a bareness that showed the loss that they felt. There should have been some sign of the sacrifice being made. But there wasn't. No sign. No notes. Nothing.
Sam let out a deep sigh. "Ahh. . . Daniel. Why did he do this?"
Daniel didn't answer. She didn't expect him to. She didn't need him to.
Jack wasn't that big of a mystery, not when it came down to doing his job, not when it came down to putting other people's lives first. For Jack it was a matter of honor, of doing the right thing. If it was a choice of his life or the life of others, there was no question which he would choose to sacrifice. It was what made Jack O'Neill the man he was. It was what made the fact that he wasn't coming back so easy to understand and so hard to accept.
"So what are we going to do now?" Daniel asked the question.
"I do not believe that there is anything we can do, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said. "We must wait for the Tok'ra to contact us."
"Dad wasn't even sure he could contact Anise or if she'd tell him anything when he did," Sam pointed out. "And if Jack's already on the planet. . ." Sam trailed off, not wanting to voice aloud what that meant.
The ring of the phone cut through the silence that filled the pause and Sam and Daniel jumped. They turned as one and stared at the phone as it rang again.
"Should we answer that?"
Sam crossed to the phone but didn't pick it up. "I don't know."
The fourth ring was cut off as the answering machine kicked in. "This is Jack O'Neill. You know the drill." A beep followed and a female voice drifted into the room. "Jack? Jack, are you there?" There was a slight pause and a deep sigh. "This is Sara. Give me a call as soon as you can, Jack. I need to talk to you about. . ." There was another pause.
Daniel looked over at Sam. "Sara? Jack's ex-wife?"
Sam nodded. They had met Sara once, a couple of years ago, when an alien life form had impersonated Jack. Sam remembered Sara as confused and scared, but also strong in the face of what had been an insane situation. Jack hadn't spoken of her since that time, but then Jack didn't talk about a lot of things.
"Listen, Jack, you can't just drop this stuff on me and not tell me about it. Not anymore."
Sam could almost feel the frustration and anxiety of the woman on the other end of the line. It was obvious that Jack was having the same effect on everyone.
There was another deep sigh. "Damn it, Jack!"
The resigned desperation in Sara's voice matched what Sam felt and she picked up the phone before she realized that she had decided to. "Sara? I'm sorry. This is Major Samantha Carter, I work with Colonel O'Neill."
"Major Carter?" Sara's voice continued to echo through the room as the answering machine recorded the conversation
"Yes. We met a couple years ago." Daniel walked over and stood next to Sam. She knew he wondered what she planned to do. She didn't have an answer for him.
"I remember. You were a captain then, I think."
Sam smiled. "Yes, I was."
Sara cleared her throat. "Did something happen to Jack?" Sam identified with her fearful anticipation.
"We're not sure what the colonel is doing," Sam admitted. "We're here at his house trying to see if there is any indication as to what he's planned."
"He's not on a mission?"
"Like I said, we're not sure what he's doing." Sam kept as close to the truth as possible. "Is there anything you can tell us?"
Sara gave a short, humorless laugh. "I never knew what Jack was doing, even when we were married. He stopped by earlier this week and dropped off a box for me with my dad but he left before I got home."
"I don't want to pry, Sara, but could you tell me what was in the box?"
"Some of Charlie's stuff that Jack had, some things that were ours when we were married. And, ah, a letter."
Sam debated for a minute then asked the question. "What did he say in the letter?"
"I haven't opened it. I, ah, didn't want to, in case. . ." There was a deep, shuddering sigh . "You know, I thought I was beyond this, but I don't suppose I ever will be."
Sam looked at Daniel and his look mirrored her helplessness. Sam took a deep breath and asked what she didn't want to. "Like I said, I don't want to pry, Sara, but there could be something important in there. Do you think you could read it? I don't want to know what it says, just let me know if it tells anything about what he's doing."
There was a long pause. "Okay. Give me a minute."
Teal'c, who had listened to the conversation from across the room, walked over and stood next to Daniel. They heard Sara's footsteps, and then there was a pause, followed by the distinctive sound of ripping paper. Sam drummed her fingers against her leg as she waited; she tried not to think about the fact that Jack had actually left Sara a letter.
It was a full minute later before Sara's voice came back across the line. "Major Carter?" Her voice was thick and she cleared her throat twice before she continued. "He doesn't say anything about what he's doing, but I know Jack. I know, from this letter, he doesn't think he's coming back."
Daniel swore and shook his head at Sam.
"I know you can't tell me details," Sara said, "but I'd like. . ." Her sentence ended with another deep, shuddering breath.
"I honestly don't know anything, Sara," Sam said. "But I promise you, I'll let you know as soon as we do."
"Thank you, Major."
Sam held the phone until a dial tone filled the air. The answering machine clicked off when she hung up. After a second's hesitation, she pushed the delete button. It beeped and reset the message count to zero.
Daniel cleared his throat and Sam took a deep breath before she met his eyes. "General Hammond said he'd call me on my cell when Dad contacted us again," she said. "I had planned to go home, but I think I'm just going to wait here until he calls." It didn't feel right to leave.
"I'll stay with you," Daniel offered.
"As will I," Teal'c said.
Sam nodded. "Good. I don't want to be alone."
They walked into the living room together and Sam sat down on the sofa. "I wish he would have left out his National Geographic's," she said. "I didn't finish reading the article on the folklore of Ireland."
"It was a very informative article, Major Carter," Teal'c said. He had crossed to the window and looked out at Jack's backyard. "It detailed many of the legends and tales of the land, of which O'Neill seemed to know a great deal."
Sam smiled at Teal'c. "Yeah, leave it to the colonel to know about that."
Daniel sat down in the armchair and flipped through the stations. He settled on a History Channel documentary. Sam stretched out on the sofa and tried to relax. The documentary droned on in the background and she found it strangely comforting to lie there. She could almost believe that Jack was safe. He would walk into the room any minute and complain about Daniel's choice of shows. The channel abruptly switched and Sam looked at the television in surprise. "You didn't like the show?"
"No," Daniel said. "I just noticed that Jack didn't set it up to tape The Simpsons." He looked across at Sam. "I figure I better tape it for him. He can watch it when he gets back."
Sam leaned back and closed her eyes against the emotions that threatened to spill over. "Good idea, Daniel. We'll all watch it together, once we get him home."
***
Jack hadn't expected to wake at all, but if he did, he thought darkness and the suffocating weight of stones would greet him. Instead, sunlight shot down at him and a hot wind scraped sand across his face. The blinding light burned his eyes and he blinked blearily into it. He sat up despite the queasiness the movement induced. Double images swam before him, and he tried not to think what damage these repeated concussions could cause. The world slowed to a halt, and he made out the scattered rubble of the destroyed pyramids. Smoke and fire still issued from the ruins. He had no idea how he'd climbed free of the pile of debris that had collapsed on him. His chest felt as if it were still crushed under the rocks, his head pounded with pain and climbing to his knees caused him to vomit blood-tinged bile onto the dusty ground.
Jack struggled through the pain and nausea and forced his shaking legs to stand. The sun, like the moon, bathed the world with an unsettling red shade. The only sounds were the muted roar of flames and the gusting of the hot wind that swirled the dust around him. It looks like hell. My hell.
The world spun. Jack vomited again, lost his balance and fell. The bones in his right knee ground together when he landed on it and white flashes of pain danced in front of him. Please don't let me die here. With his eyes closed, he fought for focus. He couldn't die, not yet, not here.
The nausea passed and he again climbed to his feet. The drumbeat in his skull made it impossible to think, and his rasping breath was loud in the silence. His legs shook as he stumbled through the ruins scattered around him. Light-headed from pain and unable to catch his breath, he made ten steps before he fell. He landed on something soft and smooth. It took him a moment to realize that he'd fallen on the supplies that Juniel had taken from him. He blinked at the pile and tried to understand how everything he needed had gotten stacked together. It took two tries to grab his watch from the top.
Something was definitely wrong, but Jack couldn't fight through the noise and static in his brain to figure out what it was. He dropped the watch in his pocket and sat next to his supplies. The med kit was at the bottom of the satchel and he pulled it free from the other supplies. Trembling fingers made it hard to work the clasps, but he managed to open the kit and pulled out an unbroken syringe of morphine. When he rolled it in his hand, the liquid inside swirled like the dust around him. The painkillers he'd taken earlier could still be in his system. He had a concussion and he reacted unpredictably to morphine even under the best of circumstances. Pain washed over him in waves and the world slipped around him.
He didn't bother to swab his skin. The pain of the needle barely registered but the cold numbness of the morphine hit him like a physical blow. One moment he was sitting with the syringe in his hand, and then he was flat on his back as the world spun around him. He rolled to his side, retched, and relished that the movement caused him no pain. The vertigo subsided and he climbed to his feet.
He still couldn't get a decent breath of air and he could feel a grinding in his left side that signified cracked -- if not broken -- ribs. His right leg shook from weakness and he could still feel the kneecap catch as he bent it. A steady trickle of liquid etched a path though the dust on his face and he didn't bother to check to see if it was sweat or blood. It didn't matter.
Slowly, careful not to injure himself further, he gathered his equipment into his satchel and swung it gingerly onto his shoulder. Feeling no pain was as much a danger as it was a blessing. It would be easy to damage something beyond repair and use. He started across the clearing. His right knee only held if it was locked straight and movement made the world tilt dangerously. As he walked, a persistent, deep drone echoed through his head that made it hard to hear the sound around him. The world dimmed at the edges, an ominous greyness that encroached upon his sight.
Dust billowed with each step. It settled on his clothes, caked his skin and stole what little breath he had. It no longer hurt to cough, but lack of oxygen made him dizzy and he fell three times before he made the tree line. He dropped onto an old fallen tree and leaned back to listen to his own ragged breath.
A sudden and undeniable feeling of being watched jolted him upright, and he peered around the woods. The wind stirred the leaves and dislodged crimson dust from the tops of the trees, but Jack knew that he was the only living thing left on the planet. The skeleton in the pyramid danced in front of his eyes in a sudden flash of memory and the haunted feeling he'd had earlier stole back over him. The wind gusted again and red-dust colored shadows lurked at the corners of Jack's vision. A new, irrational panic swam in the back of Jack's mind. He closed he eyes and waited for the feeling to subside. Great. Now I'm seeing things. I'm never helping the Tok'ra again. The forest continued to sway in front of him after he opened his eyes, and the paranoia didn't subside. God, I hate morphine. He pushed the feelings to the side and focused all his energy on returning to the Stargate.
The clearing around the Stargate hung heavy with the smoke from the burnt tents and it now mixed with the red dust from the destroyed pyramids. The dark shapes of dead Jaffa lay scattered around the remains of the tents but he ignored them, as he ignored the movements of the shadows that continued to linger in his peripheral vision. He made his way back to the small dry riverbed and the cave where he'd hidden his equipment. The crystal he'd taken from the DHD lay where he'd left it and there was no sign that anyone had disturbed it.
He sat amid his supplies and futilely tried to pull in one decent lungful of air. He despaired at the thought of moving the equipment to the gate. The gully had seemed shallow and too near the Jaffa when he had arrived but now he couldn't make the trip without pausing to rest at least twice. Even without the heavy ordinance and C-4 that he had used in the assault on the pyramids, it would take him four of those trips to carry it all to the gate. The impulse to leave the equipment behind appealed to him for a moment, but he knew he'd feel naked without his armament. Besides, he'd worked so hard to get it and bring it halfway across the known universe, it seemed a shame to leave it now.
It took him six trips, not four, and he could feel the morphine wearing off by the time he dropped the last of his equipment at the base of the gate. He pulled the crystal from his pocket, limped over to the DHD and hoped he remembered how to put it back in. The black scar of a staff blast across the front of the DHD froze him in place. Damn. DHDs were far from indestructible. If the DHD didn't work, he'd be trapped here -- trapped in this hell. He shook himself free of the thought and carefully examined the inside of the device. There was no visible damage and when he replaced the crystal in the DHD, it hummed to life.
Jack would have sighed with relief if he could've taken a deep enough breath. He settled for punching in the gate address, pleased to see each coordinate lock into place. The final chevron glowed in acceptance, but Jack paused before he pushed the middle button. This wasn't part of the official plan. The DHD was supposed to have been destroyed the moment he arrived on the planet, thereby insuring that no one -- not even he -- would be able to leave. Jack had other plans. Nirrti had used this planet as her killing fields and he didn't intend to spend the rest of his life on it.
Besides, he knew his team. They would never leave well enough alone. Once they had deciphered what he'd done, they would demand the gate address and send a probe through. When that happened, he'd end up having to tell them to stay the hell away. There would be the inevitable final good-byes and farewell recriminations. He'd done that once already, back on Argos when the nanites aged him, and he wasn't going to go through that again. Outside of burying the gate, an option the Tok'ra had refused to consider, there was only one option: leave the planet.
It had taken him five nights of hidden research to find the perfect alternative. PT9-780 was a small, uninhabited planet that the SGC had discovered early in the program. It had been fully explored and used as a base of operations for training missions. Carter and her merry band of scientists used it to test all the gizmos and gadgets that they stuck on the MALPs and UAVs. It had been a perfect geek playground until one of their little experiments had fried the DHD. They'd managed to retrieve the personnel still on the planet by doing a manual dial, but they'd been unable to fix the DHD. With no reason to keep the planet on the dialing rotation, it became a footnote in the SGC files until Jack's search for the perfect bolthole.
The MALP and UAV he'd sent to the planet had revealed no changes since the previous visits. There was no sign of gate travel and no indication of other visitors. There was no reason to believe that the planet had suddenly developed a population that he would kill the moment he stepped through the gate.
There was no guarantee that it hadn't, either.
Jack rubbed angrily at the itchy dust that covered his face. When he pulled his hands away, he stared at the deep-red stains that covered them. He'd already sentenced one planet full of people to death, could he accept the possibility of doing that again?
"Out, out, damn spot," Jack muttered. He rubbed his hands clean against his pants and then pressed the inner button of the DHD. The gate sprang to life. After he tossed his equipment through the gate, he waited for it to disconnect. Then he limped back to the DHD, pulled the top open and laid it out so the inner workings could be seen. The crystal removed with a simple twist, and he put it in his pocket for safekeeping. He knelt in front of the scorch marks on the DHD before he pulled out the Tok'ra communications device. The damaged, dismantled DHD was clearly in the shot.
At a touch of the activation button, the device blinked to life and, a second later, the hologram of a Tok'ra appeared before him.
"Colonel O'Neill. What is the status of the mission?"
"The mission is completed." It was difficult to talk and Jack wished he'd taken another shot of morphine. "And I'm fine. Thanks for asking."
The Tok'ra -- Vertin? Verla? Vertas -- ignored both Jack's obvious injuries and his sarcasm.
"Did you destroy all the contagion? Did anyone access the gate or send any messages?"
"I planted the explosives as instructed. Although you might want to tell your operative that I found three pyramids down here, a boatload of Jaffa and more than fifty prisoners that were being used to test the virus."
The image of Vertas nodded at him. "Yes. We received that information just after you ringed down. It was too late to pass it along to you."
"Right," Jack said. "And the check's in the mail."
Vertas looked puzzled but didn't ask what Jack meant. "I was instructed to ask if there was anything that I can do for you before I report back to Anise."
"Two things. First, this is a message to the folks back at the SGC." Jack flashed a small blue crystal at the screen. "I'm sending it to you now. It's for the SGC -- eyes only. Understand?" He waited for Vertas to nod before he continued. "Tell Anise to give it to my team when she talks to them."
"Anise is not planning on briefing your team, Colonel O'Neill."
Jack smiled at that. "No, I don't suppose she is. Just see that she gets it. When they demand to see our communications, she should give this to them." He slipped the crystal into the communications device and it blinked to show that it transmitted his message.
"Very well. I will see that it reaches Anise. What is the second thing I can do for you?"
"Let everyone know that this is the last contact I will have. I'll destroy this communications device as soon as we're through here. I will not respond to any attempts at contact."
"That was not the plan, Colonel. This device has atmospheric monitors on it. We will require that you. . ."
"Ain't gonna happen," Jack cut him off. The image of Vertas swam in front of him and he couldn't breathe. He blinked to clear his vision, but it didn't help. "I did my bit. Now you're gonna let me be. That's the new plan."
"There is valuable data. . ."
Jack ignored Vertas, picked up the staff weapon that lay near him, used it to pull himself to his feet and blasted the communicator. The device smoked under the impact and the hologram blinked out. Jack shot the device several more times and stopped only when the communicator was a melted blob.
"That felt good," Jack said. He used the staff weapon as a crutch and waited until the shaking in his arms passed. The creeping sensation of being watched pushed at him again but the weight of the weapon in his hand eased his panic. He squinted around the clearing. There's nothing to see, Jack. Everything's dead. Despite knowing that, he still stood for another minute and peered into the darkening surroundings. Nothing.
Fighting to ignore the paranoia, he turned back to the DHD. The crystal slid easily back into place, and he quickly dialed out to PT9-780. Once the gate opened, he removed the center of the DHD and laid it to the side, careful not to pull the wires apart. The gate wavered but stayed open. He pulled a small block of C-4 from his vest, set the timer for ten seconds, dropped it into the middle of the DHD and headed for the gate.
It wasn't much time, but he couldn't shake the feeling that if he'd leave it any longer something would follow him through. He did a countdown in his head and cursed that his injuries slowed him down, the DHD was too far away from the gate and the platform had too many steps. The C-4 detonated the moment he fell through the event horizon, and the wormhole shuddered around him.
He was spit out into cool darkness, and he tumbled into his equipment that lay scattered around the gate. The wormhole snapped closed behind him. Pain roared in his head as he rolled over onto his back and blinked up into the star-filled sky of his new home.
Necessary Sacrifices, Part 4
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 -- Part 3
Jack woke with a violent shudder, his stomach heaved and the blinding pain in his head spiked. He rolled to the side and vomited. Weak and disoriented, he pulled himself to his feet and fought to clear his head. How long had he been out? Panic made his pulse race. The cover on his watch refused to obey his trembling fingers, so he ripped it off with his teeth. Forty minutes -- he'd been out for forty minutes. His head spun and the world danced in front of him.
"Damn it."
He leaned back against the wall, pulled a flask off of his belt and poured the water over his head. The C-4 would detonate in less than ninety minutes. If he couldn't get into the active lab and blow that before then, he'd never get close enough to destroy it. He took a pull of water, rinsed the sour taste out of his mouth and spat it on the ground. The red moon had crawled further across the sky and the clouds that lurked in front of it cast bloody shadows.
As he rubbed his knee in an effort to work some strength back into it, he considered his options. Unlike the first two, this pyramid had a Jaffa guard at the entrance and personnel inside. His original plan had been to scale the back of the building, creep into the unused portions and sneak down into the lower levels without being seen. There he would plant the C-4 and get the hell out. That is so not going to work anymore. He couldn't creep or sneak; he'd be lucky if he could limp and lurk.
A fine thread of desperation traced through him. There was no backup, if this mission went south there would be no second chance. The light from the Jaffa encampment drew his attention. If he allowed himself to be caught, they would take all his equipment. Even if he did manage to keep the C-4 and powdered napalm, there was no guarantee they would take him anywhere near the lab. He needed a distraction; something to keep the Jaffa occupied and out of his way long enough to get into the pyramid, gimpy leg and all. He needed something for the guards to chase besides him. He needed a jailbreak.
Not wanting to advertise his presence with the sound of gunfire, he searched the bottom of his satchel for the spare zat he'd packed away. It snagged on the first aid kit when he pulled it out and the medical bag fell to the ground. Jack picked it up and turned it over twice in his hands. The pain in his knee was tolerable but the ache in his head pulsed with each heartbeat and made it hard to concentrate. He dug out a package of ibuprofen and swallowed the pills dry before sticking the kit back. Zat in hand, he took one tentative step on his leg. It held.
The scattered rocks made it hard to walk as he worked his way toward the Jaffa and their prisoners. He could disable the lights at the power source with the zat, and a couple of well-placed pieces of detonation cord would knock some of the pen walls down. With any luck the prisoners would escape, the Jaffa would pursue and he would have time to get into the pyramid without being seen. He wouldn't have to run, climb or jump anywhere.
A small generator that sat on the other side of the compound, directly opposite the occupied pyramid, powered the lights. It rested several feet from the largest of the light poles, unfenced and unguarded. Jack worked his way down to the clearing, heavily favoring his injured knee. He crouched along the tree line, just a yard away from the door to the pyramid. A momentary thought of being able to sneak in through the front was dashed when two Jaffa appeared for a moment then returned inside. It would be better, anyhow, to have the people out of the cages when the bombs went. They wouldn't survive long anywhere on the planet but at least they would die free.
He studied the layout again and mentally mapped out his best route to the generator. With one last wistful look at the pyramid's opening, he swung both of his bags off his back. Speed and stealth were essential and he was in short supply of both; he didn't need to be weighed down by unnecessary equipment. He pulled a roll of primacord out of his satchel, cut it into two-foot lengths and slung the bundle of cords around his neck. After he moved some ignition caps to his vest pocket, he returned the unnecessary equipment and hid his bags in the shadows.
The Jaffa still sat around the fire. Some looked to be asleep. Jack hated to think what T would say about that. These were not top-of-the-line Jaffa. Lucky for me or I'd be dead. Jack steeled himself and then moved to the light pole. His limping run wasn't fast, but at least it was quiet. He leaned his shoulder against the pole and tried to hide behind its narrow protection. The clearing remained silent and he chanced a look. None of the Jaffa had noticed his run. Several pairs of eyes from the stockade watched him, though, and he held his finger to his lips. He prayed that they understood it meant they needed to be quiet. His eyes met theirs before they broke contact. Once sure they wouldn't give him away, he focused on the generator. It didn't look like it would explode if he zatted it. More than that, it didn't look big enough to cause a lot of damage if it did explode. Unless it's some of the nasty alien stuff that Carter is always messing with. Which, of course, it was.
Jack chewed his lip and considered his alternatives. There were none. He aimed at the generator. The zat's familiar sound echoed in the stillness and blue electricity danced around the generator. The lights dimmed but didn't go out. The Jaffa stirred and looked up at the lights. Jack swore and zatted the generator again. Without waiting to see the result, he turned and hurried into the shadows that hung around the fences. The lights flickered; then the compound was plunged into darkness. Jack ignored the shouts and cries and wrapped a length of primacord around the links between the fence sections. He stuck a detonator in each one, backed off a couple of feet and zatted it. The power surge triggered the detonator and the cord erupted in blinding fire, which seared through the metal connections and fell to the ground in pools of liquid flame. Before Jack could move, the prisoners acted. They rushed the side where Jack had burned the barrier free, shoved it open and fled into the dark woods. The Jaffa, confused by the blackout and drawn by the burning primacord, chased after them.
Jack faded away from the chaos and worked his way over to another one of the confinement pens. Five Jaffa still guarded the remaining prisoners and two more leaned over the malfunctioning generator. Jack detonated another set of primacord on this pen and the captives again swarmed through the opening it made. By this time, the prisoners in the last pen had gathered enough courage to try an escape without Jack's aid. The Jaffa, unable to contain the escapees, fired wildly into the running mass of people but were overrun in seconds.
Jack left the fighting behind him and crept toward the middle pyramid, secure in the knowledge that the pandemonium he started would continue. Four Jaffa ran out of the door in front of him. Jack flattened himself against the wall and willed himself to blend into the darkness. The sound of snapping electricity came from behind him, followed by an ear-shattering boom. A quick glance over his shoulder as he headed into the pyramid, showed a large, smoking hole and several dead Jaffa where the generator had stood. The last of the prisoners disappeared into the woods. The clearing was eerily empty.
Somewhere in the darkness an explosion echoed, followed almost immediately by another one. Claymores. Jack didn't know if they'd been set off by the escaping prisoners or by the guards. Don't think about it. It didn't matter. Either one gave him the distraction he needed.
Two more explosions rent the night as Jack worked his way back around to his bags. He moved the last the bricks of C-4 to the satchel and tossed the backpack aside. With one last double-check of his equipment, he melted into the darkness of the pyramid. The room was large, dim and still. Jack waited for his eyes to adjust and his breathing to slow. The torches that lit the entrance cast foreboding shadows along the floors and walls. Jack hugged the edges as he made his way down the main hallway. The red dust that layered the other pyramids clung to this one as well. He left a clear trail but he hoped that the shadows that hid him would mask them as well.
The upper floor's torch-lit corridors gave way to well-lit hallways. It was increasingly difficult to remain hidden. The lower level's bare walls and clean corridors may have made it easier for him to move, but it also made it easier for him to be found. He moved as fast as he could and followed the same path he had traveled in the other buildings. The smooth floors made the trip faster and he covered good ground despite his injured knee.
Several levels down, he pulled out the handheld device and switched it on. The signal was strong and steady, and he followed it to the left. He came to a group of rooms that looked well used. The largest of them held a ring transport device, the next two were living quarters and the final one looked to be a supply room. All were unoccupied. The device led him past the cluster of rooms. At the entrance to the hall on the other side, he paused to rub his knee and listen for any movement.
If the light on the handheld was any indication, the room he needed was just ahead and that's where he'd most likely run into resistance. He dropped the device into his vest pocket and gripped the zat tightly in his hand. His P-90 would be better, but gunfire would draw far too much attention. He edged up to the doorway and peered around the corner. The hall was short and ended at a closed door with a Jaffa guard in front of it. Jack took a deep breath, slid around the corner and zatted the guard, who fell without a sound. After waiting a second to be sure there were no reinforcements, Jack zatted the Jaffa twice more and then pulled out the handheld. The bright signal pointed to a solid stone door. He returned it to his vest and pushed the door open, zat at the ready.
The piercing squeal of the device cut through the air. Jack swore. It stuck in his pocket when he pulled at it and its scream filled the room as Jack stabbed at the buttons. As the alarm died, he was hit from behind. Colored lights danced in front of his eyes and he crashed into a table. The device and his zat clattered to the middle of the floor. His attacker wrapped a thick arm around his neck and held him as he hit Jack two more times in the side. The edge of the flack vest cut into the staff weapon burn and Jack choked for breath.
Jack gave with the onslaught and dropped to the floor. Pain shot through his knee when he hit the ground, but his attacker was pulled off-balance and stumbled. Jack rolled forward and freed himself from the assault. Another roll took him to the other side of the room, but he misjudged the distance and collided painfully with the wall. It took a minute for his head to clear. The Jaffa who attacked him rolled to the middle of the room and reached for the fallen zat. Jack pulled his pistol from his holster and fired three times. The Jaffa slumped to the floor and blood pooled around the body. Jack struggled to his feet, gun at the ready, but no one else came through the door.
Jack holstered his pistol and pulled out the last of the C-4, which he placed around the room. When he was done, there was just thirty minutes left on the timers. Barely enough time to get clear of the blasts. He took a moment to zat the body on the floor three times. The Jaffa disappeared, a pool of blood on the floor the only sign of his death. It only took a minute to spread the last of the incendiary powder around the room, and then he hobbled out and closed the door behind him.
The hallway was clear and he headed back out at a limping run. He made it all the way to the first room before he heard movement. The shadows hid him as he dodged to the side and pressed back against the wall. A woman in a long black coat, trailed by two Jaffa, strode through the pyramid. They headed toward the lab. As they passed his hiding spot Jack gripped the zat and held his breath. They didn't look his way. Jack watched them pass; and then turned to sneak out the door.
Two Jaffa materialized from the darkness outside and blocked his escape.
Jack reacted first. His zat shots split the air between them. As they dove to the side, Jack shot again. They disappeared into the shadows and he made a desperate attempt to run through the door while it was still clear. Shouts rang from behind him and the crackling sound of zat fire sang over his head. Jack dodged out the door and cut to the right. He hugged the wall and headed for the dark cover of the forest. On his third step, his foot twisted in a hole and his knee gave. He rolled with the fall and tried to stand, but his knee buckled. Before he could recover, rough hands grabbed him, pulled him to his feet and ripped the zat from him. A Jaffa loomed in front of him; his staff weapon hummed as it powered up. Jack braced for the shot.
***
The SGC conference room was silent. Daniel waited for someone to protest Selmak's plan. He wanted the general to demand an alternative. He willed Sam to come up with something brilliant. They couldn't just sit here and talk about condemning SGC personnel -- and an entire world -- to a certain death. They had to have a better plan.
Instead, Jacob spoke. "We're running out of time here, George."
"You can't order men to go on a suicide mission," Daniel protested.
"No," Hammond said. "They will need to be volunteers. How many men do you think you will need?"
"The fewer, the better," Jacob replied. "The base is small with only a few of Cronus' people, so it should take a small strike force." Jacob stopped and rubbed his hands across his face. "But it will take too long. Once the volunteers are chosen, we will have to develop the individual vaccines and transport them to the planet. Anise was supposed to have handled all of this by now."
"What if she did?"
They all looked at Sam. A familiar gnawing fear ate at Daniel's stomach.
"Jack." As he said it, he knew it was true. "Jack would be the logical person to choose for such a mission. He's done this kind of thing before."
"Anise has all his medical and physiological records from when we had the armbands." Sam moved forward to lean on the table. "She would have all the data she needed."
Jacob looked around the table. "And Jack's not here?"
"No," General Hammond said. "We don't know where he is. I knew he was up to something. Damn it!" He slammed his fist on the table. "Walter!" he bellowed.
The sergeant materialized at the door. "Sir?"
"Get Captain Jameson on the phone. I want to know where Colonel O'Neill is and I want to know it now!"
"Yes, sir." Walter snapped a salute and left.
"Even if Anise talked to Jack, why wouldn't he tell us about it?" Daniel asked
"If O'Neill thought that it would require only one man to complete the mission," Teal'c said, "he would accept the risk himself."
"We all know that Jack would jump at any chance to put himself in danger," Daniel said, not even trying to keep the bitterness from his voice.
"I have never known O'Neill to risk his life when it was not necessary, Daniel Jackson."
"Well, you haven't known him as long as I have."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow at him but Daniel continued before the point could be argued. "Even if this is all true, it doesn't explain where he is now."
"Is someone going to fill me in on what's happening here?" Jacob demanded.
"I will, Dad."
As Sam gave a summary of the past days, Daniel walked over to look down at the Stargate. It was so like Jack to go running off on a suicide mission without a word to anyone. Stupid SOB probably thinks that he's sparing us all a lot of worry and pain. He'd spent the last four years working with Jack O'Neill and he was no closer to understanding the man then he had been the first time he'd met him. That wasn't true: he understood him less than he did when he first met him.
As Sam's recitation of the weaponry Jack stole drifted into the back of his mind, he found himself thinking about why Jack would have taken that all with him rather than ship it through the gate. And how did he expect to get through the gate, now? None of this made any sense. Why ship stuff off planet and then walk away from the only way off that planet?
"General Hammond?" Walter's voice interrupted Daniel's thoughts and Sam's explanation of Jack's disappearance. "Captain Jameson is on line three."
Daniel watched General Hammond walk into his office and pick up the phone before he crossed back to the table and sat down next to Sam again. Jacob looked across at him.
"Sam says you suggested contacting me but you say you had no idea that Anise had talked to Jack."
"No," Daniel said. "It was just something he said. That he should've learned never to trust a snake."
Jacob winced. "I knew it was a mistake to send Anise, but she is the expert on this. She's not the most diplomatic of beings, I will grant you, but she's passionate. And Freya tempers her. The council thought she'd have the best chance to convince the SGC to help on this."
"Look, we still have no proof that she talked to Jack at all," Sam said. "I mean, even if she did, Jack's behavior doesn't make any logical sense. He'd still have to come to the SGC in order to gate to the planet."
"Actually, we want to restrict gate travel to the planet as much as possible, so the team would have gated to a nearby planet and then would take a tel'tak the rest of the way. The team would ring down with their equipment, while the tel'tak waited in orbit for confirmation the mission was completed."
"I thought you couldn't penetrate the atmospheric interference?"
"We designed a special base communicator; once on the planet it will provide a boost to the signal and we should be able to send transmissions between it and the ship. We can use the device to monitor the effects of the virus on the planet and communicate with the surviving members of the strike force. And, since it would be possible for a vaccinated person to carry the virus to other places, we would have to keep a tel'tak in orbit and ensure that no one ever left the planet."
The finality in Jacob's words wasn't lost on Daniel. 'No one' meant the SGC team as well as a pawn of the Goa'uld.
"Damn it, Captain," General Hammond's voice rang through the conference room, loud in the sudden silence. "You need to find him. A man can't just disappear into thin air."
It hit Daniel at that moment. "Damn him." He leapt to his feet and his chair skittered across the floor behind him. He ignored the looks the others at the table gave him, sprinted into General Hammond's office and skidded to a stop in front of the desk. "Ask him if there was any unusual air traffic in the area lately." General Hammond gaped at him, but Daniel pressed his point. "Ask if there were any UFO sightings."
The general's eyes narrowed in sudden comprehension and he turned his attention back to the phone. "Captain, I also want you to check into any suspicious or unusual air traffic."
Once sure Hammond understood what he wanted, Daniel walked back out to the three astonished people who sat in the other room.
"What was that about?" Sam demanded.
"We think that Anise talked to Jack and that he's planning to head off on this suicide mission without letting any of us know. Right?" He didn't wait for them to answer. "How was he going to do that? How could he get off planet without anyone, including General Hammond, knowing? What would we have done if Jack just dialed up a planet and walked through? Or if he disappeared on a mission?"
"We would endeavor to locate him and return him to the SGC," Teal'c said.
"Right."
"And we would send out search party's and rescue teams," Sam continued.
"We might even shut down operations here at SGC until we knew what had happened, right?"
"Such a precaution would be essential until we were aware of what had transpired." Teal'c said.
"And that would disrupt important operations. Put teams on hold. Perhaps even endanger them." Daniel paced around the table.
"Jack wouldn't want to do that," Sam protested.
"No." Daniel stopped by the window overlooking the gate room. "So how does he get off world without disrupting SGC operations or letting us know that he's going off world?"
"He had the Tok'ra do it," Sam said. "They picked him up in a tel'tak."
"Right." Daniel turned and looked back at his friends. "He's already off world."
Jacob shook his head. "If Anise had planned this, she would have informed me. I helped organize the mission."
"Not if Jack didn't want any of us to know," Daniel said.
General Hammond stalked into the room. "According to Captain Jameson there were several reports of UFOs around Jack's cabin early last evening but that radar didn't pick up anything unusual. The sightings were dismissed."
"I knew it," Daniel said. "If he was picked up at eight or so last night, that means he's been gone for," he glanced at his watch, "about eighteen hours. How long would it take to get to the planet?"
"If they take a tel'tak, it would take years," Jacob said. "I'm betting that they just flew to a nearby world with a gate. If they kept ship travel to a minimum," he paused, "I'd say ten hours. At the most."
"It's too late to stop him, then," Sam voiced Daniel's thoughts.
"Yes." Jacob said. "I'm sorry."
"We still need to verify this," General Hammond said. "Captain Jameson is working in Minnesota. Jacob, if you could contact Anise and find out what she knows?"
"I'll get right on it, George," Jacob said.
General Hammond sighed and addressed the three remaining members of SG-1. "Until we know anything else, I want you to keep working on it from our end. We're not going to give up here, people, until we know what happened. For all we know, Jack could be on his way home right now."
Teal'c nodded and Sam gave a curt, "Yes, sir."
Daniel turned back to look at the gate. He already knew what happened. Jack was on that planet and he would never come home again.
***
The staff weapon's opening sparked and raw energy arced around it. Jack smelled burnt ozone and felt the tightening grip of the hands that held him.
"Do not kill him." A cold female voice spoke from the dark opening of the pyramid. "Cronus will want to know what he knows."
The Jaffa lowered his weapon. The hands that held Jack spun him around, pulled off his pack and stripped him of his weapons and gear. The woman in the long black coat stood before him, a slight smile on her face.
"You are the Tau'ri, O'Neill." The voice wasn't a Goa'uld but it could have been for all the arrogance that colored it.
"They got the new pictures up at the Goa'uld post office, huh?" Jack struggled to stand on his own. He frantically tried to determine how much longer it would be before the autotimers went off. "And who might you be?"
"I am Juniel, faithful servant to Lord Cronus. My lord will be pleased that we have you."
"Yeah, well, anything to make old Crony happy." Jack kept the tone light. He needed an out. Twenty minutes. Can't be more than twenty minutes.
"Where is the rest of your team?" she asked. "Are they near?"
"Oh, I'm sure they're somewhere."
"Call for them."
"So not gonna happen."
She smiled and nodded at the Jaffa that stood on the right. Jack braced himself for a blow but the Jaffa kicked him in the knee instead.
Pain engulfed him and white lights danced in front of his eyes. "Oh, God." He gasped for breath and tried to focus. "Son of a. . ." Bile rose in his throat and he sagged against the Jaffa that held him.
"I do not have patience with such impudence," Juniel said. "I will give you one more chance. Call for them."
"Go to hell," Jack forced the words out through gritted teeth.
She nodded again and the Jaffa next to Jack tensed to kick him again. Jack bent his leg and went with the blow. He dropped to the ground and let his good knee absorb the impact. The Jaffa dragged him back to his feet and punched him twice in the side. Jack felt something give and he bit back a cry of pain. Maybe the knee would have been better. A sharp stitch in his side doubled him over when he tried to straighten up. The Jaffa released him and Jack fell flat on the ground. The pain in his side grew to eclipse the familiar ache of his injured knee. As the fire burned under his ribs, an iron-tightness stretched across his chest. He lay in the cool dirt and fought for breath.
"Call for them," Juniel ordered again.
Jack struggled to his knees. It helped to hold an arm tight over his sore ribs as he sucked in each shallow breath. "No." He wasn't sure he spoke loud enough for her to hear.
"You Tau'ri are such a foolish race," Juniel said. "You see your god. He walks before you, yet you deny him. You should be honored to have the opportunity to serve him."
Jack let out a short bark of laughter and grimaced at the pain that stabbed into his chest when he did so. "Crony's just an old snake head. Nothing but an overdressed, egomaniacal, scum--"
Jack hadn't seen either of the Jaffa holding a pain stick, but suddenly he was awash in agony. Pain exploded within him; it filled his every breath, his every cell, his every thought. Trapped between heartbeats and drowning in anguish, he screamed for release and felt the raw power sear through his throat and burn at his eyes. The pain was a living thing that clawed at him and devoured everything he ever was. It lanced through his mind, trailing torture and despair. It ate at his skin and ripped through his bones, a flood of white-hot torment that seared away every memory of safety and peace.
It ended as abruptly as it had begun and his heart beat once more. Somewhere, a great distance away, a voice spoke. "--sucking, glory hound with delusions of grandeur." Jack felt himself talk but couldn't remember what he'd said.
Juniel gave an order in Goa'uld and Jack endured another blast from the pain stick. He rode out the torture. When it ended, he collapsed to the ground, panted for breath and struggled to recall what he was doing there.
"You will do as I want, Tau'ri," Juniel said, "or you will die in pain."
Jack bit back a snide comment and forced himself to concentrate on recovery rather than antagonizing the enemy. The sweat that dripped off his face made little indentations in the dusty ground and his entire body shook with tiny tremors, an all too familiar aftereffect from the pain stick. His breath was raspy and ragged in the still night. Juniel was willing to let him recover some of his strength. Jack used the time to assess his situation.
The blood-red moon shed more than enough light to see how much trouble he was in. His pile of gear -- his weapons -- sat in a heap well out of his reach. Two Jaffa stood at his side and awaited Juniel's orders. He had no idea how close the other Jaffa were or how many more of Cronus' 'faithful servants' were still around. The safety wood's edge was a good hundred yards away, while the middle pyramid stood less than twenty feet from him. If the bombs went off now, he'd be caught in the blast radius. God, how much time was left? His watch was still on his wrist. He rolled to one side and groaned with the movement. The moan, designed to cover the sound as he pulled the Velcro cover off his watch, was only half an act. The digital display blinked three digits at him a split second before the heavy boot of the nearest Jaffa stamped on his wrist.
The cushion of dust on the ground spared him any broken bones, but it hurt like hell. The Jaffa ripped the watch off of Jack's wrist, then walked over to Juniel and handed it to her. Jack curled up into a protective ball and braced for another dose of pain stick that, fortunately, never came.
Juniel examined the watch, turning it over in her hand. "Did you think you could communicate with them without us knowing, Tau'ri fool?" she demanded. "Tell me how this works." She walked several feet closer to Jack and dangled the watch in front of him. "Call them and I will spare you."
The display read 8:48 before it blinked down to 8:47, then 8:46. Almost nine minutes. He could still make it to the gate if he could get away from here. If he couldn't get away. . . nine minutes was an eternity when faced with torture from a pain stick. The Jaffa that had handed Juniel the watch returned to stand next to him. As weak as he was, Jack had no chance of fighting them off, but he wasn't going to give in, either. "Spare me? How 'bout you bite me instead."
Jack doubted she'd ever heard the phrase before, but she must have understood his meaning anyhow.
"You will not defy me," she said. "Get him off the ground."
The Jaffa dragged Jack to his knees, and their hands bit into his arms. The pain of their grip was a tolerable trade off for the ability to stay upright, and he sagged back against their hold willing to get rest anywhere he could. He shifted his weight to ease the ache in his injured knee. Something hard and sharp dug into his leg. It took him a moment to remember that he still had a pistol strapped to his ankle, hidden by his pant leg. A sudden, desperate plan gave him hope. For it to work, though, he'd have to have the Jaffa release him and move away; he needed a clear shot at the three of them. There was only one sure way he could think of to get them to do that.
Juniel took several steps closer to Jack, the watch still held in front of her. The digital readout was 8:04. "I have heard of you, O'Neill of the Tau'ri." The display clicked to eight minutes. "I have heard many things that I know cannot be true." 7:57. "The tales of your arrogance, however, were obviously not overstated." 7:49. She offered him the watch once more. "Call for them, O'Neill of the Tau'ri. Even you cannot believe that you can withstand this." 7:39. She moved closer and crouched down before him, close enough to reach out and touch his face. "You may be strong, O'Neill of the Tau'ri. You are not that strong." 7:23. She ran her hand along his jaw. "No one is that strong." 7:19.
Jack smiled at her. "We'll see." 7:16. This was taking too long. What is she waiting for, an engraved invitation? "I've been tortured by Ra, Apophis and Hathor. What makes you think you can succeed where your so-called-gods have failed?"
Juniel's smile faded. "You are a fool." Her caress turned into a fierce pinch.
"So everyone keeps telling me," Jack said. 6:58. At this rate she was going to talk him to death. "But yet, here I am and they're dead."
Juniel hissed under her breath and jerked her hand from his face. She stood and shouted orders to the Jaffa. Jack didn't understand what she said, but the Jaffa released him. As he sagged to the ground, the Jaffa with the pain stick stepped back and the one on his right moved forward to stand next to Juniel. Jack fought to ignore the panic that rose in his throat at the thought of being hit with the pain stick again. He focused on drawing the pistol that was attached to his leg. Draw the gun and shoot the ba--
He dropped once more into the bottomless chasm of pain as the Jaffa jabbed the stick into his side, but he clung to the image of holding the 9-mm in his hand, the grip solid in his fist and the trigger cool against the heat of his finger. The agony roared around him and he fought for focus, ignoring his screams that echoed in his ears. Draw the gun. Draw the gun. Draw. . .
The nightmarish, burning pain ceased and Jack folded to the ground, his breath erratic. A deep moan escaped his lips as he rolled to his side. On its own volition, his hand moved to the pistol. He fumbled to pull up his pant leg and his weak fingers wrapped around the butt of the gun. There was a wonderful, distinctive sound as the holster released the pistol. His brain fought to remember what he had wanted to do but the familiar weight of the gun triggered the muscles to act before his mind could focus. He pushed himself onto his back and fired two shots into the Jaffa who held the pain stick. Both the Jaffa and weapon fell to the ground. Jack ignored them, rolled to his knees, and took aim at the Jaffa at Juniel's side. Jack's shot knocked the Jaffa off balance and made the blast from his staff weapon explode into the ground between them. Jack shot the Jaffa twice more before he moved the pistol to cover Juniel.
Juniel stared at Jack in open disdain. "You will not kill me, Tau'ri. My god will save me."
Jack's head buzzed and every breath caused a searing pain to burn in his lungs. "No one saved them." He nodded at the dead Jaffa and immediately regretted the action when the world swam in front of him.
"They are but Jaffa, I am a loyal servant of Cronus. I will be his next Lo'taur when I bring him your body."
"Yeah? That's so not gonna happen." He gathered his strength and pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. The movement caused his head to spin and dark spots to flash before his eyes. The pain in his side and the tightness across his chest bit at him again, and the blood roared in his ears. He blinked drunkenly at Juniel. His eyes couldn't focus. She moved, and he fired too late. The bullets split the air where she had been a second before. They hit the pyramid and ricocheted off into the darkness. Jack followed Juniel's movement with his gun. A loud electronic beeping cut into his foggy brain. On the third beep, he recognized it as the alarm on his watch -- the timer for the bombs. He snapped off two quick shots at Juniel and she crumpled to the ground just shy of the pyramid door.
There was a distant explosion and the ground shook as the C-4 in the first pyramid detonated. Jack turned and stumbled toward the center of the compound as a second explosion rocked his surroundings. Jack scanned the area and spotted several slabs of stone that lay off to the side. A third roar of C-4 echoed through the clearing as Jack limped over to the improvised shelter. He crawled under the stones and prayed they would provide him with enough protection from the explosions. As he pressed himself into the small hollow under the blocks, he tried to estimate how many seconds had passed. Those first explosions were two bricks of the 'super C-4', set to weaken the support structures of the pyramids and light the incendiary powder. Once the fire reached a high enough temperature the rest of the explosives would go. He had estimated that he should be a good half-mile from ground zero in order to be well and truly safe. Two hundred yards away, the first pyramid growled deep within and then erupted into a cyclone of flying dust and debris. The shock wave from the explosion ripped by Jack, just as he heard the second pyramid disintegrate into a ball of flying fragments. The stones above Jack shuddered and shifted. The last thing he remembered was thinking that at least no one would have to bury him when the C-4 in the final pyramid detonated and he was plunged into blackness.
***
Sam stood outside Jack's front door and chewed her lip. She shouldn't be here. The general had ordered her to get out of the base, go home and get a couple of hours' rest. She had left the base intending to do just that. When she got in the car, all roads led to Jack's house.
She knew the colonel wasn't here but she still reached out and rang the bell. It echoed through the house. There was no answering movement from inside. A moment later, she pushed it again and held it in for a full minute. The house remained quiet.
Without thinking about it, she dug into her pocket to pull out her set of spare keys and fumbled through them until she separated out Jack's. They all had keys to each other's places and Hammond had copies in his office as well; their job being what it was, it was necessary. The last time she'd used it was a year ago, when Jack had been trapped on Edora. That time, though, all of SG-1 had been here. She shouldn't be here by herself.
She put the key in the door and went in.
The house was clean and quiet. No overturned furniture, no signs of violence or foul play. It ironic that she was disappointed that everything looked normal. The thought stopped her and she looked around again. It didn't look normal; it didn't look normal at all. There were no scattered belongings or magazines lying on the tables or garbage in the trashcans. Everything was picked up and packed away, down to the knickknacks and pictures that usually sat throughout the house. It took five quick steps to cross to the kitchen. It was immaculately clean, no dirty dishes, no food sitting out. She pulled open the refrigerator door. It was empty. Not just the normal 'nothing but beer and ketchup' empty either. It was bare and smelled of bleach. Her heart in her throat, she pulled open the freezer. It was the same. "Damn him." She slammed the door shut as hard as she could. "Damn him."
"Sam?"
Daniel's voice startled her and she turned to see that he stood in the door, Teal'c right behind him. It took her a moment to find her voice. "Daniel. Teal'c. What are you doing here?"
"Same thing you are, apparently. We had hoped to find something to tell us that we're wrong about what Jack's doing."
"Well, we're not." Sam almost spat the words out. "Just look around."
Daniel spun in a circle and surveyed the house. "It does look like he cleaned up in here, doesn't it?"
"Cleaned out," Sam insisted. "Cleaned out. Look around. Does this look like Jack is coming back?"
"No." He walked around the kitchen and randomly opened and closed cupboard doors. "His office looks the same. That's why Teal'c and I came." Daniel glanced around the room, sighed and rubbed his neck
"God. I didn't even think to check his office." Her voice broke for a moment. Then she motioned helplessly around her. "He's gone."
"I am afraid that Major Carter is correct," Teal'c said. "It is apparent that O'Neill does not plan to return."
They stood together in the quiet of Jack's house. It should feel different; it should feel like Jack was gone. There should've been an emptiness about the place; a bareness that showed the loss that they felt. There should have been some sign of the sacrifice being made. But there wasn't. No sign. No notes. Nothing.
Sam let out a deep sigh. "Ahh. . . Daniel. Why did he do this?"
Daniel didn't answer. She didn't expect him to. She didn't need him to.
Jack wasn't that big of a mystery, not when it came down to doing his job, not when it came down to putting other people's lives first. For Jack it was a matter of honor, of doing the right thing. If it was a choice of his life or the life of others, there was no question which he would choose to sacrifice. It was what made Jack O'Neill the man he was. It was what made the fact that he wasn't coming back so easy to understand and so hard to accept.
"So what are we going to do now?" Daniel asked the question.
"I do not believe that there is anything we can do, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said. "We must wait for the Tok'ra to contact us."
"Dad wasn't even sure he could contact Anise or if she'd tell him anything when he did," Sam pointed out. "And if Jack's already on the planet. . ." Sam trailed off, not wanting to voice aloud what that meant.
The ring of the phone cut through the silence that filled the pause and Sam and Daniel jumped. They turned as one and stared at the phone as it rang again.
"Should we answer that?"
Sam crossed to the phone but didn't pick it up. "I don't know."
The fourth ring was cut off as the answering machine kicked in. "This is Jack O'Neill. You know the drill." A beep followed and a female voice drifted into the room. "Jack? Jack, are you there?" There was a slight pause and a deep sigh. "This is Sara. Give me a call as soon as you can, Jack. I need to talk to you about. . ." There was another pause.
Daniel looked over at Sam. "Sara? Jack's ex-wife?"
Sam nodded. They had met Sara once, a couple of years ago, when an alien life form had impersonated Jack. Sam remembered Sara as confused and scared, but also strong in the face of what had been an insane situation. Jack hadn't spoken of her since that time, but then Jack didn't talk about a lot of things.
"Listen, Jack, you can't just drop this stuff on me and not tell me about it. Not anymore."
Sam could almost feel the frustration and anxiety of the woman on the other end of the line. It was obvious that Jack was having the same effect on everyone.
There was another deep sigh. "Damn it, Jack!"
The resigned desperation in Sara's voice matched what Sam felt and she picked up the phone before she realized that she had decided to. "Sara? I'm sorry. This is Major Samantha Carter, I work with Colonel O'Neill."
"Major Carter?" Sara's voice continued to echo through the room as the answering machine recorded the conversation
"Yes. We met a couple years ago." Daniel walked over and stood next to Sam. She knew he wondered what she planned to do. She didn't have an answer for him.
"I remember. You were a captain then, I think."
Sam smiled. "Yes, I was."
Sara cleared her throat. "Did something happen to Jack?" Sam identified with her fearful anticipation.
"We're not sure what the colonel is doing," Sam admitted. "We're here at his house trying to see if there is any indication as to what he's planned."
"He's not on a mission?"
"Like I said, we're not sure what he's doing." Sam kept as close to the truth as possible. "Is there anything you can tell us?"
Sara gave a short, humorless laugh. "I never knew what Jack was doing, even when we were married. He stopped by earlier this week and dropped off a box for me with my dad but he left before I got home."
"I don't want to pry, Sara, but could you tell me what was in the box?"
"Some of Charlie's stuff that Jack had, some things that were ours when we were married. And, ah, a letter."
Sam debated for a minute then asked the question. "What did he say in the letter?"
"I haven't opened it. I, ah, didn't want to, in case. . ." There was a deep, shuddering sigh . "You know, I thought I was beyond this, but I don't suppose I ever will be."
Sam looked at Daniel and his look mirrored her helplessness. Sam took a deep breath and asked what she didn't want to. "Like I said, I don't want to pry, Sara, but there could be something important in there. Do you think you could read it? I don't want to know what it says, just let me know if it tells anything about what he's doing."
There was a long pause. "Okay. Give me a minute."
Teal'c, who had listened to the conversation from across the room, walked over and stood next to Daniel. They heard Sara's footsteps, and then there was a pause, followed by the distinctive sound of ripping paper. Sam drummed her fingers against her leg as she waited; she tried not to think about the fact that Jack had actually left Sara a letter.
It was a full minute later before Sara's voice came back across the line. "Major Carter?" Her voice was thick and she cleared her throat twice before she continued. "He doesn't say anything about what he's doing, but I know Jack. I know, from this letter, he doesn't think he's coming back."
Daniel swore and shook his head at Sam.
"I know you can't tell me details," Sara said, "but I'd like. . ." Her sentence ended with another deep, shuddering breath.
"I honestly don't know anything, Sara," Sam said. "But I promise you, I'll let you know as soon as we do."
"Thank you, Major."
Sam held the phone until a dial tone filled the air. The answering machine clicked off when she hung up. After a second's hesitation, she pushed the delete button. It beeped and reset the message count to zero.
Daniel cleared his throat and Sam took a deep breath before she met his eyes. "General Hammond said he'd call me on my cell when Dad contacted us again," she said. "I had planned to go home, but I think I'm just going to wait here until he calls." It didn't feel right to leave.
"I'll stay with you," Daniel offered.
"As will I," Teal'c said.
Sam nodded. "Good. I don't want to be alone."
They walked into the living room together and Sam sat down on the sofa. "I wish he would have left out his National Geographic's," she said. "I didn't finish reading the article on the folklore of Ireland."
"It was a very informative article, Major Carter," Teal'c said. He had crossed to the window and looked out at Jack's backyard. "It detailed many of the legends and tales of the land, of which O'Neill seemed to know a great deal."
Sam smiled at Teal'c. "Yeah, leave it to the colonel to know about that."
Daniel sat down in the armchair and flipped through the stations. He settled on a History Channel documentary. Sam stretched out on the sofa and tried to relax. The documentary droned on in the background and she found it strangely comforting to lie there. She could almost believe that Jack was safe. He would walk into the room any minute and complain about Daniel's choice of shows. The channel abruptly switched and Sam looked at the television in surprise. "You didn't like the show?"
"No," Daniel said. "I just noticed that Jack didn't set it up to tape The Simpsons." He looked across at Sam. "I figure I better tape it for him. He can watch it when he gets back."
Sam leaned back and closed her eyes against the emotions that threatened to spill over. "Good idea, Daniel. We'll all watch it together, once we get him home."
***
Jack hadn't expected to wake at all, but if he did, he thought darkness and the suffocating weight of stones would greet him. Instead, sunlight shot down at him and a hot wind scraped sand across his face. The blinding light burned his eyes and he blinked blearily into it. He sat up despite the queasiness the movement induced. Double images swam before him, and he tried not to think what damage these repeated concussions could cause. The world slowed to a halt, and he made out the scattered rubble of the destroyed pyramids. Smoke and fire still issued from the ruins. He had no idea how he'd climbed free of the pile of debris that had collapsed on him. His chest felt as if it were still crushed under the rocks, his head pounded with pain and climbing to his knees caused him to vomit blood-tinged bile onto the dusty ground.
Jack struggled through the pain and nausea and forced his shaking legs to stand. The sun, like the moon, bathed the world with an unsettling red shade. The only sounds were the muted roar of flames and the gusting of the hot wind that swirled the dust around him. It looks like hell. My hell.
The world spun. Jack vomited again, lost his balance and fell. The bones in his right knee ground together when he landed on it and white flashes of pain danced in front of him. Please don't let me die here. With his eyes closed, he fought for focus. He couldn't die, not yet, not here.
The nausea passed and he again climbed to his feet. The drumbeat in his skull made it impossible to think, and his rasping breath was loud in the silence. His legs shook as he stumbled through the ruins scattered around him. Light-headed from pain and unable to catch his breath, he made ten steps before he fell. He landed on something soft and smooth. It took him a moment to realize that he'd fallen on the supplies that Juniel had taken from him. He blinked at the pile and tried to understand how everything he needed had gotten stacked together. It took two tries to grab his watch from the top.
Something was definitely wrong, but Jack couldn't fight through the noise and static in his brain to figure out what it was. He dropped the watch in his pocket and sat next to his supplies. The med kit was at the bottom of the satchel and he pulled it free from the other supplies. Trembling fingers made it hard to work the clasps, but he managed to open the kit and pulled out an unbroken syringe of morphine. When he rolled it in his hand, the liquid inside swirled like the dust around him. The painkillers he'd taken earlier could still be in his system. He had a concussion and he reacted unpredictably to morphine even under the best of circumstances. Pain washed over him in waves and the world slipped around him.
He didn't bother to swab his skin. The pain of the needle barely registered but the cold numbness of the morphine hit him like a physical blow. One moment he was sitting with the syringe in his hand, and then he was flat on his back as the world spun around him. He rolled to his side, retched, and relished that the movement caused him no pain. The vertigo subsided and he climbed to his feet.
He still couldn't get a decent breath of air and he could feel a grinding in his left side that signified cracked -- if not broken -- ribs. His right leg shook from weakness and he could still feel the kneecap catch as he bent it. A steady trickle of liquid etched a path though the dust on his face and he didn't bother to check to see if it was sweat or blood. It didn't matter.
Slowly, careful not to injure himself further, he gathered his equipment into his satchel and swung it gingerly onto his shoulder. Feeling no pain was as much a danger as it was a blessing. It would be easy to damage something beyond repair and use. He started across the clearing. His right knee only held if it was locked straight and movement made the world tilt dangerously. As he walked, a persistent, deep drone echoed through his head that made it hard to hear the sound around him. The world dimmed at the edges, an ominous greyness that encroached upon his sight.
Dust billowed with each step. It settled on his clothes, caked his skin and stole what little breath he had. It no longer hurt to cough, but lack of oxygen made him dizzy and he fell three times before he made the tree line. He dropped onto an old fallen tree and leaned back to listen to his own ragged breath.
A sudden and undeniable feeling of being watched jolted him upright, and he peered around the woods. The wind stirred the leaves and dislodged crimson dust from the tops of the trees, but Jack knew that he was the only living thing left on the planet. The skeleton in the pyramid danced in front of his eyes in a sudden flash of memory and the haunted feeling he'd had earlier stole back over him. The wind gusted again and red-dust colored shadows lurked at the corners of Jack's vision. A new, irrational panic swam in the back of Jack's mind. He closed he eyes and waited for the feeling to subside. Great. Now I'm seeing things. I'm never helping the Tok'ra again. The forest continued to sway in front of him after he opened his eyes, and the paranoia didn't subside. God, I hate morphine. He pushed the feelings to the side and focused all his energy on returning to the Stargate.
The clearing around the Stargate hung heavy with the smoke from the burnt tents and it now mixed with the red dust from the destroyed pyramids. The dark shapes of dead Jaffa lay scattered around the remains of the tents but he ignored them, as he ignored the movements of the shadows that continued to linger in his peripheral vision. He made his way back to the small dry riverbed and the cave where he'd hidden his equipment. The crystal he'd taken from the DHD lay where he'd left it and there was no sign that anyone had disturbed it.
He sat amid his supplies and futilely tried to pull in one decent lungful of air. He despaired at the thought of moving the equipment to the gate. The gully had seemed shallow and too near the Jaffa when he had arrived but now he couldn't make the trip without pausing to rest at least twice. Even without the heavy ordinance and C-4 that he had used in the assault on the pyramids, it would take him four of those trips to carry it all to the gate. The impulse to leave the equipment behind appealed to him for a moment, but he knew he'd feel naked without his armament. Besides, he'd worked so hard to get it and bring it halfway across the known universe, it seemed a shame to leave it now.
It took him six trips, not four, and he could feel the morphine wearing off by the time he dropped the last of his equipment at the base of the gate. He pulled the crystal from his pocket, limped over to the DHD and hoped he remembered how to put it back in. The black scar of a staff blast across the front of the DHD froze him in place. Damn. DHDs were far from indestructible. If the DHD didn't work, he'd be trapped here -- trapped in this hell. He shook himself free of the thought and carefully examined the inside of the device. There was no visible damage and when he replaced the crystal in the DHD, it hummed to life.
Jack would have sighed with relief if he could've taken a deep enough breath. He settled for punching in the gate address, pleased to see each coordinate lock into place. The final chevron glowed in acceptance, but Jack paused before he pushed the middle button. This wasn't part of the official plan. The DHD was supposed to have been destroyed the moment he arrived on the planet, thereby insuring that no one -- not even he -- would be able to leave. Jack had other plans. Nirrti had used this planet as her killing fields and he didn't intend to spend the rest of his life on it.
Besides, he knew his team. They would never leave well enough alone. Once they had deciphered what he'd done, they would demand the gate address and send a probe through. When that happened, he'd end up having to tell them to stay the hell away. There would be the inevitable final good-byes and farewell recriminations. He'd done that once already, back on Argos when the nanites aged him, and he wasn't going to go through that again. Outside of burying the gate, an option the Tok'ra had refused to consider, there was only one option: leave the planet.
It had taken him five nights of hidden research to find the perfect alternative. PT9-780 was a small, uninhabited planet that the SGC had discovered early in the program. It had been fully explored and used as a base of operations for training missions. Carter and her merry band of scientists used it to test all the gizmos and gadgets that they stuck on the MALPs and UAVs. It had been a perfect geek playground until one of their little experiments had fried the DHD. They'd managed to retrieve the personnel still on the planet by doing a manual dial, but they'd been unable to fix the DHD. With no reason to keep the planet on the dialing rotation, it became a footnote in the SGC files until Jack's search for the perfect bolthole.
The MALP and UAV he'd sent to the planet had revealed no changes since the previous visits. There was no sign of gate travel and no indication of other visitors. There was no reason to believe that the planet had suddenly developed a population that he would kill the moment he stepped through the gate.
There was no guarantee that it hadn't, either.
Jack rubbed angrily at the itchy dust that covered his face. When he pulled his hands away, he stared at the deep-red stains that covered them. He'd already sentenced one planet full of people to death, could he accept the possibility of doing that again?
"Out, out, damn spot," Jack muttered. He rubbed his hands clean against his pants and then pressed the inner button of the DHD. The gate sprang to life. After he tossed his equipment through the gate, he waited for it to disconnect. Then he limped back to the DHD, pulled the top open and laid it out so the inner workings could be seen. The crystal removed with a simple twist, and he put it in his pocket for safekeeping. He knelt in front of the scorch marks on the DHD before he pulled out the Tok'ra communications device. The damaged, dismantled DHD was clearly in the shot.
At a touch of the activation button, the device blinked to life and, a second later, the hologram of a Tok'ra appeared before him.
"Colonel O'Neill. What is the status of the mission?"
"The mission is completed." It was difficult to talk and Jack wished he'd taken another shot of morphine. "And I'm fine. Thanks for asking."
The Tok'ra -- Vertin? Verla? Vertas -- ignored both Jack's obvious injuries and his sarcasm.
"Did you destroy all the contagion? Did anyone access the gate or send any messages?"
"I planted the explosives as instructed. Although you might want to tell your operative that I found three pyramids down here, a boatload of Jaffa and more than fifty prisoners that were being used to test the virus."
The image of Vertas nodded at him. "Yes. We received that information just after you ringed down. It was too late to pass it along to you."
"Right," Jack said. "And the check's in the mail."
Vertas looked puzzled but didn't ask what Jack meant. "I was instructed to ask if there was anything that I can do for you before I report back to Anise."
"Two things. First, this is a message to the folks back at the SGC." Jack flashed a small blue crystal at the screen. "I'm sending it to you now. It's for the SGC -- eyes only. Understand?" He waited for Vertas to nod before he continued. "Tell Anise to give it to my team when she talks to them."
"Anise is not planning on briefing your team, Colonel O'Neill."
Jack smiled at that. "No, I don't suppose she is. Just see that she gets it. When they demand to see our communications, she should give this to them." He slipped the crystal into the communications device and it blinked to show that it transmitted his message.
"Very well. I will see that it reaches Anise. What is the second thing I can do for you?"
"Let everyone know that this is the last contact I will have. I'll destroy this communications device as soon as we're through here. I will not respond to any attempts at contact."
"That was not the plan, Colonel. This device has atmospheric monitors on it. We will require that you. . ."
"Ain't gonna happen," Jack cut him off. The image of Vertas swam in front of him and he couldn't breathe. He blinked to clear his vision, but it didn't help. "I did my bit. Now you're gonna let me be. That's the new plan."
"There is valuable data. . ."
Jack ignored Vertas, picked up the staff weapon that lay near him, used it to pull himself to his feet and blasted the communicator. The device smoked under the impact and the hologram blinked out. Jack shot the device several more times and stopped only when the communicator was a melted blob.
"That felt good," Jack said. He used the staff weapon as a crutch and waited until the shaking in his arms passed. The creeping sensation of being watched pushed at him again but the weight of the weapon in his hand eased his panic. He squinted around the clearing. There's nothing to see, Jack. Everything's dead. Despite knowing that, he still stood for another minute and peered into the darkening surroundings. Nothing.
Fighting to ignore the paranoia, he turned back to the DHD. The crystal slid easily back into place, and he quickly dialed out to PT9-780. Once the gate opened, he removed the center of the DHD and laid it to the side, careful not to pull the wires apart. The gate wavered but stayed open. He pulled a small block of C-4 from his vest, set the timer for ten seconds, dropped it into the middle of the DHD and headed for the gate.
It wasn't much time, but he couldn't shake the feeling that if he'd leave it any longer something would follow him through. He did a countdown in his head and cursed that his injuries slowed him down, the DHD was too far away from the gate and the platform had too many steps. The C-4 detonated the moment he fell through the event horizon, and the wormhole shuddered around him.
He was spit out into cool darkness, and he tumbled into his equipment that lay scattered around the gate. The wormhole snapped closed behind him. Pain roared in his head as he rolled over onto his back and blinked up into the star-filled sky of his new home.
Necessary Sacrifices, Part 4
