Stargate SG-1: Sacrifice Moon (34 page)

"No problem," he assured them. "Fact-finding mission. He'll be
back."

The gate collapsed in a flicker of blue.

"Well, sir, that was sure fun," Dixon said. "Can we go home now?
Because I'm overdue picking up the kid from camp."

He sounded casual, but Dave Dixon was anything but. Jack nodded to Daniel, who entered -finally - the coordinates for home, and
hit the red ball to activate the cycle.

He sent the GDO code, motioned to Dix to send his as well, just in
case, and they took a short trip through a long, long womlhole.

Infirmary
.

Doc Warner - who wasn't as bad as most of the doctors Jack had
encountered, in his years of service - had prescribed him bed rest for
two days, and painkillers that Jack had decided, after all, to do without. He read magazines. Made hand puppets out of spare socks. Kind
of enjoyed watching his bruises fade.

When he woke up on the second day, he found Daniel sitting next
to him, reading a book that looked like it was written in Greek.

"Hey," Jack said, and cleared his throat. "Reading anything
good?"

"Iphigenia in Tauris," Daniel said. "Euripides."

"So, reading anything good... Never mind. How's Carter?
Teal'c?"

"Sam had some kind of allergic reaction to the drinks back on Chalcis," Daniel said, and his eyebrows went up. Way up. "Ah, delayed reaction. Didn't really hit her until we were in the debrief"

"Is she -

"She's fine. Embarrassed, that's all." Jack made a come on, give
gesture. "She climbed up on the table."

"You're kidding. And?"

"Well..." Daniel drew the word out to four syllables. "I really
don't think I should say."

Jack was enchanted. "Oh, now you know you have to say."

"Jack."

"C'mon, Daniel, a little starved for entertainment here... give.
What happened?"

In typical Daniel fashion, he backed up and steered around the
question. "Teal'c got her down, brought her to Doc Warner, and he
gave her some kind of test. Turned out that she had a specific reaction
to some kind of fruit in the drink. He gave her a shot, she was fine."

"Carter did something embarrassing, and I slept through it?"

"Apparently."

"Please God tell me you're kidding."

"Would I do that?" Daniel had the innocent look down pat. When
he got like that, there was no way to tell truth from fiction. Jack glared
at him and made a mental note to check with Teal'c. And Carter. She
could run, no way could she hide.

"Anything else?" Jack asked.

"General Hammond agreed to send a shipment through to Pylades
and Eseios. Food, medical supplies, clothing, blankets - refugee supplies. Dixon and SG-2 took it through. Apparently, Eseios already has
rebuilding plans. Quite an operation, so they say." Daniel put the book
aside and rubbed his hands together. "I made it very clear that what
Sam and I did, taking the poison... it wasn't by your order, Jack."

Jack sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up,
testing his ankle. Warner had put it into a huge, clumsy black boot,
pumped up with air; he felt like the Michelin Man. At least it matched
the BDUs.

"Yeah, been meaning to say something about that," he said without meeting Daniel's eyes. "If you ever pull that crap again - "

Daniel didn't answer, or at least, not directly. "Dr. Warner wants us
to talk to some kind of psychologist."

"Screw that."

"When I said wants us to, it was really more of an order."

"Not doing it." This wasn't the kind of thing that he could talk
about, except with... with his team. "How about the four of us and a
pitcher of beer instead?"

Daniel's eyebrows went up and stayed there. "I'll give it a try."

Jack jerked a thumb at the phone on the wall. "Call Teal'c and
Carter."

It took more like three pitchers, but eventually the talking started.

And it didn't stop.

Some elements of this story are taken from Euripides' brilliant play
Iphigenia in Tauris, which Daniel is reading in the infirmary. References to the team's visit to P3X-595, and to Captain Carter's removal
of... something... can be found in the Stargate: SGI episode "Emancipation."

Anything screwed up in the course of this story is entirely the fault
of the author, as she had excellent references, assistance, and genuine
military types to tell her when she was in danger of going wrong. Not
to mention outstanding editorial help.

Thanks for stepping through the Stargate with me.

Julie Fortune

Original novels based on
the hit TV shows,
STARGATE SGI and
STARGATE ATLANTIS

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STARGATE SG-1 © 1997-2006 MGM Television Entertainment Inc. and MGM Global
Holdings, Inc. STARGATE SG-I is a trademark of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios, Inc.
All Rights Reserved. STARGATE: ATLANTIS © 2004-2006 MGM Global Holdings,
Inc. STARGATE: ATLANTIS is a trademark of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios, Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

SNEAK PREVIEW

STARGATE SGI :
A MATTER OF
HONOR

by Sally Malcolm

COMING SOON!

he whispered conversation of his friends was the only noise
in the vast chamber as Jack stalked through the forest of
pillars, searching for a way out that didn't involve a return trip
through last year's Halloween special. Clutching white fingers
in the dark, coming out of nowhere... How the hell had they
managed to creep up on him like that? No sound. Not a single
sound.

He shivered; the place gave him the creeps. The whole damn
city stank of decay and something worse. There was evil here.
Not just the ancient evil of the palace's creator, but something
else. A sense of dread that was all too alive.

Keeping his P90 raised, he turned a slow three-sixty as he
walked. Shadows streamed out from the pillars, wide and slovenly in the diffuse light cast by the gaudy ceiling. But there was
nothing there, no monsters hiding in the darkness. No ghosts.

He glanced up at the mosaic that was so enthralling Daniel.
The face of the god wasn't familiar; it didn't wear the neat,
trimmed beard of an urban sophisticate or possess the flat,
dead eyes of a psychopath. Jack looked away and banished the
thought - memory was a distraction. The danger was here, not
in the past. His throat still burned from the fingers of the man
- creature - who'd attacked him on the stairs. He had no desire
to run into Skinny Legs and his creeping compadres again.

He checked his watch - six minutes left. It wasn't nearly
long enough for Carter to get what she needed, but he was too
antsy to lurk in this maze of shadows longer than absolutely--

A scuffing sound behind him yanked his heart up into his
throat. Spinning around, finger on trigger, he scanned the shadows and pillars. He didn't breathe, straining to hear over the
hammering in his chest.

Nothing.

Damn it! The shadows were deep here, back towards the
wall of the chamber, dark and deep. Tension ran across his skin,
crawling up onto his scalp as he backed slowly away from the
ghost of a sound. Head towards the light, towards the guys,
towards--

Fingers brushed his shoulder. He jerked around so hard he
almost lost his balance. Only twenty years in the field kept him
from firing. A figure, half lost in darkness, stood before him.
Baal! Shit.

Fear clouded his eyes, suffocated him.

Baal!

His hands shook, his voice was dry and useless. But he stood
his ground and faced the nightmare that had haunted him ever
since he'd--

Wait...

Sluggishly, reason clawed through the panic. Baal hiding
alone in shadows? No Jaffa? Baal dressed in Kinahhi robes?
Like lightening in slow-motion, realization struck. It's not him.

"Get out where I can see you," Jack rasped, "or I'll put a
bullet in your head."

The figure moved, tall and slender, but not him. Not him.
And not white like the creatures who'd attacked them on the
stairs. It was a man, and as he emerged from the shadows Jack's
breath caught in surprise. "Quadesh? What the hell--"

The Kinahhi councilor raised a narrow finger to his lips and
whispered. "No one can know I am here, Colonel O'Neill. My
life depends upon it."

Still sick with receding panic Jack lowered his voice, but not
his weapon, and said, "You've got thirty seconds before I start yelling. You've been following us. Why?"

A hint of a smile wavered across the man's face. "You did
not really think you could evade our security so easily, Colonel?" When Jack didn't respond, Quadesh simply shrugged and
added, "I hid your escape from my superiors. Had I not done so,
you would all now be in custody. Or worse."

"And you did that because...?"

"Because I believe I can trust you, Colonel. And I think you
may already suspect that all is not well here on Kinahhi."

"We got an inkling," Jack admitted, still staring at the man
over the barrel of his gun. He didn't feel like lowering it. "Why
don't you keep talking?"

Quadesh paused, as if marshalling an inner strength. At
length he appeared to make a decision, both hands twisting
around a slim metal tube he clutched like a talisman. "Although
the Security Council talks of dissenters, Colonel, there is no
real dissent on Kinahhi. No freedom of thought or expression.
The sheh fet sees to that - anyone harboring seditious thoughts
simply disappears."

A sickeningly familiar scenario. "Disappears where?"

Quadesh stilled, hands tightening around the slim tube.
"Here, Colonel. They are brought here."

Holy crap. His mind raced back to the creatures, hungry and
violent, on the stairs. "What happens to them?"

"I do not know. But none return. I suspect they are killed."

He was probably right, it was the MO of every tin-pot dictator he'd ever encountered. Tortured, dehumanized. Then murdered. Was that who they'd encountered on the stairs? Escapees? Inmates? He lowered his weapon, slightly. "Why are you
telling me this?"

Stepping forward, Quadesh's voice dropped. "So that you
can tell your people. Stop them from signing the treaty with
Kinahhi and instead help us to gain our freedom!"

Us? An image flashed into Jack's mind; the woman cradling her lost child, drowning in grief. "You one of them?" he
demanded coldly. "Do you plant bombs? Kill kids?"

Quadesh's face paled. "No! No, you misunderstand Colonel. I have never--" Closer still, his amber eyes were full of fear.
"This is the first time I have dared to act against the Security
Council. I am not a murderer, Colonel O'Neill. I swear to you."
And then, hastily, he held out the narrow tube he'd been clutching. "Please, take this as a gesture of my goodwill."

Reluctant to let go of his weapon, Jack studied the tube suspiciously. "What is it?"

"What you need," Quadesh insisted, a hint of a smile returning. "It is why you have come here, Colonel."

Jack raised his eyes. "And why have we come here?"