Holding My Breath
Part 2
Chapter Four
Before Teal'c Visits Daniel
Funny what a little eavesdropping can do for you, Daniel thought to himself as he strode through the concrete hallways under Cheyenne Mountain. Certainly helps one put things into perspective. It was amazing how little it hurt to finally find out for sure exactly what Jack thought of him. He absently drew his key card through the card reader to call the elevator and tapped the rolled up papers against his chin. One angry snort ruffled the thin sheets momentarily as Daniel realized that, if he hadn't returned to discuss some of the history of the various System Lords that Ren'Al had given him with Jack and the general, he might have missed the big reveal. Maybe there's something to be said for fate after all.
Daniel found himself back in his darkened office seated at his desk before he realized he'd moved—it reminded him of all those wee hour drives from the base to his apartment after a particularly difficult mission when the last thing he remembered as he dropped his pack in his living room was pulling out of the security checkpoint in the base parking lot. At least this time he didn't have to wonder if he'd run over any small children or sped through any red lights during his semi-fugue state. He could feel the oddly textured paper of the Tok'ra notes beneath his fingers, but the light that streamed in from his open door didn't reach far enough for him to make out the writing. Bumping his chair backward, he awkwardly reached up to flick on his desk lamp, unwilling to be found sitting silently in the dark by a casual visitor.
"'Not incapable, exactly'." Jack's callous evaluation slithered through the darkness outside the warm glow of the lamp. That actually made a lot of sense, Daniel reflected bitterly, putting what he'd taken as confusing behavior on certain missions together with Jack's cool appraisal of his usefulness to SG-1.
He remembered his astonishment when Jack insisted on taking the lead in their desperate attempts to get the K'tau people to see reason—Daniel had been stunned into speechlessness by his CO's blunt, caustic comments to a people whose world was dying because of the SGC's mistake. The loss of two airmen's lives—Daniel shook his head. He refused to go there. Even if Daniel had been allowed to take the lead and ease into the culture as he'd wanted, the results might have been the same. Jack didn't deserve his second-guessing, even if he didn't feel that Daniel deserved the same consideration.
But those hadn't been the only lives lost. No one knew what the Aschen were doing to Ambassador Faxon, but Daniel was quite sure it wasn't pleasant. He shifted his glasses to the top of his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to see Sam's violent exit from the wormhole and her tumble down the metal ramp, shouting for them to close the iris. Why? Why had Hammond relied on Jack O'Neill's diplomatic skills when dealing with the Aschen? The entire SGC assumed it would be Jack and Sam negotiating the treaty, shuffling Daniel and Teal'c to the sidelines—again—to 'dig a little deeper.' Granted, that time Kinsey himself had pulled the sarcastic colonel off the "let's make friends" team and Daniel was able to piece together some clues about the aliens' real agenda, but if he'd simply been allowed into the negotiations in the first place, he might have picked up on...something.
"Stop it," Daniel growled to himself, pressing hard enough against his closed eyes to turn the images there to red blobs. He knew those deaths added to the heavy weight Jack already carried, and his own petulant musings about what he might have done in those situations was shameful, dishonoring to his friend and team leader. Daniel had tried to forget the emotionally-charged words he'd thrown at Jack during their last attempt at the old pizza and beer camaraderie, and would never forget Jack's shuttered response when he'd tried to apologize for pouring salt into those still sensitive wounds. Yes, that had been a sure way to show support and inspire confidence.
He'd lost Jack's trust months ago, apparently, he didn't know exactly when—maybe, maybe he'd never really had his trust, just his sympathy. And that was the funniest thing of all, downright hysterical come to think of it. Even as Daniel saw his value in Jack's eyes diminish, watched his role at the SGC as it was reduced to civilian sounding board that could be dragged out when required and shut away when they were finished, he'd never lost that trust in Jack. He fought it sometimes, struggled against his innate necessity to do something—anything—to win back Jack's approval. And how pathetic is that, really, he asked himself. But, he rationalized, he had no other choice. To keep his place here, to hold onto the only thing that brought any kind of meaning to his life, Daniel was willing to do almost anything. Short of packing up and moving back to Abydos, he really couldn't think of any viable alternatives.
Letting go of the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Daniel pulled his glasses back to his face and blinked down at the Goa'uld letters. The story of the inner wrangling of the System Lords was like reading a synopsis of a really violent soap opera—deception, intrigue, spies, tricks, sex, cheats, mass murder, spiteful destruction—oh yeah, the American television networks would have a field day. There was more intel about the Goa'uld on these few sheets of paper than they'd managed to pick up over the past five years, even with Teal'c's insights. Morrigan, Ba'al, Kali—just how many Goa'ulds had migrated to Earth under Ra's supreme rule in ancient times? The anthropological opportunity to mingle with the other personal slaves of these beings, not to mention actually living within one of their compounds—Daniel tried to force his thoughts away from their usual scientific ruts. One hand pulled through his short hair in exasperation. Hell, this was not the way to prove to Jack O'Neill and General Hammond that he was capable of a mission with a solely military objective.
Okay, let's be honest, Daniel sat back in his chair, frowning. Regardless of the personal risks—and, according to these notes, some of the risks associated with this mission might be intensely personal, he squirmed—could he do it? Could he pull the trigger on hosts and slaves, all innocent humans bent to do the will of their evil masters? Killing the Goa'uld themselves, that would be easy. Daniel doubted if anyone besides Teal'c realized how much he loathed the Goa'uld, how many times he'd woken from nightmares where his hands were covered in the blue blood of the symbiotes, how tightly he had to hold his rage in check every time he was in the presence of one of the monsters. He remembered the sick feeling of warmth that flowed through him when he opened fire on the vat of infant symbiotes on Chulak, or how close he'd been to squeezing the life from Apophis' desiccated body when he'd come to them crying sanctuary.
No, he would not hesitate to wipe out the entire race. The question remained, would the Tok'ra's plan include the possibility of saving the human slaves, the Jaffa, or the hosts? Daniel doubted the Tok'ra even thought in those terms—even if they enjoyed a true symbiotic relationship between Tok'ra and human host, and Jacob claimed they did, he'd witnessed enough of their culture to see that the unblended humans who served the System Lords would be far, far under their radar. The Tok'ra had fought against the Goa'uld for so many decades they could probably no longer separate the acts of the symbiote from the face of its human puppet.
So, it really did come down to one question: was Jack right? Was Daniel incapable of acting, of taking lives to save lives, lives with human faces, not a vat full of snakes? Because, that's what the military did—they defended their homes, their country, their world by destroying outside threats. And if Daniel wasn't up to it, then Jack was right and he had no place in a military unit.
Jack rapped his knuckles against Teal'c's door. The Jaffa's grunted acknowledgement sounded loud even through the metal door, and Jack pushed it open and leaned in. He stopped abruptly at the sight that greeted him. Not a circle of lighted candles surrounding a meditative figure, but a pacing, anxious Jaffa, arms firmly clasped behind his back with a frown clouding his face. Not the usual frown of contempt for an enemy or a leader's bad jokes, but one full of concern and dismay.
"Teal'c?" If Jack didn't know any better he'd think the Jaffa was surprised by the identity of his visitor.
"O'Neill?"
Well at least he stopped pacing. "Yeah, uh, what's up?" His original purpose for this visit—getting Teal'c to sound out Daniel's reaction to the Tok'ra's proposal—was suddenly forgotten.
"Have you spoken with Daniel Jackson?" The Jaffa's eyes glittered threateningly.
Jack felt his eyebrows crawl up his forehead. "Ah, funny you should ask..."
The Jaffa turned away. "I find nothing funny about this mission of the Tok'ra's, O'Neill," he spat.
Easing himself a step into the room, Jack folded his arms over his chest. For a lean, mean, Jaffa-machine, Teal'c could come up with some darn good insights himself, and Jack was a fool for thinking otherwise. "What's your take on this thing, T?"
"It is a foolish plan at best and dangerously unsafe at worst. The Tok'ra are not to be trusted."
Jack's eyebrows took another unexpected trip north at the Jaffa's tone. "Yeah, that's pretty much what the general and I thought. They're up to something, but hopefully Daniel will play along until we figure out—"
The dark face snapped back to confront SG-1's leader and Jack bit off his remark. Teal'c's expression was suddenly wary. "You believe Daniel Jackson will resist? You are positive of this?"
"Uh, well, positive is not a word I use around Daniel, unless it's positive that he'll do exactly what I don't want him to," Jack responded wryly. Teal'c hated the Tok'ra even more than he did himself; their betrayal over Shan'uac's death and Tanith's escape had only been resolved a short time ago when the big guy had shot the Goa'uld's ship out of the sky. To work with them, even for something this big, wouldn't be easy. And it must leave a bitter taste in the Jaffa's mouth to have a possibility to defeat the Goa'uld, however remote, left in Daniel's hands of all people. "The Tok'ra are—"
"Using him," Teal'c growled, interrupting again. Teal'c's spirit seethed within him at the audacity of the creatures—the Tok'ra would use their teammate's own honor to trap him into this mission.
Huh. Imagine that, Jack's inner voice piped up. Someone's using Daniel's weakness against the rest of them. "If I only had a nickel," Jack sighed. "Listen, Teal'c, whatever the Tok'ra have in mind, Hammond feels this is something we have to follow up. It sounds too good to be true, the System Lords practically falling into our lap right when we need a substantial win to show the nay-sayers in Washington." Jack tapped one finger on Teal'c's broad chest. "But we need more information and we'll only get that by going to the Tok'ra base and making nice."
"I have no desire to 'make nice' with the Tok'ra," Teal'c twisted his head and stared at the concrete wall. He felt the repeated taps to his chest and turned back, one eyebrow raised. "I will, however, accompany Daniel Jackson to the briefing." He will need my protection from his own yearning for control, the Jaffa thought. The Tok'ra work by deceit and cunning, and may indeed have access to the summit of the System Lords. If so, they could wish for no better human to infiltrate such a meeting disguised as a lo'taur than Daniel Jackson. If his friend survived such a ruse with his body and spirit intact, it would soon not be so—even he, a trained Jaffa who was raised to violence still heard the screams of the many lives taken by his own hands. Daniel Jackson could not endure that torment.
"There you go," Jack smiled encouragingly. We'll need you there when the fallout from Daniel's refusal hits the fan, Jack thought. "Now if you could just check in on 'our hero,' drag him out of whatever moral mor-ass he's stuck in at the moment and make sure he's on board we can all get some sleep." He grabbed the doorknob and moved back to make room for the large Jaffa to precede him into the hallway.
Teal'c stopped in the doorway, frowning, and turned to face the colonel again. There was something unsettling here, something beneath their words that was not understood. "You wish Daniel Jackson to agree to take part in this mission, O'Neill?" he asked quietly.
"Right," Jack was glad the Jaffa understood that they had to get to Revanna to learn anything else.
The Jaffa attempted to keep the confusion from his face. "I will speak to him." Perhaps later in kel-no-reem he would understand O'Neill's meaning.
Chapter Five
Summit - Teal'c and Daniel
Teal'c had been standing in his teammate's open doorway for quite some time, watching him study the notes that Ren'Al had provided. He would have come to speak with the scholar even before O'Neill's visit, but had expected the young man would seek him out. He did not know what the Tok'ra had included in the documents, but he hoped all of the responsibilities of a lo'taur to his Goa'uld Master were well described, as well as the other distasteful duties and incidents to which he would be expected to be accustomed. He had witnessed Apophis' interaction with his own personal slaves, and Teal'c did not relish the idea of his young friend's exposure to even more horrors than he had already seen. So few years, and yet the weight of Daniel Jackson's existence was greater than many Jaffa of three times his age. Teal'c did not understand how O'Neill could wish this task to fall to Daniel Jackson, yet struggled with the lure of the destruction of the System Lords. He had devoted his life to this end, to freeing his Jaffa brothers, and he knew that the young human before him had his own vows to honor.
"Daniel Jackson."
"Yeah." Daniel felt the relief wash over him that it was Teal'c who stood in his office, not Jack. Teal'c's trust had never wavered.
"Have you considered the Tok'ra proposal?"
He never lifted his eyes from Ren'Al's notes. "Yep." The section concerning the intimate relationship between a lo'taur and his Master had driven every thought of an evening meal from Daniel's mind, and his clenched teeth kept his responses short.
"If successful, it would deal the Goa'uld a mortal blow." Mortal. The weight of lives lost would be great, but the ultimate result would save many others. Do you hear me, my brother? It is not necessary for yours to be the honor that is broken for this.
Teal'c's quiet intensity communicated volumes to the archaeologist, but he still did not raise his eyes. "Yeah. I realize what's at stake." He was warmed by his friend's concern and the knowledge that at least one member of his team would never doubt his resolve.
A few steps forward brought Teal'c to the edge of his teammate's desk. "Daniel Jackson. You have stated many times that in circumstances such as this, you would avoid such action if given a better option."
Blinking, Daniel looked up. "Right. You think there's a better way of overthrowing the Goa'uld?" His fierce blue gaze targeted the Jaffa's dark one.
Hesitating only a moment, Teal'c dropped his head in defeat. "I currently have no plan that would accomplish as much as the one put forth by the Tok'ra."
"That's why I'm gonna do it," Daniel nodded. No matter what Jack thinks of me, no matter how the SGC has changed or is busy easing me out, and no matter what it costs me—I will do this.
Summit - In the Gate Room/Conference on Revanna - Extended Scene
Major Mansfield brought his men to attention as Jack and the rest of SG-1 swept into the 'gate room the next morning.
"At ease, Major," O'Neill waved off the military protocol.
"Colonel." Mansfield didn't care how casual SG-1 liked it; he'd keep SG-17 to the letter of the regs or die trying.
Jack twisted his lip at the new team. "I see you drew the short straw." Oy, off-world orientation by the Tok'ra, it didn't get any worse than that. He felt Carter slip around his back to approach another member of Mansfield's team.
"Lieutenant Elliot! You finally got your first assignment."
The newest SGC recruit's smile was blinding. "Yes, ma'am, be nice to see a little action for a change."
Jack rolled his eyes and reached up to adjust his cap. "This is your basic off-world orientation, lieutenant. There is no action."
"Maybe not sir," Elliot glanced back at Sam's encouraging face, "but I am looking forward to meeting the Tok'ra."
"You'll get over it," Jack drawled as he trudged up the ramp without a backward look.
Teal'c and Daniel glanced at each other and silently followed.
Sam hurried to greet her father as she exited the wormhole on the Tok'ra world of Revanna. A lot had happened since she'd seen him last, since she'd actually had a chance to sit down and talk to him. She smiled at his quick hug—it still amazed her that her relationship with her father had changed so much since his blending with Selmac. As Jacob greeted Col. O'Neill and introduced Aldwin to the members of SG-17 he kept a hold on her hand and the affection conveyed in the simple gesture seemed to allow some of his energy to flow into her tired body. Sam felt herself relax for the first time in a long time—she didn't notice the silence of her teammates behind her.
Once Aldwin had hurried Mansfield, Elliot, and their team off for the standard tour, Jacob Carter escorted SG-1 to the Tok'ra version of a conference room, ushering Daniel to the chair to his immediate right. Sam scooted in next to him, wanting to hear more about the Tok'ra plan, but also hoping to ask a few questions of her own. She didn't know how she felt about Daniel's demeanor this morning—all she knew was that he'd agreed to come to Revanna to hear about the mission, and that General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill had received word from the president to proceed. Daniel hadn't said more than five words to anyone before they stepped through the wormhole, and Sam wondered what was going through his mind. She'd seen Col. O'Neill in the commissary that morning, and he'd mentioned that she should have some time to see her dad and hopefully follow up on Lantash's recovery, but he didn't seem to be taking Daniel's undercover mission too seriously. The whole thing did seem a little unrealistic.
"So, Danny, what do you think?" Jacob asked bluntly as soon as the group was seated around the silvery table.
"Um—"
"Now, Jacob," Jack interrupted quickly, "you know how we hate surprises." When all eyes turned towards him expectantly he added, "Details, Jacob. Ren'Al here was hugely lacking in details."
"How are you going to get me in?" Daniel asked, trying to tune Jack out. He'd been trying all morning—the Jack that had shown up in the control room and then in the locker room to change was one of the most annoying Jack's he knew—the one whose sarcastic quips made light of just about everything.
Jacob locked eyes with the young archaeologist, clearly getting the message. "Yu will be among the System Lords attending the meeting," he began.
Sam snickered at the old pun. "I thought you said he was going in as a slave."
He felt Selmac try to surge forward, but Jacob held a hurried conference with his Tok'ra symbiote and stayed in control. Selmac was agitated, anxious that the young human be well acquainted with the dangers of his mission, but just as eager of the potential to overthrow the tyrannical rule of a race that had ground the Tok'ra under their heels for thousands of years. He could taste victory, a victory that had been so long in coming, but that would be at the mercy of this fragile life sitting beside him. Jacob sighed heavily. He did not know why Jack and his daughter were taking this so lightly.
"The System Lord Yu," Jacob ground out between his teeth.
Sam had the good taste to cringe a bit at his tone, but then flicked her gaze to the colonel's. "Little joke there," she held up two fingers to suggest just how little.
Jacob sensed Daniel's growing impatience. "Yu knows my face," the young man said curtly. "He'll recognize me."
"He will not." Ren'Al's voice was overlaid by her symbiote's as she moved to the table and placed a box before Daniel. He opened it to find a plain metal ring inside, a ring with a sharp needle-like protuberance on one side.
"Ren'Al and her team have been working on a modified version of the chemical SG-1 obtained from the Reol." Jacob watched Daniel's quick mind process the possible uses of the mind-control chemical and come up with the answer before Ren'Al opened her mouth to explain further. He watched the thoughts and emotions flicker across the young man's expressive blue eyes even as he struggled to mask them.
"If you can get close enough to inject him, we'll be able to convince him that you're his most trusted lo'taur."
Ren'Al's use of the word 'we' did not escape Daniel, Jacob noticed.
"His most trusted what?" Jack was becoming more uncomfortable as the meeting went on. This was getting awfully elaborate for a ruse, even a Tok'ra ruse. And the expression on Jacob's face when he looked at Daniel was so... eager. Teal'c's bitter explanation didn't exactly help.
"Lo'taur is the highest rank among the human slaves of the System Lords."
What the hell did that mean? Jack wondered.
Jacob squirmed against the hard chair and the hard truth about the fates of some of the System Lords' lo'taurs. "They're like personal attendants. It's considered to be a position of great honor." He only needed to glance up at Teal'c's hardened expression to be reminded that his description was lacking in specifics. "I spent the last couple of months establishing myself as a minor Goa'uld in Yu's service. I'll be able to get Daniel on board his mother ship and deal with the loose ends." At least Yu was the oldest living System Lord—his expectations for his lo'taur were unusually... traditional... compared with some of the others.
Daniel swallowed with difficulty, allowing some of the discussion to flow over and around him for a moment. "Assuming I make it onto the space station, what happens next?" Let's just get this out into the open.
Ren'Al approached the table again with a small device. "You wait until all the System Lords have arrived, and then you use this." It was small—no bigger than a fountain pen, with two chambers that held some kind of fluid. Daniel reached out one hand to take it gingerly. "These two liquids mixed together form a most virulent poison. Press the button to open the path between the two containers. The liquid will immediately be vaporized." He watched his own hand place the device as far from him on the table as he could reach—slowly. "Within seconds, pressure will break the seal on the container and the gas will be released."
Of course. A bomb would be too easy. Setting a bomb, ringing away to Jacob's waiting ship, and flying away before the explosion turned the System Lords, their hosts, and their human slaves into slag would allow Daniel to remove himself from the act. No. This was just perfect. This way he'd be there to see the suffering and the dying right in front of his eyes. He realized his chest was pounding.
"Am I supposed to hold my breath?" he asked, feeling like he'd been doing that anyway for far too long.
Ren'Al smiled. "The poison is only deadly to symbiotes."
Oh. *Oh*. Daniel blinked rapidly and felt the tension in his shoulders ease. Now he understood. Minor losses. Only Goa'uld casualties. Just the symbiotes would die—he could do that. The rivers of blood that had been streaming by in his mind's eye since Ren'Al's visit to the SGC slowed to a trickle. He heard Sam ask about the danger of having such a compound on the Tok'ra base and shook his head. Surely the Tok'ra would have thought of that already.
"And it doesn't kill the host?" Daniel had to make sure he was hearing this accurately. When he saw the glance Jacob and Ren'Al exchanged, his anxiety level ramped up again.
The Tok'ra woman sighed. "Not the chemical itself, but, as you know, the dying symbiote releases its own toxin which is just a deadly."
"Daniel," Jacob leaned towards the frowning young man before Daniel could open his mouth. "The human host of a System Lord has been through the sarcophagus countless times. We know the toll that takes." He watched his words sink in, understanding that Daniel knew the effects of a sarcophagus first hand. Surely Daniel would understand that these men and women would be horrified at what they had become, what they had watched themselves do over the decades or centuries. "They're hundreds, sometimes thousands of years old. Never mind the psychological damage, they'd suffer physically without the Goa'uld to sustain them—they'd die anyway."
"So we're doing them a favor." Daniel couldn't keep the grim irony from his voice. Maybe he was weak. Maybe Jack had been right to mistrust him with something like this.
Two seats away, Jack O'Neill heard it in Daniel's voice—he was pulling out. Aw, crap, don't cave now, Daniel, he thought angrily, it's too soon. We need more information. "How many targets?" he asked quickly, trying to move the discussion away from the linguist's precious morals.
Jacob darted a glance his way, but never leaned away from Daniel, watching intently for any sign of his acquiescence. "There'll be seven System Lords at the meeting—that's all the major players." A firmness in his voice brought Daniel's attention back to his face. "If we pull this off, the Goa'uld may never recover." Was that a nod? The archaeologist's blue eyes still seemed clouded with doubt, but the set of his shoulders and his level gaze gave Jacob hope and sent Selmac into enthusiastic lecturing about the care they'd need to take with the poison. Jacob shushed the symbiote and leaned back in his chair.
Daniel hadn't actually said anything yet, one way or the other, but Jack knew a rant was coming—that was SOP for Dr. Daniel Jackson. Give him a hard military target and he'd spend all day hand-wringing about treaties and innocents. Okay, now let's find out about that other shoe, Jack narrowed his eyes in suspicion at Jacob and Ren'Al's apparent relief.
"What can we do?" Jack asked. C'mon, Jacob, give. What was really going on here?
Impatient with the colonel's constant interruptions, Jacob's voice was crisp. "Wait here," he stated firmly. "I'll communicate when the mission's been accomplished."
What?
"You wish Daniel Jackson to accompany you without SG-1?" Teal'c wasn't exactly demonstrative, but Jack couldn't miss the disbelief in the Jaffa's face that mirrored his own feelings.
"There'd be nothing for you to do there, Teal'c, and if we're going to do this, Danny and I are going to have to leave within the hour. I've got to get him to Yu's homeworld and make the exchange before Yu and his lo'taur leave for the Summit. That doesn't give us much time." Jacob made to push himself away from the table, but stopped and placed one hand on Daniel's shoulder. "Are we going to do this, Danny?"
Daniel gazed down at the ring and the poison vial on the table in front of him, purposefully avoiding what he knew would be Teal'c's concerned expression, and Jack's skeptical one. "Yes, Jacob. We're going to do this." He felt the older man's hand tighten on his shoulder and looked up to see a grim smile stretch across his face.
"Great. I'll meet you at the ring transporter in 30 minutes. That'll give me a chance to make sure everything's packed." He slapped Daniel on the back, nodded to Ren'Al and hurried from the conference room.
"Wait a minute... dad!" Sam turned in her seat to watch her father's back vanish around the corner.
"Your father has been quite busy with this mission for weeks, Major Carter," Ren'Al advised. "Quite single-minded. I'm sure he will have time to visit with you when he and Dr. Jackson return." She smiled. "He should have all the time in the world, actually."
"Yeah, but..."
"This sudden urgency does not please me, O'Neill," Teal'c interrupted.
"That's what I was saying, Teal'c," Sam added. She turned to her teammate seated to her left. "Daniel?"
"Hmm?" He didn't lift his eyes from the table.
"C'mon, Daniel, you can't be okay with this," she insisted. "You're just going to take off with dad and Selmac and make a strike behind enemy lines?"
Finally, Daniel looked up into Sam's worried expression, knowing he shouldn't take his dark mood out on her. "What do you want me to do, Sam?" he asked quietly. "Pass up the one opportunity to cut the head off of the Goa'uld System Lords because things are happening a little fast?" He leaned towards her suddenly, eyes intent. "Tell me, if this was anyone but me going on this mission, would you be the least bit concerned?" He shoved his chair back, wincing at the sound the heavy metal made against the solid floor. "I guess I'd better pack—or find out just what I'm supposed to pack." He turned toward the exit to find Ren'Al waiting to accompany him and left without a word, wondering if Jack was ever going to say anything.
Sam twisted again in her chair until she faced the colonel and Teal'c, noticing the harsh glare the Jaffa had turned on their CO. "Sir? This isn't right."
"I know that, major," Jack sighed. "Something is going on here, some subtle Tok'ra crap that I can't get a finger on."
"You are wrong, O'Neill," Teal'c growled. "Yesterday you informed me that it was your wish that Daniel Jackson undertake this mission. Today he is going. What is 'not right' is your continued silence toward your friend." Teal'c stood in one graceful movement, barely displacing the air. "I do not understand, O'Neill," he looked down at his teammates with confusion, his voice suddenly soft. "That the Goa'uld must be destroyed, that I understand—better than you. That the Taur'i wish to feel safe from their enemies I also understand. Perhaps Daniel Jackson is the best choice for this mission. But that you would choose to sacrifice your friend without a word—that I do not understand."
Jack squinted up at the Jaffa, his mouth a thin angry line. "What the hell does that mean? Daniel's a big boy and can figure this stuff out on his own—he's nothing if not independent," Jack mocked. "I can't believe—" he shook his head. "Jacob can't be serious!"
"Sounded serious to me, sir," Sam replied, wondering why the colonel seemed to be having trouble grasping the basic facts: Daniel was being sent on a mission by himself, undercover as the slave of a System Lord, with the intention of infiltrating a meeting of the most powerful Goa'uld in the galaxy and pulling off a killing strike. And all this was to happen without his team there to back him up. She shuddered at her careless levity of a few moments ago. They didn't even get to say good-bye.
"No," Jack continued to shake his head as he levered himself out of his chair. "No. The Tok'ra are up to something. I've just got to get to Jacob and figure out what's really going on here." He started towards the door, hoping to find his way back to Jacob's quarters without getting lost in the identical tunnels. "You two see if you can find Ren'Al—maybe she'll let something slip." He hurried out.
Sam locked eyes with her large teammate. "What exactly is she supposed to let slip, Teal'c?"
"I do not know, Major Carter," he answered, scowling. "I will find Daniel Jackson and speak to him again of this mission."
Sam nodded. "I'll come with you."
Summit - Jack confronts Jacob
Jack finally ran Jacob to ground in one of the hallways between his quarters and Daniel's. Or maybe it was the hallway between Daniel's and the lab... wherever they were, he spied Jacob's bald head and ran to catch up. "Jacob! Jacob, wait up!"
Grinding his teeth together, Jacob swept one hand over his head and turned to face Jack O'Neill. He didn't have time for this. Selmac agreed and offered his presence to deal with the colonel, but Jacob assured his symbiote that he could handle it.
Pushing past two Tok'ra, Jack faced the former Major General. "Why does it seem like there's something you're not telling us," he insisted. Dammit, this was insane—the feeling had only grown since the moment Ren'Al had stepped through the Stargate. If he didn't know any better he'd say the last twelve hours had been a dream—an extremely boring dream, true, but the unease in his gut and the feeling of unreality had kept him from finding his balance. Daniel going on an undercover mission by himself at the behest of the Tok'ra—it reeked, nothing about it was right. This wasn't Daniel's thing—Daniel was talk and hand waving and outlandish theories; Jack was black ops, surgical strikes and enemy infiltration.
"Jack—" Jacob shook his head and hurried along the hallway in disgust. For the leader of a front-line combat team, Jack O'Neill sure was playing dumb today.
"Now, come on!" Jack growled, his frustration at this whole situation forcing him to leap to catch up to Jacob's retreating back. "You're the one that's always saying that every time we knock off one of these System Lords, a worse one shows up. Why should this be any different?"
Clamping down on his frustration, Jacob kept moving. "It is true that others might eventually rise up, but by taking them all out at once we'll create a power vacuum that'll lead to a massive galaxy-wide war as the remaining Goa'uld jockey for position. That will last long enough for us to make a final decisive move."
Grabbing the Tok'ra's elbow, Jack forced him to a stop in the narrow hallway and face him. "Which is?"
The muscle in Jacob's jaw jumped as he looked into O'Neill's dark eyes. "A widespread attack on the entire Goa'uld population using the symbiote poison," he snarled, jabbing one finger into Jack's chest. "We're gonna wipe them out, Jack. All of them." Leaving the Air Force officer stunned and speechless, Jacob walked off.
Chapter Six
Daniel Departs
"It's a test run," Jack announced when he found his way back to the conference room and Carter and Teal'c. He knew it—leave it to the Tok'ra to come up with a way to test their precious new weapon with little to no risk to their own more precious hides. A dull ache was throbbing at the base of Jack's skull, and the guarded expressions on his teammates' faces weren't exactly helping matters. "Sending a human in to release the poison in a controlled atmosphere will tell them just how effective this gas is. Once they have their results they plan to release it in bulk on every Goa'uld occupied planet."
"Their results?" Dr. Samantha Carter's eyes blazed. "Sir, are you saying that they're using Daniel as some kind of delivery mechanism because they don't want to endanger one of their own?"
Geez, Carter was slow on the uptake today. Jack tilted his head at his 2IC. "Of course they're using him, Carter, it's what the Tok'ra do." They just aren't using him the way Jack thought they were. The pounding grew.
"O my God," Sam's mind flew ahead, weighing the different scenarios. "Even if Daniel is successful and manages to get out of the space station without the Goa'uld's human slaves tearing him apart, he's going to be responsible for millions of deaths..."
"Of both Goa'uld and Jaffa," Teal'c added, scowling furiously. "O'Neill, we must explain the Tok'ra plan to Daniel Jackson. He must be convinced to abandon his involvement."
Before Jack could reply Sam braced herself against the conference table and crossed her arms over her chest, her body language clearly communicating her anxiety. "I don't know, Teal'c, he wouldn't even talk to us about it."
"What—Daniel's off sulking? Oh, there's a new one. He's just dying for us to talk him out of this," Jack huffed and then found himself bracing his feet widely apart in unconscious preparation for an attack when Teal'c loomed menacingly nearer.
Carter placed one pale hand on the Jaffa's forearm as her teammates traded stares. "Sir, Daniel's made up his mind to do this. He's..."
"Stubborn? Pig-headed? Supremely unaware of his own limitations?" Jack was happy to supply the adjectives but kept his eyes fixed on Teal'c warily. He heard Sam's frustrated sigh and risked a glance. "Again I say, what?" he snapped.
"Daniel Jackson is both unwavering and strong-minded, O'Neill," for the first time, Teal'c used the name of his brother-in-arms as a reproach, "and willing to sacrifice himself for this cause on behalf of your people. I am proud to call him my brother." He hoped the emphasis was not lost on the human before him.
Jack's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Watch it there, buddy."
"Colonel, is General Hammond on board with this?" Sam hoped that bringing up the General's name might siphon off some of the testosterone building up in the room. She was surprised when it was Teal'c who answered.
"General Hammond advised Daniel Jackson to use his own judgment when considering the Tok'ra proposal. Apparently your president is anxiously awaiting news of the end of the Goa'uld threat."
Sam shook her head sadly. "Okay, so no pressure there," she mumbled.
Jack had taken part in this particular game of chicken too many times in the past with members of his command to allow Teal'c to get away with it. Even if he knew he was wrong. The headache banged away behind his eyes as he chewed over that thought. In a few minutes Daniel would take off with Jacob to become a slave to a slimy snake-head all for the greater good. Greater good. Daniel loved greater good crap. But there really was a greater good here—the destruction of the Goa'uld. Jack just didn't know, suddenly, if the young archaeologist's shoulders should be bearing that weight alone.
"I'll go talk to him." Jack acknowledged Teal'c's reaction to his decidedly critical description of their teammate with shrugged shoulders and watched the fury begin to abate in those cold dark eyes.
The Jaffa wasn't quite convinced. "And what will you say to him?" he hissed.
Jack reached out and placed one hand on Teal'c's broad shoulder in an unconscious imitation of Jacob's gesture towards Daniel a few minutes ago. "It's okay, T." He shook the large man, or attempted to shake him. "I'll figure something out."
Ren'Al had taken the poison and the ring so that they could be stowed in the cargo ship that awaited them on the surface, as if she didn't quite trust Daniel with the volatile substance. Seemed to be a universal attitude these days. Daniel folded the pages of notes carefully and laid them on the few items he'd stashed in his pack—a few books to try to keep his mind busy on the trip to Yu's homeworld, a clean change of clothes for the hopefully successful return trip, a few power bars, his GDO, a med-kit, just in case, the case for his glasses as well as the contact lenses that he hated. That's it. The Tok'ra had told him not to bother bringing any weapons and Daniel had placidly agreed. If it came down to hand-to-hand fighting it would mean the mission was already fried.
Daniel didn't mean to be so abrupt with Teal'c and Sam, but he just couldn't talk about this anymore. The decision was his and he'd made it—he didn't need to revisit it over and over again with his friends. He sat on the edge of the uncomfortable bed, wondering if the blending of the Tok'ra symbiote gave the human hosts some kind of immunity to hard beds and inflexible chairs as he'd never seen one iota of softness or padding on anything belonging to the Tok'ra. It was always harsh angles and cold metal surfaces with them. But then again, maybe it was just a streak of rebelliousness against the garish ostentation and decadent sumptuousness of Goa'uld tastes. Daniel smiled to himself. Walking through the narrow grey hallways of the underground Revanna base felt so familiar—just another military headquarters, he mused, not unlike Stargate Command. It felt just as cold and impersonal and...alien.
General Hammond's unexpected request for a meeting early this morning was waiting for him when he'd entered his office. He knew the general kept irregular hours—almost as irregular as his own—but hadn't expected anyone to beat him to the base at 0500. Whether it was through a desire not to keep the general waiting or from his own deep streak of rebelliousness, Daniel hadn't bothered to change out of his black jeans and sweater before making his way to Level 27 and knocking on Hammond's door. Probably both. He didn't know how the older man did it, but General Hammond looked awake and organized as he always did on base.
"You wanted to see me, General?"
"Dr. Jackson." Hammond smiled and gestured the young man to a seat. He made a point of looking at his watch. "You're in early, son."
Daniel had glanced around the office, wondering if his early arrival had caught the commander of the SGC off-guard, but relaxed at the General's honest smile.
"Just wanted to make sure everything was..." Daniel had trailed off, not quite sure how to finish.
Hammond frowned slightly. He'd heard the finality in the archaeologist's words and recognized the urge to put one's affairs into some kind of order before undertaking a dangerous mission. "I was hoping to have a chance to speak with you before we contact the Tok'ra this morning. I understand from Colonel O'Neill that you have voiced your interest in proceeding with the briefing on Revanna."
A matching frown had touched Daniel's brow for a moment before his expression cleared. Oh—Teal'c. Since Jack hadn't come within several levels of Daniel's office last night, he'd guessed, and he didn't have any loud-mouthed, belligerent visitors at his apartment at oh-dark-thirty, he figured Teal'c had informed Jack of his decision. "I recognize how important this mission is, General," Daniel started, hitching forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his thighs. "Really. I won't let you down." He'd raised sincere blue eyes to the man seated across the desk.
"I didn't expect you would," General Hammond responded quickly. "I don't have to tell you how much we value your contribution to this program," he waved vaguely, as if to encompass the Stargate and everything associated with it. "Having something like this come up so fast has left us all struggling to catch up, as usual," the general allowed a small smile to reach his eyes. "I just wanted to touch base with you, to make sure you had everything you need."
Daniel had stifled his urge to question just what kind of contribution the general was talking about. He certainly had everything he needed to make his decision—more than Jack and General Hammond even knew. Insight into their attitudes towards his so-called value had undoubtedly helped him. He remembered how the general had watched him as if he were waiting for a typical Daniel Jackson response. Daniel had kept his opinions so closely to himself lately that he wondered what a "typical response" even meant.
"I've spoken with the President," Hammond continued, glancing at the red phone on his desk. "You can imagine his enthusiasm at the idea of eliminating the Goa'uld threat."
Sitting up, Daniel couldn't help holding up one warning hand. "Ah, General, perhaps you should point out to the president that, even if this works, eliminating the System Lords will not wipe out all the Goa'uld in this galaxy. It might undercut their power base and destabilize their hold on many planets, but there will still be many more out there waiting to take their places." He'd thought a lot about Ren'Al's words and the notes she'd given him last night when he was lying in his bed staring at the ceiling. She'd only given him background and history on seven of the top ranking Goa'uld—with their destruction the second tier would most likely fight each other for place for a time, but it wouldn't take long until some struggled to the top of the pack. Retribution at those who caused the decimation of the System Lords might be swift. "I believe the Tok'ra are planning further attacks, General, that's the only thing that makes any sense."
"Strike while they're scrambling," Hammond had nodded. "I agree. We might be able to help them with that." He'd been quiet for a long time after that statement and Daniel had found himself fidgeting nervously.
"Is there anything else, General?" he'd desperately wanted the meeting to end, to escape back to his empty office.
"Son," the General's soft tone had threatened to loosen the tight rein he'd kept on his emotions. "This mission..." He'd taken a deep breath and Daniel had allowed his chest to unclench just enough to breathe himself. "Well, it's not exactly what we usually ask you to use your linguistic talents for."
Daniel's thoughts had spun. "No, sir."
Hammond straightened. "Do you think you're up to it, son? I will not give this mission a 'go' unless you're one hundred per cent sure."
He'd felt the spasm in his guts and knew the furrow between his eyebrows had grown deep. One hundred per cent? Sam could give the General the stats on how often scientists were one hundred per cent sure of anything, not even that the sun came up in the east, or, given a choice, that Jack O'Neill would choose beer. Military agenda, diplomatic agenda—Daniel could never claim complete and utter confidence, especially in himself, especially now.
Rising from his perch on the edge of the cement-like bunk, Daniel shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, remembering only some kind of assurance tumbling from his lips and the general giving him leave to go. He'd brushed past Jack on his way out of the office and had felt his face heat in unwilling embarrassment as the dark eyes widened at his distinctly un-military appearance. Luckily, General Hammond had summoned his 2IC into conference before the sardonic comment escaped from Jack's thin lips.
"Penny for your thoughts."
Daniel didn't bother to raise his eyes to the doorway—and what was it with not putting doors on any of their rooms in the Tok'ra base?—to know that whatever he'd thought he'd escaped that morning was about to come home to roost with a vengeance.
"Jack."
"Daniel."
He heard Jack's boots scrape against the flooring as he stepped into the room. Daniel sighed, dropping his shoulders, and forced himself to face the other man, his own anger rising to meet what he saw on Jack's face.
Jack's eyes flicked to the pack and the small pile of items discarded next to it before returning to Daniel's confrontational gaze. "All packed I see."
"What do you want, Jack?" Daniel was tired of the conversation already.
"I want to know what you think you're doing, Daniel," the colonel shot back at him.
Daniel seethed. "Apparently I'm going with Jacob to kill a whole bunch of System Lords, Jack, did you doze off during the briefing?"
"Aw, cut the crap, Daniel. The 'tough-guy' act doesn't really fit you now does it?"
"No, Jack," Daniel hefted the bag and settled it on one shoulder. "You're the only one on this team allowed to hide behind that." He took a step towards the open doorway, stopping barely in time to avoid bumping into the leader of SG-1 who had suddenly surged into his path. He locked gazes with Jack, realizing—again—that he only had an inch or two of height on Daniel and yet the man seemed to have the innate ability to loom over him.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jack heard his shout echo loudly back from the crystalline walls of the Tok'ra installation, but noticed that Daniel didn't flinch. Wide blue eyes blazed with anger and bitterness, and Jack suddenly understood that most of that fury wasn't aimed at him. He felt the slow-churning gears of his mind slip the clutch and sputter uselessly. Oh, crap, he so wasn't good at this. This was Daniel—it should be easy to figure out what was going on in that giant brain, so why did Jack suddenly feel like he was on the wrong train of thought?
He reached out with one hand and grabbed the archaeologist's arm. Feeling a moment of relief when Daniel didn't immediately move away, Jack ground his teeth together when he noticed his teammate's rigid posture. "Look, Daniel, you don't know what you're doing. This mission—it isn't your thing. You're going out there without backup..."
Daniel jerked his arm from Jack's hold and swallowed the reproof, knowing Jack's words were just a continuation of his comments to Hammond yesterday. 'Not incapable, exactly.' "Yes, Jack, I know. If someone else could do it I'd gladly hand it off so you wouldn't have to worry about how I'll screw it up." He pushed past the stunned colonel and walked into the tunnel, a dry laugh sounding hollowly from his throat. Daniel's eyebrows rose in mock astonishment as he threw up his hands and turned back. "But, for some strange reason Jacob seems to think I can pull this off. Now I don't know where he came up with that idea, but I can't exactly pass this up, can I?"
"Like hell you can't," Jack started, shaking his head sharply. "You don't get it-"
The archaeologist sucked in his breath and restrained the backlash of bridled emotions that wanted to spill out all over the floor. "Jack—I get it! Do you?" He thrust his chin towards his friend's face, his mind skittering from that word as associated with Jack O'Neill right now but unwilling to take it back, even mentally. "It's a chance to kill all of the Goa'uld System Lords. After what I've... after what they've taken from me, how can I say no? Tell me, Jack, how?"
"Dr. Jackson?" Neither of the men had noticed Ren'Al's approach until she was standing right beside the archaeologist. "Jacob has communicated that it is time to depart."
"I'm ready," Daniel muttered. He waited until the Tok'ra had taken a few steps down the tunnel ahead of him. "Goodbye, Jack."
