Earth
The Sun On The Horizon
The Sun On The Horizon
Chapter Two
Daniel lay on the floor, naked, bound…
One part of his mind, the part that was not outraged at his abduction, the part that was trying hard not to come up with 101 Things Kidnappers Do To Kidnappees, the part that was not actively envisioning the panic, anguish and anger his friends would be going through, the part that was not patiently waiting for Jack O’Neill to come exploding through the door with zat guns blazing and a ‘you will not mess with my friend’ look in his eye, this part of his mind was acutely aware of the soft, warm breeze running over his body, tickling the hairs on his legs and arms with the sweet and salty flavour of the seaside.
Focus, dammit.
Daniel squirmed, unable to even roll to one side to alleviate his discomfort. He lay spread-eagled on a concrete floor. Chained hand and foot to ring bolts embedded in the floor. The building seemed to be an abandoned warehouse, somewhere by the sea if the smell of saltwater and old fish were anything to go by.
For the first time in hours his mind was clear - a situation he feared would not last. He was alone now, the faceless tormentors departed, no doubt working on the next phase of what they had planned for him. Daniel sighed and wriggled again. His shoulders burned and the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability was unnerving. The indignities of the last hour had left him feeling drained, physically and emotionally. He could not conceive what purpose they would serve, other than to leave him with a deep sense of foreboding. Pushing away the memory and the accompanying embarrassment he focused instead on the events that had led him here, and realised with a jolt of fury that stabbed at his soul, that it had all been one enormous, elaborate, carefully contrived and executed… trap.
He and Sam had been strolling through the city streets towards the hotel where they were to meet Catherine, Ernest, Jack and Teal’c for dinner. Taking a short cut through one corner of Central Park, they had been engrossed in their discussion of the day’s presentations. Neither of them had noticed the young girl huddled begging on the ground, the baggage of her homelessness gathered around her.
Daniel had been chagrined at nearly stepping over her. Stopping, he pulled out his wallet and handed the waif a $50 note. The look of amazed gratitude on her face had more than made up for the scratch of her fingernails on the back of his hand as she snatched the bill. They had continued on, talking about the sad state of the homeless. It was only a short distance before he began to feel dizzy. Hazily, he could remember staggering - clutching at Sam as his knees buckled - a disconnected roaring in his head blurring Sam’s cries. The fading sound of feet pounding on the grass was his last memory as he slid into darkness.
Only to awaken here, in this empty, echoing building. Naked, confused, hands and feet spread wide apart, bound to the ringbolts set in the floor. Pegged out like a tanned hide left to dry in the sun. His outrage at being treated in such a fashion was tempered by the certain knowledge that any minute now a very pissed off Special Forces Colonel would be knocking on, if not down, the door, accompanied by one equally homicidally inclined USAF Major Doctor and one unforgiving, remorselessly unstoppable former First Prime.
Right about now would be good, guys.
But time had slowly ground along. No one had come crashing to his rescue. His calls for help had been answered only by two anonymous men - their faces concealed by ski masks. They had ignored his questions, his pleas for reassurance that Sam was all right, his desperate attempt to bargain with them, to offer a better deal for his release.
In chilling silence they had set about - preparing - him. Daniel was under no illusions that their actions were preparing him. For what, he really didn’t want to contemplate. First, they had photographed him - headshot only for which he was embarrassingly grateful - then his identity confirmed by comparing his ID and actual face with a sheaf of papers. Then with precise impersonal touches, he had been subjected first to having the entire contents of his stomach pumped out, then to having his bowels and bladder flushed out. They had departed as silently as they had come, leaving him exhausted, trembling and utterly humiliated.
The twittering of birds outside announced dawn was on its way. With every passing hour, slivers of panic and dread became a little bit stronger. Whoever these people were, their cool efficient handling of him told Daniel that this was not a random kidnapping. Not a hastily snatched opportunity for the NID to squeeze information from him. No, this was well planned, well funded, with a clear goal - just one that he couldn’t see. God, how far back had their planning gone? Had they orchestrated the invitation for Catherine and Ernest to present their papers, knowing they would ask him to attend? Daniel clenched his jaw in anger. The thought of his gentle friends being manipulated in such a callous way…
Behind him, a door squeaked open. Footsteps moved toward him. Pulling futilely on his chains, Daniel raged inside at being so vulnerable. Silent as ever, his two tormentors knelt one on either side of him.
“I don’t suppose we can talk about this? I mean, whatever you have in mind, realistically you must know you’ll never get away with it.” Daniel craned his head, eyes straining to make contact with those of his captors, words coming quickly, filled with dread and desperation.
“You obviously know who I am, that I work for very powerful people. They won’t stop until they find me and shoot you.”
Déjà vu.
Daniel managed to crack a nervous grin, trying to imply that if they let him go right now his friends would forgo the pleasure of introducing them to their own innards.
Unpacking packets and boxes he could not see clearly, they once again ignored him. Turning his left hand, one of them swiftly inserted a catheter into the largest vein on the back of his hand, connected an IV bag of saline, then proceeded to inject a syringe full of a bright green substance into the fluid flooding into his body.
“OW! God. What are you people doing?”
No answer. Big surprise.
A dull, numbing sensation swept through Daniel’s body. Appalled he could track its progress up his arm, out across his chest, down into his right arm, through his stomach to his hips and legs. He opened his mouth for one last protest, only to emit a shocked “Hey!” as the silent machinator on his right snaked a hand between his legs, grabbed his penis and none too gently inserted another catheter.
Daniel let his head bang back down onto the concrete, lethargy stealing over him as the drug did its work. More fumbling beside him, then to Daniel’s surprise, his ankles were released from their restraints. His legs were straightened and brought together. Cold impersonal hands adjusted his genitals and the trailing catheter tube. Then he felt something wrap around his ankles. A fresh slice of fear stabbed through Daniel’s heart. With an effort he raised his head and looked down the length of his body - to take in the chilling sight of the two men methodically binding his ankles together with a reel of an odd shimmering fabric. As one man lifted his legs off the ground the other coolly wrapped the fabric up over both feet, then ran it back down over his ankles and headed steadily up his calves, over his knees and on to his thighs.
“No. God, lac. Don’t… Ana mish… I don‘t…” The drug in his veins was making it difficult to speak now, but Daniel wanted to try anyway to convince them just how wrong this was. The words were jumbling up inside his mouth, Egyptian Arabic mingling nonsensically with English. In contrast, his mind was crystal clear: relentlessly producing a veritable film festival of images of his helpless body being mummified and buried alive.
Strong hands under his back and thighs lifted his body, the bindings continued up over his hips, leaving nothing but the catheter tube showing. There they stopped. Still in unnerving silence, the two moved to the chains binding his arms to the ringbolts. They released them and brought his arms back down to lie along his torso - hands placed palm down on his belly. Daniel’s heart was doing its best to pound a path out of his chest, but the numbing cold of the drug was reaching even there and it settled into a sick, fluttering thud.
“Seebni li waHidi!” Leave me alone!
Robbed now of the ability to even minutely struggle, Daniel felt their hands pull him into a half sitting position. Felt the cold satin of the fabric loop snugly over his stomach, his chest, and his shoulders. His arms were pinned along his torso, so firmly that he could barely wriggle, but not so tightly that the circulation was interrupted. On reaching his neck, they halted again. A pause, then he felt something small secured over his voice box. Again he protested, but Daniel now found his last defence was taken from him.
No sound issued from Daniel’s throat, not even a whisper. His desperation, fright, frustration and anger found the only path of expression open to him now. Tears welled in his eyes, slowly dribbled down the side of his face.
Fingers pried at his mouth. Numbly he clenched his jaw, but to no avail. Thin, wiry, bitter tasting tendrils snaked into his mouth, through his teeth and wrapped caressingly around his tongue. For one horrified moment, Daniel expected the devices to continue on down his throat, but they stopped, clutched around his tongue, preventing him from swallowing it.
Daniel gazed up at his abusers; pleading silently, desperately, futilely for this to end.
Jack. Why haven’t you found me yet?
Is Sam okay?
Images of her lying dead in the park refused to stop tormenting him. An oxygen cannula was shoved into his nose. His head was lifted, the binding resumed. As the wrappings reached his eyes, one of the men reached out a hand to briefly, gently cup his face. Daniel’s desperate frightened eyes sent one last plea for help into that masked face. Then the hand moved softly, resting on his eyelids and gently pushed them closed.
Daniel now found himself cut off from nearly all his senses; blind, touch limited to the feel of his constricted body, unable to speak or cry out. All he had left was his hearing. His head now completely encased in the binding, he heard the two move away from him.
Silence for a short while. Daniel found straining to listen for sounds helped to keep the terrors of his imagination at bay - somewhat.
Long silent moments. He could hear a faint mechanical whirring close by. The whoosh of oxygen being forced into his lungs. Tentatively, he tried to move - a ridiculous image of himself rolling across the floor and out the door to freedom flashing through his mind. Yeah, right. He couldn’t even manage to wiggle a finger or toe. The combination of drugs and bindings held his body perfectly immobile.
There, further back in the room, an electronic beeping. Footsteps. Then, startlingly loud in the dawn quiet, a ringing, harshly mechanical sound. An all too familiar sound. A sound that had no business being on this planet.
No. no, nononononononono… Oh, please. Now would be a good time, Jack.
Transportation rings. Here. Whoever it was, they were coming for him. That meant - what?
A Ha'tak in orbit? No. Asgard treaty - they’d know.
Tel'tak. Tel'tak with a cloaking device.
Why is everything called a ‘device?’
Probably hovering just overhead.
Please, Jack, please. Teal’c, Sam, come on guys. If these people take me you’ll never find me.
Footsteps. Returning to his side. Something heavy placed next to him. Without warning, hands seized his shoulders and thighs, lifting him. A brief moment of vertigo, then his back came into contact with a cool hard surface, a hand under his head eased it down.
Despite being deprived of sight and touch, Daniel felt his sense of personal space was intruded upon, that walls were close about him.
Walls… a box… oh, gods, noooo, no, NO, oh please someone help me…
In a fraction of a second his mind blanked out in sheer terror, convinced he had been placed in a sarcophagus. Barely registering the increased tempo of the mechanical whirring beside him, Daniel fell into a full-blown panic, screaming and railing in the silence of his mind.
Beside him, the life support machine registered his increased heart rate and duly administered another dose of its tranquillising drug. As swiftly as it started, Daniel felt his panic recede, pushed away by the deadening drugs. When reason began to show its face once more he saw how improbable it was for his captor to have brought a sarcophagus.
No it’s just some kind of transport container, that’s all. That’s it. Just a box. Just a box they’re going to seal me in and take me away… Merde. JACK!!
Movement close by brought his attention back. Something banged above him, slightly shaking the object surrounding him. Trying desperately to ignore the film festival in his head, which had resumed with a season of really bad horror movies, Daniel became aware of a third set of footsteps approaching him. Solid metallic sounding footsteps. Coming nearer. He flinched inwardly when a heavy hand rested on his head, petting him almost soothingly.
And then a voice - the first voice he had heard since this whole nightmare had begun. A voice he instantly recognised. A voice that had no business being on this planet.
“Well, I TOLD you. You ARE worth WAY more than a day’s rations.”
Å
To Be Continued In Book Two:
Tsydon
Small confession, this whole enormous story came about because of the first words in this chapter: Daniel lay on the floor, naked, bound...
It was a prompt in the much loved HC fic group on Yahoo, millennia ago. Thanks, girls, for the inspiration!