Embedded Files
The Sun On The Horizon
Chapter Six
In The Footsteps Of Doctor Jackson
Meanwhile, back on Tsydon
The SS Spacemonkey lurched gamely through the blackness of space. Her engines pounded with a kind of desperation interspersed by the occasional hiccup of misfiring pistons – or whatever the part was that kept throwing off-balance anyone foolish enough to be standing.
Jack looked at the spreading stain of coffee now decorating Ferretti’s shirt. ‘Sorry, Lou.’ He set the empty cup back in the crockery crate. Seeing it was Carter’s brew, he didn’t go back for a refill.
Lou wandered off to change his shirt – again – and Jack flopped down on the piles of bedding that served as seats in the ‘day’ hours. He puled out the little journal he’d become quite attached to.
Day seventeen.
Fourth day in space. Jacob estimates two more before we reach Tsydon.
Am waiting (desperately) for Teal'c to come on KP duty. Damn, that man makes good coffee.
Trying to keep thoughts of Daniel at bay.
Difficult.
Sit rep: we know Ba'al wants something he thinks is in Daniel’s head.
Skaara believes it may have something to do with the hand device and confirmed Ra was one of the four Goa'uld to torture Daniel. (Long may they all burn in snake hell.)
Ferretti and his kids are putting together disguises for us. Boch keeps insisting he’ll be recognised and will stay on the ship once we land.
In a pig’s eye he will.
The plan is to sell our cargo then move into the city and conduct a full recon under the cover of looking for new cargo. Boch says the city is miles from the spaceport so we’ll embed, establish a base, see what we can scare up.
Been a long time since I did an undercover extraction.
Some things you never forget.
Jack shoved the book back in his coat pocket. Coffee would be a while yet – T was deep in meditation with Skaara and Jacob, the three of them grouped around a candle stuck to the deck plating. The ship twitched and shuddered, Jack had a fleeting impression of them flying sideways, then it smoothed out again. Probably something to do with the frantic pounding filtering up from the ship’s bowels: Carter hard at work.
Tobay and Seni were sitting quietly on their bedding, now and then glancing at the meditation group with respectful awe. Seni also held a journal, in which he carefully recorded his thoughts and daily doings. Daniel had taught the boy to write, both in Abydonian and English, and Seni had proven so talented he was now the official scribe in Nagada, responsible for recording all the births, deaths, marriages, divorces and anything else worthy of note in the daily lives of the Abydonian people.
Ferretti and his crew were in the next compartment. That left Aris Boch, taking his turn at the steering wheel.
He got up and moved silently into the cockpit. Boch was staring out at the black beyond.
‘How’s it going?’ Jack asked, standing one foot behind the pilot’s seat. A thin smile brushed his lips as Boch flinched, ever so slightly.
‘O'Neill, this is the worst ship I’ve ever flown. If we don’t blow up before we crash land it’ll be purely because that Major Carter of yours has worked some miracle again. If you’re here to relieve me, I’ll go get some of that fantastic coffee drink.’
‘Only an off-worlder would think Carter’s coffee was drinkable.’ Jack rested his foot on the side of the pilot’s chair and leaned in, blocking Boch’s escape. ‘I think it’s time you and I had a little chat.’
‘You never struck me as the chatty type.’ The hunter’s cheery bravado was a pale imitation of its former glory.
‘Tell me about the bounty.’
‘There’s a lot of bounties, O'Neill. After all, I’m a bounty hunter. I chase bounties for a living. People are setting bounties on other people all the time.’
‘You know what I mean,’ Jack hissed in his ear. ‘Two years ago you told Daniel he was worth a day’s rations. Now – you infiltrate Earth to snatch him for Ba'al. What changed? Why did you lie to him?’
Boch made a face, never taking his eyes from the emptiness in front of him. ‘I didn’t lie.’ He actually managed to sound affronted. ‘I may not have been particularly clear about the context of what I told the good doctor.’
‘Boch…,’ Jack warned, his fist clenched on the seat headrest.
‘C’mon, O'Neill. If you were a bounty hunter, even the Greatest Living Bounty Hunter, would you tell your target how much he was worth? I told him he was worth a day’s rations… I just omitted the rest.’
‘Which was?’
‘A day’s rations…,’ he squirmed and coughed. ‘A day’s rations for the entire sector.’
‘Sector? What sector? Don’t jerk me around, Boch.’
‘Fifteen planets, O'Neill.’ Boch turned and glared up at Jack. ‘The entire rations for fifteen planets. That’s big, O'Neill. Very big. You think I’m going to tell him he’s got a price like that on his head, when I’m letting him go? I have some professional pride.’
‘So you let him go – passed up such a huge bounty. Why? That’s not the action of a professional hunter, Boch.’
‘Yeah, well, my heart wasn’t in it. Once I got to know him, there was no way I was going to hand him over to that particular Goa'uld.’
‘What’s so bad, about Sokar, compared to the rest of them?’
‘Oh, it wasn’t Sokar. He was part of the consortium who set the bounty for the four of you, but the big price on Doctor Jackson – that was separate.’
‘Spit it out.’
Boch shrugged and spat a gob of saliva onto the floor. ‘Hathor. She set the extra price just for Doctor Jackson. I tell you, O'Neill, she’s one crazy Goa'uld. No way was I gonna deliver an innocent like Doctor J into her hands.’
Hathor. Obsessed with Daniel from the moment she clapped eyes on him. She was the one Goa'uld he’d backed away from, the only one he didn’t bait or try to shoot on sight. She made Daniel retreat, mentally and physically, and for that Jack hated her, more even than for her physical abuses.
Jack caught Boch studying him in their reflection on the windscreen. Blanking his expression, he said, ‘Hathor’s dead. I had the honour myself. And your morals seem to stretch only so far. You sold Daniel to Ba'al because the price was right.’
‘We’ve been over this, O'Neill. I said I was sorry. I’m helping you find Doctor Jackson, and quite possibly compromising my reputation and my life in the process. What more do you want?
What did he want? He wanted Daniel home, safe, grubbing in the dirt on some abandoned planet where Jack could watch over him, and bitch about how much his feet hurt. Barring that… he wanted to know what Daniel was experiencing out there, each day. Was he scared? Lonely? Being tortured? Turned into a zombie controlled by some snake?
‘Tell me what you did to Daniel. Drugged him? Tied him up? What? We found the warehouse where you held him before you left Earth.’
‘C’mon O'Neill. How’s that going to help anything?’
‘Humour me.’
Boch stared out at the darkness, avoiding Jack’s piercing stare. He was quiet for a long time, then finally relented. ‘It was Ba'al’s instruction. Had to be done his way, no argument. Daniel was given the Jonita drug. It immobilises, slows the body’s systems to one-twentieth of normal. Like they’re experiencing the passage of time really slowly. It used to be taken for interplanetary travel, before hyperspeed engines. Only drawback is the person stays conscious the whole time. The journey took three of your weeks.’
The silence of the cockpit pressed down on them, thick and oppressive, as Jack fought to contain the explosion building inside him. ‘I oughta kill you. Right here. Right now.’
Boch’s eyes hardened. ‘It’s a rough universe, O'Neill. You come out here, away from your safe little planet, stir things up, start shooting Goa'uld, upset the balance of power; you have to expect that one day somebody is going to come after you guys.’
The anger in him died down a little. Jack straightened up, annoyed that Boch was right. There was no point in stirring up animosity between them. With an effort he pulled his focus back. ‘So Ba'al put out a separate bounty on Daniel. How long ago?’
‘Well, that’s the curious thing. Ba'al didn’t lodge a new bounty with the Guild Masters, he just increased the reward set by Hathor and changed the conditions of the Hunt – demanded Doctor J be delivered to him instead of Hathor. Certainly not the usual way of doing business, I can tell you. Even with the increased bounty, very few Hunters were willing to risk taking up the job.’
‘And Ba'al gave no indication of what he wanted Daniel for, what he was going to do to him?’
‘You know he didn’t, O'Neill.’ Was that sympathy on Boch’s face?
Jack saw Teal'c standing in the doorway, two cups of coffee in hand, loathing and contempt for Boch on his face. ‘Shift’s over, Boch. Go.’
Boch went.
Jack settled down into the co-pilot’s seat, sipped the coffee and watched Teal'c futz with the controls. From the room beyond came the smell of dinner cooking, the murmur of conversation, an occasional laugh. Jack let his tired brain fall into neutral and enjoy the companionable silence with Teal'c.
Tobay woke him from a half-doze with a bowl full of steaming soup. ‘Oh, man, thanks Tobay.’ He sniffed, picked out a couple of Abydonian scents and grinned. Teal'c was already tucking into his, but there was a change in the man’s silence.
‘T? What’s on your mind?’ Jack swallowed another mouthful.
Teal'c paused, contemplated his bowl, then said the three words Jack would have least expected. ‘Daniel Jackson’s hair.’
Jack opened his mouth. Closed it. Frowned at his food. Nodded slowly.
‘Yeah. Never did come up with a proper explanation for that.’
Someone cleared their throat behind them. In the view screen’s reflection, Jack saw Ferretti leaning in the doorway, eating, his team and the rest of the crew nearby.
‘Everyone on base had theories about Daniel’s new hair cut after we got you back from Hathor. Not that anyone ever voiced them near Daniel,’ he added hastily. ‘They have too much respect for him. But it did create a lot of speculation. Daniel was obviously self-conscious about it.’
‘Yeah.’ Jack sighed. The first few days after their rescue had been tough: Daniel feeling like a walking exhibit: he didn’t need reminding it had been done against his will, that the bitch had toyed with him like some pet poodle. Eventually he’d had it shorn even shorter, and a little more of the old Daniel had been lost forever.
Teal'c was contemplating his empty bowl, tensely avoiding Jack’s gaze.
‘You’ve got a theory.’
Teal'c glanced at him, quirked an eyebrow in confirmation. He hesitated – never a good sign. ‘First, O'Neill, I would assert that never once have I observed any abnormal or detrimental behaviour from Daniel Jackson, and I have maintained close observation of him ever since our return from Hathor’s base. Nor did Doctor Fraiser discover anything of concern in her examinations of Daniel Jackson.’
Jack kept his face blank, his heart pounding just that little bit faster. The rest of the crew were in the cockpit now, silently leaning or sitting.
‘I believe Daniel Jackson’s hair was not cut. Rather, it was regrown.’ Teal'c’s words fell with quiet damnation.
‘Regrown…’ She shaved his head? ‘Why?’
‘I suspect some type of invasive investigation was performed.’
‘But hair can’t grow that fast,’ Carter spoke up.
‘The sarcophagus can restore hair, as it does skin, blood, bone and organs.’
Silence filled the space around them, so deeply Jack could imagine the chirping of crickets.
‘Oh, no.’ Sam slid down the wall to sit on the floor.
‘We were gone… she had us for over twenty days before we woke up to what was going on,’ Jack murmured.
‘I only remember two interrogation sessions,’ Carter added.
‘The information we gave up was old, pointless—’
‘Daniel was in another part of the complex, away from us.’
‘There were no guards on us when we woke, just a technician.’
‘Hathor followed us, listened to us, hidden by the stealth device…’
‘She scanned us, practiced on us? Then worked on Daniel?’ Jack stared at Teal'c, thoughts bumping together like dodgem cars. An answer finally spat itself out. ‘We were the guinea pigs. The whole point of taking us was to get at Daniel. She had the Tok’ra’s mind sifter, refined it on us, then used it on him—before or after she…?’ Cut his head open?
His soup threatened to make a reappearance. ‘Did she implant something? No, at least not anything we could trace. Doc Fraiser checked. Remove something?’
Sam’s horrified reaction did nothing to ease his gut. ‘No, no, we’d have noticed. Teal'c, you’ve been watching him. He’s been fine, unchanged.’
‘Jack!’ Jacob’s firm voice broke through. ‘I’m not an expert on the memory scanning technology, but I believe it can function both externally and internally. Hathor may have tried an internal scan on Danny if the external scan didn’t reveal what she was looking for.’
‘And then put him in the sarcophagus to cover up the evidence?’
‘It might account for how out of it Daniel was when we woke him up, sir.’ Sam’s brow furrowed as she thought back. ‘He really was having trouble focusing, particularly when she… put that Goa'uld… in you…’
Jack didn’t want to dwell on that particular memory, but it rushed back all the same: Carter and Daniel standing to the side of the cryo pod, Daniel’s face curiously blank as the red-headed witch leaned in for the kill… ‘So, then we killed Hathor, blew her base, end of story. Except Ba'al appears to have taken up where she left off. The two of them were connected somehow.’
‘Sir—’
‘Don’t say it.’
‘What if…’
‘Carter.’
‘But you know it’s a possibility. We’ve all known.’
‘And we could not do anything about it so we have not mentioned the possibility near Daniel Jackson,’ the Jaffa of Reason chimed in.
‘But, now, with Teal'c’s suspicions—’
‘Yeah, don’t think I haven’t lost sleep over it a few thousand times.’
‘Uh, you want to let the rest of the class in on the secret?’ Jacob was staring at the three of them in turn.
Jack scowled and stared at the empty black beyond the ship. Finally, he spoke, and somehow the possibility that he had so long denied became that much more plausible as he voiced it. ‘Hathor’s Jaffa. If there were any left, they could have dug her out of the freezer and popped her in the microwave. And now Teal'c’s pretty much confirmed she had a sarcophagus.’
It was too ugly to contemplate and didn’t help with their current mission. Jack filed the information in a small dark space in his brain and slammed the door shut on it.
Another day and a half and the SS Spacemonkey lurched and wheezed itself to the outer boundary of Ba'al’s solar system. They reduced speed and cruised in past gas giants, an asteroid cluster and roaming moons, some or all of which, Boch informed them, were bristling with defence and surveillance equipment.
Everyone assumed their disguises, either leather or worn linen. Carter and Beechworth took perverse delight in applying Boch’s new identity, turning the tall, broad hunter into a stooped, wrinkled old woman.
‘What is that smell, Major?’ Boch gagged and tried to remove a vial Carter had slipped into his dress pocket.
She slapped his hand. ‘Leave it. It generates a particular “old lady” smell, somewhat amplified. Guaranteed to keep people at a distance. You don’t want Ba'al to recognise you, do you?’
‘No. I don’t want to smell like this, either.’ He screwed his nose up, making his warty, wrinkly makeup even more unattractive.
Jack shared a grin with Sam. ‘Where’s Skaara? Can’t have Ba'al recognising Klorel’s former host.’
‘In the bathroom, sir.’
He tapped on the bathroom door, then keyed it open. ‘Ska—’
His voice failed. Skaara smiled up at him, Tobay and Seni behind, their hands holding sharp knives and fistfuls of severed hair – Skaara’s Rastafarian rat-tails – his head shorn down to a number one buzz cut. Jack wouldn’t have recognised Skaara if he hadn’t been wearing the same clothes he’d had on ten minutes ago.
‘The demon Ba'al will not know me, Jack. I can not put Dan’yer in danger because I cling to the hair of my youth.’
‘Not just youth.’ Skaara’s distinctive hair was his status symbol; it announced him as son and successor to the headman of Nagada.
‘It is a small thing, easily given, but I will risk losing honour at home to free my brother.’
Skaara, Prince of Abydos, stood proud, determined, and Jack saluted him with a tip of his head.
‘Let’s go.’
Boch gave them the intel they needed. Jacob talked them down through outer boundary checks, flight paths, cargo clearances, inspections and finally berthing fees. When the Spacemonkey’s engines finally coughed down to silence, the crew stood ready, subtly armed and itching to move.
The hatch creaked open and allowed in a flood of strange-scented fresh air. Jacob led the way, “supporting” Boch who guided him to the Trader’s Guild. In short order their cargo of dye was sold, off-loaded and replaced with a crateful of clinking credits.
‘Even made a profit,’ Jacob said ruefully, as he and Boch emerged from the Emporium and joined the others in the Mercantile Hall. Hundreds of people moved around them: men and women engaged in business, selling cargoes, making deals, restocking supplies for the outbound journeys. Tiny offices lined the fringes of the hall, and the rest of the space was crammed with rows of stalls, booths and groupings of seats where deals were done in a brisk, quiet manner. Skylights showed a sunny blue-green sky, occasionally blotted out by a vessel departing the landing field outside.
‘Where to?’ Jack asked. He itched to get out of here. Line-of-sight was at best eight metres. Too many angles from which the enemy could come at them. Too many people who were unknown, harbouring who-knew-what intentions, their noise swallowed any of the little tell-tales announcing they had been discovered that he would otherwise rely on. He was anxious to move, to get on with the mission and pick up Daniel’s trail.
Boch indicated a fancy set of doors at the far end of the hall. ‘Transport hub. Takes us directly to the city.’ He shuffled off, Jacob and Teal'c solicitously lending their support. Both of them carried a small Tok’ra-made shield, which emitted a field that inhibited a Goa'uld or Jaffa from sensing the presence of Selmac or Junior. Jack followed, his extended team trailing along, gawping like tourists at the galactic variety of people and goods.
So far they had only seen a couple of Jaffa, chatting in an alcove kiosk that served steaming drinks. The lack of visible sentries, patrols of soldiers or any of the expected heavy-handed policing made him even more uneasy. He followed Teal'c’s hat – a light head-cloth that covered most of his forehead and weirdly fitted right in with the mishmash of clothing styles around them.
People flowed through the ornate entrance to the transport hub, and here, finally, were the expected guards. Two of Ba'al’s Jaffa were stationed to either side of the open doors, with more at different areas within, all alert but not viewing the Spacemonkey’s party with undue suspicion.
Jacob purchased tickets, presented their paperwork and stated their intention of seeking both recreation and new commerce in the city. They were issued passes allowing access to Tsydon for four days, along with a stern warning that overstaying would be strictly and ruthlessly discouraged.
The queue for departing travellers took them along a twisting corridor, through a refreshment hall – complete with huge statue of Ba'al – and suddenly out onto an open-air platform.
‘How long do we wait for the train?’ Ferretti muttered.
‘There’s no waiting on Lord Ba'al’s homeworld,’ Boch said in a horrible falsetto.
A second later a glass-enclosed vehicle swept up and halted soundlessly in front of them. They entered and settled in the cushioned seats, the two spare seats filled by a couple of women with sacks of shopping. The door slid down from the roof and was closed in a flash, then they were moving, picking up speed quickly with only a bare hint of g-force.
‘So, Dad,’ said Sam. ‘Er…, Mother. How long does it take to get to the city?’
Boch glared at her and refused to answer.
‘I’m told we’ll be there in time for lunch, honey,’ Jacob replied, a twinkle in his eye.
Conversation was limited with natives so close. Jack contented himself with getting his first good look at Ba'al’s homeworld.
Green fields flanked both sides of the single rail their carriage ran on. Grain crops alternated with fallow fields, orchards and produce crops. Many were filled with people, harvesting. It looked like summer was on the wane here, the seasons turning to cooler conditions. He blinked and focused on the workers as they shrank into the distance; were those wagons floating?
Looking back to the distant spaceport, he could see a ship taking off. Elsewhere the skies were quite empty. A probable hundred klicks to the right a range of mountains rose high and imposing, snow capping their peaks.
‘It is a very beautiful land.’ Tobay knelt on the seat next to Jack, nose pressed to the glass. ‘Their wells must be vast and deep.’
Jack smiled at him. Settling back, eyes half-closed, he counted the minutes as they sped toward Daniel.
Å
‘This is not what I expected,’ Roberts muttered.
‘Ditto,’ Bairnsdale said.
They were all trying to not stare, to look casual and blend in but it was difficult. The train deposited them at the main terminal, and returned the way it had come. The line continued on a short way then vanished into a tunnel in the hillside. Jack casually scoped the four guards at the tunnel entrance: this must be the route to Ba'al’s palace Boch had told them about. He kept turning, being the tourist, taking in the sights as they made their way into the city.
This was the complete opposite of the spaceport’s modern tech-filled efficiency. Narrow paths and laneways twisted through hills covered with trees and rustic houses. People walked: there were no mechanical transports, only hand carts. Several times the group wandered up a path and found themselves in a small square, fronted by homes and cottage industries.
‘No, not this one. Two more hills, then turn right.’ Boch stomped back to the main trail, tired of waiting for the Tau’ri to finish gawping at someone making pots or bread.
Jack ushered his team after their grumpy guide. A Jaffa, of all people, had politely provided them with a map and directions to the lodging district where they could rent a home to stay in. They were all surprised by Ba'al’s Tsydon. The lack of cowed, oppressed people, and of threatening Jaffa, was downright unsettling.
Boch needs to work on his briefings.
This place was no Chulak. The people were well-housed, well-fed, living their lives apparently for themselves, instead of for their god.
They passed through a small marketplace. Jacob and Carter paused to buy pastries, milk and pots of cheese for their lunch. Jack ambled past one house, its front window open wide to display a collection of embroideries. A woman leant out and called, ‘We have new workings of our beloved Eshmun. Come, see our fine quality.’
Jack smiled a ‘no’ and kept moving. Somehow he doubted Hammond would want a wall hanging souvenir.
‘Who’s this beloved Eshmun?’ he asked Boch.
‘No idea.’
Jack gave him a hard don’t-bullshit-me stare.
‘Really. There are some things I don’t know, Jack.’ He pushed ahead again, the dress he was trapped into making him shuffle at best speed.
Finally they entered a larger square, halfway down the hill. A central grassy area opened up before them, surrounded by wood and plastered homes on two sides, the far end a little wooded area backed by a natural rock wall. Scaffolding covered the rear of the houses facing into the main thoroughfare, where a number of people were engaged in painting a huge mural.
Boch secured a house for them. It was a large wooden structure, situated at the far end of the square. A central door and shuttered windows offered a choice of escape routes, while concealing the occupants from prying eyes. Vines clung to the walls over the second story up to the roof: useful for a sudden exit but the flowers might be an allergen hazard for Daniel. Jack made his appraisal in seconds, and nodded approval. After a thorough search of its two floors, Jack gave the okay and everyone slumped with relief. He drew the curtain over the window looking out on the square, and went to the back of the room where Beechworth, the kids and Carter were staring out a panoramic window.
‘Whoa.’
The land dipped away before them, offering a clear view of the rest of the homes winding down to a huge fort at one end of a wide bay. Buildings were dotted all around the harbour to a thick breakwater on the far side. Imposing itself over everything was a beautiful stone castle, joined to the land by a long causeway.
‘That would be Ba'al’s house,’ Beechworth said.
‘At a guess.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Carter murmured.
Impenetrable, inaccessible…
‘Colonel Jack, what is that?’ Seni whispered. Eyes wide, he pointed at the twinkling blue sea.
‘That, Seni, is water. Lots of water.’ He grinned at Seni and Tobay, remembering that this was their first off-world trip. Even Skaara looked impressed. ‘And that,’ he pointed to an elegant wooden clipper ship, appearing from behind the castle, ‘is a sailing ship. Son of a sea serpent…’ Their excited exclamations touched his heart, and for a moment he was transported back four years, shadowing Daniel as he ventured out into the galaxy, seeing the wonders it had to offer for the first time. Lately the wonder had dimmed a bit, but in truth, watching Daniel soak up the first impression of a new planet, a new culture or people never had gotten old. Damn, he missed it now, though.
‘Tell you what, when we’ve got Daniel back we’ll take you guys to see some of Earth’s oceans.’ Back to work, now. He turned to the rest of the team. ‘Let’s get to it. We need to spread out, get as much intel from the locals as possible. We need to know Jaffa numbers, where’s the most likely place they’d be holding a prisoner. Freshen up, get some food and get moving. Meet back here at sunset.’
Å
They split into four teams of three and moved out into the city. Jack, Lou and Boch headed down the hill, aiming to get as close to the castle as possible and begin plans to infiltrate it. The others drifted through the square, then dispersed.
Teal'c, Beechworth and Tobay wandered into one of the marketplaces, this one specialising in textiles and clothing. They strolled from stall to stall, listening to the conversations of the people around them. Most chatter was the same as could be heard in any marketplace on any planet from Earth to Chulak: the weather, the price of goods on offer, the exchange of gossip between neighbours and families.
For the fourth time that morning, Teal'c heard the name “Eshmun” uttered in conversation nearby. Curious, he casually turned and watched two women, excitedly examining a bolt of cloth one had just purchased. Thrilled with the material they went on their way, still talking animatedly. Teal'c’s gaze followed them and came to rest on a cloth merchant across the street, her stall of fine fabric curiously unattended.
‘Fair morn to you, traveller,’ she greeted as he wandered close.
‘Good morn, merchant. Your wares are of exceptional quality.’ He was no expert on material but Teal'c could tell the fine weaves, intricate designs and rich threads spoke of the maker’s great skill.
‘My thanks, master.’ She sighed and mustered a smile as three young ladies went past, their baskets bulging with another seller’s fabric. ‘I can offer you a good price this day – a third of the usual cost.’
Teal'c fingered a sheath of red silk, astonishingly smooth against his fingers. ‘I wonder more purchasers are not availing themselves of your fine silks, madam.’ They were incredibly beautiful, yet the shoppers were going elsewhere.
‘Ah, well, one cannot blame the good folk for wanting to purchase that which our fair Eshmun himself sampled.’ The lady shrugged and glanced wistfully past Teal'c’s right shoulder. ‘Of course, it does not put food on my table.’
‘To what do you refer?’ Tobay and Lt Beechworth joined him, uttering admiring noises at the display.
Encouraged, the shop seller said, ‘Tiniall of Shadac Lane had the good fortune to sell a cloth to the Adon.’
Adon – another name they were hearing mentioned a lot.
‘Surely that was before he revealed himself as our Lord Eshmun, Risen once more…’ She trailed off reverently. ‘That he Rose wearing Tiniall’s fabric – well, it is no wonder others wish to purchase as he did.’ She pointed and they turned to see a laneway behind them, down which a crowd of people could be seen gathered around another fabric seller’s shop. ‘Truth be told, I bought a little piece myself.’ Shaking a square of orange material out of her pocket, she pressed it to her heart, then refolded and tucked it away.’
Another Goa'uld, Teal'c thought, disappointed. The description of revealing and rising was odd but most likely had nothing to do with Daniel Jackson. He nearly turned away, but paused. If they purchased nothing their cover as traders would be suspect. Perhaps a gift for Doctor and Cassie Fraiser.
Teal'c, clutching a wrapped length of the red silk, Tobay likewise bearing a gift for his mother, moved on.
Å
Jack and Lou continued to stroll casually along the beach promenade, each with one arm supporting the Aged Widow Boch, who shuffled along between them.
Better make that Aged Spinster Boch…
They kept far enough away from the fort to avoid suspicion, but their slow pace allowed ample time to scope the causeway leading to the castle, and the people coming and going. There were guards all along the fort, at both ends of the causeway and at a station halfway along. The soldiers didn’t look like Jaffa, but the swords glinting at their sides would be as effective as a zat at stopping intruders. Anyone seeking entrance to the citadel was challenged at least three times.
Not good. Access from the sea would be even less likely: the smooth, creamy stone walls rose from the water, unbroken by parapet or window for hundreds of feet. Damn.
Jack halted. Now well past the castle, the path headed up to a coastal track winding through the vegetation into the hills.
‘C’mon Auntie. Let’s go get some fish for supper.’ They turned around and strolled back. Boch’s fingers dug into his arm in protest. Jack glared at him, then met Lou’s glance. Getting into Ba'al’s palace was not going to be easy. Getting Daniel out was going to be even trickier.
Sweet. I like a challenge.
Å
The warm afternoon sun slanted into Sam’s eyes, making her squint and turn away from the street’s busy shoppers and passers-by.
‘I could get to like this stuff.’ Sandy Beechworth took a long swig of the cold cider they had been served. ‘Very quickly. Ahh…’
They sat with Seni at an outdoor café, ostensibly watching the townsfolk go by and actually eavesdropping on the conversations around them. The cafe’s many tables were full, both locals and offworld traders relaxing in the late afternoon sun. The gossip they had so far heard touched on a pair of traders’ plans for their next voyage, a couple of off-hand comments about the attack that had closed Tsydon’s airspace – which curiously none of the locals seemed too bothered about – a couple of older ladies excitedly discussing ‘The Return’, whatever that was, and a young couple announcing to her parents an impending baby.
‘We are truly blessed by The Gift, mama!’ The young woman was nearly in tears.
Sam smiled and switched her focus. Two tables over a couple sat smiling at each other.
‘Tell me again, Gapen, about… about the Adon. You saw him many times in our Lord’s home?’ The woman inched her hand across the table and twinned her fingers with her date’s.
Aww, young love. Sam kept her gaze on the street and listened. They’d overheard a lot of people talking about someone called Adon and another person called Eshmun. It might be nothing, but she wanted to get more intel on them. Sandy was also listening in – he too had picked up the oft-mentioned names.
Pride and a little bit of puffed up importance swelled the man’s voice. ‘Indeed, Neryn, I was so honoured. A beautiful soul, thoughtful and caring he is.’
The woman sighed dramatically.
Gapen leaned close, eager to impress her. ‘But fiery too. Once, he and our Lord disagreed and Adon let his views be known. Even in temper he is magnificent, our Beloved Eshmun.’
Sam frowned. So the Adon and this Eshmun are the same person?
The woman finally stopped twittering and said breathlessly, ‘I received the Blessing, Gapen. I was there at Eshmun’s Gift.’
‘Oh, Neryn!’ The guy actually clutched her hand to his heart. ‘As was I. Both of us, Blessed…’
They stared into each other’s eyes for long enough for Sam to roll her eyes and look away, then they were up and trotting off down the road, hand in hand.
Sandy cleared his throat, smothering a snort. Between them, Skaara looked up from the fruit dessert he’d been slowly devouring. ‘If the people of this world honour their… god,’ he said softly, forcing the word out with distaste, ‘why do they hold another in such esteem? He who once ruled us would not have allowed such devotion of another.’
‘Good point.’ Sam picked up her shopping basket, suddenly uneasy. ‘There’s something going on here. Something we’re missing. C’mon.’
They’d barely risen when a commotion further down the street caught the attention of everyone near by. A group of men and women, all young, very pretty and dressed in revealing colourful silks appeared from the trees of a park halfway up the street. Squealing and laughing, they were caught up in a game of tag. They spilled into the road, dashing behind market stalls, hiding behind people or improbable cover before dashing away. The townsfolk smiled at them with tolerance. Sam noted no one seemed annoyed or put out by the exuberant behaviour. As the group surged closer she caught the eye of the café’s owner.
‘Uh, sir, I wonder who all these happy people are?’
‘Heh, they are the Companions, dear lady,’ he replied, grinning at them.
‘Companions?’
‘Yes, yes, the Courtesans and Concubines of our Lord Ba'al. Are they not joyful?’
‘Oh, yes, very.’ These people were Ba'al’s lovers? All of them? Wow.
The owner went back to work. The Companions moved down the street in a flutter of silks. Deep in her soul Sam felt a tingle… She glanced at Skaara: his face set like stone, desperately hiding the loathing he suddenly felt.
‘They are Goa'uld,’ he whispered. ‘All of them.’ Fingers clenched white on his shopping basket, he turned away.
Sam joined Sandy, watching the game dance along the street. As one caught another they would shout their name, then rush after another to catch. A slim man wrapped his arms around a girl and shouted, ‘Arsay!’ She wriggled free, then another girl caught the man by the waist, hugged him with a giggle and yelled his name: ‘Jackson!’
Cold washed over Sam like a bucket of ice water. Involuntarily, she stepped forward. Beechworth caught her arm, halting the move. The look on his face said he’d heard it too.
As the man danced away with the girl, Sam stared intently at him. Curly blond hair, slender build, a large ruby flashing in the sun at his throat – definitely not Daniel. But the name. It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. A Goa'uld named Jackson.
Å
Jack sat in the gathering twilight, the peace of night closing around their rented home soothing the churn of thoughts in his head. He stretched his legs; the curved wooden seat placed under the front windows was surprisingly comfortable. He let his gaze rest on the painters at the far end of the square. One section of their mural complete, they were dismantling the scaffolding.
A Goa'uld named Jackson. What were the chances? Carter and Skaara were adamant – one of a bunch of Goa'uld – Ba'al’s lovers for crying out loud – was named Jackson.
We have proof, at last, over and above just Boch’s word, that Daniel has been here.
Scoped the palace today. Infiltration will not be easy. Only one way in and it’s heavily guarded. Will have to affect a covert insertion somehow. Pity we can’t call up a C32B.
Teal'c’s team report a lot of local chat about some new god. Seems to go against form for Ba'al to share the limelight. It’s now a high priority to gather more intel on this ‘god’.
Jack blew out a breath and checked the square for the umpteenth time: finally! Jacob, Seni and Roberts were making their way across the grass. Way overdue, and there was urgency in their movements. Jack flipped the journal shut and went to meet them.
Intercepting them halfway across the square, he searched them for injuries, Jaffa on their trail – they brought nothing with them but an unmistakeable air of concern. And some bulging shopping bags.
‘Boys. Nice of you to join us. Been doing some retail therapy?’
‘Jack, you’re not going to believe what we found,’ Jacob said quietly.
Jack quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘Oh, I think at this stage I’ll believe anything.’ His focus drifted beyond them to small group of people gathering to admire the now-revealed mural.
‘We went through the trades district,’ Jacob said. ‘Bakers, potters, woodworkers, you know the thing. There was a lot of talk. I mean, every second person, Jack. All going on about someone called Eshmun. Seems to be a new god or something.’
‘Yeah, Carter and Teal'c’s groups found the same thing.’ There were soft spotlights illuminating the three panels of the mural. The first looked like some kind of wild party, people dancing everywhere and something floating out to sea at the bottom of the picture.
‘Well, we got to the craft market, Jack and there was stuff everywhere. All the sellers had this memorabilia…’
The second panel showed someone standing in a river, naked, red flowers floating in the water around them, people on the banks reaching out, bowing down, two people – man and woman – slightly apart, highlighted by radiant crowns. Jack stared at the figure in the water – a man… and the hair on the back of his neck shivered upright.
‘…plates, mugs, throw pillows, wind chimes, statues, even a full-on stained glass window…’
The third panel was clearly the causeway to Ba'al’s palace, crowded with happy people throwing flowers, waving handkerchiefs, greeting – or farewelling – three people: the man and woman from the previous panel, holy glows in place, standing possessively either side of the man from the river.
As far away as he was from the mural, as indistinct the now full twilight made the features of the man in the picture, Jack knew. With every fibre of his soul he knew.
‘…all depicting this new god of theirs.’ Jacob’s voice was low and urgent, but failed to tear Jack’s attention away from the face of his quarry, of his lost, best friend.
‘Jack—it’s Daniel.’
‘Son of a fucking bitch.’ The words hissed out of him, and he was striding toward the mural, not knowing or caring if the others followed.
Å
Dawn came early to the forested hills of Tsydon, but Jack was already awake, heavy-eyed from very little sleep. He sat at the upstairs bay window, staring at the indistinct shapes on the mural: slowly resolving into form as the sun’s first rays touched it with golden light. The team had talked long in the dark of night, trying to reason why a Goa'uld would elevate a mere human, a captive human, to godlike idolatry. The first answer, the most obvious and most sickening: Daniel had been snaked.
They had examined every inch of the mural, lit by flashlights, pouring over every little detail for as long as they dared, yet each depiction of Daniel differed from that of Ba'al and what had to be his queen, Astarte. The two known Goa'uld were haloed in gold light – Daniel was not. Did the painters know the difference between Goa'uld and human? Who knew?
If he hadn’t been snaked, and for a reasonable amount of his captivity they knew he hadn’t been because he’d been himself during that visit to Yu and also when he’d made and sent the message, if Daniel was still free from possession, then what would Ba'al possibly hope to gain by passing Daniel off as another god?
Jack, Lou and Boch had heard little of this new god on their recce yesterday, but the others reported that the cafes and markets had buzzed with talk of the ‘returned Eshmun’. Carter and Teal'c in particular had been chagrined at disregarding what had turned out to be vital evidence. “Daniel Jackson would not have ignored such evidence,” Teal'c had declared, blunt and precise as usual.
Coughs and mutters from the bedrooms beyond announced the waking of his expanded team. Jack turned away from the image of Daniel in the river, decision made. The planned infiltration of the palace was on hold. They’d been operating on false assumptions: that Daniel would be a bound captive in some torture chamber in the bowels of Ba'al’s stronghold. He may be so held now, but there was so much they didn’t know.
They needed intel. A lot of it.
He stopped at the table where Jacob’s souvenir collection was laid out. Daniel’s image smiled up at him from a dozen different icons. On impulse, Jack picked up a disc of crystal, engraved with Daniel’s face, suspended from a silver chain. Without thinking too hard, he clipped the chain around his neck, the weight of the crystal settling nicely where his dog tags usually resided. He’d felt kinda naked without them.
All day the four teams swept the city of Tsydon, from the fishmongers by the bay to the farmers on the outskirts of the residential areas. Shoppers, sellers, crafters and passers-by were engaged in casual chats, and slowly the team built a picture of the new god of Tsydon.
At midday they converged on a grassy rest stop, grateful for the shady respite from the hot sun and the cold water tinkling in a stone fountain. Quietly they compiled their gathered stories.
‘So he first appeared on this Eshmun night,’ Jack said, after Beechworth, Roberts and Carter all recounted the same story.
‘In the company of the gods,’ added Skaara. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, ensuring they were still alone before twisting his mouth in distaste. ‘Ba'al and Astarte. But several people we spoke to all said ‘The Adon’ kept himself apart from the revelry and refused all invitations.
‘Invitations?’
‘From what we’ve heard, Jack, it was a city-wide orgy. Goa'uld, Jaffa, humans – all together,’ Bairnsdale said. The expression on her face said she was still coming to grips with the idea.
‘I pity Dan’yer,’ Tobay muttered.
There was silent agreement from the rest of the team.
‘Okay, the second picture in the mural was something going on in a river. People I talked to went on about a resurrection, a return. Full of enthusiasm but light on the detail. How can someone return to a place they’ve never been to before?’
‘They seem to be confusing or equating Daniel with a god called Eshmun,’ Sandy added. ‘We don’t have the full story yet, but there seems to be a long-held belief that Eshmun would return one day.’
‘And Ba'al has promoted Daniel Jackson in the role of this god.’ Teal'c’s baritone rumbled his disapproval through the little glade.
‘Which brings us back to why.’ Jack removed the straw hat he’d bought in the market and scratched his head vigorously.
‘I think we should try the temples next,’ Carter offered.
Jack turned his attention to the glimmer of white marble, shining through the trees, high on the hill.
‘We might be able to find out more about Eshmun,’ agreed Sandy.
Jack nodded and climbed to his feet. ‘Split up. Meet up with Lou’s team at the house – 1630.’ Tonight they would start planning their infiltration of Ba'al’s castle. With every second that ticked by, with every new piece of information they gleaned of what had befallen Daniel on this planet, a sense of urgency that resided in his gut – ever since that day in New York – wound tighter and tighter. Daniel was here. There were getting closer.
The temples were another surprise. The his and hers monuments Jack accepted readily but the third one… Above the Goa'uld temples? Teal'c was looking as stunned as Jack had ever seen him. Jacob likewise.
‘Not in Kansas anymore, Jack,’ he muttered, as they strolled across the grass.
Five years they’d been fighting the Goa'uld and never once had they seen one snake place another, human or otherwise, in a position of higher importance. Ba'al had to gain something by creating an uber-god, but what that might be, Jack could not imagine.
Seni and Tobay had entered Astarte’s temple, and all too soon scurried back into daylight. They were both… blushing.
‘That is not a place where decent men should go.’ Seni cast a look back at the ornate entrance, awe and temptation mingling on his young face.
Beechworth grinned. ‘I’m not a decent man. Coming Sam?’
Carter accepted the challenge and the two disappeared into the portico’s shadow.
Jack turned to Teal'c and Jacob. ‘Check your gizmos are working.’
They both nodded, confirmed the little Tok’ra gadgets they carried were operating.
‘Let’s go pay our respects to Ba'al.’
They were out in the sunshine again, ten minutes later.
‘Well, that was boring.’ Jack kept his voice down as they moved through the clusters of people wandering the gardens.
‘Not much talk of Eshmun in there,’ Jacob said.
‘No Ba'al either. Just priests not doing much.’ Jack spied out a path running behind the temples. ‘Third time lucky.’
Only ten metres along the path they were stopped by two of the oddly dressed Jaffa.
‘We regret, good travellers, the Temple of Eshmun is closed to all this day. Our Lady Astarte is in residence,’ one announced.
Jack stared past them but could see only a hint of bright marble through the trees. ‘We were hoping to see the… god… Eshmun, before we ship out again.’
The guard rolled his eyes and favoured him with a condescending smile. ‘The Lord Eshmun will not rise for many cycles yet. You may return on the new dawn and leave an offering for him.’ She made a shooing motion and stared at them until they retraced their steps to the main temple precinct.
Hot, tired and disgruntled, the team straggled back to their house in the gathering twilight. They’d regrouped with Sam and Sandy in the food market. Jack couldn’t wait to hear what they’d discovered in Astarte’s temple. Carter wouldn’t look at her father or any of them for that matter, and Beechworth looked—stunned. And way too pleased with himself.
Moving into the square where their house was situated, Jack glanced up to the mural. The artists were packing up their brushes and tools, the fourth panel now etched out in charcoal, waiting to be brought to life with colour. A final ray of sun slanted across the grass and gleamed on the black sketches.
Jack stumbled to a halt, captivated, horror spreading through his nerves like a wildfire. Dimly aware the others were clustered around him, he stared at the drawing, willing it to be something, anything other than what it was.
Perched on a cliff above a river filled with ecstatic worshippers, Ba'al and Astarte supported a limp form between them, streams of blood flowing from the body down to the people below. Everyone was cheering, praying, baying for blood…
Above the pounding of his own blood – roaring in his brain as if searching for a way out, for a way to help that limp body so obviously in need – Jack could hear thin, stifled moans of anguish, Carter crying, Skaara swearing Abydonian words of vengeance.
Jack gazed on the death of Daniel, and felt as if his own life had reached its terminal point.
Å
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