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[Fic] Beneath a Beating Sun - ch.08: Entity
Chapter Summary: Two steps forward, two steps back. The SGC deals with one crisis, while in the background, things get worse.
Index post: [Fic] Beneath a Beating Sun - Index
(...ow.)
Daniel opened his eyes a crack, which proved to be a crack too far. He had a basic understanding of how light could be perceived as a particle or a wave. His physics texts had apparently left out that in select circumstances, it could also be perceived as a Goa'uld pain stick inserted directly into the eye socket. He felt medicated – he'd had enough painkillers in his career that he could almost identify which they'd put him on – and that only made the situation more unfair.
"...engh," he managed.
"Daniel!" Jack could as well have been across the room; it still sounded like he was screaming in Daniel's ear. Daniel winced – (Yes, definitely some sound sensitivity there.)
"Could you maybe keep it down a little?" he asked.
Jack leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper which put it on par with a sonic boom. "Sorry."
(I think I woke up too soon. Does anyone mind if I pass out again?) "How long have you been sitting there?"
"About, uh," Jack did the math in his head. "Three hours?"
Daniel moved one hand to his forehead, which didn't help. He tried to bring his other hand up, but couldn't – partially because that arm had been immobilized, partially because as soon as he tried a white-hot pain stabbed up from his shoulder and nearly blacked him out again. "Aaagh... what happened?"
"I was gonna ask you," Jack said.
"You were attacked by the entity," Teal'c said.
Daniel blinked, moving his head very carefully so the debris piled precariously where his brain should have been wouldn't crash. "Teal'c?"
"I am here."
"Entity?" Daniel asked.
"The eggheads on Level 19 say it's acting intelligently," Jack said. "We still don't know what it thinks it's doing. So far we don't know how to get rid of it, either."
"Aside from those it injured at its arrival, you have been its only casualty," Teal'c informed him.
(...yay?) "Well, I'll have to thank it for that... dubious honor," Daniel said, closing his eyes. The torment fell to a more manageable level. "What happened to my arm?"
"Your arm is fine. Well, some bruises. It's your collarbone," Jack said helpfully.
"The entity is able to manifest great force," Teal'c told him.
"It threw you across a room, Daniel. You're lucky you didn't wrench your neck."
(Yes. Lucky.) Something struck him. That Jack would be standing over his bed was a given – the man made a point to be there when anyone under his command was knocked out. Teal'c, on the other hand–
Belatedly, his heart rate spiked. He could hear it echoed in the monitor above. He'd slipped into the old routines – wake up in the Infirmary, small talk with Jack, establish the crisis and move on from there. It had been enough to take his mind off what had happened, and now that he recognized that, he panicked. Not just for himself, but for everyone around him. "...I almost died, didn't I?"
Jack didn't answer, and Daniel didn't want to open his eyes. He couldn't see his friend's expression.
"You survived," Teal'c said, finality forged in his tone. "We have faced situations more dangerous than this."
It was one of Jack's lines – a throwaway line. Daniel took it with a deathgrip. "Yeah. We have, haven't we?"
"All the time," Jack said.
"Every few days," Daniel agreed.
"Like it's our job or something," Jack groused.
Hesitant confusion edged Teal'c's tone. "In fact it is a large part of our profession."
Jack's stool creaked. "...right," Jack said. "Of course. What was I thinking."
Daniel laughed briefly, forcing it more than feeling it, adopting the gentlest form of hysteria. (It is,) he realized. (...we can't just 'play it safe.' We could go home and hide under our beds but even that doesn't mean Anubis won't come to Earth by ha'tak and burn everything to the ground. Nothing is safe. ...it attacked me from my monitor.)
He rubbed his arm gingerly, fingers slipping over the weave of the sling. (This is why the Stargate Program can't go public,) he thought. (You know what's out there, and all of a sudden everything that seems so peaceful and ordered turns into this dangerous, chaotic mess and anything you can think of can kill you three or four times over. You want to go insane? Just think of all the ways any one thing could go wrong. No one would open their windows. No one would step outside.)
With the thought came panic again – absolute, mindless certainty that they were going to die here, trapped in this mountain, on this rock of a world so very small as it floated in space. But it passed, and he braced himself on the Infirmary sheets. (Life is tougher than you think, even when it can be so fragile. For the most part, we've made it this far. Now the challenge is making it through tomorrow. Making it through today.) "What now?"
"We're open to suggestions."
"The entity has passed through the base," Teal'c said. "We seem unable to halt its progress."
"What's it been doing?"
"Well, that's an interesting question," Jack said.
"We do not know."
"It's gone in and out of computer banks, through some diagnostic equipment... it blew out a MALP a bit ago. Nearly broke our X-ray."
Daniel almost opened his eyes, but caught himself. "...wait. Go back," he said.
"To what?"
"Computer banks, a MALP, the X-ray – what else?"
"Lab equipment?" Jack said.
"Several of the physics laboratories on level 19 were invaded," Teal'c explained. "It seemed most interested in–"
"Learning," Daniel said.
A beat of silence followed.
"That's highly speculative," Jack said, cautiously.
"Well, so is anything at this point." Daniel shook his head, causing his headache to pinball between his temples. "I don't think it attacked me."
Jack's tone helped nothing. "How hard did you hit your head?"
"Apparently not hard enough," Daniel muttered. "Think about it. You said it blew out a MALP. We've already seen that it can 'manifest great force,' like Teal'c said. It's also totally impervious to anything we can do. If it wanted to attack me, I don't think I'd still be here."
A soft rustle of cloth. "Okay. Maybe you have a point."
"Look what it's done. It's moved through all the things that seem like they might contain data. Computer banks, diagnostic equipment, our probes. My... brain."
"You believe the entity attempted to possess you," Teal'c gathered.
"When it passed through me, I saw images. Memories. Maybe it was trying to access them."
"Or maybe your life flashed before your eyes," Jack suggested.
"Or maybe it was trying to communicate. To learn about us. To find common ground."
"I see where this is going," Jack groaned. "You want to talk to the unstable energy being."
"Well, unless you have a better idea."
"Oh, no," Jack returned. "I'm surprised I didn't think of it."
"Jack."
"Teal'c," Jack said. "Could we have a moment alone, please?"
Daniel deflated. He had a feeling what was coming next. (How did I get in trouble here?)
Teal'c slipped from his stool, footfalls quiet on their way to the door. Jack waited until he was out of earshot – presumably eyeshot as well – and lowered his voice. "Daniel."
Daniel had to open his eyes. For this he had to read Jack's expression, his posture, his bearing. Fortunately the worst of his photosensitivity seemed to have passed – he had to squint, and his head complained, but the pain wasn't debilitating.
Jack wasn't always hard to read. Certain emotions were easy to spot, once one knew the signs – amusement, boredom, aggravation, pride. He only became guarded when he didn't want to admit to feeling something, or when to do so would compromise... something. When he was trying to protect himself, or others.
He'd donned an impressive mask now. A poker face to rival his actual poker face, and he was no slouch at the game. Here, he thought the stakes were higher. Whatever he felt, he had to hide.
"So what's with this Stockholm thing you have going?" he asked.
Daniel couldn't follow. "Stockholm?"
"Would you to remind us what's happened since we came across that planet?" Jack asked. "Or why don't I?"
"Jack–"
"First, a ship full of Jaffa die, though I guess I'd be lying if I said I really cared about them. Then Anubis crashes ships into us and Carter gets – wait for it – vaporized. I nearly get fried on my way out, two SFs also nearly get fried when that thing comes through, and how's your shoulder feeling?"
"I don't think it meant to–"
"Tell me again how that's supposed to be reassuring."
He couldn't.
"Nothing that's come from that planet has been good. Why do you expect this to be any different?"
"I don't expect anything," Daniel said. "But we should at least try."
"Why?"
"Because as far as I know, we don't have another choice."
Jack raked a hand through his hair. "...the eggheads are locked in with their computers," he said. "They're looking for a way to take care of it."
"And are they going to find anything? Since we found out about Anubis they've been trying to find something that can attack a noncorporeal being. Last I heard they had no idea."
Jack looked up, following the patterns on the ceiling. Daniel looked up as well, searching for what caught his attention.
Jack looked – to a trained eye – harried. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place, trapped in with no good options and no avenues of escape. Daniel understood his anxiety. (Of course. The sky is falling and there's only us to catch it. Carter would solve this, easy.) He felt certain of that.
"I don't–" Jack began.
Footsteps alerted them to a new presence. Sergeant Siler appeared in the doorway, bad news written across his expression. "I'm sorry, sir. You wanted to be alerted if it moved."
"And I suppose it's moved," Jack said.
"Yes, sir. It's in the Stargate." Siler grimaced. "We can't dial out and as far as we know nothing can dial in. We're completely isolated."
"You should fix that," Jack said.
"I'm not sure we can, sir."
Jack glared.
"...I'll get right on it," Siler said, and left.
Daniel squared his shoulder. "We have no choice."
"There's always a choice," Jack said.
"Like what? We can't destroy it. We can't make it do anything. We can't let it sit in the Stargate forever. How else can we possibly proceed?"
"You're thinking of this thing like a person," Jack said. "You're walking into this like a meet-'n'-greet."
"And why shouldn't I?" He stood his ground, though it felt about to give way. Soon the smooth concrete of the Infirmary floor would sigh and give up its grip on stable reality, sending them plummeting down toward Tartarus. "It's intelligent. Maybe we can come to an understanding. It's the only chance we've got."
"And if it's not interested in understanding?"
"Well, that's a risk. That's always a risk, wherever we go."
"Uh-huh." Jack ground his teeth. "And you're willing to take that risk. Right here, right now."
Daniel hesitated. His shoulder hurt despite the medication, and the space behind his sternum hadn't unclenched since that morning. Risks, calculated losses, the safety of the team – but it was true; they had no choice. No other option. He could easily admit that he was scared – not only of the entity, of the possibility of his injury or death, but of the possibility that his resolve now wasn't bravery. Maybe it was despair. Of finding another option, of being able to extract himself from the mess that had followed them from '542. Maybe this was suicide, and it seemed like the only choice because it seemed like the utter destruction of SG-1 was the natural result of this chain of events. A self-fulfilling prophecy. And maybe it made no difference at all. "Yes, I am."
"This thing is a weapon," Jack said. "It's dangerous, it's injured people, and maybe it's killed people. At the moment it doesn't matter whether it wanted to or not – it did, and there is nothing to suggest it won't again. And I am not going to let you walk up to it and ask it to maybe kill you." He watched Daniel sternly, holding him to the words. "That's my job."
Daniel tensed, everything flipping around on him in an instant. "Jack, nothing says–"
"Everything says. I'm your CO." He crossed his arms. (You think it's supposed to be easy? You know, right now, you're making a call on my life, and I have to let you. That's your job – and it's mine, and it stinks, and it's how things work. So tell me. Is it worth the very real possibility that you might order me off to my death?) "You're the closest thing we have to an expert. Make the call."
Daniel's free hand went to his sling again. All of his arguments still applied, but he'd lost the drive to argue them. (This isn't fair,) he thought at Jack. (You've had training for this. You can't expect me to play with someone else's life.)
The same reasons he'd used to corner Jack now cornered him. He'd left himself no escapes. "I say we go through with it."
(And make our peace with God.) Jack nodded. "I'll advise Hammond."
-
The briefing took place when Daniel could stand and walk again, after the heaviest drugs had worn off. He couldn't tell any more if it was late night or early morning, couldn't reconcile the day. As if the world was divided into days any more, instead of existing in one long cycle of crisis and crash. The SGC was trapped in a perpetual situation, and the euphemistic simplicity of the word repulsed him.
Hammond hadn't gone home, and it seemed unlikely that he'd slept. He and SG-1 settled into the briefing room like the walking dead – which was better than entering like the condemned, but only barely.
"We're waiting on Colonel Kovacek," Hammond told them. "I trust you briefed him, Colonel?"
"Yeah. He thought I was crazy. Not that I blame him," Jack said. He scratched through his hair again. "...what a day, huh."
"What a day," Hammond agreed. "I just got a letter from the President."
"Really?" Jack asked. "How's the old boy doing?"
"He's thinking about the end of his term," Hammond said. "And the Stargate Program."
A beat passed around the table.
"...that was supposed to parse 'he's thinking about both the end of his term and the Stargate Program,' not 'he's thinking about the end of both his term and the Stargate Program,' right?" Daniel asked.
Hammond smiled wanly. "In this instance, yes. But he is concerned about how historians will look on the program, and how that will reflect on him."
"So what?" Jack asked.
"This isn't the best time," Hammond said as the fifth man of the briefing stepped in. "Colonel," he greeted.
Lieutenant Colonel Stanley Kovacek, the man who had negotiated for SG-1's release from the prison Hadante, who had made his career negotiating trade, mining access, and minor alliances across the galaxy and had on more than one occasion been dispatched to smooth over minor (or major) indiscretions made by SG teams in the field, nodded to those already assembled and took his chair. "General. Colonel. Doctor. Teal'c."
"I trust you're aware of the request Dr. Jackson has tabled," Hammond said.
"Yes, sir," Kovacek said. "And to be frank, I'm not sure what input I can really provide. I have to say this is a little out of my league."
"You're the most experienced diplomat we have, Colonel," Hammond said. "And one of very few people here who focuses on first-contact procedure."
"Yes, sir, but with human cultures." Kovacek looked toward the gateroom. "I feel it's my duty to note that we have no idea how this thing thinks – if it thinks at all, in any way we'd recognize as such."
"Just what every ambassador wants to hear," Jack said.
"Well, if it is one of the pulsar beings, we know some things," Daniel pointed out. "We know it thinks. We know it communicated with the base's occupants."
"Assuming they thought in any way we'd recognize as such," Jack said.
Daniel exhaled. "Well, we can translate their language and use their technology. That usually counts for something."
"This is a bad idea," Jack said.
Hammond studied him. "If you don't think we should go through with this–"
"Given a better option, I'd say no, we shouldn't," Jack said. "But I'm not seeing a better option. Anyone else?"
Daniel looked down at his slung arm. "Jack, I can–"
"No." Jack didn't let him finish. "It's already thrown you across one room. Anyway, we need you to talk to it. ...I think I'm the last person you'd want talking," he grumbled.
"All right," Kovacek said. "So if Dr. Jackson represents our interests and Colonel O'Neill–"
"Gets possessed," Jack put in. Kovacek skipped over the verb phrase entirely.
"That gives us a small delegation, which is I think a good idea. Teal'c–"
"I will stand guard," Teal'c interrupted.
"No, sir," Kovacek said. "I wouldn't recommend it. Not only do we not know if any of our weapons will have any effect, the fact that we display them may be taken as indication of hostility. In fact, I would recommend as few people as possible be in the gateroom. For everyone's safety."
"Dr. Fraiser insisted on standing by," Daniel said. "She's driving in now."
Hammond nodded. "Col. Kovacek?"
"If Dr. Jackson feels confident conducting negotiations, and Colonel O'Neill is willing to..."
"Get my brain scrambled?" Jack suggested.
"Jack," Daniel said.
"If Colonel O'Neill is willing to act as the entity's voice," Kovacek settled on, "I'll stand to assist Dr. Jackson. Dr. Fraiser can wait in the room or just outside. Teal'c, General Hammond, I think it might be best for you to monitor from the control room. The defense team would have to be withdrawn."
"Well, that shouldn't be a problem if the Stargate is totally shut down anyway," Daniel said. "And whatever this thing is, obviously our weapons aren't going to have any effect."
"Agreed," Hammond said.
Jack stood. "All right. That's that. Let's get this over with."
"As soon as Dr. Fraiser arrives, you have a go," Hammond said. "Good luck, Colonel. Doctor."
"Thank you, sir," Jack said. "I think we'll need all the luck we can get."
-
Getting everyone into place felt uncomfortably like positioning pieces to Jack. Setting up elaborate strategies in chess. Daniel was a more than competent player and he'd never personally played Kovacek, but he trusted that the Lieutenant Colonel knew as much about what he was doing as anyone could. And while Daniel's track record wasn't perfect, it was good enough. He'd just try not to think about the other Entity. Or Reece. Or any of the other thousand times that Daniel's willingness to believe the best of people had skirted disastrous results.
He also tried not to think of the fact that, if this were a chess metaphor, he was undoubtedly the pawn.
Dr. Fraiser and an aide stood by with a gurney and a crash cart, their faith in "Plan A" apparently as low as his own. Kovacek straightened his fatigues, ready. "I guess it's now or never," Daniel said.
"Yeah," Jack said. "All right. We who are about to get zapped salute you."
He walked toward the Stargate's ring.
Even from the blast doors one could hear the entity's hum – a soft buzz traveling through the Stargate's massive capacitors. Tiny sparks hopped along the surface, leaping out of a slower, more formless glow; the air around the gate shimmered, ever so slightly, as if the naqahdah radiated heat. Tendrils and bolts arced smoothly across the inner span, forming a variable net.
Jack eyed it warily. He had no idea how to make contact. He hoped the entity did.
It reached out to him.
Tendrils unwrapped, flickering toward him. He stopped a few metres away, trying not to move or think or react. They played over his skin, static currents dancing along his nerve endings. He closed his eyes. (Daniel, I really, really hope you're right about this,) he thought – and a bolt flew at him.
Energy closed around him like a fist, turning him around, spasming his limbs before settling past his skin. His eyes opened, but stared cold and blank and dead.
"...Jack?" Daniel asked.
Jack's eyes looked ahead, without tic or shift.
"Can you hear me?" Daniel asked.
Slowly, mechanically, Jack's head moved. His forearms raised. He looked down at his hands, then at Daniel. His mouth opened and closed, repeating the gesture again before words came out. "What are you?"
Jack's voice came through cold and flat and dead. The words didn't sound like words – they were just sounds, heard somewhere and repeated without thought for cadence or flow. Undoubtedly, the entity was aware of their meaning, but it didn't truly understand them. It just used Jack to translate. Make this sound and they will know the question. These sounds mean they have answered.
"We're human," Daniel said. "The inhabitants of this world. What are you? Why did you come here?"
Jack's eyes focused for a moment, or seemed to. "You were on the cold rock," the entity said.
"The cold – you mean PV1-542? The pulsar planet?" Daniel nodded. "Yes. We were. We had to leave."
"Why?"
"We were attacked." It didn't escape his notice that the entity hadn't answered his questions. "Who are you?"
"Why did you leave – before," the entity asked.
"Why won't you answer me?" Daniel asked back.
"I cannot."
"What? Why not?"
Jack's eyes looked around the gateroom. "You are recurrent visitors to the cold rock which orbits our home. Do your records not mention us?"
"Wh–" Daniel looked back to Kovacek. "I'm sorry? You – do you think we were the ones who originally inhabited that place? Because we're not–"
"Define. Explain."
Daniel stood at a loss. "We came to the planet for the first time recently," he said. "We found that someone else had been there a long time ago, but we never learned who they were or what happened to them. And our two races – our two civilizations, at least – have never met before."
The entity seemed to accept that. At least, it didn't ask for anything more.
"Why can't you tell me what you are?" Daniel asked.
"We are energy," the entity said. "Self-contained. Self-adjusting. Self-aware. They described us thus."
"You don't have a name, or..."
"Name."
Daniel shook his head. "A name. Uh... a means of identification, of reference. For example I'm Daniel Jackson. This is Stan Kovacek, the man you're... possessing... is Jack O'Neill."
"Your names are sound. Patterned modulation of a physical state." The chevrons pulsed. "We have no such external communication."
"Okay." He looked to Kovacek again. "All right."
Kovacek stepped forward. "What is your purpose in coming here?"
"Observe. Define." The chevrons dimmed and glowed again – with a start, Daniel recognized the pattern. It showed the same four-point-three second pulse as the pulsar. "In error."
"So your coming here was a mistake," Daniel put in.
"No."
"Could you elaborate?"
The chevrons quietly glowed.
Daniel crossed his arms. "Out of curiosity, what would happen if I asked you to relate the sum total of your knowledge?"
"Our instance which predates all others had no contact with the physical beings," it suddenly said. "You with your thoughts of duration would call this one our eldest. For durations they studied us. Our anticipation was to learn what they would discover. Unexpectedly they vanished. Our error was in assuming they had returned. Our error was assuming they were here. You cannot fathom the absence. You have no words to describe our loss."
(What...?) Daniel looked up – into Jack's eyes, through the entity. Past it. (Well, that's the great failing of words, isn't it? To describe the indescribable. The inarticulable. But I think we can fathom it. So you lost someone? As a race, as a society, you lost another race, close to you – someone you could learn from, someone who could see things you wanted to. Maybe we aren't so dissimilar.) He swallowed with difficulty. "You might be surprised."
"Dr. Jackson?" Kovacek asked.
Daniel glanced at him, but directed his words toward the entity. "We came to the planet – your cold rock – to learn. About you, your star, and the previous inhabitants. We wanted to contact you, but we couldn't. And then we were attacked." He looked back to the entity – if he read it right, it was considering. "I don't know if you'll understand the parallels or consider this the same, but when we left, we lost someone as well. A scientist. Someone who wanted to study. Who would have, given the chance."
The entity didn't answer.
"We're explorers," Daniel said. "That's what we do. We go to new places to learn – to study – new things.
Jack crumpled.
Daniel started forward. A thin filament of energy extended from the 'gate and he halted, forced himself to stand still. It passed through his chest, following his spine up to wreathe around his head. He felt warm – not the sick warmth of radiation or fever, not the gentle warmth of sunlight or summer air – just warm. Tiny electric sparks like pins and needles danced across his skin, cracking at the edge of audibility.
Images flashed in his mind.
(This is what you were trying to do,) Daniel thought – as he saw the Stargate open, as he saw the halls on the base, as he saw the tel'taks, heard the sirens scream. He felt, like an echo, the fear of those moments – the tearing pain that followed as the Iris closed and the radio fell silent. The emptiness of the beta site surrounded him and he crashed again, passed back into the halls of the SGC. (This is how you communicate. Without words.)
Sensations followed – not his own. The raw power of the dancing sun. A cold marble in the force of its jets, floating in the vast expanse of empty space, the void on every side gaping into infinity. Thousands – millions – trillions of minds, locked in the solar fusion, cycling through genesis and dissipation. And within everything a deep and persistent absence – that something unnamed, unknowable, should have existed within that reality but didn't. A wish to reach out – but where had it gone?
Another sense – a faint call coming up from the orbiting rock, plaintive and old. One mind parting company, riding down the pulsar's jets, passing through the cold marble, reaching out. Studying the Stargate, the wormhole like a pinprick in the fabric of the world. Learning to turn the symbols. Learning to find the stress lines, the recent fatigue in reality, letting the wormhole go where it would – where it had. To follow.
Traveling here, alone, isolated from the press of sympathetic minds. Trying to find order in the world – first in the Stargate, then in the banks. Realizing the minds of this world were not like the radiant beings on the star, but rather faint glimmers trapped in heavy matter, moving on their own volition. It saw. It followed.
He saw himself in his lab. Felt the entity reach out, unaware of its physical force – saw himself fly backward, the light of his mind eclipsed or extinguished. Felt fear – what the entity felt as fear. Swift retreat. To come, eventually, here, to settle into the Stargate, to wait. Somehow, in processes abandoned and forgotten, these things of matter and concrete form had spoken with the million-trillion minds. Somehow.
It withdrew, and the air seemed colder. Daniel didn't realize he was staring until Kovacek's hand landed on his shoulder, jolting him from his reverie. "Dr. Jackson?"
He was surprised to find a lump in his throat – a sympathetic anguish, some residue of inhuman grief. "I'm sorry," he said to the Stargate.
Light played across its contours in response.
"I think we could learn from each other," Daniel went on. "I think we could help each other, given the chance."
It made no move to respond, either by its own faculties or by taking Jack again. Daniel looked to Kovacek.
"I think–" he began. "I think we understand each other. I think."
It flashed out of the gate.
For a moment the air charged white, snapping like lightning. Then it vanished. "Hey – no, wait!" Daniel called, moving to follow – but of course he couldn't. He spun to the control room, where Teal'c's eyes were riveted on the screens. "Where'd it go?"
"It is no longer in the Stargate," Teal'c said. "We do not read distortions in any other part of the base."
"But it–" Daniel began. He looked to Kovacek.
"That actually went better than I thought it would," Kovacek remarked.
Daniel didn't listen. With the entity's departure his mind hopped to the other concern in the room – Jack. Who still wasn't moving. But he'd been functioning well enough for the entity to pull language from his brain, so hopefully it hadn't injured him–
He met Fraiser on the ramp, reminding himself not to crowd. "Pulse and breathing are rapid but strong," Fraiser said. "I don't see any external indications of trauma. Colonel?" she asked. She pulled out a penlight and pried one eye open. Quickly checking his pupils, she breathed easier when he winced at the light.
"Nng," he muttered, pressing his eyes closed and opening them again, one hand sluggishly fending off the penlight as he tried to rise. Daniel caught him, helping him sit up. "What happened?"
"You were possessed by the entity," Fraiser said.
"Was that what that was?" He brought a hand to his forehead, still blinking and unsteady. "I. Have. The. Mother of all hangovers," he pronounced. He looked at Daniel, drawing his head back and trying to establish focus. "...Daniel," he said, with exaggerated gravity. "Were you always green?"
"Okay." Fraiser took his elbow. "Let's get you to the Infirmary, check you out there."
"What? Again?" He groaned, shaking his head. He looked around the gateroom, up at the ceiling. "...what happened?"
"I'd say you're a little disoriented," Fraiser said. Her aide wheeled the gurney over, and quickly replaced Daniel at the Colonel's left hand. "Can you tell me what day it is?"
Jack made it halfway up and tried to sit down again. "What day is it?"
"Who's the current president?" Fraiser asked.
Jack growled. "I have some questions for him," he agreed.
"Well, I don't think there's any real damage," Fraiser told Daniel. "Disorientation, a bit of neural shock. We'll run some tests to make sure, but initially it doesn't seem much worse than a Goa'uld stun grenade."
"Was that what that was?" Jack asked, still trying to sit up as the aide tried to lay him down.
Daniel followed at their heels as they pushed the gurney into the hall, trying to tamp down the urge to assist. Given his own state, one arm in a sling and attention divided between too many things, he would only get in the way.
They approached the elevator doors as they opened, discharging two techs and an obviously civilian scientist in a brown jacket. "Well, I just got in," the scientist snapped at one tech, shouldering past Fraiser and her aide. "When I develop the ability to instantly know what the Stargate is up to I'll be sure to let you know, but for now, I'm going to need a little more time."
Daniel whipped around as they passed, staring after them. That, undoubtedly, was the SGC's newest resident astrophysicist. The man to replace Sam.
He looked back after Jack and Janet, torn between following them and returning to the control room. He decided as they entered the elevator – he'd be there soon enough. He needed to know this. He retraced his steps down the hall.
In the control room, the replacement had already slipped into Sam's diagnostic chair, opening programs and readouts. Daniel stopped short. "...I know you," he said.
The man glanced up, devoting the minimum attention needed to answer. "Ah, Dr. Jackson. I'd heard you were back from the dead," he said, as dismissively as one could when talking about resurrection.
"...you're they guy who almost got Teal'c killed!" Daniel said. "Dr. McKay!"
McKay returned his attention to the screen. "Can we maybe wait on that argument? I have to fix your Stargate."
"What are you doing here?"
"The Pentagon thought you needed help," McKay said. "It looks like they were right. And since I am, at the moment, the world expert on the Stargate, I'd think you would be glad to have me."
McKay's tone made Daniel want to slink out of the room, made him unnaturally defensive. "Well, as long as you're working here, you should probably remember that it's your Stargate too."
"Much as I'd love a grammar lesson, this really is quite important," McKay said, tapping the screen. "So unless you'd care to fill me in on the frequency displacement in the control crystals?"
Daniel wanted to strike back with something – strike in self-defense, perhaps. But he didn't know how. What he wanted to defend himself against wasn't in what McKay had said. He stood in the door as the scientist ignored him, and finally, belatedly, made his retreat.
Sam had brought a kindness to her position he hadn't expected to be replicated. But McKay skirted the edge of antagonism – it made him feel as if part of the SGC had turned against the rest.
He'd felt safe, with Sam. Even when she didn't know what to do, even when she didn't have a ready answer. There had never been a rivalry between them; there had never been a need. They played for the same team. He had the impression that McKay scorned him – scorned everyone outside of his own circle – and that made Daniel distrust him.
Not that he believed McKay would purposefully do harm. Hammond would personally run McKay out of the base if he suspected that. Instead it was a matter of how hard he was willing to work, how far he was willing to go. Daniel's only contact with him had been two years prior, when he'd written off Teal'c as dead. He couldn't reconcile that with the credo of no one gets left behind, the resolve he'd seen in his teammates to fight their battles to the bitter ends.
Unconsciously, he headed to the Infirmary to escape in Jack's shadow. Fraiser raised her eyebrows when he came in, and Daniel had to smile. SG-1 had been spending an excessive amount of time here. Excessive even for them.
Jack lay on one of the beds with his arm over his eyes, and Teal'c sat on a stool next to him. Daniel joined them. "Hey, Jack."
"Could you possibly say that louder?" Jack muttered.
"The entity has vanished from the SGC's capacity to detect it," Teal'c said. "So far it has done no additional harm."
"Well, at least there's that," Daniel said.
"I do not understand its intention," Teal'c said.
"Yeah, neither do I." He beat his heels against the stool. "Actually, I'm reminded of Sarah's cat. Back when we were working together. She had this big orange thing that would sleep for half the day and then tear through her apartment, knocking things over and no one could figure out why."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow.
"She used to claim it was possessed by Sekhmet," Daniel said. "As far as you know Sekhmet isn't an Ascended Goa'uld, is she? Living in a star?"
Jack pulled his arm off his face, rolling his eyes. "Daniel, are you causing trouble again?"
"Hm?" Daniel asked.
"Shut up," Jack said.
"Sorry."
"Ehn-hn." Jack replaced his arm, but shifted it a moment later. "Hey," he said. "Worth it?"
(Worth it?) He thought back, playing over the encounter. For a moment the emptiness consumed him again – his loss recent, the entity's persistent. It had passed over his memories – it had understood. He felt certain of that. It seemed as though nothing monumental had occurred, but they had found common ground. He knew the value of that. "Yeah, I'd say it was."
Jack smiled, thin-lipped, before closing his eyes. Daniel found himself smiling back.
So much of surviving was making it through one more hour, one more crisis, one more day. Half-solving problems again and again, hoping that somehow they'd work out in the end. A day ago, the task seemed insurmountable; now it seemed arduous. He still stumbled, but he was finding his way.
(Of course. When you go deaf or blind, your other senses step up to fill the role. Only Sam could solve this, and we lost Sam... so we stepped up. And we found a solution. Maybe not a perfect one, but good enough for now.) He shook his head. (The sky was falling. And there was no one but us to catch it... and we did.)
(Yeah. It was worth it.)
He sat beside Teal'c in the unlikely sanctuary of the Infirmary, watching Jack breathe. And for the first time, he felt a beat of confidence – a feeling that they might make it out of this, after all.
-
"Unscheduled offworld activation! Defense teams to the gateroom!"
Hammond tensed in his office, pulling himself away from his desk. (What now?) he wondered. Unscheduled activations were rarely innocuous, and had become less so in the past months. He ran to the control room.
"It's SG-2, coming in hot," Walter said as the Iris spun open. He reached for the mic. "Closing the blast doors!"
"Get a medical team to the gateroom," Hammond said.
The control room screens showed weaponsfire coming through the wormhole – and not only staff blasts. The distinctive three-beat fire of drone weapons came through as well.
SG-2 hit the ramp at a dead run, clearing the distance in seconds. "Close the Iris!" Hammond ordered. "Shut it down!"
The Iris closed.
Hammond was on the stairs before the siren cut, jogging into the gateroom and taking stock. "The Major's been hit," one of the airmen yelled – Hammond could see a smoking crater on the team leader's thigh. He stepped aside as a med team rushed in, taking control of the situation.
"What happened out there?" he demanded.
One of the members – Captain Cambridge, Hammond identified – stepped around the group with an anxious look at his commander. "Three or four al'kesh landed, escorting a larger troop carrier," he said. "We were lucky to go undetected as long as we did. We tried dialing in twice before we made it – I swear, sir, any longer and we'd've been toast."
"Are you all right?" Hammond asked.
"Yes, sir – we got off light, all told. They weren't guarding the 'gate. I can give a quick rep–"
"Immediately," Hammond said, gesturing him to the stairs. Cambridge nodded, hurrying toward the briefing room. Hammond followed.
"P3X-439," Cambridge began on his way. "We didn't find any indications until we got about a klick and a half from the 'gate and we found probably the biggest ruin you've ever seen. Moore went nuts trying to get the thing on tape. We spent a couple hours there and we were going to widen our recon when Young sees something in the atmosphere." He stopped behind a chair, clenching the backrest. "We ID it as an al'kesh and the Major orders us back to the Stargate, but when we get there we can't dial into Earth. That's when another al'kesh goes on a low pass over the gate region – we ran for the trees and laid low. We made a couple more runs for the 'gate, and on this last one we ran straight into a patrol. We barely got out of there alive, General," Cambridge said.
"Anubis knew you were there."
"I think so, sir, but he wasn't after us." Cambridge licked his lips. "He didn't pay much attention to us at all. Of all the troops he had there only a couple small patrols came by the 'gate. That's the only reason we got out. He was interested in the monument, sir. I mean really interested."
"Do you have any idea why?"
"I don't know. We didn't stick around to watch."
Hammond nodded. "That's perfectly understandable."
"But Moore has the tape," Cambridge realized. "Before the Jaffa landed. He thought he'd bring them back to Dr. Jackson. It was a lot of Ancient text."
"You have the footage?" Hammond asked.
"Yeah – yeah, it should still be on Moore's camera."
"I'll have Dr. Jackson make those a priority," Hammond said. "You get down to the Infirmary, Captain."
Cambridge nodded. "Yes, sir."
-
Daniel opened his lab door with trepidation. He knew it was a totally illogical response, but he couldn't help himself. He would likely be uneasy around monitors for a while. (It's always the stuff you'd never expect.)
More bizarre phobias came out of the SGC than any other installation on Earth. They had their share of run-of-the-mill aversions, but the base's true forté lay in finding the incredible anywhere; sometimes, that meant the incredibly bad. Lieutenant Early from SG-17 had found himself unable to wear a vest for months after a bulletproof insert in his MOLLE took staff fire and superheated, trapping him in what the scientists called "his own personal microwave." Major Zimman of SG-12 had stayed on-base for a week straight to avoid crickets because they sounded too much like an alien seeker missile that had taken out half of her team. To say nothing of those who could find echoes of the Stargate in a tranquil pool, or who couldn't disassociate the worlds they explored from Earth, who would find themselves jumping at shadows outside, wondering if Jaffa would come out of the trees.
But in his lab, the tech sergeant had cleaned up the glass and plastic, replaced the monitor and tidied his desk. Nothing catastrophic happened. Everything looked normal.
Except that a glowing distortion had made itself at home in the corner, intersecting one wall.
He didn't step in. "Hello," he said.
If it reacted, he couldn't recognize it as such.
"I have to translate something," he said. "So I hope you're not planning on possessing me. Or throwing me across the lab again."
It glowed.
"Um." Daniel said. "Can you understand me?"
It flickered.
He approached his desk, keeping tabs on the entity. When it made no move to attack him, he picked up the phone and dialed in the control room. "Can you page Stan Kovacek to my lab?" he asked.
"Right away, Dr. Jackson," the tech on duty answered.
Daniel looked to the entity again, hanging up. He watched as he circled to his desk, laying one hand on the files Hammond had sent. It did nothing.
(It's getting increasingly difficult to work here,) he thought, trying to turn his attention to the printouts and the very few notes provided with them. He'd read them through by the time Kovacek stepped in.
"Dr. Jackson?"
"Hey," Daniel said, pointing to the entity. "It was in here when I arrived. It's just been sitting there."
"Any attempts to communicate?"
"On my end or its?" He shook his head. "I've been talking to it, but I don't think it understands me. It hasn't moved or anything."
"Okay," Kovacek said.
"...so I guess I don't know what I expect you to do," Daniel apologized.
"Well, if you'd like, I can sit in with you," Kovacek said. Just in case."
(In case what? It says something? Throws me around again?) "Yeah. That would be appreciated." (I don't want to say anything, but that thing is incredibly unnerving.)
Kovacek pointed at his phone. "May I?"
"Oh. Go ahead."
Kovacek stepped around him, putting in a quick call to Hammond as Daniel dove into his work.
Most of the text was standard Ancient identification – history and names and dates, most of which had no meaning even to him. Under other circumstances he would have noted them, tried to cross-reference with the knowledge the SGC had accumulated thus far. But Hammond had asked him to look for any indication of what Anubis had wanted so badly he was willing to land four al'kesh on a planet to secure it. That was his priority.
"So what does it say?" Kovacek asked.
"A lot, actually," Daniel said. "The Ancients tended to put huge amounts of text on their buildings, which I can respect. Usually, at least, it makes for some fascinating reading. We know probably more about their culture and history, at least anecdotally, than we do about almost any other species. But that makes it hard to determine what exactly something is. Using some previously-established patterns on the placement of certain kinds of data, I think I've isolated the passages that refer to this monument specifically, but even that is buried in historical information. When it was built, who built it."
"Oh," Kovacek said.
"Rationalis, rationalem," Daniel muttered.
Kovacek blinked. "What?"
"...sorry. Talking to myself," Daniel said. "Rationalem inponere, to put forth a reason. Here on the architrave."
Kovacek nodded politely to hide the fact that he had no idea what Dr. Jackson was talking about. He made sure not to ask for clarifications over the next few minutes, as Daniel continued to jot notes and mutter.
Some time later, Dr. McKay poked his head around the door, ignoring the fact that he was among the last people Daniel wanted to see. "Excuse me. I heard the, ah, entity was down here."
Daniel turned to stare, incredulity plain on his face. The entity hadn't drawn attention to itself, but its presence was hard to miss. His lab wasn't that cluttered.
"Ah, there it is," McKay said. "It's not going to mind if I take some readings, is it?" he asked, brandishing a handheld sensor.
"I honestly have no idea," Daniel responded.
"It hasn't communicated anything," Kovacek said.
"And you are sure it's the same thing. I mean, we didn't get invaded by another one since this one came through."
Daniel exchanged glances with Kovacek. "We don't think so?" Daniel said, with minimal certainty.
"Right. Well." McKay approached with the caution of a bomb handler, quickly taking his measurements and retreating with an "Oh, that's fascinating!" He didn't bother to explain; he just left. Daniel looked after him, about to follow before remembering their last conversation. It gave him pause; Dr. McKay would certainly take time to get used to. (Meanwhile, for the first time I feel like I'm out of the loop. Even though I usually couldn't understand the loop anyway.)
The entity remained static, without outward reaction. Kovacek cleared his throat. "Wouldn't it be easier to move to a different lab, rather than put up with these interruptions?" he asked.
"See, the problem with that is that I'd have to wheel half of that shelf wherever I went," Daniel answered, waving his hand at a bookcase. "Not to mention all the journals and filed projects I don't think I'll need until I need them."
"I see," Kovacek said.
"Anyway, I think I'm narrowing in on this. This section–" he jabbed at a column on the printout, "talks about the things in the monument. 'Rem comtenet.' Including – aha!" He snatched a dry-erase marker, circling a set of symbols. "Here we go. Summi valeti, of highest value, the following: 'colligetus sapienis, alibrarorum exrudimeti.' Sapienis, sapiens, sap – wisdom. Wisdoms, gathering of wisdoms. Library – alibrarorum exrudimeti, library of knowledge." He paused, tumblers clicking in the back of his head. "Library of knowledge." He put down his notes. "Oh no."
-
Daniel burst into Hammond's office looking like he'd seen a ghost or rather like he was a ghost. If there was color left to his face, it was very well hidden. (That is not a good expression,) Hammond thought. "What is it, Doctor?"
"I think Anubis got his hands on a Repository of the Ancients," Daniel said.