[fic] Beneath a Beating Sun - ch.09: Portents

[magibrain]

Title: Beneath A Beating Sun ch.09: Portents
Chapter Summary: Unwelcome news, unwelcome diagnoses, a side jaunt into epistemology, and a rather odd day.
Index post: [Fic] Beneath a Beating Sun - Index

The elevator stopped at Level 18, doors opening to reveal Daniel in the hallway with three folders clutched between his elbow and ribcage and a half-finished mug of coffee in his hand. Jack watched with bemusement. Daniel really couldn't cope with having an arm out of commission for long.

"Going down?"

"Actually, I was looking for you," Daniel said, slipping into the elevator.

Jack inspected him. (He looks better,) he decided. (...I mean, he looks like he hasn't slept in three days, he thinks the world is about to end, and he's running on caffeine, but he looks better.) "You look way too awake."

"Couldn't sleep," he said, confirming Jack's suspicions. "Haven't really been able to sleep for a while. At least I'm getting some work done." He shifted the papers under his good arm. "Are you all right? You look a bit..." he wiggled his hand to indicate general off-ness, sloshing coffee.

Jack straightened. "Fine." He switched the subject before it could develop. "I hear you have bad news for me."

"Bad news for everyone, I'd think," Daniel said.

"That's generous of you."

"It's not like I went out and bought it, Jack. I'd be perfectly happy to be proved wrong on this one."

"Any chance of that?"

"Maybe. Probably not."

(Course not. 'cause when's the last time you were wrong about anything?) "What's up?"

"Well, SG-2 got chased off P3X-439 by Anubis, and I think it was a planet with a Repository of the Ancients."

The name rung a bell, but deigned not to identify itself further. "Repository, you say."

Daniel's brain downshifted. "Yeah, you know, that thing that grabbed your head, made you talk funny, nearly killed you."

Jack jabbed the button for level 22. "Let 'im have it."

"Well, see, I think that Anubis may be able to access it safely."

"Then I'm sure he'll have some fascinating reading."

"Jack," Daniel said, "this isn't some set of manuscripts we're talking about. This is all the knowledge of the Ancients."

"Doesn't he already have that?"

"No. No, I don't think so." Daniel sped up. "Ascension doesn't make you all-knowing, what it does is increase your abilities to perceive and comprehend so that for all intents and purposes there are no restrictions on what you can learn or understand. You still need to study or develop the ideas on your own."

Jack rolled his eyes, stretching out a crick in his neck. "And?"

"So a Repository of the Ancients includes information on everything, Jack. Everything. History and physics and astronomy and culture and medicine and technology."

That caught his attention. He glanced over, alarm finally infiltrating his face. "Technology."

"Including weapons technology."

"And you think he can get at this."

"Well, he must. Otherwise why did he go after it?" The doors slid open, and Jack glanced down the hall. With a sigh, he jabbed the button for level 27. "And even if he might not be able to, can we really take the risk?"

"So what do we do?"

"Well, I don't know. That's why I was telling you."

Jack quirked his eyebrows. "And you expect me to know?"

"...I was hoping."

"Hoi," Jack breathed, flipping open his watch.

"What are you thinking?" Daniel asked.

"I'm thinking it'd be nice to have an invulnerable fortress with lots of advanced technology right about now."

Daniel jerked away. "I don't know how you can joke about that."

"Joking is all I can do about that," Jack said. "You wanted an idea. I don't suppose your starman has anything to say on the subject."

"It doesn't have much to say on anything. It's been in my lab probably since it left the Stargate, just... floating in the corner. McKay's come and poked it with things from time to time, totally ignoring any semblance of etiquette." The doors opened, and they stepped into the hall. "Speaking of McKay, he's not joining SG-1, is he?" His voice adopted a petulant quality the previous sentences lacked.

"I haven't chosen a replacement yet," Jack said. "As far as I know he's strictly earthside. Getting on your nerves, is he?" He made an odd noise that Daniel could only guess was a laugh.

Daniel was seized by the urge to tell him everything – how much he missed Sam, how even beyond losing her they'd lost a sympathetic voice in the world of technology and physics, how McKay might not care more for them than for any casual coworkers and wouldn't go out of his way to protect them. If it had been McKay on '542–

But all he said was "Yeah. Kinda," and let Jack take from that what he would.

They found Teal'c in the briefing room, looking over materials and laptops already assembled. Mission files scattered the table, everything related to the Ancients or Ancient technology. Daniel added his folders to the mess, shuffling through.

"Hammond got a task force together already?" Jack asked.

Teal'c nodded. "So it seems."

He glanced at Hammond's office, catching sight of his CO sitting at his desk reading through a report. "What the hey," he muttered, strolling over. He tapped on the office door, opening it carefully when no one told him to scram. "We have a little impromptu meeting of the think tank here," he said, waving back at Daniel and Teal'c. "If you're not too busy."

Hammond put down his booklet. "You just all decided to congregate up here?"

"Well, I was going to go get breakfast, but I figured I'd stop in, see if I could help." He made a face. "Can we?"

Hammond checked his desk clock, standing. "I have fifteen minutes before the scientists are due here," he said. "By all means, have a seat."

"Have a seat," he called back over his shoulder before choosing a chair for himself. SG-1 settled in, Daniel appropriating a legal pad and a pen from the pile.

"I've checked over a few more of the columns in the ruin SG-2 found," he said without preamble. "There's a line that reads 'locata legati nostri,' which is an inscription we've seen before." He flipped open one of his folders, sliding a picture to the table center. "'Place of our Legacy.' The same inscription was in the room where we found the other Repository." He flipped through another stack of photos, pulling out two more. "Granted, we've also seen this on a couple other large structures which, while containing a lot of text, haven't revealed anything technological, so it's possible this refers to any large construction intended to last beyond the Ancient plague. Still, in combination with the other inscription–" he fumbled at the folder one-handed until Jack relieved him of it, spreading out the contents. "–thanks. In combination with this part, which makes reference to a 'library of knowledge,' I think the evidence is fairly compelling. Not conclusive, but..."

"So we don't know that it's a Repository," Hammond summarized.

"We don't know for sure, no," Jack agreed. "But either Daniel is right or our luck is unusually good. One I wouldn't bet for, the other I wouldn't bet against."

"So what do you propose?"

Silence around the table.

Teal'c spoke. "I am ready to meet with leaders of the Free Jaffa."

"No offense," Daniel said, "but what do we expect the Jaffa to do? This is Ancient technology we're talking about."

"At the very least their intelligence will be more recent than ours," Teal'c said.

Hammond nodded. "That's reasonable. We need more information to make a proper threat assessment. Teal'c, as soon as you're ready, you're cleared to go."

"Threat assessment?" Daniel asked. "Unbridled access to all Ancient technology ever devised. Unless we can get very specific information, there's not a lot that will help us."

"Well, let's play the old 'what could possibly go wrong' game, shall we?" Jack sneered at their own limitations. "We could get attacked from space. We could get attacked through the Stargate. Anubis could go back in time and unwrite our existence."

Everyone looked up. Not only had no one expected Jack to jump on the temporal paradoxes, the possibility hadn't occurred to anyone. "We haven't seen indications that the Ancients ever managed working time travel technology," Daniel said.

"It was just an–" Jack shook his head. "I'm just saying that making predictions won't help. We can't get ten steps ahead of him on this one."

"Not that we usually can," Daniel said, picking up the line of thought. "The SGC is a reactionary force, mainly defensive. We don't have a space fleet or any platform to launch a strike from. All we've ever been able to do is deal with what comes our way and take opportunities as they're presented to us."

"And, strange as it sounds, that's only one of our problems," Jack said. "If he has an advantage as big as it sounds like..." he swallowed and grimaced. "Ba'al and his cronies don't stand much more of a chance than we do."

"Anubis will conquer the System Lords and claim the might of the Goa'uld," Teal'c said. "He will have the strength to subjugate the galaxy through force of numbers alone."

"All right. So what can we do?" Hammond asked. "Besides admit the fact that there's nothing we can do."

"I honestly don't know," Daniel said. "Unless we can find some way to either kill Anubis or steal the Repository."

Hammond frowned. "Teal'c? To your knowledge, what's the strength of the Jaffa rebellion's presence in Anubis' forces?"

"To my knowledge, there is little," Teal'c said. "Anubis' former first prime, Herak, could sense one's true loyalties. As a result, no Free Jaffa could come within Anubis' personal guard. If M'Zel is correct and Herak has perished this may have changed, but infiltration would happen slowly."

"So there's no chance we could attempt an assassination."

"Well, that assumes Anubis is even susceptible to Jaffa weapons," Daniel interrupted. "He's half-Ascended."

Jack still looked as though he was swallowing something distasteful. "You know, next time you run into Oma, could you have her explain again why it would be a bad thing just to kick Anubis' ass?"

Daniel gave him a disgruntled look, but no more.

"All right, how about sabotage?" Hammond asked. "Could we destroy the repository?"

"From what we've seen, Ancient technology – the Stargate excepted – tends to be no more resilient than any other devices," Daniel said. "Anubis' last Ancient weapon was taken out by a death glider."

Teal'c imperceptibly swelled with pride.

"Do we have reason to believe the Tok'ra might be in a position to do anything?" Hammond asked.

Jack turned and coughed deeply into one hand.

Hammond looked at him sharply, and Jack's expression turned sheepish. "Sorry, sir, I think I'm coming down with a cold. I wasn't actually trying to make a point. This time."

"Why don't you head up to the Infirmary," Hammond suggested.

"It's just a cold. I'm fine. Really."

Hammond was less than convinced. "Still. I want Fraiser to check you out."

Jack suppressed a long suffering sigh. "Right. Now?"

Hammond nodded and gestured to the door.

Jack unhappily pushed away from the table, and took his leave.

"What of the entity?" Teal'c asked.

Daniel shook his head, pulling his attention from Jack's dismissal. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd had a cold, or admitted to having one. "It hasn't made any attempt to communicate. Or, if it has, I haven't recognized it as such."

"Is it not similar to an Ascended being?"

Daniel quirked his head, tapping his pen on the table. "You know, I don't know," he admitted. "I'm a bit fuzzy on the actual physics of Ascension. It exists as energy and so does Anubis, if that's what you're asking."

"Might it know a technique whereby we may attack him?"

"I honestly have no clue what it knows," Daniel said. "Though I would be careful about asking it to tell us how to attack energy beings. It might perceive that as some form of threat."

"Perhaps if we informed it of the circumstances surrounding our request."

"Maybe. But all of that hinges on establishing lines of communication again."

"I'll put Daggart, Kovacek and McKay on it," Hammond said. "In the mean time, the table is still open for any and all suggestions."

Daniel cleared his throat, looking down at his hand. "...I know this is probably the last thing we want to do, and I have no idea what benefit we could get from it, but we should consider opening a dialogue with Ba'al. It's come to the point where a strategic alliance might be beneficial to each of us."

"We'll hold that option in reserve," Hammond said. He pushed away his chair and stood. "In the mean time, Teal'c, you see what information the rebel Jaffa want to share. Dr. Jackson, keep working on the translations from PV1-542 and P3X-439. And as unlikely as it seems, we'll hope we're blowing this out of proportion. Dismissed."

-

Jack poked his head into the Infirmary, scanning the premises. It didn't look like the Doctor was in – he perked up. With any luck, he could get one of the nurses on duty to give him something easy and vile-tasting and send him on his way. "Fraiser's not here?"

"She's back in her office," a nurse said.

(Luck, zero; O'Neill, negative lots.) "Of course she is," he said, and headed in that direction. He poked his head into the office, hoping that she'd be totally immersed in paperwork or otherwise unable to see him. Once again, no such luck.

"Colonel!" she greeted, quickly clearing her desk of the two thin folders which occupied her. "What's up?"

"Hammond sent me," Jack said with ill grace. "I have a cold."

"A cold?" Fraiser feigned polite surprise, slipping out of her chair and moving to the drawers in the Infirmary proper. "That's unusual for you, isn't it?"

"Less so today." He watched Fraiser retrieve a set of scrubs. "Oh, what."

"Get changed," Fraiser ordered. "I have to examine you."

"It's a cold."

"Doesn't matter." She held the outfit out. "I did warn you this would happen."

Jack huffed. "Can I just say this is the worst possible time for this?"

"I suppose you could try asking it nicely to go away," Fraiser suggested. Her attitude softened. "It won't be any worse than the other hundred times, Colonel."

"And that's supposed to make me like it more?" He complied with ill grace, resigning himself to the world of penlights and cold stethoscopes.

Fraiser was wrong – it was worse than the other times. Each repetition made it worse, as cumulative frustrations layered upon each other. Every time, an insidious voice in the back of his mind got a little bit louder, asking him if this so-called good health was really worth it. Especially when he was still grounded from active duty. What purpose did these frequent visits serve but to reinforce that? After all, Fraiser couldn't cure him.

She finished quickly. "I want to take an X-ray."

Jack boggled. "It's a cold!"

"We'll see." She gestured back to the machine. "Please."

He slid off the bed. "Next time, Daniel gets to be the one–"

He cut off the automatic retort. Next time Daniel gets to be the one exposed to radiation. It wasn't funny.

"...let's do this," he said, defeated.

-

Daniel eyed the entity when he stepped into his lab, noting that it hadn't moved. He wondered if McKay had struck on something, if this was the Entity or some unrelated disaster sneaking in under its cover – but he had no control over that, and the SGC had no way to verify or disprove the theory. "Hello again," he said, in the interests of being polite. He turned on his computer, watching the entity while waiting for it to boot. (I wonder what you're thinking. At least I know you think.)

The speakers chimed as he logged into the SGC servers, and five or six different applications opened automatically.

His mail icon blinked, and he fumbled the mouse over it. Two new messages – intra-SGC memos. The oldest was a quick update on the entity, ludicrous in its simplicity. Quite a few of the messages that went through the SGC were like that; low in detail or purposefully vague. Then, quite often, only the most basic aspects of any given development were initially known. Little could be said in this case other than "the malfunctions experienced earlier were the result of an energy being invading the main computers; there has been one successful attempt at communications and further attempts have failed." It might raise eyebrows somewhere.

(Strange to think we're so inured that this constitutes a minor update,) he mused. (But until we find another line of communication, it's not going to get more earthshattering. It would be easier if it could–)

(...mecanyouhearmeCANYOUHEARmecanyouhear...)

Daniel jumped nearly a foot. The words had pulsed into and out of his mind without bothering to pass his ears, sorted up from his stores of language without his conscious control. "Hello?" he said back.

The entity expanded, diffusing up to the ceiling. Its "voice" appeared again, flickering into the discernible like tuning a manual radio. (You could not hear me prior to this. This register will suffice.)

"Um." Daniel stared. "This register?"

(You are patterns. You think in patterns. As do we. It took some time to understand your resonance. We need only coincide to communicate.)

"You're reading my thoughts?" Daniel asked.

(No. To study your thoughts I would need proximity to touch your mind. To do so without holding most of my energy elsewhere would damage you.) It condensed. (Again.)

"...which is why you had to sit in the 'gate," Daniel said.

(Yes.)

"I see." He moved carefully to his desk, pulling out a recorder and slipping in a new tape. "You don't mind if I record our conversations, do you?"

(You will study me. I anticipate these procedures.)

He put the recorder down. "As far as I'm concerned, you're a visitor to this planet," he said. "That means we won't or shouldn't do anything to you that you don't want us to do. That includes 'studying' you without your consent." (We've had way, way too many problems with that in the past. We're not the NID.)

(My intention in coming here was to be studied,) it said. (As the other matter beings did. We anticipate your findings.)

(...and I just realized that you're not actually saying these things,) Daniel thought, putting the recorder aside. (Which means I get to record them by hand. By my off hand.) He glanced ruefully at his slung arm. (I wonder if one of the SG-18 Lieutenants would like to come take dictation? Or I'm sure Dr. Daggart has an intern around here somewhere.) "All right. Where to start?" he wondered aloud. "As I'm sure you can understand, I have a lot of questions."

(I understand.)

"One sec." He snatched his phone, dialing. It picked up on the first ring.

"Hammond."

"General, the entity is communicating," Daniel said.

-

Jack perched on the foot of the bed, kicking his heels into its legs as a deeply dissatisfying gesture of protest and trying, as he had all morning, not to cough. While Fraiser studied the latest batch of results he occupied himself by wishing various torments on Anubis – who had quickly adopted, in his mind, the role of the Root of All Evils. (Maybe we could get good old Oma to kick him back to humanity,) he thought. (And then we could lock him in a nice little base with a nice little pulsar just overhead.)

Finally, Fraiser came to a conclusion. Carrying her clipboard, she approached again – he noticed that, through coincidence or caution, she stayed just out of range of a good kick. Not that he'd ever seriously attack her, but his behavior probably didn't convey that.

Fraiser looked him in the eye, and he could see her gearing up for bad news. "You have pneumonia."

The diagnosis was so unexpected that all Jack could do was stare. "...I do not."

"More accurately you have radiation pneumonitis," Fraiser clarified.

"I have a cold."

"Most often we see it in chemotherapy patients," she said without stopping. "Your condition is thankfully not acute, but it does affect a majority of your right lung and almost half of your left. The good news is, it's treatable."

"Here's the thing." He held up both hands, stalling. "Have you ever been wrong about something like this?"

"Yes. I have. Mostly when confronted with various alien diseases." She folded her arms. "We could run a few more tests to rule that out as absolutely as we can..."

"No." He collapsed backward, dragging both hands over his face and up through his hair. These visits had moved from annoying to trying to tedious to simply and plainly abhorred. He understood why Daniel hated radiation. Alone among the hazards of his job, radiation seemed impersonal and keenly malicious. Its effects were worse than Goa'uld torture, more subtle and more ghastly, and its hot inhumanity compounded his repulsion. He could understand sadism, even if it disgusted him. Radiation was mechanical – there were no reasons, no appeals. "So now I have pneumonia."

"Pneumonitis. As far as I can tell."

"As far as–" He glared. "This is new."

Fraiser sighed. "Colonel, you have to realize that you have the most convoluted medical record of anyone I've ever treated, Daniel excepted. In a normal case I'd be concerned about things like your prior smoking habit and your medication record, but I've also got to add in more recent factors such as acute sarcophagus withdrawal."

Jack did a spectacular, though unintentional, impression of a wet cat. "That was more than a year ago."

"But you can't underestimate the persistent effects both from using the Sarcophagus and becoming addicted." She held eye contact, forcing her point. "This is a unique combination of conditions. And you may have to face the fact that, with the dose you received, it is possible you may never fully recover."

"I felt fine until this morning!" he argued. Fraiser opened her mouth to respond, and he headed her off. "And don't give me any of that 'latent' crap."

"You can protest all you want. It won't change the fact that you've suffered moderate to severe radiation poisoning and are lucky to be alive." Silently, she dared him to refute the fact. "In light of the damage done to your immune system, I'm going to augment what you've already been given with a range of antibiotics and antifungals. You'll also take an antinflammatory. I'll also be restricting your diet for the next few weeks." Her tone changed, became darkly humorous. "You may want to take notes."

"I'm glad one of us is enjoying this," he growled.

"Colonel, all you can do at this point is try to make the best of this. I can cite plenty of articles on the importance of mood to recovery."

"Do those articles happen to take into account my 'unique' circumstances?" he shot, knowing it impossible to answer. He pulled himself back up, black hatred knotting between his damaged lungs. "Start talking."

-

Daniel hung up. In the Briefing Room Hammond was meeting with another group of scientists – Daniel was to see what information he could get from the entity on his own. He'd moderated his share of first contacts – though, as with Kovacek, most had been human civilizations. And often all he did was say "Hi," resolve any linguistic difficulties, and move on.

He dug out a journal and a pen. "Well, first, let me say that I'm glad we can... talk," he said. (Now what do we talk about?) "What can you tell me about yourself?"

(I cannot,) it said.

(And we're back to this again.) "Why not?"

(I have not been studied.)

"...I don't understand," Daniel said.

(I have not been studied,) the entity repeated. (I have no data I can give.)

"Why do you think you need to be studied?"

(To know. To understand.)

Daniel shook his head. He had a bad feeling about this. "You believe that all knowledge comes from an empirical approach."

(No.)

(Okay, that's a small good sign.) "But this does."

(We have no other faculties with which to analyze ourselves.)

"You're sure?" Daniel sat, rubbing his slung arm. "I'm sorry, I just find that hard to believe. You can identify yourself as an individual, after all. Or am I wrong?"

(I am aware of my existence.)

"All right! Let's start from there," he said. "What qualities do you assign your existence?"

It floated silently.

"...come on. I'm sure we could think of something. Uh... common ways to describe someone's life are duration, scope–"

(Duration,) the entity repeated. (This is a concept the last physical beings once attempted to explain. We do not perceive time in discrete units; we do not recognize 'duration.' What is scope?)

(This entire conversation is shooting way out of my league,) Daniel thought. (Do we even have an existential philosopher on staff?) "Scope. The events which form a part of your life, you experiences. Your actions, decisions... scope. Everything you've done or been a part of. You showed me part of it when you were in the Stargate."

(That wasn't all me.)

(...oh, you're kidding me.) "What do you mean?"

(I showed you a collection of gleaned memories. This is how we communicate.)

He put his head down into his hand, then jerked it up again. "Okay. No, that actually helps. That tells me something. You're saying that as a species you share your experiences on a fundamental level."

(Yes,) it said.

"Which means that you have not only your own formative experiences but potentially those of many others," he said. "I can see how that would make it hard to identify yourself."

(Yes,) it said.

-

Teal'c stood in the gateroom, staff weapon in one hand, dressed in Jaffa robes and facing the 'gate. When he had been First Prime of Apophis, his "god" had required him – and all Jaffa – to say a prayer before stepping through without his presence. It had been a simple one: Apophis, lord of the many stars, given life and power everlasting, grant safe passage through your doorway, in your name. Once Apophis had thrown a Jaffa who had failed him into the Stargate's wash. He had used it as the backdrop for his visual communications. He had made it the symbol of his power.

The Stargate had always been formidable. The Goa'uld thought all technology should be formidable – magic beyond Jaffa comprehension, born of the Gods. Warriors were taught early that they used these devices, never controlled them. Though he no longer thought of these things as magic, the attitude remained; the Stargate had never been tamed or bent to the Tau'ri's will. They existed in an uneasy alliance, as the past several days had shown.

From the control room, Sergeant Harriman input the coordinates. The Free Jaffa and the Tau'ri had maintained cursory contact; as a gesture of good faith, Hammond had continued to provide them with tretonin even when the alliance dissolved. The Jaffa had begun to set up their own labs to synthesize the drug, but had few chemists in their ranks. Progress was slow – but at least their temporary dependence meant they were easily found. The same could not be said for the Tok'ra.

The wormhole opened with a flash, cool and neutral with neither hostility nor welcome. Sergeant Harriman keyed the mic. "Good luck, sir."

"With luck, I shall not need luck," Teal'c said, and strode up the ramp, into the event horizon–

–and as soon as he hit the other side he knew something was wrong.

Even before he saw the ring of weapons pointing at him he was hit by the tension in the air, buzzing along every angle of the world. He hadn't walked into a battlefield, but the atmosphere was the same; even when the sentry ring relaxed their stance, none of them relaxed. Even the stars seemed acridly sharp, glinting distant weaponsfire. "What has occurred?" he asked quickly.

"Much, Master Teal'c," a younger warrior said. "Please, come. Master Bra'tac will wish to see you."

-

"So, while you are aware of yourself as an individual, you don't have an individual, concrete identity," Daniel reprised for his own benefit. "And this is normal for your entire species. But you want to attain one." He stretched his fingers, trying to alleviate the biting ache in his palm. Even in shorthand, this was difficult to take down. "Out of curiosity, if this is the norm, how did you get the idea that it needed to be changed?"

(We do not know.)

Daniel sighed. He'd long ago learned the value of admitting ignorance – often, it was the only way one learned. But the entity's refusal to label anything but certainty "knowledge" threatened to stymie his efforts. "Can you elaborate?"

(We feel that this is wrong. This is ingrained into our experience of our world. But we cannot analyze this assurance.)

"We," he repeated, turning the word over. "That's odd. There's a universal quality you exhibit, but which you... universally? – and instinctively regard as wrong?"

(Yes.)

"...that doesn't usually happen," Daniel said.

(It does not?)

"No. Usually if something is universal, it becomes regarded as a normative standard." He looked over his notes. This was intellectually fatiguing, even as it was fascinating. Skimming over the dialogue, he noticed how often he'd jotted down the entity or simply E. and grimaced. (What an impersonal way to go about things.) "You know, I really wish I had something to call you."

(As I have said,) the entity reminded him, (we have no use for sonic communication.)

"But you've learned our language," Daniel said. "You're speaking – thinking? – communicating in words right now."

(Yes,) the entity agreed.

"Names aren't just sounds. In a lot of cultures, names are a part of a person's identity."

(Identity?) the entity asked.

"Yes. And there are other, practical benefits as well – a name makes it easier to signal to someone that you want their attention, and to specify who you're talking to or about."

(So I should have a name.)

"Well, it would certainly make things easier."

(How is a name chosen?)

"Oh, boy." He flexed his hand. "Well, there are a lot of different ways. Some people choose a name from someone among their ancestors, or a famous figure. Some people choose a name for religious reasons, or for its meaning. Some people choose a name because they think it sounds nice, or will be highly distinctive, or because it has cultural connotations. ...of course, most people name their immediate descendants, but then people also assign what we call 'nicknames' to friends, family, associates... a nickname is basically a name that's earned or gained somehow, often humorous or telling, which can indicate fondness, familiarity, scorn, disrespect, or a number of other things based on the context of..." he trailed off, grinning sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling, aren't I? Jack would have told me to shut up long before now."

The entity flickered. (This is bad?)

"Well, it depends on how interested you are, I guess."

(I am interested,) the entity said. (I want to understand. Everything.)

"That's a very valuable quality," Daniel said. "...in fact, it's one of the hallmarks of someone trying to Ascend."

(Then is there a name for someone trying to Ascend?)

Daniel glanced across his books, across the most recent crop of artifacts and manuscripts, then awkwardly snapped his fingers. "Satya," he said. "How do you like Satya?"

The entity wavered. (I am Satya?)

"You can be if you want to be," Daniel said. "Roughly translated it means 'truth,' or 'higher order,' even, to a certain extent, 'identity.' It actually has a lot of meanings."

(I do not exhibit all these things,) the entity said.

"Well, often a name will signal an aspiration," Daniel said. "For example, 'Grace' is a fairly common Earth name, not because babies are especially graceful, but–"

(Then I will be Satya,) the entity said. (To signal an aspiration toward an understanding of truth, higher order, and identity.)

"An understanding?" Daniel asked.

It shimmered, coruscating into fractured rainbows before returning to pure white. (Yes.)

"What don't you understand?" (...what don't you understand now?)

(Everything,) the entity said, rocketing them straight back to square one.

-

Fraiser collected a thick sheaf of papers from the med lab's printer, jotting notes in red pen in the margins. "...and that's about it. Go over this again when you have time." She paperclipped it and handed it over. "Oh, and one more thing."

"What now?"

"While the president's asked Hammond to turn over most mission and operations reports to the documentary crew, he can't force us to turn over medical records. So you need to tell me what, if anything, you'll clear me to release."

Jack squinted. He didn't remember touching any weird alien mirrors, but Fraiser had gone from making infuriating amounts of sense to making no sense whatsoever – and worse, she looked as if she expected him to understand. "What? Documentary crew?"

Fraiser took a turn to look surprised. "Emmet Bregman? The president's documentary of the SGC? Hammond sent out a memo."

Jack didn't know where to start. "I've been busy," he understated. "Does the president remember that this is a top-secret operation?"

"I think that's why he's doing it."

"Okay." Jack stopped, thinking through it. "...I think one of us is confused as to what top secret means."

"The president feels," Fraiser explained, "that should the Stargate Program ever go public, there should exist a document to show the 'reality' of what we do here. Something more human than mission reports." She turned back to the computer, clicking in commands. The printer started up again, expelling a single sheet. "Here."

Jack snatched it, reading it through. "Someone is joking."

"Afraid not." She leaned back against the desk. "So?"

"So?"

"Your medical records."

"Because posterity really needs the details of my knee problems," Jack said. "Whatever. If they really can't find anything better to put on film."

"So, you're releasing everything?"

He grunted an affirmative.

"I assume except for–"

"We agreed that never happened."

Fraiser chuckled. "Yes, sir. Well, that's all I have for you. Check back in tomorrow or if your symptoms worsen."

He hopped up. "And no sushi, right?"

"Right," she said, but he was already out the door.

-

A knock at his door jarred Daniel's focus, saving him from the latest logical knot he'd tied himself into. "Excuse me," he said to the entity, slipping over and sliding it open. "Jack!"

"Yeah, hi." Jack waved. "Teal'c's off to parley with the Jaffa. I just thought I'd check in and see how you were doing."

"It's communicating," he blurted. "This is going better than I ever thought possible. I think it has something to do with its racial history, the fact that these beings have interacted with humans or human-like beings before, but... this is amazing."

"I'm happy for you," Jack said, patting his uninjured shoulder encouragingly.

"Satya is not only willing to communicate, it's actually eager to exchange–"

"Satya?" Jack interrupted.

"I thought it would be easier to work with if it had a name," Daniel said.

"And so you went for the most obscure name you could find."

"It's not–" Daniel shook his head, dropping himself from that argument entirely. "It's incredible, Jack. This is one of the most unusual sentient creatures we've ever encountered, at least on par with the water beings through the Russian gate, possibly more unlike us than we thought possible to establish direct communications with–"

"Whoa, there," Jack said, alarms going off in his head. Daniel was Enthused. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up listening to this all day. "What have you learned?"

"As for specifics?" Daniel asked. "Actually... almost nothing. But! That's not the point," he rushed to head off Jack's protest. "It's like a child," he explained. "It has incredible intuitive ability, but almost no formal or specific knowledge. It figured out how to use the Stargate instinctively."

"Okay," Jack said.

"And from what it tells me this is the norm for its race. There's nothing unusual about it. They understand and manipulate complex physical states the way human children learn to manipulate small items or walk or talk. Here–" he waved him into the lab. "You should hear it talk. It's incredible. It actually figured out how we process sound and causes that processing to happen inside your mind without using sound to cause it. It–"

"Daniel!"

Daniel crashed to a halt.

"Before you rupture something," Jack said, "sit down, take a deep breath, and let's try to get some perspective here. Something which everyone affiliated with the SGC seems to have lost, all of a sudden."

"Perspective," Daniel repeated. "Perspective on what?"

"The only things between us and Anubis coming at us with a superweapon are the System Lords and production time," he said. "Neither of those will hold him back indefinitely. I'm sure this Saturn thing–"

"Satya."

"–is all very exciting for you, but we don't have time for extracurriculars, despite what certain prominent politicians may believe."

Daniel digested that, searching for hidden meaning. "Certain prominent politicians?"

"You didn't get the memo?" Jack asked, with a wash of vindictiveness. (See! It isn't just me! Daniel is still less organized!) He snorted, regretting it immediately as it triggered a cough. (Some distinction.)

"You all right?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah. Fine. Little case of pneumonia, nothing serious."

Daniel upgraded to a personal DEFCON 3. "You have pneumonia?"

"Radioactive pneumonia. Don't worry about it. The president wants to make a documentary of the Stargate Program."

The rapid-fire subject changes proved too much. Daniel's grasp on the situation crumbled. "Start again?"

"Hammond sent out a memo," Jack said, fumbling for the copy Fraiser had printed out. "The President wants a documentary made of SGC operations. We're supposed to provide all reasonable assistance and cooperation."

Daniel took the paper, skimming the lines. "I note he doesn't define 'reasonable' anywhere in here."

"Nope. That he doesn't."

"Is this really a good time for something like this?" Daniel turned the paper over, but no further information presented itself. "Even putting aside the threat from Anubis..."

"It's politics," Jack said. "At least Kinsey doesn't have his grimy paws anywhere near this one. That I can tell."

Daniel frowned at the sheet.

"Anyway," Jack said, "find out what your new friend has to say about energy beings. See if it will help us."

"Jack, that's what I've been trying to tell you," Daniel said. "It doesn't understand the specifics of its own existence. This species was friends with the original inhabitants of PV1-542 because they wanted those inhabitants to study them and come up with an answer."

Jack peered around him skeptically. "How can it not know?"

"I have six pages of notes dedicated to that subject," Daniel said. "If you'd like to take a look."

"You're threatening me, aren't you?"

"I know this isn't what you want to hear, but I don't know that we'll be able to get anything from it in the short term," Daniel said. "In the long term, there's no telling how much we could learn, not just about physics, but about the cognitive sciences as well."

"You're right," Jack said. "That wasn't what I wanted to hear. Daniel–"

"I know, I know. And I will try to see if it can help us. But at the moment we haven't gotten past 'who are you?' yet."

Jack's eyebrows hopped. "How long have you been at this?"

(Judging by how much my head hurts...) "I don't know. A while."

"But you think you're on the verge of something."

"The verge? No. Nowhere near. But I think there is something."

Jack sighed. "All right. Keep at it."

"You want to sit in?" Daniel asked. "Ask it yourself?"

"Not particularly." Jack gave him a pointed look. "You have fun, though. Just don't forget to sleep or eat."

"I won't," Daniel lied, and stepped back inside.

-

The young warrior led Teal'c to a low line of hills hidden in the shade of a bluff, one of many such evasive spots in a wide and varied landscape. "This is the master's favored spot for meditation," he said softly. "He has also trained many here." He raised his voice, pitching a respectful hail. "Master Bra'tac!"

"Here," Bra'tac called, voice drawing them into a low valley. He approached quickly, at the ready. He smiled when he saw Teal'c, but he addressed his guide. "What have you brought me?"

Teal'c closed the distance between them. "Tek'ma'tae, Bra'tac," he said, grasping his mentor's hands.

Bra'tac nodded to him. "Thank you, Jol'ec," he said to the young warrior. "You may go."

Jol'ec swelled with pride, then bowed deeply and jogged off toward the Stargate again. Teal'c watched him go. Bra'tac had always possessed a good memory – Teal'c believed he knew every Jaffa in the rebellion. He remembered his own youth, how honored he had felt that the great master had known his name, had called him something other than "chal'tii." Some things did not change, and for that he was grateful.

"Welcome, Teal'c," Bra'tac said. "It has been too long."

"It has," Teal'c said. "What has transpired?"

"Anubis," Bra'tac said, as if all catastrophes were epitomized in the word. "He no longer holds his fleet to defend his worlds. Instead he sweeps through the galaxy like a slow wave, leaving the conquered and destroyed in his wake. Soon this world will be in his path, and soon after that, all refuge known to us."

"Would this not open his territories to attack?" Teal'c asked.

"So it would seem, but Anubis cares not. And the System Lords have moved more quickly to save themselves than to strike their common enemy." He huffed. "We enter a dark time indeed."

"Then you know that Anubis has laid claim to a library of the Ancients," Teal'c said.

Bra'tac showed surprise but not shock. "No. We knew only that he had gained confidence. We had hoped it was a reckless sort, unfounded by anything but bravado."

"I do not believe it so."

"Walk with me," Bra'tac ordered as only an old teacher could order. In the Jaffa language one's trainer was known by a special word: senwit'di, second father. To obey was an honor. "What is this library?"

"It is a device," Teal'c said. "With it one may gain access to the sum total of Ancient knowledge."

Bra'tac snorted, smiling at the odd synchronity. "All the knowledge of the Ancients and all the knowledge of the Goa'uld," he said. "Knowledge is power, Teal'c, almost as important as strength of heart and arm. The Goa'uld are often fools, but they are gluttonous for knowledge. Perhaps, in a world where it was not so readily obtained, all would be for the better."

Walking with his mentor beneath the stars, Teal'c felt more at ease than he had for weeks. He did not drop his concentration or his guard. But this was his element; this was his environment. Humans hated death. Jaffa respected it. (If we are to die, we die well, and we die free. That is all we can ask for, and more than, years ago, I thought attainable.)

"But what are we to do? We are ready to fight, and to die if need be. More cannot be asked."

"Indeed," Teal'c affirmed.

Bra'tac leaned into his march, evening the length of his stride. "There is a shadow on your heart which was not there when last we spoke," he said. "Tell me."

Teal'c nodded to the far dark horizon. "Samantha Carter has fallen."

"Did she die well?"

"Yes," he said. "Honorably, though not in battle. Slain by Anubis."

"And you have observed the rituals for her death?"

"All I am able to."

"Yet still your heart is not at peace." Bra'tac turned to him, eyes divining truth. He could not be deceived, and Teal'c would not try. "Speak."

"I am not at peace because my brothers are not at peace," he said.

"Humans," Bra'tac huffed. "Hear this from an old man. Neither of us understands the other's ways, and few enough wish to. Is this so unusual for death in their ranks?"

"She was our..." he paused to consider the words. The Jaffa word for sister was most often used between sisters, not a brother and his female sibling. And the connotations were wrong – in fact, the word was seldom used outside of childhood. It was not a word to describe a warrior.

Thousands of years of Goa'uld-encouraged Jaffa patriarchy had stricken feminine military words from use. The Goa'uld wanted the Jaffa to flourish in numbers, providing more troops for their eternal wars. This could hardly be accomplished if the childbearers spent their time warring – or worse, were killed before reproducing. He'd faced this difficulty with Ishta and her Hak'tyl as well.

"Samantha Carter was a part of our family," he said, using the term for a family of warriors rather than a family of bloodlines. "Had she been merely a fellow soldier things would have been different."

"These humans do not expect death as we do. One cannot fight the demon and step over its body," he said, quoting an old proverb. "Nor can one conquer unpleasant events as long as one resists them. Have you told them this?"

Teal'c looked darkly to the stars. "They would not listen."

Bra'tac chuckled, leaning into their walk again. "So, tell me, old friend. Do you believe we too will fall to Anubis' wiles? Is death soon before us?"

Once again, his instincts had been called upon – and once again, they gave no clear answer. He was not disappointed. Instincts woke in the tension between charged moments, telling the hand where to go in an instant, guiding the eye, alerting the heart. They had little sight into the future, as vast and mutable as it was. "I do not know."

"Nor do I." Bra'tac smiled thinly, the moon's cold light glinting off the silver of his hair and the angle of his lips. "But if we are, if Anubis has truly become so powerful, we would find no shame in standing alongside the Tau'ri to thwart him. Their luck is good, even when their discipline is lacking."

"Indeed." Teal'c smiled as well.

"You may carry that message back to them," Bra'tac said.

---

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