06 - Siren Song (12 page)

Daniel’s fingers were numb… and then they weren’t. Sebek was inside, in the
blood. All the answers to all the questions Daniel had ever asked were in the
blood.

He stood in the vault and didn’t run away.

He could smell flowers. Cloying and sweet, the scent was sharpened by Sebek’s
attention, filled up all the space around them.
Don’t go there.
Daniel
turned away, but it was everywhere.
Desire
smelled like flowers, was
curled at the edges, brown, floating downward. The memory was a translucent
scrim stretched taut over nothingness. But it wasn’t nothingness. It was his
death, but it was impossible because no one could remember his own death, no one
except, maybe, the members of SG-1, and Daniel had a few to choose from and this
one in particular was as compelling as it was terrifying. He was suspended
between horror and fascination, and he could feel Sebek inside. Beyond the
ripe-rot smell of it, his time among the ascended was blank. Except that Sebek,
with his pure desire and absolute control, had touched it, and it had spoken to
him; it was in Sebek’s memory. Some attenuated version of Daniel’s Ancient
memory was folded into Sebek’s somehow; Daniel could see it, obliquely, like he
was looking at his own reflection in someone else’s eye. Disoriented, Daniel
clutched at the wall, the gold caps on his fingers rattling against the script.
No,
he thought and closed his eyes tightly. But he didn’t look away. The
Leviathan yawned open and swallowed him.

When Sebek opened Daniel’s eyes again, he was on the floor, head on his
knees. He was tapping his capped thumb and forefinger together in an uneven
staccato that matched his heartbeat. After awhile, both slowed and steadied to
an even rhythm.

He lifted his head and craned his neck to look up at the door.

“We require Jack O’Neill,” Sebek said.

The crazy thing about Goa’uld holding cells was how cold they always were.
With his eyes closed, Jack could conjure the memory of being held prisoner on
Apophis’ ship, headed for Earth. The floor was as unforgiving here as it had
been there. His tailbone was starting to ache.

Once, Daniel had said he thought the snakes made the cells cold on purpose—a kind of mental torture, a subtle thing to set their prisoners on edge. As
psychological torture went, Jack could think of a dozen things that might have
been more effective, and half of them he hadn’t had to leave Earth to learn
about first hand.

Daniel’s comment always stuck with him, though. Especially now, when Daniel
wasn’t around to say it again. So many things Daniel had repeated a hundred
times over the years, from bad puns to information dumps. Jack had gone through
stages with it—annoyance, resigned expectation, acceptance—and then Daniel
had ascended, and Jack had realized he’d taken it for granted that Daniel would
be around to annoy him forever. Daniel always did have a hard time dying.

With a grunt. Jack shifted and turned on his side. He folded his arm beneath
his head, but the hard floor bit into his hip. Teal’c had taken last watch, but
that was a formality, since neither of them had slept much. In Teal’c’s case, he
was still having some trouble adjusting to the act of sleeping, and in a strange
place he had a tendency to meditate instead. Jack wished he could teach Teal’c
the art of dropping into a light doze whenever the opportunity arose, but he
wasn’t having such great luck with that himself. Some role model he was.
Besides, Teal’c had over one hundred years of habit to unlearn, and his brain
trumped his body.

Or maybe it was more than that. Whenever Jack closed his eyes, he could feel
something pushing at his consciousness—and whatever it was, he didn’t want it
coming in. Carter had been tossing and turning since she’d bedded down, and Jack
had no desire to join her in dreamland. Even when he was wide awake, there were things running
through his head that he was having trouble clamping down on. For all his
internal grumbling about the cold, it was warmth he shied away from when he
closed his eyes. The light there in that place between real things and dreams
was mellow and golden, and beyond that was a whole lot of pain.

He didn’t remember all of what had happened to him in Ba’al’s fortress, but
his body remembered the light, the warmth of the place, and the gentleness of
that feeling was the definition of cruel joke. His conscious mind didn’t
remember,
but he
knew.
Ba’al was Goa’uld, and Kanan was Tok’ra, but
it was a difference in degree, and not much degree at that. The tiny cell in
Ba’al’s fortress had been a bigger version of Jack’s own body. Trapped was
trapped was trapped, but although he was a sadistic son of a bitch, at least
Ba’al was honest, and
his
prison had had a door.

Jack pulled up his legs to ease the small of his back and concentrated on the
cold.

He’d been sick, mostly absent, when he’d been hijacked. Daniel wasn’t absent
at all. Knowing Daniel, he was front and center, talking himself hoarse—or
whatever the silent in-the-head equivalent was—the way Jack knew he himself
had beat his fists raw against the cage of his own bones, in the memory of Kanan
he couldn’t quite reach. Jack didn’t feel a bit sorry for Sebek.

With a growling sort of sigh, Jack sat up and opened his eyes. This cell, if
anything, seemed even smaller than the spaces inside his head. He stretched out
his arms, making space, and considered pacing, but that wouldn’t do anything but
tell him exactly how much space he didn’t have. Teal’c turned to meet his eyes,
a question there, but Jack shook his head. When Carter woke up, she’d make it
her business to tear everything down and examine every part of the dreams he
wasn’t having. It was all about the clues. The cell was like every cell they’d
ever been in. The clues were in their heads. Carter would make diagrams. He
could already picture her, hunched over her laptop, categorizing ghosts. Teal’c,
though, simply nodded and closed his eyes.

The fourth occupant of the cell hadn’t slept either, as far as Jack could tell. The boy hadn’t moved, but he was as tense and wary as he had been
when he was brought in. Although his head was down, his posture was a dead
giveaway, and Jack wasn’t at all surprised that he didn’t trust them, despite
his knowledge of who they were. Like father, like son.

The kid looked like he hadn’t eaten a square meal in weeks. His hands were
too big for his narrow frame, awkward-looking even as they clutched his elbows.
Adolescent. He was gawky, bigger than he seemed, and probably bigger than he
realized. Jack guessed that the kid would stand taller than Carter if he ever
straightened his spine. He should have been playing kid games, growing out of
his clothes and making the girls gawk. Instead, his fingers moved restlessly
across his flaky skin, and his breath wheezed a little in his chest, while he
curled his toes under and tried not to take up space. Suddenly, the room seemed
even smaller.

Looking at the kid, at the slouch of his shoulders and the pale grey of his
skin—the way the kid was thwarted, closed down, shrunken muscles, collapsed
potential—Jack knew why Aris had no qualms about offering up Daniel, or any of
them, as sacrifice for his son’s life. He was pretty sure Daniel wouldn’t have
had any qualms offering up his own life, if he’d known. But that wasn’t the
point.

Jack squeezed the pockets of his pants, looking for a power bar. Aris had
left them with whatever food they were carrying, not out of kindness, but out of
practicality. It wasn’t much, anyway. He drew the last one out of his pocket and
tossed it to Teal’c, then nodded toward the kid. Teal’c inclined his head.

“Young man,” Teal’c said. The boy twitched at the sound of Teal’c’s voice,
but didn’t look up. “You must eat something.”

“They only feed us once a day,” the boy answered, his voice muffled through
his arms.

Teal’c tore open the wrapper and held it out toward the boy. “Take this.”

The kid lifted his head and zeroed in on the power bar. His nostrils flared,
and his fist opened involuntarily. Jack frowned. He’d been that hungry—more so—at least once. And just as proud, too. The boy’s gaze shifted to Jack,
assessing.

As if it was of no concern to him at all, Jack lay back down and stared at
the ceiling. “We don’t need it,” he said. A moment later, he heard the crinkle
of paper as the bar was ripped out of its wrapping. One small victory.

In the silence that followed, Jack ran back through all the scenarios he’d
been building in his head over the course of the short night. Option A: they’d
overpower the guards. So far they’d been spectacularly unsuccessful so far in
every attempt they’d made. To get to Daniel, it’d take better luck than that. On
the heels of option A came the big decision: to drag Daniel away with the snake
still in him, try to make an escape and pray the Tok’ra could get it out, or… not.

It was the “not” part of the equation that was difficult. The snake was going
to slow them down, and they might all die anyway. Jack kept taking that piece of
the puzzle out, turning it over in his hands and feeling the shape of it; he
kept looking at it until it didn’t cause him such immediate pain. Beside him,
Carter groaned softly, her foot kicking out before she pulled her knees up,
curling tightly. Teal’c watched the kid stuff the power bar into his mouth and
swallow without even chewing. A faint smile made a crease at the side of
Teal’c’s mouth.

If the snake had to be killed—and removal wasn’t an option—Jack would be
the one to do it. Daniel was his responsibility. Carefully, he set that thought
aside again. Limited exposure was all that made it bearable.

Jailbreak or no jailbreak, they had to deal with Aris; with his son at stake,
he wasn’t going to be giving them any unexpected breaks. Not like last time.

Too many variables. Math always did make his head hurt.

Jack turned his head so he could see Teal’c and the kid. Teal’c had moved
closer, and the boy was unfolding by degrees, a little less cautious in their
presence.

“How long have you been a prisoner in this place?” Teal’c asked.

The boy shrugged and glanced at the door, then back at Teal’c. “They don’t
like prisoners to talk. But you know that already,” he added, gaze fixed on the golden tattoo on Teal’c’s forehead.

“Yes.” Teal’c sat down beside him, with his back to the wall. “But we will
hear them approaching.”

“They sneak up, sometimes,” the boy said. Jack wondered when Jaffa had become
stealthy, or if that was a new trick they’d added to their repertoire under this
particular snake.

“Then we will be cautious.” Teal’c’s expression was gentle, but Jack knew
half of his attention was focused on listening for anyone in the corridor.
“Where did they keep you before bringing you here?”

“Why do you care?” The boy folded the power bar wrapper carefully against his
knees, making it smaller and smaller. When he couldn’t fold it any more, he
closed his hand around it like he was afraid Teal’c would snatch it away. When
he looked at Teal’c, his expression dared Teal’c to try.

“We must make a plan of escape,” Teal’c said, which was more than Jack would
have told him. After all, it was Aris Boch’s kid; But Teal’c knew what he was
doing.

Another shrug from the kid. “That’s your business.”

“We would not leave you here,” Teal’c began, but the boy was shaking his
head.

“They’re coming.”

Jack looked at Teal’c, who gave a curt nod of confirmation. “Jaffa approach.”

“I wish I could do that,” Jack muttered. He still didn’t hear anything. He
reached over and shook Carter’s shoulder once, twice, until she sat bolt
upright, ready to swing. “Easy, tiger,” he said. “Time to put on your fighting
face.”

The wild-eyed look eased away after a moment, and she combed her hands
through her messy hair. “Sorry, sir,” she said. “Bad dreams.”

“I figured,” he said, getting to his feet. He gave her a hand up.

She jerked her head around to glance at the boy, then asked, “How’s… ?”

“He and Teal’c’ve been getting acquainted.”

“Well, that’s good,” Carter said, and began patting down her pockets. Jack waved her hands away.

“Thought of that already.”

“Oh.” She squared up her shoulders. She looked like she hadn’t slept a wink.
Plus, she’d puked up the last thing she’d eaten. Jack noticed the tremor in her
hands before she caught him looking and put her hands in her pockets.

“You might want to fish one out for yourself,” he told her, without actually
pointing out that she looked like hell.

She met his eyes for a long moment, then said, “I’m fine, sir.”

He nodded, completely unconvinced, but there was no time to get into the
finer details of Carter’s psyche. Two Jaffa had appeared at their doorway, not
quietly, but without the usual fanfare. Maybe that was what the kid considered
“sneaking up”, from his kid-perspective. Jack could’ve backed away from the door
without needing to be told, but it was more satisfying to make them work for it.

“Step away,” the Jaffa ordered. Teal’c positioned himself in front of the
boy, for all the good it would do.

“Must be room service with our breakfast,” Jack said. “Hope they got the eggs
right.”

With a hiss, the lock released and the door slid open. When Aris Boch stepped
between the guards into the room, his weapon holstered, the kid gasped but said
nothing. Jack could practically feel the kid’s muscles twanging as the boy
scrambled to his feet behind Teal’c. Anger, or excitement; hard to say. Aris
didn’t look at his son.

“I hope the three of you managed to get some rest,” Aris said. “You’ll have a
busy day ahead of you.”

“Great accommodations,” Jack said. “Nice beds.”

“It’s the best you’re going to get, under the circumstances,” Aris said. “But
you won’t be needing one tonight.”