Warriors, Pink Cakes and Little Gray Butts by Cjay

Previously in Part Four of Warriors, Pink Cakes and Lil' Gray butts; another stirring chapter in the continuing adventures of that delectable hard candy confection, with the soft chewy center, Jack O'Neill:,

A panicked, and very hung over, Asgard High Council has been appropriating various members of SG-1 - without their consent and aggravating Colonel Mitchell to the brink of insanity. Our new friend, Major Mortensen suffered a loss of consciousness bought on by his abduction. And our favorite hero, Jack, sans Teal'c, has been effectively imprisoned inside a giant vegetable burrito and carried off by a gang of well-meaning munchkins.

Um, did somebody mention Teal'c?

And now, on to...

FIVE: What Mystery Is This?

It wasn't the roar of the crashing surf, or the piercing screech of gulls that woke him. It was the sharp sting of frigid salt water raging against his torn flesh. Battling a deep wracking cough, Teal'c struggled to sit upright. Cradling his aching head in one hand, he used the remains of his t-shirt to wipe the grit from his bleary eyes and looked around.

What mystery was this? He remembered tumbling endlessly into darkness, only to awake here on a desolate rock-strewn beach. There was no sign of the jungle-like terrain, or the strange vast crystal cavern, he'd experienced just before his fall. Instead, he now found himself surrounded by sparkling black sands and uneven multi-colored boulders, lying at the base of a steep cliff, adjacent to a wildly rolling body of water. Just how long and how far had he fallen? And more importantly, where was O'Neill?

Breathlessly trying to ignore the merciless heat of the bright yellow sun overhead, the beleaguered Jaffa pushed himself to his feet and stumbled away from the cold unforgiving sea.

***

The pad of Rowdy's right thumb continued its circular rotation over the Yo-Yo's smooth wood. He was still trying to come to grips with the wild saga that Colonels Mitchell and Carter, along with an honest-to-goodness real-live alien being, had laid out for him. It was a hell of a lot to process.

Taking in the strangely lit screen displaying a large star map, he shrugged off the little gray medical technician dogging him. "So, Dr. Jackson, if I am reading all this correctly, both the general and Teal'c has each been implanted with a subcutaneous tracking device ..."

Wincing at the rasping quality of his voice, Rowdy took another sip from the flask of hot fluid forced upon him by an insistent Loki. "But for some reason, despite this advanced technology, the Asgard are currently unable to locate them?"

Jackson took note of the lack of accusation in Mortensen's tone with a grateful sigh. "Yes, that's it in a nutshell."

Stepping away from the odd group huddled over an Asgard control panel; Daniel studied Jack's new protégé noting the bright bit of wood Mortensen continued to clutch in his hand. The mere presence of said object spoke volumes about O'Neill's opinion regarding this particular young officer. After all, once upon a time, Jack's unique style of mentoring had transformed a naive and all too green doctor of archeology into a savvy member of SG-1. And, over the past hour or so, the major's aplomb in handling the circumstances surrounding today's events, enhanced Daniel's opinion of the man behind the uniform.

"We've all been implanted with one, each with its own singular transmission. Thanks to Jack, it's standard procedure for all off-world teams." Gesturing towards the star map, Daniel indicated a vast array of pulsating multi-colored lights scattered about the galaxy.

"An Asgard innovation first employed by the High Council in an effort to insure O'Neill's safety," Astrid embellished smugly.

"Ah yes, that was back when you all thought the general was the answer to your genetic woes." Mitchell interrupted acidly. "Never mind that you failed to inform him about it at the time."

"Actually, many of us thought it a great waste of resources." Astrid sniffed disdainfully.

"But, like all technologies the devices are not infallible." Daniel went on, ignoring the Asgard Councilor's rudeness.

"Something must be interfering with the Jaffa and O'Neill's signals." Loki supplied absentmindedly, running his diagnostic crystal over the tall major for the umpteenth time. "Major, are you quite sure I cannot induce you to lie back within the medical pod for another span of time? Your body still requires healing."

Draining the last bitter dregs of liquid from the flask, Rowdy pressed it into the diminutive alien's hands. "My body is not the priority at the moment, Loki."

"I beg to differ..."

"Zip it, please. I don't need a nursemaid." Patting the creature's cool gray head, Rowdy gently shooed him aside. "Later, I promise."

"I shall refill your flask then." Loki harrumphed loudly and stalked away.

"Seems you've acquired a guardian, Mortensen." Daniel remarked wryly, hiding his grin behind a thoughtful hand.

"Oh, joy." Rowdy muttered, rolling his eyes. "It's no wonder the general resorted to the use of intoxication."

Sam Carter ran a frustrated hand through her already tangled hair. "The tracking devices failed in the past when Colonel Mitchell, Daniel, Teal'c and that female mercenary, Vala, were inside the underground cavern Merlin created in England. And to date, we've still not figured out why that happened exactly."

"They also winked out when those Elysian pirates incinerated the entire contingent of one of our scout ships." Mitchell added starkly. "I think we need to face the possibility that we've truly lost them this time."

"Colonel Mitchell, we are talking about the general and Teal'c here. A pair who has made it their life's work to...how would O'Neill phrase it... 'Beat the odds.' " Thor chided gently.

"Perhaps, they're surrounded by some sort of dampening or electromagnetic field..." Loki threw in distractedly. Cocking his head to one side thoughtfully, the diminutive medical tyrant pressed another overflowing flask of 'healing herb tea' into Major Mortensen's reluctant hands.

Stifling a groan, Rowdy accepted the flask and took an obedient sip. "I understand the negative effects of an EM field, but..."

"It is also quite possible that they are on a planet whose mass contains an over abundance of metallic materials." Loki continued coolly.

"Or one surrounded by an asteroid field laden with metals." Jorgen inserted dryly. Quietly observing the exchange, he'd positioned himself so that he had a bird's eye view of all the rooms' occupants.

Sam jumped on the possibility enthusiastically, "Thor, are there any such planets or moons..."

"Alas Samantha, none within the coordinates Astrid has postulated might be their destination." Thor responded dejectedly.

"This is a waste of time." Astrid snarled defensively. "I am sure the great and legendary O'Neill will soon make contact. I understand he's made a career out of 'getting lost' only to miraculously reappear virtually unscathed."

"Astrid such vitriol is both unbecoming and uncalled for." Thor reprimanded sharply.

Jorgen studied the human standing before him intently. With each pronouncement, a bit more of the light seemed to fade from Major Mortensen's bright hazel eyes. The little alien scientist was still attempting to understand 'human nature', but clearly, the loss of his commanding officer was impacting negatively on the young man.

Exchanging a worried look with Loki, who was once again running a diagnostic over his unenthusiastic patient, he strode forward. "Perhaps in her inebriated state, Astrid did more than miscalculate..."

"Meaning, what exactly?" Mitchell snapped. He was sick of the eternal calm of the Asgard.

"Meaning," Loki surmised gleefully, "That I am not the only Asgard to break an inviolate rule in this millennium."

"You forget yourself, Loki!" Astrid shrieked shrilly. "I refused to be subjected to such vile and insulting speculation."

"Then, for your own piece of mind, might I suggest you absent yourself from this investigation, Astrid?" Loki tossed back irreverently.

"Ya know," Mitchell, elbowed Sam jauntily, arching an insolent brow. "I'm starting to like this little renegade."

"Thank you Colonel Mitchell, I find your incisive approach refreshing as well." Ignoring Astrid's hasty departure, Loki glided over to the star map and repositioned a series of silvery crystals situated along its border. Immediately an alternate star map appeared, overlaying the original. This map displayed several hundred additional celestial bodies.

"These are the planets, moons and constellations we Asgard have, by either agreement or treaty, effectively erased from our sanctioned numbers." Loki's long fingered hand motioned expansively.

Shrugging off an overwhelming sense of foreboding, Daniel stepped forward. "Okay, so using the High Councilor's original coordinates. Jack and Teal'c must be in this far western quadrant somewhere."

"Actually, if we consult the ship's computer, I believe we can narrow things down even further."

Just, as Thor moved to slide another crystal into position on the command console, a deep black blip appeared in the very center of the area in question.

"Well, it would seem one of the pair has surfaced." Jorgen informed the group softly.

"The general?" Rowdy voiced hopefully.

"Teal'c." Mitchell established flatly.

"And Jack's?" Daniel whispered wrapping his arms around his upper torso tightly.

"Only the Jaffa's signature has been established."

"Sorry if I'm a bit dim-witted... but why only the one 'light?' Where's the general's signal..." Rowdy stammered licking a hint of herbal tea from his lips. "I'm glad we've found Teal'c, but O'Neill... he's... well, irreplaceable..."

A disembodied voice cut the young major's awkward questioning short.

"Commander Thor, this is Hagar aboard the scout ship Lug. We've just begun receiving a transponder beacon. I regret to confirm that it has been located in that area of the galaxy in which we are forbidden access..." Hagar cautioned mechanically. "Please advise."

"Acknowledged, Hagar. We've just located the signal here as well." Thor began somberly. His lipless mouth seemed to set itself into a grim line, as his large head rotated to take in the humans standing expectantly nearby. "I shall have to consult the High Council."

Loki's dark liquid eyes sought and held those of his angst-ridden patient. "I fear Astrid lapse in judgment may well have done far more damage than she knows."

***

Thirst drove Teal'c upward. It had been several years since he'd carried a symbiotic parasite to sustain him, a bald fact, which necessitated acceptance of his mortal needs and limitations.

Thankfully, the small half-filled container of Tretonin that he habitually secured to his belt each day had escaped damage in his fall. Yet, the drug alone would not sustain him. Scaling the mighty promontory he'd found himself stranded beneath would require every bit of strength and reserve the seasoned warrior possessed. And, he was of no value to O'Neill dead.

Making slow progress, his abraded fingers once again found leverage against the sharp uneven face of rock. Breathing heavily, spewing forth a litany of the curse words O'Neill insisted gave one's body strength, he pulled himself up another meter.

Perched on a small outcropping, allowing a brief rest, the taxed Jaffa refused to look down. Judging by the sheer wall of rock looming above him, he was perhaps half-way to his goal. And, he wondered yet again how many hours had passed since he'd left the helpless O'Neill alone in the tall deep grass. O'Neill's wounds, especially the blow to his head, weighed on his mind greatly. How many injuries could his brother of the soul survive?

Teal'c was no longer a religious man, his experience with false Gods had seen to that. Nonetheless, he still believed in a higher power and it was to this spirit or force that he now lent a silent plea. He could have sworn that he heard the echo of O'Neill's last words swirling on the breeze, "No offense T, but you're the most unattractive nurse I've ever had... I can take care of myself... feel free to run along and explore... secure the perimeter... see if ya can figure out where the heck we are." Perhaps it was exhaustion, or his water-deprived flesh that deluded him? Either way, Teal'c would not abandon his mission. Swiping sweat from his eyes once more, the resilient warrior resumed his climb.

***

Boudicca pulled her thoughts away from the images displayed to her within the fluid mirror and returned to the present. The ancient wisdom revealed that despite his descent into the darkness The Onall's brother Tymon lived. This was both welcome and regrettable. Soon the ebony hero would summon others to the world of the Ynis Prydain and life as they'd always known it would cease to exist.

Sighing, she pushed the large shallow bowl of mercury aside, "Our time grows short, young one." Leaning heavily on a scarred cane fashioned of ancient oak, the wizened sage pushed herself upright, motioning to the little cherub waiting patiently nearby. "The coming ordeal will require all of your newfound courage. Are you up to the task to which the Gods and the Lord of Aurora have called you?"

"I am, Great Mother." Hubbard intoned solemnly. Suppressing a tremor, he accepted the twisted wand of sacred wood from her hand and knelt for her final blessing.

Bowing regally, Boudicca rested her aged hands against Hubbard's golden cap of curls, and gazed deeply into his unlined face. "Go forth and be of service. The fate of your people now rests with you."

***

"I'm grateful someone finally thought to update me." General Landry barked sardonically.

"I am sorry it took so long to contact you, Sir." Sam Carter felt her cheeks go warm. "I'm afraid we've all been distracted..."

"Never mind, Colonel," Landry relented, with a wave. "What is the status on launching a rescue?"

"Well, General Landry, Sir." Cam Mitchell cast a scathing look aside. "Our esteemed hosts apparently find entering that region of the galaxy taboo."

"Why?"

"Why do these folks do any of the things they do?" Cam ventured, his patience long ended. "Why are our people missing in the first place? Why, were Sam and Daniel hijacked from the SGC? Why was I yanked outta my ship in the middle of space? Not to mention my 'co-pilot' Mortensen - the poor sucker was catatonic when they finally deigned to hoist his butt aboard..."

"Colonel Carter has already outlined the day's events." Landry offered a longsuffering sigh. "I understand your anger, Colonel, but would it be asking too much for you to cut the sarcasm and get to the point?"

Cam had the good grace to appear sheepish. "Respectfully, General Landry, I'd love to, but as per usual, our little gray 'friends' are keeping us in the dark!"

"Why?"

"General, they refuse to explain why." Daniel's wrinkled forehead resembled that of a ninety-year old man. "Presently they're all still arguing the matter. Frankly, General, I'm worried they'll prevent us from launching any form of rescue from here."

"Understood." Landry's lips twisted sourly. "I'll have one of our cruisers re-routed to your area of the galaxy."

"Actually sir, I was thinking Major Mortensen and I might take a little scouting trip in the X-303." Cam Mitchell declared silkily.

"Let's give them an hour." Landry informed him with equally unctuous charm. "We don't want to upset your hosts. If they continue to prove indecisive, then we take action."

"Yes, Sir." The group agreed in unison.

"Oh, and Cam?" Landry smiled evilly. "In the meantime, you and the major check out the X-303 and make sure she hasn't sustained any damage."

"Understood, General Landry, Sir," Mitchell's smirk mirrored that of his general.

***

Adjusting the ambient temperature within the healing pod, Loki argued softly with Jorgen. "Given the circumstances, I believe it is our only option."

Contemplating the young human as he lay in repose within his metallic cocoon, Jorgen shook his head. "Loki, the earthling only submitted to the pod because his superior, Colonel Mitchell, ordered him to do so. And, he agreed to a brief sojourn at that."

"Clearly, it is indeed fortunate that the counsel was convened, else the earthling would have stubbornly denied himself." Tapping his scrawny chin with one of his tapered digits, Loki fidgeted in his seat. "I do not proclaim to understand the strange inner workings of O'Neill's mind, but I am confident that he'd insist the major be completely healed before venturing forth to rescue him."

"And you know this because...?" Jorgen demanded imperiously.

"Despite your study of human sociology, you were not there when O'Neill pleaded for his clone's life." The smaller gray being insisted somberly. "For the first time in my long years of experimentation, I felt shamed. And, you need not remind me again that I am not a God, Jorgen. I have learned my lesson."

Jorgen found no merit in rehashing that old argument. "O'Neill is an odd warrior."

"General O'Neill is more than a warrior; he's a soldier, an officer and a gentleman." Rowdy advised sleepily from within the pod. "There's a difference."

"How long have you been awake, human?" Loki demanded aghast. The effects of the sleeping draft he'd added to Mortensen's last beaker of herbal infusion should have lasted longer than a mere forty-five Earth minutes. Just how much of their debate had the earthling overheard?

"Long enough." Rowdy assured him with a yawn.

Intrigued, Jorgen sidled up to the medical pod. "Please explain."

"Oh, I suppose all those months in hospitals on medication adjusted my tolerance to things."

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Rowdy stifled another yawn. Besides, I knew you'd spiked that last cup of tea, it finally tasted sweet, so I tossed most of it."

"You 'tossed it!' That remedy was an essential part of your recovery..."

"Hush, Loki." Jorgen admonished. "Please explain the difference between a warrior and a soldier?"

"You mean to say that you don't know?" Sitting upright, the major offered an amazed grin. "I'm stunned."

"As am I." Cameron Mitchell snorted, leaning against what served as a doorjamb on this alien vessel. "Thought you superior types knew everything. How're ya feeling Mortensen?"

"Surprisingly fine, Colonel." In fact he hadn't felt this good since before his last tour in the desert. "I was just about to..."

"Good." Mitchell cut him off, rubbing his hands together brusquely. "Well then, since you're done napping, General Landry wants us to give the X-303 the once over."

Reading between the lines, Rowdy hopped to his feet.

"The craft is imminently flight worthy, Colonel Mitchell." Loki protested, moving to block the tall major's progress. "While I have yet to ascertain my patient's..."

"Major Mortensen, you have yet to finish explaining O'Neill's oddities." Hoping to bolster his college's plea, Jorgen also attempted to intercept the human.

"Shucks, Jorgen." Mitchell drawled using his best southern charm. "Why the general is an enigma." Shrugging, he turned on his heel. Twisting slightly, he offered the major a measured look. "Ain't that right Mortensen?"

"Yep." Sidestepping the alien pair, Rowdy hastened to join his superior officer. "That's about it. An enigma....cloaked in mystery, draped in camouflaged..."

"Colonel Mitchell, Major Mortensen, we protest..."

"Catch ya later, guys. My thanks to you both," Rowdy tossed over his shoulder, "I haven't felt this good in an eternity."

"An eternity?" Mitchell chortled. "Just how ancient are you anyway, Mortensen? I mean, jeez, kid. I've got boots older than you."

"With respect," Rowdy volleyed congenially, "I doubt it."

"Hah! In fact, you're so wet behind the ears that I'm tempted to find you a sugar tit to suck on." Mitchell tossed back enjoying the exchange.

"Really? Well considering the aged quality of that remark..."

"Aged as in Roquefort or Gorgonzola...?"

Once the departing humans' inane conversation and echoing boot steps faded away, the two Asgard exchanged a sly look of simpatico before sauntering off on a stealth operation of their own.

***

Straining mightily, Teal'c hoisted himself up and over the plateau's final jagged crag. Panting, he rolled over bits of sharp uneven rubble and onto his back. Only his haggard breathing, along with the distant pounding of the sea, greeted him. All else was interminable silence.

Turning his head to one side, he looked out over a desolate expanse of what appeared to be glittering shards of rainbow hued glass. No sign of habitation, no creature flew overhead, no hint of flora or fauna scented the breeze.

He was alone.

Throwing one arm over his face to shield his burning eyes from the harsh sun, the veteran warrior's agile mind swiftly evaluated his situation. Energy had become an elusive firefly, and he was dangerously close to final collapse, leaving him few options.

Employing long years of discipline, he willed his breathing to slow and regulate, affording his taxed lungs time to chase recovery, unconsciously beginning the descent into the meditative state of Kel'no'reem. While lack of a symbiotic parasite made this ritual unnecessary to daily survival, Teal'c found continuing the regimen afforded him great peace and relaxation that empowered his body, restoring his mind's sense of balance. Dangerous as employing such a tactic might be at this juncture; not engaging in this respite would be an invitation to death. And so, the weary Jaffa let go and drifted.

***

Ignoring an occasional curious Asgard stare, Mitchell and Mortensen continued their lighthearted banter until they'd safely reached the deserted hangar where their mercurial allies had secured the X-303. Mindful of possible remote surveillance, Mitchell was careful to maintain an air of nonchalance as he guided the major though a quick pre-flight check list. Then giving Mortensen a quick wink, he checked his watch, nodded to himself and quickly swung up into the cockpit. "Hop on into the second seat sonny-boy and we'll fire her up, gotta make sure the engine is still mint."

"Roger that, Sir." Scrambling to comply, Rowdy lightly touched the small pocket where he'd secured the general's talisman, squeezed into his place and donned his head-set.

Adjusting his helmet, Mitchell gave his earpiece a bit of a shake and blew into the mouthpiece, "feeeewwww... you copy, Mortensen?"

"Affirmative, Sir."

Hitting a switch, Mitchell closed the canopy and fired up the engine. "I don't think I need to tell you that we may not get too far..."

"No worries, Colonel..." Rowdy replied distractedly, eyeing the closed hangar bay doors. "This ain't my first time on the merry-go-round ya know. I'm just wondering how the hell we're gonna get this lightening bug outta the mayonnaise jar."

"Well as to that," Mitchell volleyed jauntily. "This ain't my first time at the fair either..."

Breaking in, a decidedly human voice whispered, "Okay Cam, you're good to go."

"Roger that, Jackson." Mitchell responded quietly. Eyeing the rapidly expanding opening ahead, he slapped the accelerator. "Watch you're ass... we'll see ya on the other side of midnight."

Jackson's sarcastic reply was lost in the high pitched scream of swift flight.

Rowdy contemplated the enormity of the alien vessel as their svelte craft exited her side and flew past her starboard seemingly undetected. "That's some mayonnaise jar..."

"Yeah. Ya know, the general often complained about old doc Jackson's penchant for touching relics and such... seems it lead to the opening of more than one can of worms..."

"I'm glad he hasn't lost his touch."

"Oh yeah, the old man would be proud."

***

Fragmented images of torture and unending anguish assailed him, until some deep instinct for self preservation drove his terror ridden subconscious out of the unrelenting hollowness of sleep into the semi-awareness of dawn. There in the half-light, eyes squeezed shut in slowly fading terror; he found the courage to escape the last remnant of some unnamed grief.

Running a sandy tongue over parched lips, he cracked one eye open attempting to focus on the thatched ceiling above. It did not look familiar.

His mind seemed to be responding rather sluggishly, as if he'd been adrift for a very long time. Sighing, he inhaled the pleasant aroma of germaniums that wafted upwards from a soft covering thrown over his naked body. Attempting to stretch his aching arms, he noticed that his left wrist and both hands were covered by odd dressings. Mystified, he sought to shift his lower half, an act which elicited an involuntary moan from somewhere deep within. Oddly, he found the excruciating bolts of white lightening ripping through his right knee, both familiar and vaguely comforting. Using his unfettered hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose lightly and thought hard. He had one hell-of-a headache and somebody had secured his injured leg to the bed. Crap! Who'd wanna do that? He had no idea who, what, where, or why. In point of fact, he was drawing a complete blank, and that had him more than a tad worried. Bravado bubbled up inside him like an old monk's mantra; one thing was certain, pain or no pain; he was so not taking this lying down!

SIX