Previously in
Part Five 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:
Separated by fate's caprice, Jack has gone missing.
Teal'c's very existence is in jeopardy. But despite having been
'detained' by the Asgard, Rowdy and Colonel Mitchell have secretly
absconded with the X-303 in the hope of rescuing the duo.
Speaking of duos...
SIX: Mischievous 'lil Gray Butts
Lost in silent contemplation, Jorgen's long
fingers adjusted their coordinates. Perhaps he'd been foolish to bow to
Loki's impetuous desires. But in truth his own enthusiasm matched that
of the smaller Asgard seated beside him at the helm of their vessel. He
was not generally given to rash action and yet, this little mission of
Loki's felt right. Somehow, over the course of studying earthlings and
their antiquated value system, he'd been seduced by their innate sense
of honor.
"I too am wondering if we've made the correct decision." Loki's quiet
whisper echoed within their silence. "Maybe..."
"Tut, tut Loki," Jorgen sighed dramatically. "Be assured, this
is the right course. I comprehend your perceived responsibility
to O'Neill...I too feel oddly compelled to action. We cannot let the
humans perish."
"Nor shall we," Loki spouted passionately.
"Indeed." Jorgen chimed, graciously ignoring his companion's
undignified zeal.
***
Rowdy inhaled sharply, blinking away the icy sweat dripping into his
eyes as the X-303 shifted abruptly into hyperdrive. Despite a warning
from Mitchell, he'd been unprepared for the sick sensation in the pit of
his stomach. The vast star field he'd only recently grown accustomed to
wobbled and blurred like a cheap watercolor, adding to his barely
suppressed horror. Panic beckoned, sliding her clammy fingers up his
spine. Every instinct told him to bail. What the hell was a man who
suffered from acute claustrophobia doing inside this glorified tin can
zipping around the galaxy anyway?
As if from a distance, he heard Mitchell's voice droning on about the
contemptible Asgards' 'uppity' attitude and took another deep steadying
breath.
Rubbing a gloved hand over the small pocket in his flight suit where
O'Neill's yo-yo rested, Rowdy closed his eyes. Suddenly, the analogy
Uncle Jerome had shared with him popped into his head...Was that only a
day or two ago? "No matter where you throw it, how many twists and
turns it takes, even when it becomes tangled in itself, a Yo-Yo never
really loses its way... it remains secured by its string, true to its
center, its heart if you will... That's what he clung to; it's what kept
him sane."
Although the roly-poly confectioner slash philosopher never said just
who that 'him' had been, Rowdy surmised Jerome was referring to a
young Jack O'Neill. 'And, if it worked for a hard assed hero like the
general...'
Smiling ruefully, Rowdy let Jerome's adage echo over and over inside
his head, slowly letting go of his fear. O'Neill's confidence,
symbolized by the gift of a simple wooden toy, along with a few
idealistic words from a quirky candy peddler would be his lifeline.
Mitchell heard the change in his co-pilot's breathing and grinned.
Hotcha, but the kid sure shifted fast. He'd refrained from remarking on
the telltale lump visible along one long forearm of the major's
otherwise sleek flight suit, hoping O'Neill's talisman would continue to
steady the younger officer. Personally, Cam never understood O'Neill's
reported fascination with said yo-yo. Nor did he buy the almost mystical
effect the secondhand toy seemed to have on Mortensen. But then, he was
a practical kind of space traveler and for the most part the romance men
like Jackson found in their mutual occupation escaped him.
"Okay then, listen up, Major. I'm not the type to blow any sunshine
up your skirt. We've no clear idea just what we're gonna find once we
drop outta hyperspace. Might be we'll encounter nothing but clear space.
Then again, we may find ourselves in an asteroid field."
"Oh, joy." Rowdy chirped sarcastically. "I think that metaphor about
bugs in a jar still applies. I'm just hoping we don't get squished."
***
Sam lounged against one wall of their accommodations; her agile mind
alight with possibilities, her body language deceptively calm. She'd
finished pouring over the minute scraps of information available in the
Asgard database about the restricted area of space into which Astrid had
jettisoned her general and Teal'c eons ago...well actually; mere minutes
ago...and the results were less than satisfactory. "What could be taking
them so long Daniel?"
"The Asgard?' Daniel echoed distractedly.
"Duh, ya think?" Sam snapped. Sometimes the man was so obtuse!
"Okay, okay." Daniel frowned ruefully. "No need for sarcasm."
"Well?" Sam demanded impatiently.
"I've got nothing," he responded calmly.
Sam squelched the urge to strangle him, just as the door slipped open
revealing a serene Thor.
"My friends the High Council regrets they cannot offer any further
assistance beyond expediting a rendezvous' with the USS Exeter." Placing
a finger over his lipless mouth, Thor pressed a small silvery crystal
he'd deftly concealed in his other hand. A not unpleasant hum began to
reverberate within the confines of the room.
"Thor?" Sam questioned.
Understanding Sam's terse inquiry, Thor blinked lazily. "It's a
jamming device, we can now speak freely."
"About?" Daniel crossed his arms protectively around his middle.
"About your interference, or should we say assistance...and the
suspicious absence of the X-303 and her crew," Thor responded
neutrally.
"Oh, that."
"You know Dr. Jackson, with each passing year you become more and
more like our dear friend O'Neill." Despite the censure in his tone,
Thor's liquid eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth. "I am quite sure you
are innocent of any involvement in the good doctor's chicanery Samantha.
However, I expect you condone it."
Shrugging, Sam refused to answer.
"Not to worry, the council is ignorant of these recent events."
Exchanging a look with Daniel, Sam arched a derisive eyebrow and
snorted softly. "Like we care."
Dismissing her acid response, Thor adjusted a series of dark crystals
along a nearby console. "Happily, several of our more inquisitive
brethren have apparently taken a page from your book Daniel."
"Sorry?" The good doctor's forehead wrinkled in confusion.
"Our two scientific friends have reverted to subterfuge..."
"Excuse me," Daniel interrupted. "Are you referring to Loki and
Jorgen?"
"I am indeed. Shortly after Colonel Mitchell's rather 'unforeseen'
exodus the pair quietly left aboard Loki's research vessel."
"Because?"
"Because they know a great deal more about the peril O'Neill, Teal'c,
and now, Colonel Mitchell and his companion face." Thor explained
patiently. "Did you really think we Asgard sanctioned that area of space
on a whim?"
"Well, no..."
"Please explain, Thor." Sam's blue eyes flooded with dread.
"Loki is the foremost expert on this matter, Samantha." Thor's voice
vibrated with emotion. "And, to be frank, he left without enlightening
me."
"So," Daniel surmised, adjusting his glasses thoughtfully.
"Presumably they've gone after Mitchell and the major."
"That is my assumption, yes."
"Isn't there anything more you can do Thor?" Sam whispered exchanging
a worried glance with Daniel.
"My hands are effectively tied. All we can do now is hope."
***
The X-303 dropped out of hyperspace and into a dense mass of debris
surrounding a celestial body.
"Crap!" Mitchell expelled between clenched teeth. Tightening his grip
on the joystick, he banked sharply, narrowly avoiding what appeared to
be a derelict spaceship only to glance off a chunk of crystalline rock
the size of a Volkswagen, directly into the path of something so large
that nothing was visible beyond it.
"Mother of..." Rowdy yelped, as they spun wildly.
"Hang on, we're going in!"
***
Teal'c lay unmoving, surrounded by a vast wasteland of glittering
multihued shards. Cocooned within kel'no'reem's death-like spell, he
drifted for a time. The events of the past several days cascaded through
his mind like bits of a puzzle.
Slowly, his body found a modicum of power and with it perhaps, a
lifesaving fragment of memory. 'Everyone has their weaknesses...even an
invulnerable Jaffa.'
Without bothering to open his heavy-lidded eyes or fully rouse from
his trance-like state, his questing fingers roamed deep inside one
ruined pocket of his torn uniform trousers and came away with a damply
matted cellophane wrapped packet. Ripping it open with his teeth, he
greedily forced the spongy contents into his mouth. His desiccated
salivary glands responded immediately, flooding his mouth with sugary
sweetness, eliciting an involuntary sigh of gratitude. O'Neill's jovial
thoughtfulness would provide a weary old soldier a stay of execution yet
again.
***
Rowdy braced for an impact that never came. Instead, he found himself
enveloped by a brilliant blaze of light. Suspended for an interminable
millisecond, he had just enough time to wonder if this was a good thing
before feeling gravity's pull. Instead of the expected nerve-shattering
pain, his body was miraculously, and ever so gently, deposited beside
Mitchell in front of a pair of oddly familiar aliens.
The colonel reached out, grasping Rowdy's left shoulder firmly and
whispered, "Good to see you in one piece kid." Releasing his grip, the
relieved grin faded quickly as his eyes swept the perimeter of the room.
"But where's my ship?"
The Asgard they'd come to know as Loki came rushing forward, giving
Rowdy little time to fully appreciate the resolute fury, tinged with
sorrow, he'd glimpsed in the major's sandy eyes.
"Greetings," Loki began.
"Greetings my ass!" Mitchell growled, halting the little alien's
progress. "What the hell are you two little busybodies up to now?! And
just where is the X-303?"
"Tsk, Tsk... I should think the whereabouts of your doomed ship would
be quite obvious. We arrived barely in time to rescue the both of you."
Jorgen responded fluidly from his place at the control panel. "Really,
Colonel Mitchell I do believe you should consider emulating Major
Mortensen's calm demeanor. One would think that we had not just plucked
you from a most unwelcome fate. Yes, in fact one might remind you that
the alternative would have been a fiery demise."
Despite the loss of the ship, Rowdy had to concur. Stepping forward
with smooth determination, he kindly patted Loki's bald misshaped head.
"I for one am most grateful for your timely interference."
Noting Colonel Mitchell's apoplectic expression, Jorgen chuckled and
amended dryly, "Calm, friendly and 'polite' demeanor."
Shooting Mortensen a narrow-eyed glare, Mitchell crossed his arms
refusing to be cowed. "Get to the point Jorgen. Why are you here?"
"We came to save you, of course." Loki trilled happily.
"Do tell?" Mitchell snapped caustically. "What made you two little
bas..."
Ignoring protocol for the sake of harmony, Rowdy cleared his throat
loudly.
"Ah...You all," Mitchell amended, rolling his eyes. "...suspect we'd need
saving?"
"Loki is our foremost authority on this particular region of
space."
"Of course he is," Mitchell snorted tossing Mortensen an exasperated
look. "Why do I ask these questions?"
"Indeed, why?" Jorgen volleyed.
Fearing the colonel might throttle one or both of the Asgard, Rowdy
coughed dramatically. "I believe we deserve a tad more information.
Rising from the command chair, Jorgen strode majestically around the
earthmen, causing the pair to pivot neatly in order to keep him in
sight. Stopping directly in front of the translucent bulkhead, he looked
outward. "What you see before you is the remains of what was once a
solar system; one quite similar to that of your own. In point of fact,
the gravitational properties surrounding these few surviving celestial
bodies are much like that of your Saturn or Uranus. Each has a ring, or
disk of debris orbiting at intervals consisting of various forms of
matter such as gases and ice particles."
Feeling a longwinded explanation coming on, Mitchell ran an
exasperated hand over the tense muscles at the back of his neck. "I
suppose it'd be a waste of breath to insist on the short version."
"Unlike you, Colonel Mitchell, I find it difficult to be laconic."
Turning, the taller of the diminutive Asgard tilted his small pointy
chin to gaze at the taller human intently. "Shall I continue?"
Pursing his lips, Mitchell offered an abbreviated nod.
"We postulated your trajectory and realized that your ship was likely
to exit hyperspace in the midst of the largest of said debris fields
orbiting what was once this solar system's moon. It consists of the
fragmented remains of a significant armada of space vessels tragically
reduced to useless bits of scarred metal, and that of several equally
decimated planets."
"Whoa," Stunned, Rowdy took in the massive destruction displayed
before them.
"The X303's sensors should have detected that field and recalculated
our exit from hyperspace..."
"As Jorgen has stated, I am an expert on this region of the galaxy,
Colonel Mitchell." Loki chimed in flatly. "Such a happy outcome here is
not possible."
Something in the little alien's lack of inflection seemed off to
Rowdy. "Precisely why are you such an expert, Loki?"
"I suspect this has something to do with your little 'pal's' sordid
past." Cam interjected acidly, "You see Mortensen, in point of fact,
until very recently our benevolent little alien scientist here ran
amok."
"I've read General O'Neill's file."
"Have you now?" Mitchell perused the junior officer calmly.
"Yes, Sir." Rowdy replied evenly.
Mitchell contemplated the major soberly for several seconds before
continuing his sarcastic narrative. "Yes sir-ree-bob, lil' old Loki here
spent his time flitting from planet to planet like some demented bee
just messing with unsuspecting peoples DNA."
"That is beside the point..."
"Is it?"
"A planet once orbited the celestial body on which your friend
Teal'c's signature was located," Jorgen continued staunchly.
"Unfortunately, the base structures of this system's planetary bodies
were reduced by immense thermal nuclear explosions to their most base
elemental form, crystalline. Or, what you earthlings call quartz
crystal. And, as you no doubt are both aware, crystals can exhibit
strong semi-conducting properties; which we surmised would negatively
influence the controls aboard the X-303. Additionally, this particular
field's rubble has an added electronic component that effectively
interferes with any and all types of communication."
"Well that explains why the X-303 exited hyper-space in the midst of
all the space junk." Mitchell responded flatly.
It seemed to Rowdy that Jorgen's overblown account was as much
camouflage as information. Crouching down, he gazed pointedly into
Loki's large almond-shaped eyes. "I think there is more to this
particular story?"
"Yes, there is more to the saga." Shamed, Loki turned away from the
major's penetrating stare. "I was once the deity in this part of the
galaxy."
"And?" Rowdy persisted, ignoring the hollow feeling of dread blooming
in his gut.
"Suffice it to say my perceptive young friend, being a god has its
downside," he admitted softly.
***
Stifling a sudden urge to brandish his newly acquired wand of power,
Hubbard hustled his little legs through the village. Boudicca's tutelage
had taken many hours and thus, he'd been unable to see to the Onall's
needs personally. He'd been loath to delegate the mighty one's care to
others, yet the wizened elders insisted. The Druids, Earlap and Orion,
reported they'd only recently seen to the great lord's injuries,
applying fresh sap from the Dhrupad plant. They'd assured Hubbard that
the great one slumbered peacefully still; and that the Lord of Aurora
was safe enough inside the healing hut, else they would not have
deserted him.
Yet, even from some distance away, infused by his newly earned
abilities, Hubbard sensed this was not so.
The small cottage sat well within the village borders, but for the
sake of solitude well away from the marketplace and its bustle.
Surprisingly, despite their rampant curiosity, his people had accepted
that the lord needed his privacy to heal and were keeping to their
business. Accordingly, he found the immediate area deserted, but far
from peaceful. Strange words, the meaning of which escaped the little
Ynis Prydain, loudly greeted his approach, making it very clear the
occupant of the hut no longer slept; and that he was very displeased
indeed.
Taking a deep steadying breath Hubbard pushed aside the leather door
covering. An emerald shaft of late afternoon's light spilled inward
creating a halo effect that surrounded and partially illuminated the
dwelling's sole occupant causing his silvered head to glow in god-like
fashion. Awed, Hubbard gasped.
The great lord's dark gaze swiveled sharply, his obsidian eyes
reflecting the green glow, seemingly ablaze with an unholy fire. "Give
me one damned reason why I shouldn't drop you where you stand."
Stunned by the sheer menacing anger in those few short words, Hubbard
froze, his little Cupid's bow mouth rounded in dismay.
"Great, just freaking great, the kid's a half-wit," Onall muttered
through clenched teeth, "Listen carefully junior 'cuz the fate of your
miniscule little butt depends on you doing precisely as I say." Pointing
at his bound limb, he growled ominously, "The leg, untie it now!"
Gulping loudly, Hubbard tucked his wand under one chubby arm and
turned his palms upward in supplication. "I beseech you to have mercy on
your poor servant exalted one, no insult was intended. The Druids
secured your injured limb in order to prevent additional damage."
"A likely story," Onall scoffed darkly, "Druids my ass."
"My Lord, I do not lie." Hubbard rebounded indignantly.
"Ya don't say." The great one snorted.
"I do indeed, sir."
"Hoity-toity lil' varmint ain't ya?"
Hubbard had no idea what the term 'hoity-toity' meant, but he
surmised it was not a compliment. Keeping a wary eye on the cot's
occupant, the little Pict approached cautiously. Hesitating briefly, he
began slowly removing the bands binding the great one's damaged leg.
"The wound must be painful still. Perhaps my lord would allow me to use
my modest gift for healing?"
When only silence greeted him, Hubbard changed tactics. "Noble one,
you saved me from certain death. I am henceforth your most loyal and
grateful servant...I must insist you allow me this small boon."
"Any needles involved in this so called boon?"
"My lord, I do not know what a needle may be, but I assure you the
means I shall employ is quite necessary to complete the curative."
Hubbard hoped his sincerity and genuine concern would win the great
one's trust.
"Spoken like a true Napoleonic Power Monger!" Grimacing, Onall rose
slowly up on his elbows. Squinting thoughtfully, he cocked one silvered
eyebrow and stared directly into Hubbard's button-blue eyes, his own
dark orbs alight with green-tinged fire.
Time seemed to stand still as Hubbard valiantly held his ground
allowing the Onall to probe his soul.
Finally, a loud sigh issued forth from the great one's bruised lips,
"Fine kid, just try not to finish me."
"Ay, my lord." Hubbard agreed happily.
"And stop calling me 'my lord,'... Onall demanded irritably. "I just
might get pissed off and strangle you."
"Ay, my..."
"I'm not kidding around here junior..." Onall continued with a snarl.
"I am not your lord... crap, makes me sound like a damn Nancy-boy."
"What then shall I call you?" Hubbard inquired reverently.
"I've got no frigging idea, kid." Onall replied wearily. "Don't I
have a nice plain name?"
Hearing the barely concealed sense of loss and confusion in the great
one's tone realization dawned. Boudicca was correct. The blow to the
mighty one's head must have indeed addled his wits. It would be
Hubbard's vast honor to assist in restoring Lord Onall's mind so that he
might then begin to heal himself properly. "You are Onall, the Great
Lord of the Aurora."
"That's some moniker...just lose the 'Great Lord of Aurora' part."
Onall carped distastefully. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he settled
back and exhaled slowly, trying to get his bearings.
"With your permission, I shall henceforth address you as Onall."
"Well, that at least has a familiar ring to it." Onall whispered.
He'd settle for that for now, but it was a sure bet there was a great
deal more to this whole bizarre scenario. Yep, something mighty big was
missing. Still, the kid seemed harmless enough and for the moment he was
just too dizzy to care.
Hubbard carefully drew forth his wand. Channeling the energy within,
he rested a gentle hand against the great one's brow.
***
"Downside?" Mitchell echoed rudely. "Specifically what kind of
'downside' are we talking here...Death? ...Mayhem? Destruction?
What?!"
Loki's small shoulders slumped further with each vehement accusation.
"All are possibilities I'm afraid."
"Do not be nonsensical," Jorgen reasoned analytically. "You've no way
of knowing what precisely has transpired in the millennia since your
last contact with these Ynis Prydain."
"Loki," Rowdy stooped further to catch the little alien's downcast
eyes. "I've always found that sharing a problem with a friend
helps."
"Friend?" Loki questioned, looking up hopefully. "You?"
"Uh yeah," Rowdy nodded. "Despite the utterly revolting tea you
forced me to swill, I'd say we are. Now spill it. What exactly has your
nonexistent panties in a twist?"
"As you are no doubt aware, O'Neill's genetic makeup differs somewhat
from that of the majority of your people...."
"If you're referring to the 'Ancient' gene, he is not alone."
Mitchell interjected testily. "We've estimated approximately one in
500,000 of earth's humans carry some form of that gene."
"Indeed, Colonel Mitchell." Jorgen agreed patiently. "Shall we allow
Loki to continue?"
"It is not the presence of the Ancient gene alone that makes your
general so unique. Due to his multiple exposures to the knowledge of the
Ancients, both O'Neill's DNA and his brain chemistry have been
additionally altered." Loki paused dramatically. "A fact which makes him
entirely an entity unto himself..."
"Is he aware of this?" Rowdy asked quietly, his gut twisting with
concern.
"It is my belief that he is quite aware." Jorgen stated baldy.
"However, your O'Neill has an odd tendency to dismiss any information
which might single him out or affect him disproportionately."
"Jorgen finds O'Neill an interesting puzzle." Loki added with a
sigh.
"Don't we all." Mitchell snorted baldly, rubbing a hand over his
aching forehead.
"I believe O'Neill has no wish to cause any undue distress." Loki
surmised thoughtfully. "Since our first encounter, his aversion to
introspection has been most apparent."
"More likely, he's worried that some young medical officer or the
staff shrink at the Pentagon would have at him. The general hates
needles and he despises psychiatry." Mitchell put forth with a
shudder.
"Who can blame him? Your people's medical practices remain very
primitive." Jorgen granted with a sniff.
Moving to a low bench situated nearby, Rowdy sat down. "And the
general's unique physiology is pertinent to our current situation
how?"
Noting a change in the major's aura, Loki watched him
surreptitiously. "As Colonel Mitchell mentioned, we've been looking for
a genetically advanced race in order to enhance our cloning techniques
for many generations. In this pursuit, we made contact with the
inhabitants of this solar system approximately 1500 of your earth years
ago."
Rowdy shifted on the hard bench. "I remember reading one of the
general's old mission reports about a treaty of protection with the
system lords and that many on those worlds view the Asgard as Gods."
"Yes that is so. At that time, my actions were sanctioned by the High
Council. The civilization that once existed here was both advanced and
spiritual. The populace, thinking me a benevolent divinity, willingly
allowed my research. I made some progress. Until I discovered that these
people, the Ynis Prydain, also carried the Ancient gene..."
"Insert ominous organ music here," Mitchell snarked edgily.
"I had been called home to meet with the council regarding my
findings. Unbeknownst to me, one of my assistants deliberately altered
the DNA of a local organism. He then spliced it into that of a handful
of young volunteers hoping it would enhance their body's ability to
accept an Asgard consciousness."
Rowdy's heart lurched, "Organism...as in a disease?"
"Shades of Nirti!" Incensed, Mitchell began to pace. "I hope your
sanctimonious High Council punished the little bugger."
"I assure you Colonel Mitchell his punishment more than fit his
crime." Jorgen guaranteed him frostily.
"The subjects sickened and died. The organism continued to mutate
into a new and more virulent form and quickly spread throughout the
population." Loki droned on as if in a trace. "I discovered this
villainy too late. I returned to find the Ynis Prydain decimated and the
few survivors irreparably changed."
"Changed how?" The muscles in Rowdy's neck knotted tightly.
"How about getting to the point? Not to be crass, but we don't have
time for a lengthy pity party here."
"Begging your pardon, Colonel Mitchell," Rowdy interrupted softly,
offering his superior officer a censuring frown.
Rolling his eyes, Mitchell reined in his vexation with visible
effort. "Please go on Loki."
"I was able to mitigate the effects only partially. Suffice it to say
that much like O'Neill's clone, their bodies will always be that of
children." Self-loathing echoed in Loki's tone.
"I understand that without General O'Neill's insistence his clone
would have died." Rowdy prodded gently.
"Indeed, O'Neill was most benevolent." Loki's slim form seemed to
droop like an abandoned hothouse flower. "It was Commander Thor who
ensured the clone's survival."
"Let us reiterate that thanks to Loki's timely return the Ynis
Prydain did not all wither and die." Jorgen moved to stand shoulder to
shoulder with his fellow Asgard.
"Okay," Rowdy began thoughtfully. "So short people...
"Not so fast Mortensen," Mitchell snapped. "I'm waiting for the other
shoe to drop here."
"As a rule, I find your rude idioms rather intriguing, Colonel
Mitchell." Jorgen chided sullenly. "However, we are attempting to
enlighten not deceive."
"Well get on with it then, we've got people in peril!"
"The alteration in DNA enhanced the Ynis Prydains' ability to fully
employ the Ancient gene. Unfortunately without the wisdom the Ancients
acquired over many millennia, they failed to prudently administer such
vast power." The little Asgard expanded pointedly. "The debris field you
see around you is the result of those survivors misuse of the gene.
Effectively, they destroyed most of their solar system in a matter of
years."
"They're all dead then."
"No." Loki took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I could not allow
that. I plucked a handful of them from the last space vessel just before
it imploded. Using our technology, I then burrowed a series of caverns
deep within the remaining moon's core, creating a subterranean world,
similar to Earth's rainforest, to aid in their survival."
"I get it now. Since we were suddenly able to locate Teal'c's beacon,
you two brainiacs believe Astrid banished the general and Teal'c into
said forest?" Mitchell stated flatly, glancing at the blip flashing on
the star map.
A small flame ignited within Rowdy's hazel eyes. "So he..."
"Escaped the caverns somehow," Jorgen supplied dramatically. "The
Jaffa's signal is coming from the scarred and melted surface of that
moon. Where there is no food, no water and no shelter. I believe O'Neill
would label it as a death trap."
"Well the X-303 is part of that debris field now. So, what's the plan
Stan?"
"How about using your transporter beam?" Rowdy asked hopefully. "That
always worked on Star Trek."
"This ain't TV kid." Mitchell informed him with a smirk.
"I am sorry major, but considering the unpredictable and intrusive
properties of both the lunar surface and the ring of space debris, I
believe any such attempt would be doomed to failure." Jorgen pronounced
dismally.
"Any other options?" Mitchell barked impatiently.
The two Asgard exchanged a meaningful glance. "We have another small
vessel aboard..."
"Fine, Mortensen and I will take it. Hell, I can maneuver through
anything given enough warning. You two can make yourselves useful and
keep me abreast of the space junks' trajectory from up here."
"Sadly, our vessel was made to accommodate three, perhaps four
Asgard, and as you are aware we are much smaller than a human...if the
ship is to accommodate the Jaffa's massive form..."
"Okay, I get it." Waving a hand in Rowdy's direction, Mitchell
grudgingly capitulated. "So, seeing as how the kid here is one long
drink of water, I'll go myself."
"Loki did you hear that? A long drink of water denoting our young
major's impressive height."
"No, that will not do." Ignoring his comrade's misplaced passion,
Loki's bald head swiveled back and forth adamantly. "Jorgen shall
accompany you and 'watch your back.' I believe is the term."
"Ah, no..."
"My presence is not negotiable, Colonel Mitchell." Jorgen stated
flatly.
"Fine," Mitchell agreed petulantly, yanking the cuff of his flight
glove. "Why do I feel like I've just jumped from the pan and into the
fire?"
"Ah, yet another colorful colloquialism," Jorgen trilled, unable to
continue stifling his zeal.
"Jorgen, I believe your interest in the colonel's stylistic
expressions is ill-timed at present." Loki censured.
Rowdy rubbed an uneasy hand along the back of his neck worrying the
kinks there. "What about General O'Neill? I mean where in the heck is
he? I for one refuse to believe he's..."
Mitchell had been wondering the same thing. "Look kid, the truth is
those tracking devices aren't infallible."
"Do not be unduly concerned, I've been considering that
conundrum."
"Excuse me?"
Moving toward one of the Asgard control platforms, Loki began to
manipulate a set of tear shaped green crystals. "Jorgen theorized that
O'Neill's signal is not apparent due to the dampening effects of the
wealth of crystalline fragments on the surface. However it is my
assertion that the Ynis Prydain have welcomed him home."
Mitchell arched a skeptical brow. "Because?"
"As indicated previously, the Ancient gene is common amongst them. I
am quite confident that they have therefore recognized him as one of
their own."
"The man is six feet two sans his boots...I'd hardly classify him as
'short' even if he does seem child-like on occasion." Rocking back on
his heels, the colonel grinned wryly. "And besides, knowing O'Neill he'd
have given them his full name, rank and serial number."
"Ah, but you see O'Neill's coming has been foretold."
"How's that exactly?"
"They are a Druidic culture; their tradition is Pictish - a mixture
of Earth's Celtic and Norse cultures. They believe their fate will be
altered by the coming of a set of immortal heralds."
As the little Asgard moved the green crystals about on the onyx
surface of the control panel, the star field displayed on the view
screen above his head winked out. Slowly, an old earth-style painting
took shape, filling the darkened screen.
A pair of striking warriors stood at the prow of a Norse ship as it
sailed into a turbulent storm. The first stood in profile, his long
sword held aloft in triumph. He wore no helm, his angular face turned
into the wind, exposing his long silver hair to the breeze. Behind him
stood a dark Moor wearing a winged helmet that sported a glittering
circular seal centered above his brows. The Moor gazed serenely forward,
his right fist clenched tightly in tribute, resting over his heart.
"Behold, Onall, the silver Lord of the Dawn, and his dark brother
Tymon, Lord of the Night. Who are both sacred messengers of the gods,
and harbingers of fate."
Mitchell swore softly, noting the uncanny resemblance to O'Neill and
Teal'c.
Rowdy inhaled sharply. "This is so not good." He'd learned a bit of
Norse lore at his granddaddy's knee. The nagging sense of alarm in the
pit of his stomach increased exponentially. "Ah Loki, these Druids...do
they practice..."
"Human sacrifice?" Jorgen finished for him.
"Doubtful." Loki hastened to reassure.
"But you said you've had no contact with them for almost a thousand
years." Colonel Mitchell reminded the pair.
"It hardly seems likely given the small number of survivors." Jorgen
expounded. "No Colonel Mitchell, life would have been even more precious
given their tragic history."
Rowdy wasn't so sure. "Still, I sure wish his signal would pop up on
the grid."
"First things first, Mortensen." Mitchell's usually expressive face
seemed to be made of granite.
"Yes sir, Colonel. I understand." Jumping up, Rowdy strode over to
stand beside Loki. "The sooner we rescue Teal'c, the sooner we figure a
way to locate the general."
"Right. Lead on, Jorgen"
Rowdy stood silently as the little Asgard and the tall colonel left
the control room together.
"Do not be unduly concerned, Major Mortensen. Jorgen is a most able
pilot."
"As is, the colonel." Rowdy nodded distractedly. "Teal'c is in good
hands. I just can't stop worrying over the general. What do you suppose
is happening to him? Can we be sure your former little minions are as
friendly as you believe?"
"As I informed you earlier, O'Neill's experience with the Ancient
repository of knowledge and his genetics are unique. Still, they should
be able to sense his inherent similarity to themselves." Loki informed
him gently. "It is the Picts other known practices which are of greater
import here. The Ynis Prydain often used the Ancient gene for healing
and communication. It is this prospect which has me anxious for your
general's safety."
"Because?"
"Exposing O'Neill yet again to the raw power of the Ancient's could
prove to be extraordinarily disastrous."
To be continued...