Samantha Carter awoke
to a stinging pain in her abdomen and tried to squirm away from it. Its
presence was a puzzle - she couldn't remember leaving anything on her
bed that would cause such a thing. Sharp things like that had their
place and it wasn't anywhere near her bed at home.
She moaned and tried to
brush it away with her hand. "Quit," she muttered.
"The female is
awakening," an unknown voice filtered into her consciousness.
She didn't recognize it -
another part of the puzzle - but where did it fit?
"Hold her," the voice continued, "Just a minute more."
As the meaning of the
words penetrated her awareness, her eyes shot open. "What?"
Her voice cracked and sounded feeble, even to her.
Sam blinked her eyes
rapidly to clear her vision - all she could see was a black blur -
squinting didn't improve the view much - still shades of black - and
little else.
"She is awake, my lord."
This voice was different
and reminded her of Darth Vader. Not that she'd gone to that kind of
movie as a kid - they were hardly her idea of a good time, let alone
descriptive of real life space travel. And if it didn't relate to her
dream to become an astronaut, she then could have cared less.
Teal'c had developed a
sick fascination for the Star Wars movies and she'd reluctantly agreed
to watch them - one of the prices she paid for team unity and cohesion.
Sam was proud of being on SG-1, and would do whatever it took to ensure
that they functioned as a cohesive unit - even go the extra mile and
watch Star Wars with Teal'c on team-bonding nights.
Admittedly her social
skills were somewhat - lacking. As a teen, her nose had always been
buried in some book - she'd been too driven to pay much attention to the
usual things that most girls her age deemed important. Once she'd
outgrown her astronaut doll, her entire being had revolved around her
goal to become a female astronaut in the space program.
She yanked her attention
back to the puzzle at hand, that side-trip down memory lane was a waste
of time, especially when she had a problem to solve. Her mind
automatically made that intuitive leap that allowed her to find a
solution to the puzzle. Darth Vader sounded - and looked - like the
super soldiers that Anubis had created.
This information acted
like a bucket of cold water and brought her fully aware. She lifted her
head and came face to face with the helmet of the Kull Warrior whose
hands pressed her shoulders onto the floor. That explained why she
couldn't move. She laid her head back down and tried to remember how she
had ended up like this, but drew a blank.
"What's going on?"
Her voice sounded
stronger, and she mentally congratulated herself for that. Being a
female in the military meant she was at a disadvantage from the
beginning. Discrimination wasn't supposed to happen anymore, but that
didn't mean it didn't.
"I'm finished," announced
the same male voice.
When the speaker stepped
into her field of vision, she scrutinized him for a clue as to what was
happening to her. He held a syringe in one hand and wore latex
gloves.
"Leave her."
That voice was different
and she recognized its source. The deepened timbre was a characteristic
of the Goa'uld.
The Kull Warrior stepped
back and then walked out of her field of vision. Freed from the pressure
on her shoulders, she levered herself onto her elbows so she could get a
better look at her surroundings.
Her eyes followed the
Warrior as he left the room - and found the Goa'uld who must have spoken
to her - Baal.
His eyes flashed and he
chuckled. "At last you awaken, female."
She tried to get to her
feet but a stabbing sensation in her abdomen doubled her over. "What did
you do to me?" she gasped over the pain.
"Are you familiar with the cloning process?"
She bit her lip and tried
to think - anything to get her mind off the pain. "Yes, but what does
that have to do with me?"
"The cloning process requires an egg."
Her eyes widened. "You
plan to use mine?" her voice squeaked and she damned herself for it.
"Yes. It was fortunate
that you were with your mate, O'Neill, as the previous - donor - proved
to be . . . uncooperative."
Her memories were
triggered by his words - a montage of images flooded her brain - meeting
Jack in the Oval Office, injecting him with the isotope, and the night
spent in his arms. Then she remembered the sudden interruption by the
Jaffa.
"Where is General
O'Neill?" she forced herself to her feet and staggered to the door that
shimmered with a force field. "What have you done to him?"
"He is not your concern."
"Yes he is," she
straightened and leaned as close to the force field as she dared, "Where
is he?"
He laughed. "So it is true that you have feelings for your mate."
"He is not my mate," she
spat the words. "We're friends - co-workers - that's all."
"You deny that O'Neill is your mate? Why?"
Sam hugged her
mid-section and staggered backwards with the pain. "What did you do to
me?"
"You were given hormones
to stimulate the production of eggs. This is your sole purpose for
living. You would do well to remember this, female." Baal's lips curled
with disdain as if her gender disgusted him.
Her eyes welled with
tears and she bit her lip hard to distract herself - holy Hannah -
hormone injections - that explained the tears and the painful
abdomen.
"Your eggs will be extracted once we arrive at our destination."
"And where would that be?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Tartarus."
He paused and tilted his
head to one side. Her mind went into overdrive as she searched for that
name. It sounded familiar . . . and was somehow linked with the Kull
Warriors and . . . her Dad.
"Tartarus?" she nodded as
her mind supplied her with the answer, "Of course, you've taken over the
laboratories there."
"Very good for a mere female."
Her eyebrows disappeared
into her hair and her fists rested on her hips. "Mere female? Why you
pompous, arrogant over-dressed poor excuse for a misogynist male
chauvinist pig; don't you know that attitude is so out of date?" She
ground out her words between clenched teeth, "Do you talk to your mate
like that?" She spat out the words and waited for his reaction. "Or
should I say, does she let you talk to her like that?" Her lips thinned
in an angry line.
Baal laughed, "You will
provide much amusement for me and my queen, female."
"Guard her well, and let
none but me see her," he instructed the Kull Warrior on guard as he
turned to leave.
He continued to laugh as
he walked out of sight. Sam was alone, except for the Kull Warrior that
stood just outside the force field.
She retreated to a
corner, lowered herself gingerly to the floor, and lifted her shirt.
There, on her lower right side, was a puncture. She found a
corresponding one on her left. It must have been administered while she
was still unconscious.
The shirt dropped from
her fingers as she considered her problem and what she knew about egg
extraction. While she was still dating Pete, she'd read up on in vitro
fertilization. He had made it pretty clear to her that he wanted a child
and with her history with Jolinar . . . Janet had told her a long time
ago that her chances of getting pregnant weren't good.
When she broke up with
Pete, she'd dropped the subject and Jack hadn't brought it up. The
possibility of having a child - their child - appealed to her though.
Surprisingly enough, her maternal instinct was strong - even stronger
than her love for her work - and that was something.
Cassie had proven that to
her; despite her resolution not to get involved, she had fallen in love
with that little girl the moment she set eyes on her. She smiled as she
thought of the child who had trusted her so much.
Sam rubbed her stomach
and winced; the injection sites were sore and she doubled over as a
cramp caused her muscles to ripple with pain. She cast about for a topic
to distract her - it wasn't that hard.
So Baal was taking them
to Tartarus - so much for the Prometheus' ability to track them. Their
only hope rested with the Asgard. Hopefully Thor had been nearby and
could find them.
Sam curled up on the
floor, one hand protectively over her abdomen, the other cradled her
head. Baal hadn't told her where Jack was - but he had to be okay. The
Goa'uld needed him too badly to allow him to come to harm. Just the
same, she missed him and wanted him there with her.
Unwanted tears welled in
her eyes and she wiped them away with her free hand. The hormone shots
would propel her into the PMS from hell and heaven help anyone who
messed with her.
Her lips curved in a
feral smile, come to think of it, she could use the unpredictable mood
swings to her advantage. Baal would never know what hit him.
***
When Jack regained
consciousness, he had a splitting headache and a sore jaw. He resisted
the urge to open his eyes; from past experience he knew that light of
any kind would do his headache no good. And if memory served him right,
he wouldn't like the view anyway.
Vague blurred memories of
a night with Sam and hearing a noise outside their bedroom segued into
Jaffa zatting both of them. Then he'd seen Baal - no surprise there. But
they'd taken her too, that wasn't supposed to be part of the plan.
He took a chance and
squinted through half-closed eyelids, then slammed them shut when the
band playing 'Seventy-six Trombones' - complete with a very active tuba
section and cymbals - chose to up the ante and go for an encore - with a
cannon for accompaniment.
His brain ordered his arm
to flop across his eyes but met resistance. When he tried to raise his
arms - and couldn't - he realized his wrists were cuffed at his side.
His eyes snapped open and he blinked to clear the grit that seemed to
coat his eyeballs.
The ceiling above his
head wasn't encouraging, neither were the walls; they were covered in
gold hieroglyphs that probably touted the usual glorious deeds of the
resident snake head - bow-before-your-god crap.
When he raised his head
to look down the length of his body, he couldn't make out much - except
he was naked and someone had draped a cloth across his mid-section,
which gave him some semblance of dignity. His head dropped back to the
table and he grimaced.
He flexed his muscles,
and discovered there were leather restraints across his waist, and
thighs while his ankles were tied to the outer edges with his legs
spread apart. As for what that might mean to his near future - Jack
didn't even want to go there. Chances were good that someone would drag
him there - kicking and screaming - as it was.
Judging from the
extensive nature of the cuffs someone didn't want him to wander off. It
wasn't too hard to figure out who that was.
To better view his
surroundings, he craned his neck around. It wasn't so much that he
wanted to see the rest of the room; he'd already figured out that it
didn't interest him half as much as what he didn't see - or rather who -
Carter.
The restraints put a
definite crimp in his plans to find her, but he needed to learn her
whereabouts - the sooner the better. Crap, it was his fault she was a
prisoner. If he'd had any sense at all, Jack would have sent her back to
the SGC from the White House. Then Sam would've been safe.
He did have a faint scrap
of memory - one in which the Baal's face loomed over his own - the snake
had told him that Carter wasn't his concern. Along with a faint
awareness of being dragged down a hallway by muscle-bound goons dressed
in black - super soldiers? He'd thought they'd been destroyed. Evidently
he hadn't gotten all his memos. Either that or he'd had one heck of a
nightmare.
"My lord, the Tau'ri has awakened."
He still didn't see
anyone in the room with him, but he knew that would soon change. The
sound of footsteps came closer; several seemed heavier than the
others.
Jack resisted the impulse
to raise his head to check out the landscape. After all, he was cast in
a starring role that he didn't particularly want. The show would start
and he'd know the other players soon enough.
Sure enough, Baal's
gloating face appeared over him. That, at least, was no surprise. At his
side were several black-clad goons, super soldiers. So he hadn't
imagined those guys. He'd have to speak to Ida about those memos.
Jack remained silent and
waited for Baal's opening gambit. As usual, it worked. The snake just
couldn't help himself.
"You do not speak?" Baal smiled like the cat that got the
canary - unfortunately, he was the canary.
Jack rolled his eyes. "For crying out loud," he muttered.
"Where is your spirit,
O'Neill? You once bragged that you did not know the meaning of
impudence," Baal chuckled and reached down to stroke the side of Jack's
face.
Jack flinched away and bit his lip. He'd paid for that remark - in
spades.
"Would you believe I got a dictionary?" Jack smirked and tried for a
nonchalance that he didn't feel.
"Ah, that is the Tau'ri
that I remember so well," Baal paused, "You provided me with many hours
- and days - of amusement."
Jack remained silent.
"You don't remember?"
Jack shrugged, "Ah, well
you know how it is, the years go by - you get a little older. First the
knees go, then you're wandering around lost in the parking lot looking
for your truck."
"I have missed our. . .
conversations, Tau'ri," Baal purred, "So much so that I made
arrangements that you should not leave prematurely."
"Wouldn't want to
overstay my welcome, Slime-Baal," Jack demurred as he dodged the touch
of the Goa'uld's fingers on his cheek once again.
"Oh, but I insist that you remain with me."
"Well, I had to try, didn't I?" Jack shrugged and fisted his hands.
Baal's smile showed all
his teeth - a ghoulish combination of Jaws and Farrah Fawcett. "You have
chosen a mate, O'Neill?"
"Who? Oh, you mean
Carter?" Jack stiffened and then forced himself to relax. "She's just a
friend."
"Regardless, it would
appear that you have feelings for this female," Baal paused and seemed
to study his captive's reaction. "You asked for her earlier."
"Oh really, sorry," Jack
shrugged and relaxed his fists, "Don't remember a thing."
"Bring her," Baal ordered with a flick of his fingers.
The sound of a struggle drew Jack's attention.
"Sir?"
There was no mistaking that voice. "Carter?"
Automatically he raised
his head and then let it thud back onto the table when he was reminded
by the restraints that he couldn't get off the table. His eyes widened
as his mind raced. Baal had to have a reason for letting him see her
now. What was it? And what did he want with her?
"Yes, sir."
At the sound of her
voice, he raised his head again; though he craned his head around he
couldn't see her. Then the two Kull Warriors standing at his feet
stepped aside and there she was - looking a bit worse for wear - but
good nonetheless. And she had clothes on. Considering the company, that
was a definite plus.
"You okay, Carter?"
She nibbled her lower lip
and nodded; her blue eyes impossibly wide in her too-pale face.
"You?"
"Oh, I've had better days," he stared at the ceiling.
"How touching," smiled Baal.
Jack turned his fury on
the Goa'uld responsible for it all. "Why is she here anyway, Dirt-Baal?"
He spat out his words. "What do you need her for?"
"I admit that it was not
my plan to bring her, but when we came for you, she was there also."
"So, why not let her go?
Just drop her off at the nearest bus station - she can find her way back
home by herself - no problem."
"Because it pleases me to
have her here," Baal explained as if to a small child.
Then he stroked his
goatee, "You do not know where you are; do you?"
Mister Snakehead seemed
very pleased with himself, which set Jack's alarm bells ringing.
Something was not right and the only way he'd find out was to play along
- let the scum-sucking parasite have his fun - for now.
Jack squinted as if in
thought. "In general or do you want specifics?"
Baal chuckled. "No matter - we are no longer on your world."
He raised his head to get
a look at Carter; she shook her head and looked worried. Okay -that
couldn't be good; so much for their plans and the tracking device. Once
again, their grand strategy was in the crapper. His heart sank into his
stomach as he laid his head back onto the table.
"Okay, I'll bite - just
where the hell are we?" He licked suddenly dry lips.
"Tartarus."
"Tartar Sauce? Where's
that?" He turned his head to look up at his captor.
Baal indicated Carter with his hand. "Tell him, female."
"Tartarus is the planet
where Anubis created his super soldiers in his labs," she answered. He
really wasn't surprised that she knew the answer - Carter was like
that.
"Ah!"
Jack directed his question at Sam. "Not Earth?"
She shook her head and looked away.
"Well that's just peachy."
"You have something I
want, O'Neill," Baal looked serious now - which was so not a good
sign.
"And just what do I have
that some over-dressed parasite with delusions of godhood would want? I
don't think we're the same size and I've got to tell ya, the Air Force
uniform doesn't come in black brocade." Jack glared up at his captor.
"We have better taste than that."
"Your Ancient powers."
"My what?"
"Cease playing word games
with me, Tau'ri. It is well-known that it was you who destroyed Anubis'
fleet when you activated the Ancient device hidden beneath the ice of
your world."
"And?" Jack shrugged and
stared at the ceiling. "What's your point?"
"I mean to gain control of those powers."
"Ain't gonna happen,"
Jack rolled his head from side to side on the table just in case Baal
didn't understand that no means hell no.
"Ah, but it will, for I
do not require your cooperation in this matter, only your presence . . .
and your genetic material."
"So - you'll need a cheek swab then?"
"No, my genetic engineers
inform me that they require material that is - closer to the source."
Jack's eyes widened,
looked away and swallowed hard. This was so not his day, or his week for
that matter.
Baal signaled with his
fingers. "Bring the specialists, I grow tired of waiting."
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