Thor prowled the
periphery of the planetary system that held Tartarus, in search of the
perfect weapon that would do what his own weapons could not, destroy or
at the very least, cripple Baal's shield generator.
The inspiration for this
gambit could be laid directly at the feet of the Goa'uld, though the
likelihood that any would admit to such a subterfuge was highly
unlikely. While he would not go so far as to impregnate the chosen
missile with nacquada, he would give it a gentle nudge to send it on the
proper trajectory.
Thor blinked as he
studied the asteroids that swirled and milled about in front of his
vessel. O'Neill had introduced him to a game that involved propelling
circular objects around a green-lined table - pool. The rules of this
game would apply to this exercise, though on a different scale because
of the greater distance involved.
When Thor spotted the
rocks that would suit his purpose, he turned on his tractor beam,
reversed its polarity so it could be used as a stick then pushed it
toward a larger one. He held his breath as his bank shot rebounded and
headed in another direction - toward Tartarus.
Another nudge from his
tractor beam and its speed increased. It was large enough that the
Daniel Jackson could follow unseen in its wake. This rock would impact
the shield generator in a matter of hours and once it was off-line, he
would offer the services of his vessel to the inhabitants of Baal's
stronghold - it was, after all, the civilized thing to do.
"Eight ball in the corner
pocket," Thor said with grim satisfaction.
O'Neill would appreciate
the metaphor as well as the magnitude of this particular game. The
Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet just hoped he had the chance to
tell his human friend about it.
***
Sam eyed the spoonful of gray glop with suspicion and sniffed it.
"Do you actually eat this stuff?"
AGT-4/8's sigh seemed
heavily tinged with impatience, "Of course I do, Sam. It's a rule." She
paused in her own eating and took a deep breath. "Rule number two: Eat
your food when it's given to you so you can remain healthy and strong
for your tasks," she parroted, in a way that tugged desperately at Sam's
heart.
Then her spoon
disappeared into her mouth as she polished off the last bit in her bowl
and used her finger to clean off the residue. She sucked that same
finger off and licked her lips in mock relish. Sam was certain that if
others had been present, none of this behavior would have been evident.
And that told her she had won enough of the girl's trust to display her
true personality.
Two bowls of the stuff
had been brought to them soon after they'd arrived in the new cell, the
home of AGT-4/8 from the looks of the pallet in the corner and the
girl's reaction. She had released her tight grip on Sam's hand once the
force field had snapped into place and poked about in various corners
before rejoining her.
Sam dipped her finger
into the mess on her spoon and tasted it, she was right; it did taste as
bad as it looked, if not worse. No doubt it fulfilled the nutritional
requirements for a growing girl, but it still looked and tasted like . .
. crap. Sam put the spoon back into the bowl and set them aside.
"No, you must eat it," AGT-4/8 objected. "If you don't, there will
be consequences - bad ones."
"Consequences? Such a big
word for you; do you know what that means?"
AGT-4/8 rolled her eyes.
"Of course, consequences are what happens when you don't follow the
rules."
Sam smiled, "That's what
it means all right. Who usually makes the bad things happen - I mean -
the consequences?"
The girl scooted up close
to Sam so that their thighs were touching and took her hand in her own;
and in a voice far too serious for her age, explained, "The man who
laughs too much - he makes bad things happen - sometimes even when a
rule hasn't been broken."
"The man who laughs too much? Oh, you mean Baal?"
AGT-4/8 nodded solemnly, "He will be angry if you don't eat, and bad
things happen when he's angry."
"Okay, I'll eat it, but not right now. I'll eat it later - okay?"
"Okay, later is good I
guess," she replied with a shrug, and then snuggled up to Sam; all the
while keeping a firm grip on her hands as if she were afraid that the
older woman would leave it she released them. To Sam's amazement the
girl's long fingers weren't that much shorter than her own, but then
considering the gene source, she shouldn't have been surprised.
"AGT-4/8 . . ." Sam
paused, "No, that's not a proper name for a pretty girl like you."
"But that's been my name
for as long as I can remember," she held out her branded arm as a
reminder and proof of her statement. "See? It says my name right here."
One soon to be elegant forefinger dimpled the pale skin of her skinny
arm.
"That's what you would
call an experiment or a piece of equipment - not a person," Sam said as
she wrapped her hands around the thin arm to cover the mark of
ownership. She maintained her hold, paused, and looked off into the
distance with consideration. "But what will it be? Do you have any
ideas?"
The girl's brown eyes
were impossibly wide in her thin face and her expression suddenly
reminded her of who she'd been modeled after . . . Jack. Her face looked
bewildered - or bored, depending on whom you asked - the same expression
Sam had seen when she'd tried to explain how a wormhole worked, or how
excited she was about the latest refinements to her nacquada reactor.
That gave Sam an idea for
a name, one that would not only fit her better, but would acknowledge
the relationship between Jack and AGT-4/8. "I know - how about
Jackie?"
"Jackie?" Her voice
sounded small and uncertain. "But it is against the rules and breaking
the rules is bad, very bad."
"Your new name will be a
secret, just between us two . . .and one other person."
Those expressive brown
eyes narrowed and a familiar crease appeared between her dark eyebrows.
"What other person?" The words were riddled with caution and reminded
Sam that she did not as of yet, have the girl's complete trust.
"The man who was in the
cell with us, he's . . . well I suppose for want of a better word, he's
your father."
"My father? What's that?"
Her face showed an impossible mix of attentive incomprehension; that
same blank, yet eager, expression Sam had only seen on one other
face.
"A father is the man who
looks like you, because you are his offspring, his child."
The crease between
Jackie's brows ravined and she smiled uncertainly.
Sam licked her lips to
stall for time. How did you explain who and what parents were to someone
who'd never been around anything like it? "Did the men in gray jumpsuits
explain to you about your name - why you and your sisters looked exactly
alike?"
"Yes, they said we were
clones, and had the same genetic background," Jackie's head bobbed with
agreement.
"Holy Hannah!" Sam felt
like slapping her forehead with her palm, of course they would have done
that. They would have wanted to brag about their accomplishment to
someone, who better than the captive audience of their creations, the
clones?
"Your genetic material
was taken from the man who was with us in the other cell. That's why you
look so much like him."
"Oh, I think I
understand," she nodded slowly. Sam could almost see the glowing light
bulb above her head.
"His name is Jack . . .
Jack O'Neill. That's why I named you Jackie."
"And he will know our secret too?"
"Yes, but only if you
tell him, because I don't think Baal will let me see him."
"Why not?"
"It's kind of
complicated. Baal doesn't like Jack and wants him to believe that I'm
dead so he'll be sad."
The thin shoulders
shrugged and she looked away, but not so fast that Sam didn't catch a
familiar glimpse of pain flash over her features. "I don't know if I
want to do that. Jack seemed angry and sad at the same time."
"When Jack has to do
things so that Baal won't hurt us, he feels sad and angry at the same
time. But he really is a good person and wouldn't harm you or me."
Jackie gave her a look of
disbelief from beneath hooded lids that was pure Jack and it brought a
grin to Sam's face. She squeezed her in a hug.
"Jack wasn't angry at
you. He was angry because he knew Baal would hurt us if he didn't do
some bad things for him. He would rather be hurt himself than allow
anybody to do that to us."
Evidently, that
explanation made sense to her, because she nodded. "I thought Baal was
going to kill both of us in the hallway."
"So did I, so did I."
"So the man who laughs
too much," Jackie looked down and picked up her spoon. Then she began
tapping the floor nervously with it, "I mean Baal - wants Jack to think
that you're dead so that he will do more bad things for him?"
'Yes, that's it exactly."
"And you want me to tell
Jack that you're not really dead so that he won't be sad anymore?" Just
a hint of suspicion crept into the words, like Jackie expected a shoe to
drop at any moment that would make the request more complicated, and
dangerous that it sounded.
Sam nodded, "Uh huh, if
you feel like it, that is," reluctant to push for fear that her evident
conditioning might be triggered. She might be an O'Neill, but was still
just a child.
"I think I can do that,
so long as Baal doesn't catch me," she smirked, her whole face suddenly
alight with mischief.
"Good, I wouldn't want
Baal to catch you either. He can be pretty scary sometimes, not to
mention obnoxious and downright mean." Sam grinned at the shared sense
of adventure the idea kindled in them both.
Jackie's eyes strayed
with an obvious longing to the still-untouched bowl of food and then to
Sam. "I'm still hungry; can I have some of your food? I won't tell
anyone that I ate it."
Sam smiled with
encouragement, "Sure, Jackie, eat as much as you want. It will be our
secret."
She watched the child dig
into the so-called food with a gusto that said she was used to being
hungry and her heart ached at the thought that any child - least of all
Jack's child - would suffer such hunger. And small wonder about that,
Jackie was probably only given enough to prevent starvation. But the
fact that Sam and Jackie been fed at all argued for the premise that
Baal wanted them alive, despite everything he'd told her and Jack.
Her mind replayed the
scene in the hallway after the Warriors had escorted her and Jackie out
of the cell. They'd come across a female slave, scrubbing the floor with
such diligence that she might have been completely alone.
Baal had stopped in front
of the woman, who had continued to wash the floor with her rag. He had
looked first at Sam, and then at the woman. Then he'd smiled - an awful
smile that sent shivers down her spine.
"Stop her!"
His shout had taken Sam
by surprise and she'd jumped. A tiny gesture from the Goa'uld evidently
signaled the nearest Warrior to fire three bolts of energy . . . not at
her and Jackie - who had stuffed her fist into her mouth to smother her
scream - but at the unsuspecting woman bent over her task.
Without a sound, the poor
thing had collapsed in a smoldering heap on the floor. Jackie's whimper
of fear had escaped despite her best efforts to prevent it and Sam had
tucked her protectively behind her.
Baal's eyes had flashed
golden and his smile turned feral. "Take the girl away and dispose of
the body of this female." His voice had been loud - loud enough for Jack
to hear.
Sam had wanted to say
something - anything to let Jack know that she still lived - but
couldn't, not with a terrified child held hostage to her good behavior.
Now she had a better idea of how Jack felt when Baal had used her in
much the same way to ensure he behaved.
She now knew, too late,
that she had been too hard on him, and regretted the idea that Jack had
only felt her disappointment in him before - what was to him - her
death. She hoped that he would not have to endure that knowledge for
long, as she knew he would use it to create his own lonely and very
private hell. One even Baal could not conjure on his best day.
Chances were good that
Baal would take Jackie back to Jack's cell, and that would provide a way
to let him know that she was still alive. Sam didn't like using Jackie
like that, especially if it put her in danger, but it was the only
feasible method available. The only way to free the man she loved, to
break the bindings only he could place upon himself. And that would
allow him to burst those lesser bonds Baal held him in, to give them all
a fighting chance to get out of this mess alive.
***
She and her sisters were
playing. The sound of their laughter brought a smile to her own lips as
she joined in. But then the laughter stopped and her sisters
disappeared, one by one, until they were all gone except for her. Any
reason for joy was gone, taken away with the bodies of her sisters.
She bit back a sob and
then stuffed her blanket into her mouth to prevent its escape. Crying
was against the rules - her own and those of her dead sisters. And she
would not cry in front of the man who laughed too much, Baal.
According to the marks on
her arm, she was AGT-4/8. But . . . she liked the name Jackie, far, far
more. Yes, she had shared the old name with her sisters, and while it
lasted, that had been okay. However, this new name, and the idea that
she was the genetic offspring of the man, Jack, that . . . that was a
gift beyond her wildest dreams. And Sam had told her this, had given her
the name, a name that deep down, felt right, and, and . . . Sam was
nice. It had to be true; it just had to be.
She scrunched up into a
tighter ball against the knowledge that all her dreams had died in this
room and a sob hiccupped out past her usually iron control
Something tugged at her
shoulder and she tried to burrow away from it, afraid that it meant
pain; it always had in the past. Her pillow smelled good, and was much
softer than usual. How did that happen? Sam . . . oh yes, it was Sam,
her friend.
Slowly she opened her
eyes and looked up into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Sam smiled at
down at her and she smiled back. It felt good to smile.
"You have to wake up now."
She stretched her long
arms and wrapped them around Sam's waist, and squeezed her eyes shut.
She wanted this dream to never end. "Why?"
"Baal is here," Sam nibbled her lower lip.
At those words, Jackie
jerked her arms away from Sam and sat up, with a need to put distance
between them. She had fallen asleep on Sam's lap and it had felt so
good, so safe while it lasted. Of course it hadn't. Good things never
lasted. There were consequences for having good things.
Jackie could see Baal
outside her cell and he looked nervous. That was worse than when he
laughed. She didn't look at Sam and remembered that her second sister
had died when she had glanced at her after sharing some fun together.
Fun was forbidden and good things were removed. She was determined that
the only person that would pay for any good here was she.
"Come here, girl."
Jackie nodded and stood,
blocking his view of Sam before she walked to the door. If there were
consequences for falling asleep on Sam's lap, it would be her that faced
them, not Sam. After all, she knew the rules and Sam didn't. She should
have warned Sam, and because she hadn't . . .
"Follow me, girl."
Jackie remained silent
and watchful, only when Baal stepped from view to drop the force field
did she look back over her shoulder at Sam and try to silently reassure
her. When the force field disappeared, she stepped out into the hallway
and walked behind Baal.
Soon she recognized
things from her previous trip and realized she was about to meet with
the man who had supplied the genes that made her who she was - Jack or
as Sam called him - her father.
She knew better than to
ask where she was going and why - that was against the rules. Besides,
she could figure it out for herself. She was good at that, and the men
in the gray jumpsuits had said she was smart.
Baal stopped in front of
a cell, the one where she'd first met Sam. When the force field
flickered out of existence, she entered it on her own; she knew what was
expected of her and did it, as quietly and efficiently as possible. She
had made a promise to Sam and she intended to keep it. That was her new
rule.
The man that Sam called
Jack was there, and he slumped against the far wall with a set of
manacles around his wrists.
She jumped when she heard
Baal's footsteps behind her. "I have brought the girl for training."
"And if I can't teach her anything?"
Jackie froze in place but
refused to flinch when steely fingers bit into her shoulder. As she
watched, Jack sighed and let his head thump against the wall. "Yeah, I
get the picture. I'll teach her."
"Good."
"What about these? It's
kind of hard to teach anything like this," he raised his hands and the
chain connecting him to the wall jingled.
"Very well, they will be removed."
The pressure of Baal's
hand left Jackie's shoulder, and she blinked rapidly to clear her eyes
of pain-caused tears, while distracting any observers by rotating her
shoulder to work off the tension that had knotted her muscles. She
pinched the bridge of her nose to relieve the pressure that threatened
to blossom into a full-blown headache and used the gesture to flick away
her tears. Baal's touch had always made her stomach do flip-flops - and
would continue to do so.
When she looked into Jack's face, she saw him give a shadow of a
grin. "You really are like me, aren't you?"
She shyly smiled back and
finger-combed her unruly hair. A Kull Warrior pushed past her and
unlocked the manacles from Jack's wrists and he rubbed them. When she
noticed that his hands were crusted with dried blood, she clapped her
hand over her mouth as Sam's meal made an escape attempt. Blood and
consequences came together - and pain. They were a given in her
world.
"What?" Jack rubbed his
hands together and dull brown flakes fell to the floor. "The blood is
mine, no one else's." He paused and looked her in the eye. He had nice
eyes, nice like Sam's eyes. "It doesn't hurt," and he rotated his hands
and flexed his fingers a few times as proof. Jackie didn't quite believe
him.
"I shall return for the
girl later. See that you teach her well," Baal's deep voice boomed in
the otherwise silent cell and she edged closer to Jack. Something inside
told her that she would be safe with him, the same something that told
her to trust Sam.
"Yeah, whatever you say,"
Jack muttered and then he winked at her. "C'mere."
His hand beckoned to her
and she sat facing him on the floor. Over and over, she reminded herself
that Sam had said that he would not hurt her. Easy for her to say,
experience told Jackie different.
"So you're called AGT-4/8?"
Jackie showed him the
underside of her arm and nodded. His cheerful words sounded false to her
sensitized ear, they were weighted with the same emotion that she had
felt every time she had lost a sister. She didn't like that feeling at
all. Not one bit.
Then she leaned forward. "But Sam calls me Jackie," she whispered.
Jack went very still, his
face as blank as the stone floor she sat upon. Sweat trickled down her
back, his dark eyes pinned her and she began to worry. Too much
attention was always a bad thing. This was not good.
Jackie's heart stopped
when the still man erupted into motion, his hands reached for her and
memories of Baal's painful grip returned. Inside her chest her heart
stuttered into a fast thumping pace and panic began to take hold.
Jack's arms closed around
her and she could already feel the pain of her breath being squeezed
from her lungs. A scream died half-born as he jerked her from the
floor.
Sam promised he wouldn't hurt me. She promised!
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