Power and Punishment
Chapter Two: Absolute Power...

by Jb

part two, of two

The phone rang. Daniel jumped in surprise, smacking his head against the wall behind him.

He had been concentrating on trying to relax, sitting backwards on the chair with his head tipped back to rest on the wall behind him, his arms laying across the pillow which was balanced on the upper edge of the back of the chair. The unwelcome harsh ring of the telephone forcefully brought him to full attention, and to full awareness once more of the deep pain in his chest and arm.

John hovered over the desk, his hand tentatively reaching for the telephone. Daniel nodded to him, and John lifted the receiver.

Daniel listened to John's guttural short comments, trying desperately to avoid looking at the shape on the floor, now covered by the blanket which Daniel had used earlier. That… that had been a shock, walking into the other room to find the grisly remains of his torturer laying on the floor, the back of his head blown away and blood splattered halfway up the near wall.

It had been difficult, carrying on with making the recording and monitoring Samuel’s earlier phone conversation with Kinsey. Despite himself, Daniel’s thoughts and eyes had continually strayed to the gory sight. John had been uncooperative, refusing to take the time and go to the trouble of removing the body. Finally, unable to concentrate on what had to be done, Daniel had used his blanket to cover up the dead man. That had helped… a little.

The seriousness of this situation and Daniel’s vulnerability were highlighted by the body. Daniel had no doubt that if it looked as though things would not work out well, John would not hesitate in carrying out Kinsey’s original plan. In fact, even making the tape was a big risk; Daniel thought there was little to stop John from switching sides once again once the tape was in Kinsey’s hands.

He had no choice though. Despite the big man’s apparent change of heart over Daniel’s kidnap and planned murder, it was pretty clear to Daniel that his survival depended entirely upon his usefulness to John. If he had not come up with a feasible way to ensure that John didn’t need to look over his shoulder for signs of Kinsey for the rest of his life, Daniel had no doubt that he’d have been killed already.

Daniel knew there was nothing to fear from Samuels. The Lt. Colonel was a boneless bag of jelly right now, scared shitless of John and even more afraid of Kinsey. Daniel knew that Samuels was relying on him to out think Kinsey… to save Samuels from the one-way, dead-end path he had gotten himself onto.

It wasn’t just Daniel’s fear for his own welfare that drove him. It was sickeningly obvious to Daniel that if he didn’t cooperate, if he was killed…

If Kinsey’s plan was never carried out, Kinsey would still be out there to try again, next time targeting Jack, or Teal’c, or Sam.

John hung up the phone with a self-satisfied look on his face. "He bought it. He even gave me a return number …" John laughed loudly, derisively. "…to call him back and confirm that the job was done."

Samuels clearly misunderstood. "You mean, he told you that he wanted you to, to kill us?"

John gave Samuels a withering look. "No, not me, obviously not." At Jackson’s audible sigh turned a milder face in the younger man’s direction. John felt a measure of satisfaction; the kid was smart… he’d done well, really well. John could see where this was going now. Until the telephone rang, he hadn’t been altogether sure that Jackson knew just what he was doing. Sure, they had one recording – the call with Samuels – but that wouldn’t be enough to safeguard himself, John, from Kinsey.

John had seriously contemplated changing his mind, carrying out his ex-partner’s role and killing Jackson and Samuels once the tape got to Kinsey. After all, the whole point of this thing was the tape; Kinsey had set all of this into motion just for that recording. Then, if he did that, he’d just have to hope that Kinsey would assume him to have been killed by his ex-partner, along with Jackson and Samuels.

That wasn’t necessary any more. Just like Jackson had anticipated, the phone had finally rung… and it was Kinsey. And now they had the son of a bitch, but good.

Daniel felt a hand on his shoulder, and opened his eyes to look into the face of the murderer who had played a pivotal role in getting him into – and now hopefully would allow him out of – this sordid mess. An image of the gory body on the floor flashed through his mind and Daniel jerked back, away from the hand.

"Don’t touch me!"

"Hey… all right, all right." The hand was withdrawn. John stepped back some, and lowered his arm. "Geez. Look, Jackson, you did well. Really well. It’s time to get out of here now. Kinsey might send someone…"

Daniel’s head snapped up. He hadn’t thought of that. John was right; they had to leave… Daniel’s mind raced. ‘No, hang on a minute… not yet’ he thought. ‘Fifteen minutes, just a bit more time, then we can pack it in.’

He stared up at John. "No, wait. We have to wait just a bit more; you have to make the return call first. That’s the most important call. Are… are you sure you can sound like… like, him?"

At John’s confident affirmative, Daniel turned to Samuels, who looked as though he would faint at the thought that someone might be en route to them right now. "Samuels…" Daniel motioned to the equipment "…we should put what we need aside, and start packing up all the stuff we don’t have to use for the call. We have get out of here right after that. And we’ll need to hide away the equipment… it’s evidence that can be used against you. For the time being we need to put everything… uhm, where no sun ever shines."

John snorted, seemingly amused at Daniel’s choice of words, at the repetition of his own earlier description of what would have been done with Daniel’s body. The big man looked at Daniel pleasantly.

Daniel produced a snort of his own, finding John’s amusement somehow both surprising and annoying. He’d not intended to say anything funny, but in retrospect, he guessed that maybe he had. Daniel wondered at himself; even through all this, evidently he had kept his sense of humor.

Kinsey paced in annoyance. Four hours. He had been kept waiting for four hours now. It galled him that he was being treated in this manner; forced to wait it out back in his office, ordered out of the meeting like some lackey, somebody’s flunky. As irritating as it was to have to wait, though, he knew that the longer this went on, the more seriously they were taking it. Better to be waiting here all this time than to have been dismissed out of hand at the outset.

The meeting had gone well. Oh, of course, they hadn’t been thrilled to see him at first but even the President had relented and listened to him, had read through his prepared brief, once the damning tape had been played. Then Kinsey had politely, but firmly, been asked to leave, to wait for their decision.

That’s all right. He could cool his heels here for a little while longer. He would be victorious in the end; there was no doubt of that. The expression of shock and dismay on the President’s face as he had listened to the tape and read the brief had said it all. He had won!

Kinsey was nobody’s flunky… he was God’s instrument; he held the very salvation of the Earth in his hands. His whole body quivered with fervor at the thought of his upcoming glory. He felt the beginnings of long forgotten heat, a stirring, in his groin.

Reluctantly Kinsey turned away from his awakening pleasure to more practical thoughts… to the telephone conversation he’d had just before taking the material to the President. The tape had arrived just on the outer edge of the deadline, and it was exactly what Kinsey had wanted. In fact, Samuels had ad-libbed wonderfully… the content exceeded his wildest hopes. It was so good, in fact, that Kinsey wondered about it at first. Just to be certain, he had granted over an extra hour to the technician, but the tape had tested out to be flawless.

Kinsey was elated. He had finally gotten what he wanted, and more – so much more – out of the uncooperative scientist.

Kinsey suspected that significant brutality had been necessary to get such a good result. Fine. All the better. His spirits had soared, only to be knocked down when he tried to contact his man on the inside to have him finish off the job.

The man was supposed to have been there, waiting at the contact point for Kinsey’s phone call… but he wasn’t. There had been no answer. Not sure why his operative wasn’t there, but knowing he couldn’t release the tape without confirmation that Jackson wouldn’t unexpectedly show up – bruises and drugs in his system and whatever else – Kinsey had been forced to call the actual site.

Bad enough that earlier he’d had to talk to Samuels about arranging to have the tape specially couriered to Washington – the stupid man had gotten all confused over his prior instructions – but then he’d had to speak with the other operative, the very one Kinsey wanted eliminated… because his man wasn’t there, on site, either.

This was not the most efficient way to wind this up, but there was little choice. He’d been circumspect, though. Kinsey felt certain that there was no way the man he spoke with would understand that the terse message – ‘tell him to go ahead with the final transfer’ – referred not to a transfer of cash, but actually to something entirely more satisfying.

Kinsey pushed his discomfiture aside. It was fine, he’d received the confirmation call from his man.  Jackson – and Samuels and the second operative, too – was gone, and by now the inside man would have been taken care of as well. There was no one left to tie him to anything, and he had his tape. The President had his tape. The President and Secretary of Defense were huddled together in shock even now, and in no time at all they’d call him in and congratulate him on his accomplishment.

Yes indeed, he had won.

With a trembling hand Kinsey swiped at the viscous moisture leaking from the corner of his mouth. It might take a few months, but eventually Kinsey would demand his due from Jackson’s personal belongings.

When he got the frame back, he’d hang the spoiled certificate in his own living room… a pleasurable reminder of his victory.

"Wait a minute…" Without thought, Daniel brought his hand forcibly up against Samuels’ chest, to stop him in the doorway. It was the wrong hand. Daniel sucked in a quick breath as fiery pain lanced through his fingers and up into his forearm. He swayed on his feet and would have fallen had Samuels not gripped his shoulder to steady him.

"Dr. Jackson… hold on. Are you all right?"

"Yeah…" Shaking his head slightly both to clear his dizziness and in disgust at his stupidity, Daniel refocused on the issue at hand. "Samuels… where are we?"

Samuels gave him a pitying look. "Maybe you need to lie down…"

"No, no… where did they take me? Are we still in Colorado Springs? I mean, where exactly are we?" Daniel looked around the now virtually empty room. "Where is this place?"

Samuels nodded in apparent understanding. "Yes, we’re still in Colorado Springs, just outside of town. These…" he waved a hand, gesturing at the adjoining rooms and hallway "… are ground level back offices in an empty warehouse building. That door…" Samuels indicated the outer door which he had just been about to pass through "… opens right onto the rear driveway."

Daniel chewed on his lower lip. He was relieved that they were still in Colorado Springs; he had only just realized that he could have been taken anywhere, in any city or state, and he wouldn’t have known the difference. It was important that they were still home; Daniel thought that he probably needed Jack now, and he didn't have the time nor the means to travel very far.

The desk phone had been removed with the rest of the contents of the room. The body was gone as well, loaded into what Daniel had been told was a full-size panel van, along with the monitoring equipment and anything which did not originally belong in this place. All that was left was the large metal table and a couple of chairs, and the narrow bunk in the other room.

When Daniel had steadfastly refused to travel in the van with the body – even when Samuels tried to argue that they couldn’t stay there any longer, that Kinsey may have sent someone else – John had left to dispose of it. As he had left John had given Samuels the task of washing away the evidence of the killing, and also the spatters of Daniel’s blood in the adjoining room.

Now, standing in the forlorn office with only a twitchy Samuels for company, Daniel was starting to regret his pigheadedness. Only, he knew it wasn’t just a matter of obstinance; he was completely unable to overcome his abhorrence at what had been done to the dead man. Daniel was, plain and simple, terrified and the corpse had served to magnify his fear.

Daniel knew he had done his best, he’d worked alongside John and Samuels to try to find a permanent solution to Kinsey, but his nerve was wearing thin… wearing away, along with his physical tolerance. Daniel was starting to feel dreadfully ill.

He never should have had John go off without them. What if John never came back… or worse, what if he came back, but with less than positive intentions? Daniel’s legs suddenly felt very weak, and he sank into the nearest chair. His entire right hand throbbed agonizingly, his head felt like it would explode, and there was a vile taste in his mouth. He couldn’t do this any more…

"The phone… do you have a cellular phone?" Samuels looked surprised at the question, but nevertheless pulled a cell phone out of his jacket pocket, and handed it over.

"Who are you calling?"

Daniel ignored Samuels, precariously balancing the phone in his left hand as he dialed Jack’s home number with his thumb. He simply didn’t have the energy or the will to discuss his insecurities with Samuels. Relief washed over him as on the fourth ring, Daniel heard the faint click of the phone being answered.

"Jack…"

That was all Daniel got out. Samuels eyes opened wide and the man leapt at Daniel, grabbing his sore left arm and pulling the cell phone from his ear. Underneath Samuels’ cry of  "No! Not O’Neill! You’re calling O’Neill…", Daniel heard a faint, tinny voice coming from the cell phone.

Daniel struggled to keep hold of the phone, pushing ineffectually at Samuels with his injured right hand. "No, Samuels… argh… damn you, let go…" Daniel managed to get his right elbow around and hooked into Samuels’ upper arm, but with little effect. The disorganized battle for possession of the phone resulted in Daniel being pulled off the chair and in a last ditch effort, he yelled "Jack!" as he fell to the floor and the phone was yanked from his grasp.

A sudden breeze and harsh noise behind them caused both Daniel and Samuels to look over to the door. The now opened door. The now opened door, with a hulking figure now filling it’s frame; a hulking figure with a gun… a very black, very big, gun.

It wasn’t John.

Nine o’clock at night. General Hammond had only just gotten home two hours ago, but now here he was back at the SGC. ‘This had better be important.’ His adjutant had assured him on the telephone that all of the SG teams were safely accounted for and there was no security breach, but nonetheless had urgently summoned him back, saying he had been instructed not to discuss it on the telephone. Instructed by whom?

"Sir." The man came to attention as Hammond entered his office. He waved his hand at his junior officer, and the young man relaxed.

"So, what is this all about?" General Hammond’s eyes fell onto the package on his desk.

"Sir, this came about a half-hour ago. And before that… the red phone rang... three times. Sir, they seemed very agitated. You’re supposed to call back, Sir, immediately."

Dismissing the man, Hammond sat down and picked up the package. It was an eleven by seventeen inch envelope, very full and quite weighty, heavily marked with warnings to discourage all but it’s intended recipient… himself. ‘Oh, what now?’

Ripping open the envelope Hammond was surprised to find inside a number of official SGC mission reports. Rifling through the other contents, he also found an audio tape and a sealed second envelope, this one nine by eleven inches and also stuffed to capacity.

A note on the face of the second envelope caught his attention. It was from the President, scrawled in pencil. ‘Read this all through. Listen to the tape. Call me. I’ll be waiting.’

‘So much for a peaceful evening of pizza and beer.’ Jack morosely picked at the fraying fabric on the arm of the couch. He glanced at his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. They had been here for hours – hours and hours – now. They had commiserated with Carter, talked, played cards, watched television… the bloom was off the rose. Where the hell was Daniel?

Jack knew he wasn’t any good at this stuff. He’d tried to help, to be supportive and reassuring, but his relationship with Sam Carter didn’t really allow for the kind of unassuming support she needed. Emotional support. Hell, he couldn’t even do that for himself most of the time, never mind for Sam. ‘Oh bloody hell… Dammit, Daniel… where are you?’

"Sir…" Carter leaned forward to catch his attention. "Maybe we should call around? It’s getting late."

"Carter… call where-who-what, huh?" Jack gestured at the three of them. "The gang’s all here. Daniel doesn’t exactly have a life, y’know?"

Sam Carter’s expression changed radically; she was obviously offended on her friend’s behalf.  "Colonel, he has just as much a life as you do."

‘Oh, touché. Good one, there.’ Jack sighed. "I meant, outside of the SGC, Captain…"

"So did I." Carter retorted.

Teal’c raised an eyebrow. "This is not helpful. Perhaps he is with Katherine Langford and Ernest Littlefield?"

‘Now there’s a thought; pretty unlikely, but a thought, anyway.’ Jack watched as Carter leapt at the idea like a starving dog on a bone, quickly jumping up to dial the telephone. They were all worried about Daniel, but it looked like Carter needed him. Jack wasn’t certain if he regretted or was glad of his inability to openly provide the kind of unconditional emotional support Daniel could.

He turned his attention back to demolishing the worn edge of the couch, not wanting to hear or see Carter’s disappointment when she came up empty. Only, it was his own disappointment Jack found himself struggling with when she turned from the telephone with a sad shake of her head. ‘Dammit, Danny.’

"Okay." Jack abruptly stood up. "I think we’re about done here, don’t you? We’ll catch up with Daniel at the base in the morning. I’m starving. Anyone still up for going out for pizza?" Teal’c and Carter both stood, nodding.

As an afterthought, just as they headed to the door, Jack stopped. "Hang on. I’ll just call and check my machine for messages." He got five digits dialed before a hard knock on the door interrupted him. Carter answered it, swinging the door wide and turning to Jack with an expression of mixed concern and surprise on her face.

"Colonel O’Neill." The three airmen at the door were as surprised to see SG1 as Teal’c, Carter, and Jack were to see them. "We’ve come for Dr. Jackson, Sir. We’re to place him in detention."

‘Ammonet’s package was delivered safely. Sha’uri did not suspect me. Our Lord may take possession at his will.’

‘What of the shol’va, Teal’c? And the appearance of O’Neill?’

‘Teal’c remains easy to control… he is not very bright. It was not a problem. As for O’Neill, he is a self-important fool. He thinks he drove Our Lord away.’

Jack O’Neill listened in disbelief as the undeniably recognizable voice of Daniel Jackson referred to him as a ‘self-important fool’. His stomach knotted and he felt bitter bile rise in his throat as the voices on the tape continued.

‘Good. You have redeemed yourself. Our Lord was angry with you for provoking the Asgaard interference and the re-institution of the Hammer.’

‘I apologize. I did not anticipate their presence. I was looking for Asgaard weapons for Our Lord. What about Apophis?’

‘You have done well with your preparations, but you must remain patient. The downfall of the Tau’ri, and the end of the rule of Apophis, are close at hand.’

‘Good. I am trying to be patient, but it has been well over a year… ‘

‘Kree! Do you complain?’

‘No… it is just that I do not appreciate having to cooperate with Apophis. But I understand it is necessary if the Tau’ri are to fall. When would Our Lord like the codes?’

‘Not yet… but, soon.’

‘And I may revisit My Queen, and the sarcophagus? Soon?’

‘My Queen?’ Jack felt his heart being ripped out of his chest. God!  He couldn’t take any more of this. He pushed violently away from the table.

‘Soon, yes.’

‘Where? From P3X233 again?’

‘No. Can you arrange to go back to Oannes?’

‘Of course. These people are simple to manipulate.’

‘Wait for the signal.’

General Hammond looked at the three remaining members of SG1, each of them staring speechlessly at the tape player as if the force of their minds could erase what they had just heard. Hammond recalled his own initial, very physical, reaction to the tape after he had played it for the first time. He didn’t need to study the agonized faces before him to understand what each of them was going through.

"People, are you certain you have no idea of the whereabouts of Dr. Jackson?" As three sets of stunned eyes turned in his direction, Hammond sank into a chair and tiredly rubbed his hand over his head.

"Okay, okay. I believe you." He looked over to Jack O’Neill. "As you can see, this is a very serious situation. Colonel, I don’t want to push you into a corner, but I need to know… do you accept, even for a moment, the possibility of what you hear to be true?"

General Hammond watched closely as Jack O’Neill’s mouth opened, and then slowly closed again, his lips settling into a tight line. Sick surprise, hurt, confusion, and denial raced across the Colonel’s face… and something else, too. Something definitely uncharitable, and aimed right at Hammond himself. The General suddenly felt impossibly old and tired. O’Neill wasn’t even going to bother answering his question.

"Sir…" It was Carter. "You, you can’t honestly believe any of this… that, it… that can’t be Daniel’s voice! It has to be some sort of… oh, God…" Carter’s protest trailed off. The tape was of excellent quality, crystal clear. Hammond could see that Captain Carter had recognized the voice as well as any of them; she simply didn’t seem to know what else to say.

"That was the voice of Daniel Jackson." Teal’c’s own voice was flat, his face expressionless. "However…" he raised his hand to ward off any interruption, "… I do not believe Daniel Jackson to be in the service of the False Gods. This is some form of trickery."

Hammond nodded. He had listened to the tape many times, and read all of the accompanying material twice over. The presentation was comprehensive; it might even be considered compelling by those who had not worked side-by-side with Dr Jackson, but once he had gotten over the initial overwhelming shock and found he could think straight, Hammond had fought against all of the evidence.

Not Jackson… not Daniel, whose courage, superior intelligence, and passionate nature Hammond had come to deeply respect and admire. To doubt Daniel Jackson’s loyalty was unthinkable. And then, of course, there was the source to consider. Kinsey.

"I’m sorry to say that the President and the Joint Chiefs disagree with you, Teal’c. All of our heads are on the chopping block on this one. We need to get to the bottom of this, people."

Praying that the bottom line would be exoneration rather than confirmation, Hammond pulled the stack of mission reports and the copies of the thick brief out from the envelope in front of him. "I have some reading material here…"

O’Neill couldn’t think straight. Hammond had just asked him if he believed Daniel was a traitor? Daniel, working for the damned snakeheads? God… he couldn’t even begin to comprehend such a question. Jack knew that were it not for that tape, he would have leapt all over the man in righteous indignation…

But the tape meant that there might be bigger concerns to consider here than his own reactions. If that was Daniel’s voice, then Daniel could be in trouble… but that couldn’t be Daniel saying those things, it couldn’t be…

Jack felt as though his chest was going to explode. It was hard to breath. His eyes were burning… Jack squeezed them shut. Daniel’s words… ‘oh hell, that was Daniel’s voice’… echoed in his head.

‘…a self-important fool. He thinks he drove Our Lord away…’

‘…looking for Asgaard weapons for Our Lord…’

‘…revisit My Queen, and the sarcophagus…’

No. No way. Not Daniel, not his Danny. Danny would never betray him… this was crazy. ‘Christ, Daniel where the hell are you?’

Jack was only half aware of Carter and Teal’c’s voices speaking up in support of Daniel, of Hammond saying something about the President believing the tape, of the papers which landed on the table in front of him. Unreal. Everything seemed so unreal. ‘Oh, shit. Oh, godamned you, Jackson… don’t you do this to me…’

Absently, Jack fingered the thick sheath of typewritten pages, glanced over the top page… and caught one word – a name – at the same time as did Carter and Teal’c. Three identically vehement vocal explosions rocked the room. "Kinsey!"

Suddenly it all made sense to Jack. ‘Hang on, Danny… I’m coming.’

Daniel awoke slowly, struggling through a haze of unpleasant sensations and muted noises on his way to regaining full consciousness. His head hurt… badly. He heard himself moan. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut momentarily before cautiously opening them, Daniel became vaguely aware of laying on his back, on something soft. He found himself looking up at a stippled ceiling. That ceiling did a slow sickening loop…

"Jackson? Hey, Buddy… there you go. Wakey wakey."

The recently familiar voice and a rough flick of something against his cheek snapped Daniel fully awake. He lurched to sit upright, only to fall back again as knifelike pain lanced through his forehead and his vision filled with brightly flashing points of light. He squeezed his eyes closed once again.

"Hey… easy, take it slow. You've ben out for a long time."

A second voice intruded. "Is he okay? He’s going to be okay, isn’t he? We still need him. I don’t know what to do with…"

"Shut up, you idiot. He’ll be fine. It was just a hard knock on the head is all. Which…" the first voice became harsher, "…he never would have gotten if you hadn’t been such a bloody wimp, trying to hide behind him. Stupid moron."

Daniel was nauseatingly dizzy and all of his various injuries were screaming at him with a vengeance. Still, he was with it enough to recognize the voices. "You’re both morons" he mumbled.

John’s ripple of laughter sounded both good-humored and menacing at the same time. "You remember what happened?"

Daniel started to shake his head, but stopped as his entire body seemed to spin in a rapid spiral and fresh spate of fireworks went off behind his closed eyelids. God. If this continued, he was going to puke for sure. He managed to force out a negative; no, he remembered… nothing… nothing he cared to admit to, that is. Because, he remembered Samuels trying to take the cell phone – his lifeline to Jack – away from him.

"Kinsey sent a man out… you don’t remember that? What’s the last thing you do remember?"

"You went off in the van. You took the bo… you took it, away. We were waiting for you to come back." Daniel was starting to clue in; a fair amount of time must have passed, and they weren’t in the offices any more. He was laying in a soft bed, between clean-smelling sheets. The air was different, too; sweeter, less musty.

Daniel cracked an eye open. "Okay… where are we? More importantly, what time is it?"

Samuels answered. "We’re in a motel. John came back just as Kinsey’s guy was going to, to… anyway, you got hit on the head and we brought you here. It’s just after three a.m."

Three o’clock in the morning. Daniel figured that was okay. There was no huge hurry now; his earlier fears had been groundless. Not only had John come back for them and not killed them, but he had obviously saved them from yet another murderous thug. Daniel decided he wouldn’t even ask about what happened to the man Kinsey sent. It was probably better if he didn’t know all the gory details.

He still needed Jack. To finish this off, Daniel would need to go see Kinsey, and neither he, Samuels, nor John could set that up. It would have been better if he could have spoken to Jack before SG1 heard the recording, though. Kinsey’d had it for over eight hours now… it would have been sent to Hammond long ago. Daniel would have liked to have been able to prepare Jack, Sam, and Teal’c; to spare them the unpleasant shock of what was on that tape.

Of the tape, he had no worries. As incriminating as he had made it – for Kinsey’s benefit – as damning as it seemed to be, Daniel had faith in General Hammond and the other members of SG1. The purposeful explicitness of the conversation on the tape was in his favor… Daniel knew that the more obvious the alleged betrayal, the less SG1 would believe it. They wouldn’t let him down; they’d know he would never work for the Goa’uld.

Daniel was placing all of his hopes on Sam. He couldn’t meet with Kinsey until the tape was dealt with. Sam could do it, she could break the tape, prove it to be fraudulent. Provided, of course, that Samuels had done his part in creating it just that little bit wrong. ‘Oh please… please let it be just that little bit wrong.’

His head seemed to be clearing; he was less dizzy and he found he could open his eyes and turn his head without too spectacular a display going off. He’d wait, now, and call Jack first thing in the morning. Daniel didn’t want to think about this any more for the time being.

Besides, he had suddenly become aware of something very, very important. He had to pee, urgently, and he didn’t know if he was mobile enough to make it to the bathroom.

O’Neill wondered what he had ever done in his life that was so bad that he had to pay penance in this way; that he had to atone by having Daniel Jackson in his life. ‘Shit, Daniel.’ That man had an annoyingly reliable propensity for getting into trouble, and dragging O’Neill right along with him.

‘Danny… where are you?’

The airmen stationed in Daniel’s apartment had reported in only moments ago. Still no Dr. Jackson. General Hammond had sent airmen to both Jack’s own and Carter’s place as well. Jack really didn’t know where else to look.

As he worked his way through the voluminous paperwork and past mission reports which had accompanied the tape – all of it being Kinsey’s so-called evidence of Daniel’s supposed duplicitous manipulation of the SGC – Jack became more and more aware of just how much trouble that boy really did get in to.

‘Come on, Daniel. Show up, somewhere…’

Kinsey had provided a whole new level to the meaning of the word misrepresentation. Jack had to admit that Daniel’s antics and misadventures had made it all that much easier for Kinsey, but nevertheless, some of the reinterpretations of the mission reports according to Kinsey’s purpose were masterful. Masterfully insane. The really insane part, though, was that the President and Joint Chiefs wholeheartedly believed this crap, and there would be hell to pay if SG1 couldn’t prove it all to be as crazy as its creator.

The written parts were Jack’s job. While Carter put the tape through it’s paces, Jack was to go through the mission reports and try to debunk Kinsey’s speculations. Teal’c and security were going over the parking garage, Daniel’s car, and the apartment with a fine tooth comb.

‘Oh, please, Danny… just be okay. Please… where the hell are you?’

First there was the earlier mission to Gairwyn’s planet, in search of Thor’s Hammer. Kinsey maintained that Daniel had known about the Hammer labyrinth all along, from his Goa’uld friends. He claimed that Daniel’s true purpose in convincing the SGC to allow them to go there was twofold: to get rid of Teal’c, and to destroy the Hammer thus clearing the way for his Goa’uld Lord, Heru’Ur.

Kinsey alleged that the first half went wrong for Daniel when Jack had inadvertently been sent to the labyrinth along with Teal’c. Then Kinsey had painstakingly sought to associate motive with action, pointing out that it had been Daniel who had wielded the staff that destroyed the Hammer, and that Heru’Ur had been informed of the destruction of the Hammer and had, in fact, later invaded the planet.

Kinsey supported his contention that Daniel was not what he claimed to be by pointing out that Daniel had willingly destroyed the Hammer; the one thing which could have saved the wife he supposedly was trying to rescue from the Goa’uld.

‘What a load of crap, Danny. I told you to do it, and you did. Despite your pain, you did it out of loyalty to me and Teal’c… not out of disloyalty. Daniel… where are you?’

The next bone to pick at was a big one, in light of the conversation on the tape… Oannes. Kinsey’s version was that Oannes was a meeting place, where Daniel liased with the Goa’uld and both received and passed on information. That Daniel was alone there for over two full days – that no one other than Daniel really knew all that transpired there – was Kinsey’s ammunition. According to Kinsey, Daniel probably hadn’t even stayed on Oannes; Kinsey maintained he could have gated out to anywhere during those days alone there.

Over a year later, Jack continued to have fleeting visions of Daniel dying horribly, consumed by fire. Still, Jack knew there was nothing he or anyone else could say about Oannes which could effectively counter Kinsey’s contentions. Not without going back there to see Nem, and they certainly wouldn’t be able to do that.

Hathor was next… Jack shivered at the memory of her. Kinsey’s assertions that even to this day Daniel maintained a loyalty and sexual affiliation with Hathor were so offensive that Jack’s blood boiled at the thought of it. Kinsey didn’t offer any concrete evidence of any opportunity for such a continued association; he seemed to think it evidence enough that Daniel had participated in the creation of Goa’uld larvae intended for enslaving Earth’s population.

Jack knew that nobody reading this utter garbage ever had gone on subsequent missions with Daniel and watched the restless rolling around in the dark for months afterwards; Daniel caught in the grip of terrible nightmares.

‘Nightmares where he watched himself doing things – reprehensible things – and cried out in grief over his inability to control his actions. Daniel… please, please be somewhere safe…’

Jack was starting to get the terrible feeling that he just might never see Daniel again.

Then Kinsey had picked on an obvious one… the alternate reality. Kinsey claimed that P3X233 was another meeting place where Daniel acted as a double agent of sorts, liasing with Apophis just prior to the planned invasion of Earth even as he had earlier, during Oannes, plotted with Heru’Ur against Apophis. Kinsey totally rejected the possibility of an alternate reality, pointing to the fact that the mirror had not worked since the SGC had gone back for it and brought it to Earth.

‘But Daniel said the control device for the mirror was destroyed in the alternate reality…’ Jack didn’t doubt Daniel, but he had to admit to himself that he was more than just a little confused about that. When had the mirror shut down? Daniel had shown up back on P3X233, so the mirror had to have been still linked and turned on… but when they found Daniel, it was off.

Jack could see how, in light of the intricate web Kinsey had woven with the help of the tape, that some people might look more than just a little sideways at Daniel’s account of the alternate reality experience.

Jack quickly flipped through the remaining folders. He was getting a massive headache.

Daniel, coming back to the SGC through the Stargate from Klorel’s ship all in one piece despite having been mortally injured, believing himself to be only survivor of Apophis’ attack on Earth… supposedly, according to Kinsey, having been predetermined to be the only survivor.

Daniel, cavorting with Shyla – on a planet providing naquada to the Goa’uld, no less – and getting high on the sarcophagus while the rest of SG1 rotted in the mines.

Daniel, again according to Kinsey, unwillingly forced – in order to avoid provoking suspicion – into going back to Gairwyn’s planet because of Kendra’s wisdom in having the Sagan Institute box sent through the Stargate. Kinsey accused Daniel of pretending to fight against Heru’Ur’s occupation of that planet, while actually seeking Asgaard weaponry to secretly turn over to the Goa’uld.

And then the clincher. The last folder, the most recent of Daniel’s unfortunate escapades… Abydos. Beyond glancing over the comment that Kinsey found the objectively dispassionate nature of the written report very telling, considering the ‘supposedly’ personally painful subject matter it dealt with, Jack didn’t have the heart right then to even try referring further to Kinsey’s notes on that one. That was the one that had ripped Daniel’s heart out.

‘Danny didn’t even write that report. He couldn’t deal with it…’ That this nightmare was happening at all was bad enough; that Kinsey was using the objectivity of the Abydos report to claim that Daniel cared more for the Goa’uld than for Sha’uri and the SGC was unbearable.

Jack had to admit it… Daniel sure did have a talent for finding the hot spots.

‘Oh Daniel… you are really in deep shit, you know that? Hell. Where in God’s name are you!’

‘O’Neill. Leave a message.’

‘Oh God… what if it was the answering machine that picked up yesterday?’ Daniel listened to the brief announcement coming over the line with a sinking feeling in his gut.

Daniel knew he couldn’t leave a message. While it was pretty unlikely that anyone but Jack would ever hear it, Daniel couldn’t afford to take any chances at this point. As for yesterday… ‘Damn.’ What if his fight with Samuels – both of his own and Samuels’ voices – was now recorded for posterity in Jack’s living room?

Daniel was convinced that Kinsey had to continue to believe that he, Samuels and John were dead. If Kinsey knew they were alive, a threat… Daniel knew Jack often picked up his messages remotely from the SGC, and his friend didn’t know Daniel didn’t want to be saved – at least, not openly – just yet. Hell, anything could happen now if it had been the answering machine.

Samuels, though… Daniel wondered just how important was it for Kinsey to think Samuels dead? Kinsey had the deck stacked against Samuels; the senator wasn’t afraid of him. It was Daniel’s continued existence which posed the real threat to Kinsey. If necessary, if he couldn’t contact Jack soon, maybe Samuels could be the one to call Kinsey…

Unsure of just what to do, Daniel slowly hung up the receiver and toyed with the bedsheet gathered around him. Although he knew that Jack was probably at the base, he couldn’t call there. He couldn’t let his voice be heard and there was too much security, too many hoops to go through, for an unknown caller to get through to Jack.

"Hit a snag?"

Daniel scowled. That was the last voice he wanted to hear right now. He looked up to see John standing in the doorway and ducked his head in angry embarrassment. After the humiliation of last night, Daniel couldn’t wait for the moment when he could kiss this man goodbye – figuratively speaking, of course – forever.

"What do you want?" Daniel tried for a growl, but to his dismay it just ended up sounding like a deep-throated whimper.

It seemed to Daniel that John’s smile was full of false benevolence. That man seemed to be full of false everything. Ever the latent sadist, despite his recent self-serving change of heart, John was taking his time, slowly stepping into the room and closing the door before answering Daniel. "Why, I just want to help, naturally."

Daniel wondered once again if he was being taken for a ride by this man. "Yeah, right. You’re so helpful." Daniel muttered softly under his breath, wanting to have his say but not wishing to get into a verbal sparring match which he would be certain to lose.

Apparently, though, John’s hearing was excellent because the big man’s features darkened slightly. "All right, look… it was too bad about last night. Shit, Buddy… you forgive me for scooping you, for the drugs and getting the crap beat outta you, but you’re going to hold a grudge over that?  Hell, you were so close to… well, it was funny."

Daniel felt so tense that he thought his muscles would break through his skin. ‘Forgive him… forgive him?’ He had worked with the thug out of necessity; Daniel had never said anything about forgiving him. Now, after last night, Daniel wasn’t even certain he could tolerate the man’s very presence, never mind continue on with him. And there was that ‘B’ word again.

"I never forgave you anything… and I’m not your buddy." Daniel raised his head and, exerting a huge effort to conquer his overwhelming shame, he stared into John’s deep brown eyes. "Are you at least going to get me some clean underwear?"

"Nope." The dark eyes glimmered with amusement.

"Then fuck off."

Sam Carter trembled with barely repressed agitation. As O’Neill and General Hammond entered the lab, she grabbed their forearms and pulled them toward the bank of equipment on the far table. "Come on… over here…"

As Sam pulled the Colonel along, he quipped "And I guess you’re all wondering why I called you here today…" Only to mutter a repentant "sorry" when Hammond cast him an annoyed glance.

"What do you have for us, Captain Carter?"

"Yes, Captain? What do you have…" Carter pressed her lips together as O’Neill bit off the rest of it. Hammond was glaring at him.

They were all tired and anxious. The night had been a long one; the inability to cast off their worry and actually get some sleep, during those times when General Hammond had forced them to abandon their work and rest, had only served to lengthen it even further. O’Neill had had his head buried in reprehensible propaganda for hours on end, and Teal’c had come up with nothing. Sam knew that General Hammond was under pressure from the President – who seemed willing to accept Kinsey’s evidence as fact – to apprehend Daniel.

‘If Daniel’s even still alive…’ Sam fought to shove that unpleasant thought aside.

As excited as she felt, she was tired, too. In fact, she was exhausted; her concentration was almost at a breaking point and the words on the tape had long ago become quite meaningless. Thankfully.

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as she began to deliver her findings. "Okay, Sir… Sirs. I couldn’t find any significant deficits in the individual voices at all. The sound waveforms are consistent … it’s definitely the same two people speaking throughout the entire recording. Daniel, and whoever else that is." She found herself having to struggle to hold back a wild grin.

O’Neill seemed disturbed by her excitement. "Uhh… and this is, what? Good?"

"Yes, Colonel… well, no, that’s not good… but it meant I had to work on this all that much harder, because the recording is so perfect…"

"It’s… perfect." There was an uncomfortable edge to O’Neill’s tone. The sarcasm intensified. "Carter, you’ve worked a miracle."

Sam pressed on the door of one of the tape slots, causing it to slide open. She pulled a tape out and waved it at the two men. "No, you see, I listened to the recording repeatedly, for hours." Her face fell at the memory of the interminable hours during which she’d had to hear Daniel’s voice saying those awful things, over and over and over again.

"The equipment showed only minor breaks in continuity, which could be attributed to the usual pauses made in conversation and normal variations in speech cadence and inflection. There was nothing to indicate that the tape wasn’t recorded all at once, like, during a natural conversation."

General Hammond’s face blanched. "So, this tape is genuine?"

"No, Sir, it’s definitely fake." Sam grinned at the confused expressions on the two men’s faces. "You know how when you listen to a word over and over again, it tends to lose it’s meaning?"

"Carter! You’re losing all meaning… get on with it, will you?"

"Yes, Colonel. Well, that’s what happened to me. It only took a couple of hours to confirm the equipment readings, but I couldn’t accept that… so I ignored the readings and just kept listening to the tape itself over and over, for hours. And the words just kind of stopped making any sense, and that’s when I thought I heard it."

Sam waved the tape she held at them again, and slid it into a playback slot. "This isn’t the original tape. I isolated what I needed and recorded it onto here… listen to this." She pressed the play button and a soft, barely audible background hiss, interspersed with frequent short gaps of virtual silence, emitted from the speaker.

"You heard it.. . you heard, what, silence? What is that?"  Sam could hear and see O’Neill’s anxiety and frustration plainly. His face was white and haggard. However, she was rewarded with a look of surprise and dawning comprehension from General Hammond.

"Yes, Sir. All recordings have some degree of ambient noise, however slight, even ones of the highest quality. With this equipment, we should be able to hear and filter out all of the background noise from any tape made on standard recorders. And I did that, when I was analyzing the voices. But, I made the mistake of disregarding the ambient noise and just concentrating on the voices. See, listen, on this tape you can hear slight gaps."

Sam reached over and made an adjustment. "And look, when I raise the sensitivity of the equipment… these periods of discontinuity that you see on the readout are so slight that they were completely hidden by all of the data on the original tape. So they got ignored."

Sam could see some color returning to O’Neill’s face. "Sooo… when you eliminated the background to listen to the voices… you were eliminating, uh, what? A clue?"

"Yes!  No tape should have these silent periods, interruptions in the ambient noise, at any point, unless of course the background hiss that we are hearing isn’t really the true background…"

In triumph, Sam continued. "I only realized that there was something more on the tape than just the voices when I stopped making sense of the words themselves. It wasn’t the backgound I heard, of course… that would be impossible. What I heard, Sir, without the distraction of the context of the actual words, was what I thought might be a pattern in the cadence of Daniel’s part of the conversation. It sounded, I don’t know, a bit stilted. And that was the hint I needed; it suggested to me that maybe there was something else on the tape other than just the conversation."

Sam indicated the bank of equipment. "I wanted to be certain I was doing this properly, so I got the audio tech, Sgt. Harris, down here to check out my findings. Sir, he agreed with me; this tape has to have been artificially created on some very sophisticated equipment. The hiss you hear isn’t the ambient noise, or background, if you will… the periods of what appear to be silence must be the real background. Our equipment isn’t as sensitive as the equipment this tape was created on."

Sam delivered her coup de grace. "The hissing you hear… it’s a very subtle series of three dots, three dashes. It’s an S.O.S., buried in predetermined gaps in Daniel’s speech cadence."

"It’s Daniel, Sir. Somehow, with someone’s help, he’s calling to us."

Go on to Chapter three

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