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Nor Iron Bars a Cage by
Lex Author's note: Many thanks to Tiv, Gem and Liz for the beta, and I'm fairly sure the story's a lot better for their input. And finally, in case anyone's interested, the title is part of a poem by Richard Lovelace, called 'To Althea, from prison'. Part One "You're positive you told him the reservation's at eight?" O'Neill asked, his eyes travelling to the clock for the third time in as many minutes. "I am quite certain," Teal'c said patiently, not raising his eyes from the latest edition of the National Enquirer. "I'm going to call him." "Again?" Carter failed to hide her amusement behind her empty coffee mug. The colonel pasted a scowl on his face. "That malfunctioning traffic signal shouldn't slow him down this long, it only takes five minutes to drive through it." "Which means he'll be here in another ten. You know he doesn't like to use his cell phone when he's driving." O'Neill's hand hovered over the phone. "I'm just gonna make a few calls." He glanced across at Carter, "Humour me, ok?" She smiled, then wandered towards the kitchen. "Just as long as we're agreed on exactly who's acting like the anxious parent here," she threw back at him. Deliberately ignoring her, he dialled Daniel's cell. After several rings it clicked through to voice-mail, and he left a rude message about the archaeologist's non-existent time-keeping skills. He tried the office number, and was promptly diverted to the base switchboard. "Would you like to leave a message, sir?" O'Neill considered for a second. "No, thank you. Put me through to the front gate." "Yes, sir." He heard a snatch of a song he couldn't identify, before the desk sergeant's voice sounded on the line. "Can I help you, sir?" "I need to know if Dr. Jackson has left the base yet this evening." "I think he left quite a while ago -- let me just check." There was the faint click of keys. "Yes sir, Dr. Jackson signed out at eighteen oh four." O'Neill checked his watch, did some quick calculations. "Thanks." He hung up. "Did you find him?" Carter's voice drifted from the kitchen. The colonel's patience finally deserted him. "He left over ninety minutes ago. He could have walked here in that time!" Carter appeared, a now steaming mug in one hand, a glass of juice in the other. She put them down on the coffee table and headed back to the kitchen. "Have you checked your e-mail? You know he sometimes leaves a message there." O'Neill was on his
feet immediately. "Good call." He headed into his spare room and switched
on the computer, drumming his fingers forcefully against his coffee mug
as he waited for it to boot up. "Though why he can't just use the phone
is beyond me," he muttered. The mail program started automatically, downloading
a few messages, but nothing from Daniel. Wait a second... why was he getting
anonymous messages? "Ah, crap." Carter's mug was halfway to her mouth when she heard the muted exclamation. She abandoned the drink and hurried to find O'Neill, Teal'c following right behind her. They found the colonel staring at his PC with a look of defeat. "Jack?" O'Neill shifted his gaze from the screen and raised his haunted eyes to meet hers. "We've got trouble." He gestured to his computer. "You'd better see this." Unsure what to expect, Carter moved around his desk to find out what had such an effect on the colonel. An e-mail sat open. It consisted of one line. 'I told you not to mess with me.' There was an attachment. Carter glanced across at O'Neill, asking permission. "Go ahead," he said, waving his hand listlessly. "But you're not gonna like it." She nodded and then clicked the file. A shadowy photograph splashed across the screen. A cage, barely big enough to hold a medium-sized dog, filled the picture. And crowded inside it, his knees clutched to his chest, was a naked and miserable-looking Daniel Jackson. Teal'c spoke, his tone deceptively calm. "Who is responsible for this?" The colonel's words filtered through to her shocked mind. "It's Kinsey. The bastard's gone too far this time." Carter continued to stare at the image, somehow unable to reconcile what she saw with reality. This couldn't possibly be right. They were all going out to dinner, weren't they? The shrill ring of the phone startled her. The colonel slammed his hand down on the speaker button. "O'Neill." There was a click and a hiss of static, then a metallic voice came on. "You were warned. Now you will face the consequences. An investigation will begin shortly. You will admit to deliberately destroying the alliance with the Aschen to further your own ends. If you follow these instructions, Dr. Jackson will be returned to you. You will not inform anyone of this situation. If you fail to comply, first the doctor will die, then the rest of your team will face the same fate. Do you understand?" The colonel exploded. "You little bastard! If you touch him--" The voice was not impressed. "Do you understand?" O'Neill's knuckles turned white as he gripped the desk. "I want continued proof he's still alive." "You will get it if you comply." The colonel dragged in a breath, staring at the phone as if he trying to decide how to haul whoever was at the other end down the line to face punishment. "Fine, I'll do it. But if you--" The click and dial tone signalled the conversation was over. Carter dragged her
gaze first to O'Neill's thunderous face, then to Teal'c's unusually furious
one. A thick silence filled the room; it weighed her down, made it impossible
to think. The team had been threatened. This wasn't a hostile planet,
there were no bullets flying, yet the enemy was just as real. And apparently
just as dangerous. The phone barely had time to ring twice before the man seized it. "Yes." "Status report, sir," a terse voice replied. "Go ahead." "The activities are on schedule. Subject One has been relocated; Subject Two has received his instructions." The corners of the man's mouth turned up in satisfaction. "Any trouble?" "Everything went smoothly, sir." "Excellent. Next report?" "Oh seven hundred." "Make sure it's good news." The man slowly replaced the handset. It had begun. "'You mess with me, Dr. Jackson will be out of the SGC permanently,' -- that's what he said. Word for word." The colonel rubbed his hands through his short hair. "What else?" Carter prompted. He looked directly at her. "He said you'd end up in Alaska, and they'd use Teal'c's symbiote for their nasty little experiments." He shifted his gaze to the Jaffa. "And I don't think he meant we'd have the chance to go out and get you another one." Teal'c managed to look slightly perturbed at the implications. "Sir, if it was Kinsey, then surely they wouldn't have taken Daniel. This is a little different from getting somebody fired." She seemed moderately hopeful. O'Neill stared into his mug. "He didn't say anything about getting him fired, just that he'd be out permanently. What's more permanent than being dead?" He took a gulp of his coffee, and grimaced. Stone cold. He banged it down on the table, sloshing the remains across yesterday's sports pages. "We need options. Ideas. Possibilities." He said. "There are a lot of areas to cover," Carter agreed. "And we shouldn't jump to conclusions about who's responsible." "Agreed." O'Neill stood up. "First we need more coffee," he said. "Anything else?" "We will inform General Hammond." Teal'c stated. The two officers stared at him, then at each other. Carter shrugged. O'Neill spoke first. "Carter, are they listening in right now?" "The voice didn't seem to realise Teal'c and I were here, sir." She said. "It's possible we'll be able to work on this without tipping them off. It doesn't look like they've had the chance to bug this house yet. But from now on we need to be extremely careful." He nodded. "Okay." He started towards the kitchen, then turned. "Teal'c, I agree with you -- the general has to know. No matter what anyone else makes of our behaviour in the next few days, Hammond will be suspicious. And he has the power to stop us doing what we have to to fix this." "Who else can we trust?" Carter's question made O'Neill pause at the kitchen door. "It's not a question of trust -- there's a bunch of people I'd love to help us out here." He sighed and looked past them out of the window. "But we don't know how far this goes, and I'm not going to put anyone else in danger if I don't have to. It's down to the four of us to sort this mess out." Teal'c's brow furrowed. "You are including General Hammond?" O'Neill brought his
gaze back to his friend. "Good point. No, the general makes five. I meant
Daniel. Can you really see him taking this kind of treatment without a
fight?" Daniel was fuming. He'd been driving from the base to Jack's house, windows open to let in the fresh mountain air. He'd been relaxed, complacent even, and had been taken by complete surprise on the road. There had been nothing to make him suspicious; apparently the county had finally decided to repair that broken traffic signal. He had dutifully pulled to a halt a few feet from the bored-looking guy with the 'Stop' sign, who proceeded to stare closely at him and his car, then spin the sign around to 'Go'. The guy watched him drive away, the beginnings of a smirk on his face, which confused the part of Daniel's brain that bothered to worry about such things. He'd understood it about thirty seconds later when he'd been forced off the road by a lunatic driver in a black van. Several men yanked him from his car at gunpoint and forced him face down in the back of the van, indifferent to his desperate struggles. And now he was in serious trouble. The lack of clues was a clue in itself -- this was a professional operation. NID, military, hell, even the Russians had some kind of interest in him these days. None of the men had said a word. They all wore black from head to toe, balaclavas topping off the ensemble. They'd held him down for the entire journey, the gun never shifting from between his shoulder blades. Eventually he'd been brought to this room, his clothes were sliced from his body and he was manhandled into the cage. The final insult had been the photograph. Not that the cameras in every corner of the room hadn't already given him the chance to show his wares to anyone that cared to tune in, but that photograph had a purpose he didn't want to contemplate just yet. He was cold now. Every so often he'd shiver, as the rough steel base beneath him leeched more warmth from his body. The metal grill of the cage was digging into his shoulder where he leant against the side. He couldn't sit upright, his ribs hurt where he'd been squeezed so tightly, and his legs were beginning to cramp. His mind ticked over. Squeezed. He'd been squeezed to hold him still. At no point had he been hit, just forcibly restrained by too many hands. He'd been overwhelmed by brute strength. Oh, and guns. Mustn't forget the guns. Daniel supported his weight on his arms and shuffled his body backwards until his spine hit the rear of the cage. He gingerly stretched out first one leg, then the other, massaging the muscles to bring some relief. God, how long had it been? How long was it going to last? He'd read about what this kind of cramped position could do to a person, how the body reacted after hours in such a confined space, and what happened when hours turned into days. He didn't want to experience the reality, didn't need a demonstration, thanks very much. He shifted his massage to his neck, drew his knees back up to his chest and wrapped one arm around them to lessen the strain on his lower back. His stomach growled -- he was missing dinner. Jack was probably pissed off by now, bemoaning his perpetual tardiness. Unless he'd already got the photo, in which case he'd be pissed off for an entirely different reason. Assuming, of course, the photo was taken for Jack's benefit. Well, it was unlikely to be hand-delivered to his grandfather. Abruptly the room went dark. Daniel froze, his heart stilling in his chest for an instant. He looked around, waiting for his eyes to become adjusted to the blackness. No light sneaked through the locked door. He listened for any sign of approaching danger. All was silent, save the whirring of the cameras as they scanned the room. The red light on one of them winked cheerily at him, oblivious to the nothingness it was recording. He settled once again, no immediate threat apparent. The scrape of a hatch was loud in the darkness. He instinctively searched for the sound, pushed against the wires of the cage to straighten up. Nothing. No light shone from the direction of the noise. But there was something else. A scratching sound spilled across the room to him. He stilled his breathing, desperate to hear over the thwush thwush of blood behind his eardrums. The unnerving scrabbling got louder, split into dozens of tiny feet spreading around the room, heading towards him. His eyes darted about instinctively, unseeing. He pulled his knees in tighter, his nails digging into his calves. A raspy squeaking from behind him made him thrust forward. After so many digs at long-abandoned sites, he'd recognise that sound anywhere. Rats. Part Two General Hammond looked up from the latest archaeological report on the site at P5X464, grateful for the interruption. Dr. Wilson may have come highly recommended, but he had no idea how to put pen to paper without sending his audience to sleep. Maybe Dr. Jackson could give him some pointers on the subtleties of composing a military report. And speaking of Dr. Jackson, he was the only one missing from the group in front of his desk currently doing their best impersonation of guilty schoolchildren. Hammond raised an expectant eyebrow at O'Neill. The colonel cleared his throat loudly, nodded to Carter, then smiled at his superior. "Uh, sir." He stopped, apparently unsure quite how to phrase his news. "Colonel, is there a problem?" Hammond watched Carter as he spoke, unable to identify the device she was airily waving around his office. "Sir..." The general turned his attention back to O'Neill. The colonel was tugging on his ear and gesturing urgently around the room. Hammond recognised the signal -- the room was being monitored. Bugged. Who would have placed listening devices in his office? His concern rose as the unusual activities continued. Even Teal'c was studying the ceiling intently, as if he hoped to find answers there to some question only he was privy to. It was a good thing Hammond knew what they were doing or he would have sworn his best team was in dire need of a group appointment with Dr. McKenzie. "We have something to tell you, sir," O'Neill said, a little too loudly. "Okaaay," Hammond shut his mouth in an attempt to not look as disturbed as he felt. "It's about the Aschen," O'Neill continued, still talking as if his superior were hard of hearing. "The Aschen," Hammond repeated, hoping things would become clearer before he was forced to lose his temper. Carter tapped him on the shoulder and began to push his chair away from his desk. This whole situation was degenerating fast. "Major...?" She looked up, a finger to her lips, then frowned at her device. She knelt on the carpet, waving her toy in the cubby where his knees had been scant seconds previously. "We didn't tell you the whole story about them, sir." The whole story? He didn't think he had any part of the damn story! "About who, colonel?" "The Aschen, sir." O'Neill said patiently, as if addressing a pre-schooler. Carter stood up, waved two fingers at O'Neill, then pointed to the desk and the filing cabinet. O'Neill nodded. He gestured to his eyes in some unspoken question. Carter shook her head. O'Neill dug in his pocket for a crumpled piece of paper, then began talking again as he handed it to the general. "It's possible that the Aschen weren't exactly the danger we made them out to be." Hammond raised his head at that, the paper only partly unfolded. O'Neill frowned and motioned for him to continue. "In fact, sir, it's possible that we were mistaken over a lot of things on that mission." Hammond tuned out the spoken words in favour of the written. He read the paragraph twice to be certain he wasn't missing anything. He looked to Carter, who pointed again under the desk and at his filing cabinet. This time he understood. His thoughts tumbled over and over as his mind kicked into high gear. "Colonel, are you telling me that the reports your team submitted on the mission were deliberately inaccurate?" He demanded, hoping this was the right way to go. O'Neill's expression relaxed and he began to play his part with a little more finesse. "No sir, not exactly." "Then what, exactly?" The colonel hesitated. "It's possible I didn't include all the relevant facts in my report, sir." Hammond fixed his stern face in place. "I see. And what about your team? Major Carter, Teal'c?" "Uh, they weren't aware of all of the facts," O'Neill jumped in immediately. "They had no idea anything was amiss." That was an interesting little wrinkle to add to the very little he knew. "And Dr. Jackson? In fact, where is Dr. Jackson?" "I, uh, gave him some personal leave, sir. That time of year, you know. I'm sure he'll be back as soon as he can." Hammond thought for a moment. "Fine." His eyes swept the team. "Tomorrow, oh nine hundred, I want a more coherent explanation of what you think may be missing from the mission reports. Until then, I want you all to go home." O'Neill pulled a second piece of paper from his pocket and laid it on the desk. "Yes, sir." He gave a half-hearted salute, then herded his co-conspirators out of the office. Hammond unfolded the second message: 'Meet at Daniel's, any time after 2300.' He stared through his office window at the empty briefing room for several long minutes, a thousand scenarios chasing each other around his head. After a while he took the two pieces of paper over to the shredder and watched as the disturbing news they carried was sliced into indecipherable strands. He sat back at his
desk, acutely aware now of every creak of his chair, concerned about every
muttering he had ever made over the activities around the base. The report
in front of him still had thirty pages of essential information to impart
on the mating rituals of the long-dead tribes of P5X464. Maybe whoever
was listening in at this moment would be kind enough to stop by and explain
the meaning of brevity to Dr. Wilson. It was worth a try. Fuck! The damn bolts weren't going to break, no matter how hard he kicked the door to the bloody cage. And now he could add stinging feet to his growing list of small but annoying pains. At least the noise had kept his cellmates away for the time being. Maybe it was worth the effort just for that small reprieve. Daniel tried to stretch out, to relax his aching thighs, to somehow arch his back and get some respite for his backbone. His head pushed against the top of his prison-within-a-prison and he slammed his fist angrily against the wires. What the hell was he doing here anyway? He had no idea what was going on this time, what he could possibly have done to merit this kind of treatment. Well, that wasn't strictly true -- he had plenty of ideas, just no framework to set around the possibilities. It was too hard to narrow down the enemies of the SGC and come up with one likely culprit. But maybe hard was good. Hard meant thinking things through. Hard meant calming down and having something else to concentrate on besides his current physical restrictions. Anything that would get him out of here -- even if only in his mind -- had to be a good thing. What was it that poet had said? 'Stone walls do not a prison make'. Time to take his advice -- the man was obviously a smart guy. Now that he thought about it, the possibilities weren't quite as endless as they could have been. He was on earth, which cut out the Goa'uld or any other alien race wanting to interrogate him. He knew there were plenty of people at the SGC who weren't exactly his friends, but none of them were inclined to stretch their dislike quite this far. And with his unfortunately considerable experience of such things, he couldn't pretend this was just a sick prank. Of the likely candidates, Makepeace and his little helpers were all in some ultra-high security jail, and Maybourne was... where was Maybourne? Jack said he'd gone to ground somewhere taking his dirty money and his dirtier secrets with him. Which didn't necessarily rule him out, but knowing the self-interested bastard he was it probably put him low on the list of suspects. Senator Kinsey wasn't too fond of Daniel, or any of the team for that matter; apparently neither was that new guy, Simmons. But Jack hadn't warned him about either of them the way he'd told him to watch out for Maybourne's people. Was that it, then? Was this Maybourne getting his revenge for-- Daniel snatched his hand away from the warm, furry body that touched it, scraping his knuckles against the criss-cross of rough metal. Oh God, he'd been too quiet. Where was it? He curled his fingers into a tight fist to protect his fingers, and frantically felt around the floor beside him. Had it come through the wires? There was certainly enough space for something that size to pass through easily. He felt around further. Nothing. There was nothing. Perhaps he'd scared it off. Or perhaps he was imagining things now. He calmed his breathing and listened again for the telltale scritching of little claws. There, behind him.
There were two, maybe three in the back corner. He focused his hearing
in a different direction, further around the dark room. Silence. His eyes
darted to the next corner, straining to see through the all-encompassing
blackness. Daniel heard the dreaded noise of claw against metal far too
close for his peace of mind. His head spun to track the sound just as
teeth pierced his ankle. He yelped in pain and kicked out violently. His
assailant refused to let go. Barely thinking now, he smacked his ankle
against the side of the cage, then lashed out again as the teeth clamped
down harder. There was a muted crunch. He felt something viscous and warm
trickle down his heel. Squeezing his eyes shut he reached down to the
thing that refused to give up its meal, even in death. His fingers recoiled
at the first touch of fur. He forced them back again, deliberately controlling
his movements as he spread the rat's now lax jaws to release his flesh
from its captor. He forced the body through the wires and flung it as
far away from the cage as he could. It wouldn't be long before the others
were drawn away from him, across the blackness, to the stench of death. Hammond looked up from the picture in front of him, his face tight. "And you're sure this is authentic?" "Without the proper software, we can't be completely certain, sir," Carter said, "but add that photograph to the fact that Daniel's missing, and I don't think this is a hoax." Hammond examined the e-mail once more. "There's no time-stamp -- when did this arrive?" "Daniel only left the base just after six this evening." O'Neill thought for a minute, "I guess it could have been sent any time between then and when I checked my mail at about a quarter to eight." "Which only gave them a small window to take Daniel to wherever they're keeping him," Carter interjected. "So they have to be close by." "Perhaps not," Teal'c commented. All eyes turned to the Jaffa. "There is no reason to believe this picture shows Daniel Jackson's final destination. Nor is there any indication yet as to how he was transported. If it was by road, then the possible locations could well be limited by time. If an aircraft was involved, the options increase. And if they stopped somewhere merely to take that photograph, then by now the search range is far greater." "Thanks, Teal'c," O'Neill said in exasperation. Teal'c inclined his head, "You are welcome, O'Neill." Hammond carefully put the photograph face down on the coffee table. "Were you given any idea who might be behind this?" "Not really, sir." "It's Kinsey." Carter and O'Neill spoke up simultaneously, then frowned at each other. O'Neill continued, directing his gaze at the general. "The message was a direct quote of something Senator Kinsey once said to me." He glanced at Carter, acknowledging her opinion. "Maybourne was the only witness, but I can't see why he'd want me out of the programme -- I'm the reason he's currently sunning himself on a desert island." He raised his finger, stopping Carter's comment before she made it. "But, as Carter pointed out earlier, Kinsey's office could have been bugged by the same people that bugged yours." He gritted his teeth, "And are apparently now bugging my house." Hammond looked from O'Neill to Carter. "Yet you still believe that Senator Kinsey's behind this, Colonel?" O'Neill sat down on Daniel's couch, shifting slightly to move a pillow from behind him. He picked distractedly at a loose thread. "I can't explain it, sir. Everything I know of that man says he's too stupid to be able to organise something like this, especially at such short notice. But my gut tells me it's him. He outright told me that he's a danger to my team. And yesterday he threatened us with an investigation." "An investigation is only a threat if you have something to hide, Colonel," Hammond pointed out. "Which is exactly what they want everyone to think: that we -- well I -- deliberately screwed up the negotiations with the Aschen." A punch to the pillow punctuated his anger. "And why would you do that?" Hammond asked, perplexed. "To stop them from wiping all traces of a sense of humour from humanity." At his superior's look of admonishment, the colonel hurried on. "I don't know, sir. But we'd better come up with something plausible by tomorrow morning, or I'm going to be stumbling all over myself in that briefing." He finally put the pillow down beside him and stood up purposefully. "This could take a while. Does anyone want coffee?" Hammond's mood brightened. "You brought coffee?" O'Neill was apparently at a loss for words. "Uh, this is Daniel's apartment, sir," Carter pointed out gently. "Right." Hammond switched back into serious 'general' mode, as O'Neill moved around the kitchen keeping his hands busy. "Let me see if I have all the facts. One," he ticked the points off on his fingers, "someone has kidnapped Dr. Jackson in order to force the colonel to confess to sabotaging a potential alliance with the Aschen. Two, whoever these people are, they think nobody other than the colonel knows about the threats." He looked to Carter for confirmation. At her nod, he continued. "Okay, here are my questions. What is the ultimate purpose of this plan? My instant reaction would be that someone wants to ensure that the Aschen alliance is completed, yet knowing the dangers why would they even consider it?" "Whoever is behind this does not trust O'Neill's word," suggested Teal'c. "They do not believe the Aschen to be a threat." The general considered for a moment. "Working with that assumption, then the person or persons behind all of this would stand to benefit personally from such an alliance." "There is another possibility, sir." Carter spoke up. Hammond looked expectantly over at the major, "Yes?" She took the mug O'Neill held out to her before continuing. "It could be that this is an attempt to discredit SG-1. Or simply get the colonel out of their hair -- stop his meddling once and for all." At O'Neill's sharp look, she blushed slightly, "No offence meant, sir." Attempting to draw the colonel's attention back on course before insults began flying, Hammond put his own coffee down on the table and spoke. "It looks like there are a lot of options here, people, so we need to go through every one of them and come up with a plan of action to beat these bastards at their own game." "Without knowing what the game is." O'Neill added. "Exactly. It's going
to take a while -- I hope there's a lot of coffee." The woman opened the manila folder, relaxed into her high-backed leather chair and took a sip of mint tea. The drink cleared her thoughts as she scanned the report. She cursed quietly, placed her china cup respectfully in its saucer, leant forward and smoothed the papers onto her desk. She read the report in full, ensuring she had all the facts. Then she picked up the phone and dialled a number from memory. When the other party answered, she spoke crisply. "There's a situation
to be resolved. Access report number 3228A dash S dash 1B, then call me.
We have to get someone in there; we need to take control. I want this
dealt with immediately." Part Three Daniel shook his head in an attempt to ease the fatigue that threatened to turn him into the rodents' speciality dessert. He could still hear the creatures moving around, now thankfully gathered in a corner away from him. The hushed sound of them tearing into their earlier meal had made him nauseous, and it had been enough to keep him awake for what felt like forever. Those memories, combined with the agonies that randomly stabbed at his cramped muscles, battled with his body's attempts to reclaim the sleep he'd avoided the previous night while working on translations in his office. Something else caught his drowsy hearing; a sound he should recognise... The boots stopped outside the cell door, and Daniel's head snapped up in nervous anticipation. Ow! And collided yet again with the top of the cage. A key rattled in the lock and the door swung open on well-oiled hinges, letting the glow from the corridor stab into his eyes before he slammed them closed. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to squint through the discomfort. Two men, both dressed in the full-body attire he'd seen earlier, appeared in the doorway. One dropped some items by the door, then headed for the cage. The second remained at the entrance, a large weapon held at the ready. Daniel shifted slightly backwards as the man approached, an inbuilt defence mechanism kicking in despite the fact there was nowhere to run. "This is your early morning call, Jackson." The man's cheerful tone startled him. "Just remember, do as you're told and you'll be fine. But if you misbehave, you'll get a lot worse than rats to keep you company." The man studied him for a few seconds, apparently ensuring his co-operation, then used a small key to remove the padlock holding a long bar in place at the front of the cage. The door swung slightly ajar as the bar was removed, and the man stood back. "Come on out, slowly." Right, slowly. Like he could move quickly. Daniel hooked his fingers through the cage walls and propelled his body towards the entrance. He pushed gently with one foot, then harder as the door proved heavier than it looked. As it started to swing closed again, he succeeded in getting mostly free. He turned awkwardly, using the cage to support his weight as he attempted to stand without showing quite how much pain this simple movement was causing. He glanced down as another throb pulsed through his ankle. His hasty inspection showed a nasty bite with blood spread up his calf in rusty smears, finger marks evident in the mess. A look at the blood on his hands brought back his queasiness. A rattle drew his attention back to his audience. "You can use this," the man said. "Unless of course you've already..." The gesture towards the cage and the smirk on the man's face made Daniel snatch the bucket angrily. He regretted the rapid movement as his shoulder spasmed. "Thank you," he forced out. When neither man made any attempt to look away, Daniel turned and put the bucket on the concrete floor. His intense relief as the pressure in his bladder melted away eclipsed his modesty, and when he was finished he slowly turned back, only to get hit in the face with something soft. He instinctively reached up to catch the item before it fell to the ground. "Put those on and face the wall." Daniel nodded, fumbling with the flimsy, pale grey sweat pants. He dressed as fast as his tight muscles allowed him, tightening the cord to prevent the overlarge sweats from succumbing to gravity. "Move it," the man spiralled his leather-clad finger in the air, indicating that Daniel should turn away. "And put your hands behind your back." Daniel took a calming breath and surrendered to the metal cuffs that snicked firmly around his wrists. A coarse blindfold caused panic to flare for a brief moment as it was tightened in place. The man gripped his arm securely and he was tugged into motion. The uneven floor made him stumble more than once on the journey; the hand on his arm tightened each time to keep him upright. He considered that maybe he should keep track of the turns they were taking to try to remember the route, but somehow the thought of knowing how to get back to his rodent-infested cell from wherever they were going wasn't appealing. Just as he was wondering if these men were just walking him in circles in some pointless attempt to confuse his sense of direction, they halted. He heard the men walk away and the command to "stand still" was a little unnecessary; for all Daniel knew he could be standing at the edge of a thirty foot drop, and he had no wish to make these people's job any easier. The footsteps faded a little, then stopped altogether. Daniel waited. And waited. He shifted uncomfortably, leaning slightly to stretch his still spasming lower back. When there was no reaction from his guards, he bent one leg behind him, managed to catch his foot in his bound hands and flexed his thigh muscles as he balanced precariously on his uninjured foot. The warm, pungent breath on his right ear was enough to shock him into an undignified heap on the concrete. A voice, deep and sneeringly familiar, drifted down. "Still haven't learnt to obey orders I see, Jackson." Daniel's blood ran cold, and his mind took a little detour into surprise that such a thing was physically possible. "Get on your feet...now!" No. He must be hearing things. They'd been locked away -- all of them. Never going to be let out, that's what Jack had said. Held in some ultra-high security military prison convicted of crimes against Earth, no chance of escape. The team were safe from retaliation. Which meant this couldn't be happening. He was imagining things -- dreaming, most likely. Something to do with drinking too much coffee, the dangers of letting the caffeine build up in his bloodstream. Janet had warned him about this, and she was obviously right. Though he could have sworn she hadn't mentioned anything about auditory hallucinations. Anyway, at least it meant this wasn't who he thought it was. The person standing over him was just some stranger. A psychotic stranger with a powerful kick -- God, that hurt! -- but a stranger nonetheless. Daniel struggled to his knees, fighting his body's attempt to curl around the fierce pain in his stomach. The familiar harsh voice punctured his protective fantasy. "If you behave yourself, then we'll get along fine. Act up, and you'll go back in that cage." The hot breath on his cheek made him cringe, "Do you understand me?" Daniel finally made it to his feet. "I said, do you understand me?" The quiet menace was unmistakeable. Daniel muttered his defiance at the floor. "I can't hear you, Jackson. Speak UP!" Daniel flinched away from the blast in his ear. He braced himself, then turned in the general direction of the noise and repeated his question. "What treasonous
half-wit let you out?" The phone was snatched up on the first ring. "Status report, sir." The man narrowed his eyes in anticipation. "Go ahead." "Subject Two is complying with instructions. He has a briefing at oh nine hundred to notify his superiors of his deception. Subject One's correction programme is on schedule." The man frowned at that. "I hope that nobody is being distracted from their tasks by personal vendettas. I don't want to see the prime objective disregarded for the sake of petty revenge." "Everything is under control, sir. I will take personal responsibility for ensuring it stays that way." The man leaned back in his chair, satisfied that the voice understood exactly who was in charge. "See that you do." He glanced at his calendar, pen poised. "Next report?" "Nineteen hundred, sir." The man peered at his appointments. "Make it ten...uh, twenty two hundred, instead. I have a dinner to attend this evening." "Very good, sir." The man let out a
satisfied sigh as he replaced the handset. Things were going well and,
barring complications, Jack O'Neill would soon be off the Stargate programme
for good. Swiftly followed by the rest of his team and that short-sighted
fool of a general. Jack paced his office, counting repeatedly as if the length might inexplicably change without notice. ...six, seven, eight. He did a sharp one eighty. One, two... He hoped that anyone listening in would mistake his 'how well can I fool the mystery eavesdroppers during the briefing' nerves, for 'how can I convince the general I acted against earth's best interests on my last mission' nerves. And now he thought about it, would this be considered treason? Could deliberately leaving the entire planet open to a potentially disastrous attack by the Goa'uld honestly be considered 'betraying one's country'? Well lookee here, the vote comes in with a resounding 'yes'. Shit. ...four, five, six... Last night at Daniel's place they'd discussed everything. Who might be behind this, how to fool them, back-up plans and back-ups for the back-ups. What they hadn't covered was what might happen if they failed. And the only thing on the colonel's mind last night on that score was Daniel. What would happen to Daniel if Jack fucked up. He'd gone over fifty different scenarios, starting with a bullet to the brain and getting progressively worse from there. Yet not once, not one single time, had he moved beyond that to what might happen to the rest of the team. And being hit with nerves of the 'if you screw this up, not only will Daniel be sliced into small pieces and fed to junior's long-lost siblings, you'll be chained up in a dark hole in the ground while the bad guys make a deal with the devil' kind about, oh, five minutes before the big show started, really wasn't going to help. At all. ...two, three... At least, if the shit really hit the fan, Carter and Teal'c were safe from getting, uh, splattered. They weren't involved in this. In fact, since they didn't officially know anything was up, they could act all surprised and deny the colonel could possibly have done what he said he did. That would be really easy for Teal'c, considering most of the time he and Daniel had been busy at some farming convention not being bored to tears. And all Carter had to do was admit that yes, the colonel had in fact been left alone with Boring for quite some time while she was off inspecting technical whatsits that could indeed have been the last best hope for a global defence system. And yes, in that time it was highly likely that the colonel's diplomatic skills may have faltered somewhat. And yes, although it was extremely sad given his position as the trusted and proven leader of the SGC's flagship team, the colonel could well have finally flipped. And consequently he could have indeed destroyed any hope of an alliance against earth's most feared enemy because... well, because he kind of liked blowing up the snaky bastards one by one. And where would be the challenge in life if they couldn't do that any more? ...eight, turn, one... So that was the easy part, right? But the general wouldn't make her say all of that in front of her CO. In fact, the first thing on the agenda this morning would be O'Neill's admission that he acted alone -- his team were innocent. Carter and Teal'c would be dismissed, leaving Hammond and O'Neill alone to earn their Oscars. Today they would have to skip over the part where Daniel discovered the proof of the Aschen's duplicity, as that was a little hard to explain. They'd had all night, and hadn't come up with a viable solution as yet. Which meant they'd avoid the subject, Hammond wouldn't ask the obvious questions due to his shock over the fact that Colonel O'Neill had finally gone nuts, the general would stall whatever personality-free NID flunky turned up to run the investigation, and Carter would come up with some brilliant solution to the 'irrefutable evidence' problem that explained everything in such a way even O'Neill would believe he was guilty. ...five, six... Guilty. He could do guilty. Time to admit to being a power-hungry control freak who lived from adrenaline rush to adrenaline rush, only pausing in between to heroically save the planet and pick up yet another nice, shiny medal for his enviable collection. ...eight, nine... Nine? O'Neill looked up into Teal'c's solemn face. Just how did he open the door so damned quietly? "Are you ready for our briefing, O'Neill?" He sighed. "Raring to go, Teal'c. Lead the way." He could do this. He'd do this, then he'd talk his way through the investigation like a good little colonel, using Carter's yet-to-be-thought-of cunning plan. Then the colonel would be locked away, the bad guys would be happy and let Daniel go, and once everyone was safe the general would explain it had all been a misunderstanding. Sorry about that, Colonel O'Neill didn't mean to admit to treason, he was just fooling around. Yeah, it would all
work out just fine. "Frank, have those capacitors turned up yet?" The junior physicist lifted his eyes from the document on the table in front of him for the second it took to shake his head disinterestedly. He ignored the irritated "tsk" that came from his 'boss' and re-read the sentence that had been interrupted. **As a consequence, it appears that the presence of 97% pure naquada is essential in the makeup of the Stargate in order for a stable wormhole to be maintained long enough to reliably transport living beings.** Frank was convinced Major Carter was wrong. Although the heavy element did appear to assist in the formation of the wormhole, the purity levels needed to sustain the portal for up to five minutes were considerably lower. Or at least, that's what his calculations told him. Which was a good thing when you thought about it, considering the Stargate currently sitting in the test lab contained no naquada whatsoever. Apparently the glowing alien could make emeralds using a microwave, but wasn't quite the alchemist he was purported to be. In place of pure naquada, it looked like all they needed was power. An awful lot of power. Frank swivelled to face his computer, ready to add his final calculations as an addendum to his report. He scrolled through the list to find the relevant one, and clicked to open it. File: 3228A-S-1B
Part Four "How can he just vanish!" Carter threw the pen down on the table with unnecessary force, and made no move to stop it skittering off into some dark corner of the room. Even when Teal'c wasn’t meditating in the flickering glow of his candles, his quarters suffered from hopelessly poor illumination. He spent so much of his on-base time in here reading, how the hell did he not go blind? And no, at this precise moment 'Junior' was not an acceptable answer. Teal'c ignored her display, as he'd been doing for a while now. It was apparent he'd got no further than she had but still his patience remained intact. "Perhaps a different approach would be advantageous?" he suggested. She swivelled in her seat to face him. "You mean thinking out of the box? Try to come at this from a different angle?" "We should take action to force our adversary's hand. Offer something they cannot resist, and use that against them." Carter shook her head to clear it. What? Maybe she was more tired than she thought. "I'm not following you, Teal'c." "Assuming the threat against Daniel Jackson's life is genuine, is it not logical that they could not afford to carry out such a threat without further leverage to draw upon?" "You mean, they couldn't kill him without having a backup hostage to threaten," she said, understanding. Flitting over the Jaffa's 'isn't that what I just said' look, she leaned forward excitedly. "But this time we can turn the tables when they take the bait, and pick up one of them instead." A grin split her face. "Teal'c, you're brilliant." A rap on the door surprised them both. "Enter." Teal'c called out. Janet popped her head round the door. "There you are. I was just wondering if you wanted to join me for lunch later?" Carter glanced at Teal'c. "Uh, we're a little busy actually, Janet." "Oh? What are you up to?" The innocent question covered Janet's glaringly apparent need to know what was going on. It was unbelievable how fast gossip travelled in this base. "We must provide General Hammond with an urgent report," Teal'c said. Janet studied him suspiciously. "Right. Well, I just thought I'd ask." She paused for a second, then brightened again. "How about Daniel, is he around? I haven't seen him today..." Carter refused to be drawn by such an obvious ploy. "Daniel's on leave," she lied fluently. "He won't be back for a few days." "Oh, okay. Well, if you change your mind, you know where I am." Janet's disappointment at not getting the scuttlebutt wasn't entirely hidden by her innocent smile. She turned to leave, and was brought up short by Colonel O'Neill's figure blocking the doorway. "Is this a private
party, or can anyone join?" he drawled. O'Neill took the perplexed stare from Doc Fraiser in his stride. He'd been getting strange looks all morning, ranging from suspicion to frank admiration. Most of the time he pretended not to notice, and usually the offender took the hint. Sometimes his 'colonel' face made an appearance to help people scurry back to their own business. Sadly Janet wasn't one to take much notice of that face, or any of his repertoire of alpha male expressions for that matter. This time she just nodded to him and headed purposefully down the corridor. Mentally shrugging, O'Neill knocked on the still open door. He closed it firmly behind him before he spoke. "Any luck?" Carter's face gave away her disappointment. "Nothing, sir. If there's any evidence out there, I can't find it." O'Neill raised a finger to her. "You just haven't found it yet, Carter," he admonished, "there's a difference." She nodded wearily. "Yes, sir." "It is in fact likely we will learn nothing with this method of investigation, O'Neill." Teal'c said. "The precautions Major Carter must take to ensure she is not discovered are severely limiting the information she may access. However, we have a new plan." "Uh, before we get to that, Teal'c... have you had any further communications, sir?" Carter asked. O'Neill shoved his hands deep into his pockets in frustration. "Nope. Nada. No calls. No artwork. Nothing." She frowned. "How about the mail, sir?" "I've checked a dozen times, Carter, there's nothing there." O'Neill ground his teeth in frustration. The major looked apologetic. "Sorry, sir, I guess I've been too wrapped up in this to notice you go home." She turned back to the table and began to shuffle through the papers. O'Neill froze. "Home?" came out as a strangled squawk. He glanced from her to Teal'c. "I... er..." Teal'c raised his head. "You have not returned home, O'Neill?" The tone contained about as much incredulity as the Jaffa had ever managed. O'Neill shook his head, the import of his failure to comprehend such a simple error hit him immediately. Teal'c continued on, apparently oblivious to the colonel's embarrassing realisation. "Were you not expecting further contact from those holding Daniel Jackson?" Carter turned back to her CO, her surprise equally evident. "Sir?" "Shit!" He spun around,
grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open. Realising he was causing
even more confusion, he paused. "I didn't think. I was expecting something
here -- a phone call or... whatever." He left them staring at his back
as he pelted down the corridor towards the elevator, all thought of propriety
gone. They'd been here at the base for hours now. And the whole time they'd
been getting nowhere, someone could have been trying to contact him at
home. Or worse, they could have tried and given up. And his stupidity
might just have caused Daniel serious problems. O'Neill leapt from the car, not bothering to lock it in his haste to reach the house. The fingers that felt inside the mailbox met nothing but air, yet he still peered inside to be sure. He threw the front door open and moved forward. One quick glance told him the answering machine held no secrets, and he swept on through the house to the computer in the spare room. "Come on, come on..." The damn thing took forever to boot up. He grabbed a sweater while he waited, puzzled as to why it was so cold in the house today. Finally! Three new messages -- one from Ferretti, one from a cousin and the last from some mailing list he'd never managed to figure out how to unsubscribe from. He forced the system to check again, but there was nothing else. He stabbed the machine off, at a loss. He checked his watch -- just past noon. That made it about sixteen hours since the phone call, sixteen sleepless hours since the voice had promised to provide him with proof that Daniel was still alive. Maybe he was expecting too much too soon? Did these people want a better performance before they gave him his rewards? Damn it, he'd already put his career on the line here! Hammond would have finished his report by now, and it had probably already been submitted to the SGC files: 'The downfall of Colonel Jonathon O'Neill, self-serving traitor' -- irresistible bedtime reading. What the hell else did they need? He shivered as he walked to the living room, finally identifying the cause of the plummeting temperature. The front door was hanging open, swinging gently as a chill easterly wind gusted through the gap, his keys jangling from the keyhole. He shook his head, disappointed at his own obvious distraction. He took the opportunity to make a rapid scan of the street as he yanked the keys free. There was no sign of any surveillance that he could spot, which didn't necessarily tell him anything. Just because these people weren't as blatant as Maybourne's team had been last time, certainly didn't preclude their presence. He slammed the door in irritation and walked through to the living room, carelessly throwing the keys onto the coffee table. They skidded across the polished surface, bounced off a videotape and defiantly fell to the floor. O'Neill dropped to the armchair in defeat. He pulled out his cell phone, flipped it open and dialled Carter. As he waited for the phone to connect he idly picked up the videotape, wondering what he'd forgotten to put away. There was no label. His eyes strayed to the shelf he kept his blank tapes on -- no space, no empty case. "Carter." O'Neill stared at the object in his hand. Oh God, was this it? Was this his proof? "Hello? Is anyone there?" He dragged his attention back to the phone for the second it took to say "I'll call you back, Carter", snapped it shut and continued staring at the tape. It was wound to the beginning, no writing anywhere to indicate what he might find when he put it in the machine. Which was what he should do. Put it in the machine and watch whatever had been deemed appropriate for his viewing pleasure. Right. He could do that. He knelt in front of the television, simultaneously switched it on and shoved the tape into the player. He rocked back on his heels, somehow unwilling to get any further away than he absolutely had to from what he desperately hoped would be his archaeologist in living, breathing Technicolor. He reached out a deliberately steady finger and pressed 'play'. For a few seconds there was nothing but static. As O'Neill reached for the remote to fast forward the tape, a scene appeared. He could see the interior of a warehouse piled high with anonymous crates, which effectively restricted his view to a space approximately fifteen feet square. Daniel stood in the centre of that space, blindfolded and only partially clothed. O'Neill's viewpoint changed as the camera operator began to move around the room, the lens always directed at the sole subject. Even with the limited lighting from the camera itself it was evident that these were the only two players within the crated enclosure. The vantage point shifted further and O'Neill saw Daniel's arms for the first time, his wrists restrained within the tight confines of handcuffs. The cameraman obligingly zoomed in on Daniel's sporadically twitching fingers, giving O'Neill a close-up of... Jesus, was that blood? From where? The cuffs didn't look tight enough to make Daniel's wrists bleed, but if they weren't the source then what the hell had been? The camera resumed its circuit, but bewilderingly there was no further evidence of mistreatment apparent. O'Neill waited in silent apprehension for the action to begin. Instead the scene abruptly vanished. He squinted at the brightness of the reappearing static and reached for the remote. As he wavered between rewinding to watch again, and going forward to see if there was anything more later on, something nagged at him. Unsure what it was, he rewound the tape. On second viewing, the puzzle resolved itself almost immediately: the performance was soundless. Or at least, there was nothing he could discern at normal levels. Playing the tape through again at maximum volume he could detect only the soft footsteps and slow breathing of the cameraman above the hiss of the poor quality recording. There was nothing from Daniel at all. The chirp of his cell phone brought him out of his contemplation. Distractedly he hit 'receive'. "O'Neill." "Congratulations on your co-operation, Colonel." The metallic voice was like a flush of ice water down his spine. "How do you like your gift?" O'Neill took a deep, calming breath before responding. "All this proves is that at some point Daniel was still alive for you to make this video, which could have been any time after you took him. You've given me nothing to show he's alive right now, and I'm not going to go any further with this charade until you give me real evidence." "And what evidence would satisfy you, O'Neill? Perhaps we could courier you a finger to check for freshness? Or maybe you'd like the whole body, just to be certain. I'm sure Doctor Fraiser could confirm that Jackson was still alive at -- what is it now? -- twelve twenty one. What do you think?" "That won't be necessary," O'Neill snapped. "No, I didn't think so." The voice paused. "To ensure continuing cordial relations, your next package will satisfy your requirements further. Just be careful, Colonel, that you don't antagonise the wrong people. Play your part and you'll get the geek back in some semblance of the condition you left him in. And if you feel tempted to veer from the directed path, take a moment to ponder the fragility of his life..." The dial tone drowned
out whatever acerbic response was on the tip of O'Neill's tongue. His
body sagged down and the phone fell from slack fingers onto the carpet.
God, had he just endangered Daniel's life even further? The threat had
already been made that the team were expendable in these people's pursuit
of their goals, but he hadn't really believed it, had he? Surely nobody
would kill just to get him off the programme -- that was ridiculous. No
one in their right mind would consider that a viable course of action.
But then, without knowing who the enemy was, how could he be sure they
were even dealing from a full deck? There were so many obvious holes in
the enemy's gameplan it was ridiculous. His opponent appeared to be completely
ignoring the long-term strategic outcome in favour of the tactical quick-win.
And in this game, the stakes were too high for such blatant stupidity.
O'Neill pressed his fist against the headache that was rapidly expanding
between his eyes. It was too obvious -- the whole thing was too badly
planned to work, even an amateur tactician could see that. So what the
hell was he missing here? Part Five Daniel's head sagged against his chest, jolting him awake again. He rubbed a hand firmly across his face, trying to clear the fatigue seducing him into unguarded darkness. He turned his head lethargically to check his makeshift perimeter defences. The bucket was still in place in front of the hatch, providing limited protection from the rats or anything else Makepeace might care to send in with him while he was sleeping. He'd been tempted to pull the wires from the security cameras in the hope of gaining some measure of privacy, but he was so pathetically grateful not to have been shoved back in the cage the last time he was brought back here that he decided against it. For now. So far his reluctant obedience had gained him the freedom of his cell -- as cold and uncomfortable as it was -- and a welcome lack of cellmates. Well a lack of live ones, anyway; the almost unidentifiable remains of the rat that had attacked him were still scattered in one corner. Apparently the cleaning service for his quarters wasn't up to much. He sighed. On the plus side, there wasn't enough left of the animal to add a bad smell to the joys of his incarceration. And at least this time they hadn't left him in darkness. Shaking his head as his eyes threatened to close once more, he reached out for the bottle of water next to him. He gulped some down, then recapped the bottle and forced himself to his feet. The cold was definitely contributing to his mental slowdown, but at least it was something he could rectify. He began stretching his chilled muscles, preparing them for a limited workout. If he closed his eyes, he could picture himself back in the gym at the SGC, running through his daily routine with Jack muttering encouragement beside him. He lay down, dismissing the unyielding concrete that pressed into his spine as he completed his first set of sit-ups. He tucked his knees into his chest, feeling the satisfying pull in his glutes as he held for a ten-count. He breathed out slowly as he relaxed his legs, then rolled over to begin his push-ups. A nice clean set of one hundred should get the blood pumping again. He was somewhere in the sixties when the rattle of the key in the lock alerted him to company. A flash of irritation ran through him that they would choose now to disturb him, and he defiantly ignored the men as they walked in. "Get up, Jackson. Time for another little chat." The order was quiet but clear. "Seventy-seven, seventy-eight..." Daniel muttered. This set coming up was always the hardest. It was where Jack jumped in, cajoling and goading him through the last twenty when his muscles were less than politely pointing out that enough was enough. The air was crushed from his lungs as his arms were kicked out from under him. A knee between his shoulder blades immobilised him so the men could trap his wrists behind his back yet again. They dragged him to his feet and tied the blindfold tightly around his eyes. "Don't piss us off, geek, it isn't smart." The comment was punctuated by a sharp slap to the back of his head, and Daniel held his temper. His adrenaline was running, and if he wasn't careful he could buy himself a world of hurt. "Let's go." A hand tugged his arm, and Daniel allowed himself to be led from the room. This third time he managed to anticipate some of the turns; a double left in quick succession, then a right only four paces further on. He was brought to a halt, and left alone. After the first time, Daniel hadn't made the mistake of moving without permission. He just relaxed his weight and let his thoughts drift, trying to calm the dangerous adrenaline rush. The second time he'd been brought here, Makepeace had forced him to stand silent and still. No discussions, no explanations, just a sharp blow to his stomach or back if he disobeyed. With no further clues as to what was going on he'd complied, simply thankful to be out of the cramped confines of the cage. And now it looked like the same thing was happening again. Wear down the prisoner until he does what's required. Whatever that might be. "You really should get some sleep, Jackson, you look like hell." The voice piercing the silence shook Daniel from his sightless contemplation. "What do you want, Makepeace?" He asked wearily. "I'm just looking out for your welfare, like a good team leader should." Daniel's anger flared. "You're not my team leader -- you never were." A chuckle drifted from behind him. "I didn't think archaeologists were allowed to rewrite history, Jackson. Given the chance, I could have whipped your sorry ass into some kind of reasonable shape." "Like you tried to do on P4X214?" Daniel asked bitterly. "I could have reported you for that incident -- even absent-minded professors don't make a habit of walking face-first into walls." "Insubordination is a serious infraction," Makepeace hissed, "and the punishment didn't even come close to fitting the crime." Daniel spun around to face his captor. He hoped. "You've got that right! There was no crime, I'm a civilian who had a disagreement with his temporary military leader. There's no way the general would have let you get away with that if I'd told him." Footsteps moved around him. "But you didn't, did you? And why is that, exactly?" Daniel clammed up. An exposition on bullying, its causes and effects, would be less than productive at this point. "Nothing to say?" Makepeace jeered. "That's hardly surprising. You're not renowned for standing up for yourself." "I shouldn't have to," Daniel said calmly. "What part of 'officer and gentleman' did they skip over in your basic training? Or were you just too stupid to take in such an unfamiliar concept?" The fist that collided with Daniel's cheekbone almost knocked him off his feet. He instinctively tried to use his arms for balance as he stumbled backwards, only to be brought up short by the cuffs. "You should be careful who you insult, Jackson," Makepeace said. "You're not exactly in a position to defend yourself." "And I'm sure that makes you very happy, colonel." Daniel said dryly. "Oh, but it's not 'colonel' any more, is it? Did they even use your name in prison, or do you just have a number now?" he asked, sweetly. "You'd be surprised what rewards you get for serving your country, Jackson. Do you see a prison anywhere around here?" "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that's a rhetorical question," Daniel said sarcastically. "Perhaps I can help move this farce along -- I know who you are, Makepeace, so maybe you could remove the blindfold now?" The amused snort that resulted answered his question. Or maybe not... "I guess I'll start at the beginning again." Daniel said, not expecting any luck with this one either. "What do you want?" "You're smart, Jackson, can't you figure it out?" Wholly unconvinced this was the best way to go, Daniel dived in regardless. "Well, since we've already established your substandard IQ, it's obvious someone let you out of prison. And they wouldn't--" The blow to his stomach bent him over; he sucked in a breath and ploughed on. "...They wouldn't have set you free just so you could run around playing bully, so whoever's pulling your strings has a bigger purpose in mind." Daniel tentatively relaxed his stomach muscles, relieved by the relative lack of residual pain. "And since you obviously don't want anything from me, then this has to be about SG-1." The applause came from somewhere over his right shoulder. "Go to the top of the class. So how does it feel to be merely a pawn in someone's game?" "Why don't you tell me?" This time Daniel hit the ground. His head impacted the concrete, stunning him for a few seconds. "You just refuse to learn, don't you, Jackson? It's a shame. I always thought there was potential in everyone, but I guess I was mistaken." "Wouldn't be the first time," Daniel muttered, regretting it as he felt fingers moving over his punctured ankle. He kicked out sharply. "Get off me!" "Can't let that get infected. I wouldn't want you flaking out on me any earlier than necessary." The implications of that statement rocked Daniel badly. He heard several sets of boots approaching, and tried to sit up in an attempt to retain some dignity. Hands pushed him back to the numbing concrete, then he felt more at the waistband of his sweats. Panic made him struggle as the drawstring was untied and the pants wrenched off him. Both of his legs were seized in firm grips, disabling his only weapons. The first touch of something cold and wet on his injured ankle made him flinch in fear. "Don't be such a baby, Jackson. We're only trying to help. Wouldn't want the blood to attract your little friends, would we?" Daniel concentrated on calming his breathing, wishing his heart would stop racing as he felt a bandage pressed down and taped securely in place. "You'll get the sweats back when you learn to behave. And maybe next time we talk you won't force me to put you back in your cage." No! "You don't need to do that," Daniel argued desperately. "This isn't even about me, it's about the team -- what you want from them!" There was no response. He tried to sit up, but stood no chance against the men restraining him. "I'm sorry, okay? You've convinced me." "And in a few hours you'll be even more convinced." Makepeace said. "I let you have the run of your quarters after our last little chat, and this is the thanks I get for giving you such latitude. You were warned -- did you think I was joking?" Makepeace's voice was fading. He was walking away, apparently no longer interested in the argument. "Haven't you ever heard of positive reinforcement, Jackson? Tests have shown it's the best way to learn..." Daniel sank back
and closed his eyes, for all the difference it made. Whatever these people
wanted from his team, it had better be fucking important to justify this
kind of treatment. The colonel made sure the door was closed securely behind him before he pulled the tape free from his pants. At Carter's raised eyebrows, he gave a half-hearted explanation. "There wasn't anywhere else to put it that wasn't obvious, Major. And don't worry, I'm wearing clean underwear." He loaded the tape into Teal'c's machine. "Before we start, this isn't anything useful. The important part is Daniel's still alive. I had a phone call as soon as I'd watched the tape, just to make sure I enjoyed my little 'gift'." "Were there any further instructions, sir?" Carter asked. "Or any confirmation on what they want, beyond co-operation with the investigation?" O'Neill shook his head. "No, they just told me to keep on behaving myself and I'd get Daniel back alive at the end of this charade, whenever that might be. At least it looks like they fell for this morning's show." He flicked the television on. "There's not much to see. It doesn't look like they've done anything to him, but maybe you'll spot something I didn't." He pressed play, and let his team-mates watch the scene in silence. "I do not understand, O'Neill, Daniel Jackson is not moving." Teal'c said, not taking his eyes from the total lack of drama. "It looks like they're trying to send another message with this," Carter said. "That Daniel is safe and untouched as long as their demands are met. I mean, he looks calm, almost relaxed." She frowned, then leaned in closer. "Is that blood on his hands?" "Looks like it, but I can't figure out where it came from." O'Neill said, rubbing his eyes. "He looks fine, not a mark on him." "None that we can see," Carter agreed. She looked over at O'Neill as the snow reappeared on the screen. "There's nothing there to help us, sir. Unmarked crates, generic clothing... even the handcuffs could have been bought almost anywhere for ten dollars." She moved forward and popped the tape from the machine. "And the tape itself fits that pattern, probably from a multi-pack on special at Wal-Mart." "But at least we know he's alive," O'Neill said. "So it's not all bad news." "Uh, sir, all that shows us--" "Yes, Carter, I've been through this already with the asshole on the phone." O'Neill snapped. "And following that he generously offered to start sending me body parts. So, yes, I made sure the guy understood this wasn't good enough as proof goes, and yes, I almost talked him into killing Daniel right then." He kicked himself as he saw the colour draining out of Carter's face. "I'm sorry, I'm just angry. Look, they can't kill him, he's the only leverage they've got." "For the moment." Teal'c said. O'Neill stared at the Jaffa. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded. "They're not getting their hands on either of you!" A distinctly conspiratorial look passed between Carter and Teal'c, before the major spoke up. "Actually, that's exactly what we think they should do. If we catch one of them in the act of trying to take one of us--" "No." "Sir, it's the only--" "No. It's not going to happen." He was adamant. "There's no way I'm letting them get any more leverage than they have already." "It is an acceptable risk, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "No, it isn't. They've already got Daniel, and I'm damn sure that took an effort. With only the three of us against whatever resources they would use to kidnap one of you -- more people, more weapons, tranquilisers -- they could easily succeed in taking another hostage. And even if we turned the tables and captured one of them instead, they'd know that I'd let the secret out. They'd scrap the whole thing and get rid of any evidence. Either way, it's Daniel's neck on the block." Carter looked a little defeated. "We have to find a way to get more information, sir. I just don't think we're going to get anywhere doing what we're doing now." "Which is why I have
an idea," O'Neill reassured them. "No, sir." O'Neill said firmly. "No?" The general sounded incredulous. "Colonel, I don't think you quite understand what's going on here. Colonel Simmons has requisitioned any and all evidence and reports pertaining to the Aschen situation. 'No' is not an acceptable response." "It's the only one he's getting, sir. I don't like that man. I don't like the way he treated my team, and I don't want him nosing around in things that aren't his business. Sir." O'Neill said. "If there's going to be an investigation, then you run it. It's the only one I'll accept." Hammond rose to his feet, finally losing patience. "Colonel O'Neill, you will follow orders, and you will submit everything as requested, or I will have security search your office for the offending items. And I will have you locked up until this investigation is over. Do you understand me now, Colonel?" Wow. The general was absolutely furious, his face turning a lovely shade of red. O'Neill just stared at him. "I expect an answer!" Hammond thundered. "Uh, yes sir." O'Neill spluttered. "I'll, er, get on it right away." "See that you do." The general softened slightly. "And please don't try my patience any further on this matter, Jack. It won't do either of us any good." "I know that, sir." He paused, "And for the record, I'm really sorry about this. Really." "Dismissed, colonel." O'Neill nodded in
understanding, then walked briskly from the general's office. Daniel was woken by the rattle of his cage being unlocked. He had the stiff ache reminiscent of having slept at his desk all night. He remembered being afraid of what might join him in his cell, but no matter how hard he had fought it he hadn't been able to avoid falling asleep. Thankfully his muscles hadn't been constantly fighting the cramped conditions and had instead relaxed somewhat in the embrace of desperately needed rest. The sweats were returned to him and, following a brisk walk, he was once again left standing manacled and sightless. Now he just had to make it through another scintillating conversation with a deluded ex-marine, and perhaps he'd finally be allowed to get some proper rest. Or better still, he might actually discover what the hell this was all about. "Took my advice and got some sleep, I see." Daniel's heart skipped. No matter how hard he listened for the telltale footsteps or rustle of clothing, he never heard the man coming. "Oh yeah, great hospitality. The accommodations are right up there in the top five places never to visit." "Don't get pissy with me, Jackson." Makepeace warned. "Sorry," he said instantly, genuinely regretting his smart mouth. He had to stop antagonising the man if he wanted to get through this -- whatever this was -- in one piece. "It's really not your fault. You used to be so polite, Jackson, but these days you just don't seem to know any better." Makepeace said pityingly. "Jack O'Neill has been a bad influence on you from day one. It's okay though, together we can help him make amends." This didn't sound good at all. "Make amends for what?" "O'Neill's been behaving badly. We warned him, and now he has to learn a lesson, just like you did." We? Who the hell was 'we'? Daniel felt hands at the back of his head, and a few seconds later the blindfold was removed. He squeezed his eyes closed against the sudden brightness, then cautiously opened them a little at a time. Looking around slowly he recognised Makepeace off to his left, but the others were still clothed entirely in black, their faces hidden. He froze as he spotted something else. "What's the camera for?" he asked warily. "You're going to send a message to O'Neill." "I'm what?" He couldn't stop the snort of laughter from escaping. "Even if I do what you want, Jack would never take any notice of something dragged out of me under duress." "Oh that's ok, Jackson, it's not that kind of message." Makepeace smirked. "He just asked for proof that you're still among the living, and we're keen to oblige." He gestured to someone behind Daniel, and the archaeologist felt hands gripping his upper arms. "You know, I thought he cared about you more than this." Makepeace shrugged, as if the idea of someone not liking Daniel was inexplicable to him. The sound of tearing tape added to Daniel's confusion. "What are you doing?" he asked, struggling to get away from the men holding him. Another came towards him, a strip of duct tape in his gloved hands. Someone seized his hair and held his head still, while the tape was fixed in place over his mouth. Daniel yanked his head free, glaring at the offender. "Wouldn't want you to give the game away, now would we?" Makepeace said. He patted Daniel's face sympathetically, making him flinch, and nodded towards the camera operator. A bright light came on, pointed straight in Daniel's eyes. He squinted to see beyond the light, but only managed to bring tears to his eyes. The men holding him let go. He spun round, using his unexpected freedom to back away from them. The camera followed his every move as his eyes darted from one man to another. Fear rushed through him as he realised there were far too many to escape from.
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